Page 69 of Bad Prince

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Another girl leans into his shoulder.

He isn’t fighting it.

He isn’t chasing me either.

And that?

That hurts more than it should.

“Yeah,” I hear myself say to Kane.

He blinks.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Take me out.”

His smile is slow and genuine.

Not victorious.

Relieved.

He squeezes my waist gently.

“Tomorrow?”

“Text me.”

We’re interrupted by louder music as someone drags another speaker closer to the flames.

The basketball guys start chanting something stupid.

And then Kane leans in again.

“There’s an after-party at the house,” he says. “Small. Just the team. You should come.”

I glance back one more time.

Tristan’s surrounded now.

Kappa Epsilon’s president is practically pressed against him, laughing up at his face like she’s already rehearsing wedding photos.

He bends slightly to hear her better.

Or maybe she pulls him down.

Either way?—

The visual lands.

Hard.

I turn back to Kane.

“Yeah,” I say again. “Let’s go.”

We weave through the crowd.

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