Page 432 of Bad Prince
“Yep.”
“Tris.”
That earns me a glance.
Coach is going to kill me.”
“Coach doesn’t have to know.”
I stare at him.
He says it with complete confidence too, like secrecy is just another logistical detail he’s already solved.
“That is not reassuring.”
“It should be.”
“It absolutely should not be.”
He smiles then—small, crooked, and deeply self-satisfied.
“I’ve got it handled.”
I narrow my eyes at him.
“That is exactly what men say right before things become documentaries.”
He laughs under his breath.
“Trust me.”
The annoying part is that I do. He planned this—thought about it.
He came back and kissed me sweet and left me wanting more on purpose. That kind of restraint does not belong to a man playing games.
Still—
“If I get benched for this,” I mutter, “I’m ruining your life.”
His hand leaves the wheel just long enough to squeeze my knee.
“If you get benched for this, you can ruin my life after I make it up to you.”
Heat slides straight through me.
I look down at his hand.
The airport rises ahead in a sweep of glass and steel, sunlight flashing off parked aircraft in the private terminal beyond.
I blink and turn toward him slowly.
“Absolutely not.”
He parks, kills the engine, and takes off his sunglasses.
“What?”
“This is not—” I point through the windshield. “This is not a normal airport.”
