No one’s evermeantit.
She didn’t need to play along to make me like her.
She already had me twisted.
Tristan raised a brow at us over the table. “No arm? No kiss? You two fighting already?”
“She doesn’t do PDA,” I said, taking a long sip of my iced coffee, even though I hated how smug he looked.
Tristan leaned back, chuckling. “You’re so whipped.”
I didn’t even argue.
Because for the first time in a long time—I felt something.
And it was her.
Jade.
My girl.
Jade said no PDA.
I heard her.
But my hand found hers anyway.
It wasn’t about the crowd or the cameras. I didn’t do it for show. I did it becauseI needed to.I needed the anchor. The weight. The proof that she was real and here and mine.
She stiffened for half a heartbeat.
Then let it happen.
And just like that, everything inside me gotquieter.
No one made a comment. Not one smirk, not one jeer from the peanut gallery. When Leo Holt holds hands with a girl—especiallya girl like Jade—you don’t whisper. You don’t laugh. Youwatch.
And everyone was watching.
Until Garrett opened his mouth.
Day two of dating Jade and the rugby meathead couldn’t help himself. Same guy I clocked at the bonfire when he got too lippy. You’d think he’d learn, but no—entitlement makes you stupid.
We were walking toward the quad again, Jade tucked at my side, Tristan a few paces back talking with X, when I heard it:
“Careful, Holt. I think your little scholarship girl’s contagious. Might wanna Purell after.”
That’s all it took.
I dropped Jade’s hand.
Turned.
And threw the punch.
Garrett didn’t even see it coming. Fist to jaw. A clean hit. He hit the grass hard, his head bouncing once on the perfectly trimmed lawn.
Gasps erupted. Phones clicked.
