Page 500 of Bad Prince
Playoffs.
Film.
Classes.
Travel.
Training rooms and nutrition plans and early alarms and all the rules our bodies still belong to.
She must feel the same shift, because her fingers tighten in mine.
“It can’t just be this,” she says softly.
I turn toward her.
“It won’t be.”
“This weekend was…” She laughs once, shaking her head. “I don’t even have a word.”
“Good.”
She looks at me.
“That’s not enough of a word.”
“No,” I admit. “But it’s still true. We are more than just who we are at Stanford. After we both leave the game—we have a whole world to fall into. Family. Friends. And I can’t wait to do it all with you—together.”
The town falls away behind us.
The road opens up.
The terminal lights appear ahead through the dark.
I’m not ready to leave.
Not the suite.
Not the sea.
Not the version of us that existed in that room outside of schedules and obligations and half the world watching.
But maybe that’s the point.
We aren’t just a weekend now.
We’re what happens after.
The cabin is warm when we step back onto the jet, and I immediately realize I have one final indulgence left in me.
Waiting on Stella’s seat is a folded navy hoodie.
She picks it up and laughs softly.
“Seriously?”
My mouth lifts.
“It gets cold on the flight.”
