Page 518 of Bad Prince
I don’t even care.
When he pulls back, his forehead brushes mine.
“I love you too,” he says quietly, like the words were already living there and just needed the smallest excuse to come out. “In case your father was taking formal statements.”
I laugh so hard it surprises both of us.
Then I look up at him and think, with complete clarity, that this is it.
Not the weekend.
Not Newport.
Not even the dance.
This.
The Monday after.
The hallway.
The real life.
The fact that love followed us home and still looks this good in fluorescent light.
A whistle blasts from somewhere deeper in the complex.
Tristan sighs.
“Cruel world.”
I smile and step back.
“Go be terrifying.”
His mouth curves.
“You first.”
And when we part this time, it doesn’t feel like re-entry anymore.
It feels like the beginning of whatever comes next.
