“No one’s touching my car with you next to it,” I muttered.
He opened the passenger door with a flourish. “Let’s ride.”
Tristan didn’t hold my hand. He didn’t kiss my cheek or flirt too hard. But he stood tall and wide beside me as we walked into school. The whispers came instantly—burning and biting.
Slut. Leveled up to Tristan after Leo tossed her out.
Whore. Guess royalty has a rotation.
I kept my chin up. Focused on the way Tristan pulled my locker open for me, his shoulder brushing mine. How he sat with me and Shani in the quad for lunch, eating fries off my tray like we’d done it forever.
I caught Leo watching once. Maybe twice.
Okay—more like every time I looked up, his eyes were there.
But he didn’t move. Didn’t come over.
Xavier, too, kept his distance. Just a nod here, a glance there. Still part of the old court, while Tristan… stood with me in the trenches.
He never asked for anything. Never expected payment for the shield he’d become.
And though everyone thought his protection came at a price, they didn’t know the truth.
That Tristan may be a prince—but he was one hell of a knight, too.
And right now? I needed every ounce of armor he gave me.
Tristan threw an arm over the back of the bench, stretching like he owned the damn sun as it filtered through thinning trees and cast golden stripes across the quad.
“I had to give DNA,” he announced, biting into an apple like it was the most casual thing in the world. “You know, for the pregnant model. Court-ordered and all.”
Shani choked on her drink. “Wait, what?”
He shrugged, grinning. “Allegedly. Her lawyer was more dramatic than she was. But anyway, I’m kinda the black sheep right now—so I figured I might as well slum it with y’all commoners.”
“Gee, thanks,” I muttered, lifting a brow.
“Don’t get it twisted,” he said, flashing me a dimpled grin. “This bench has never looked better.”
“Because of you?” I deadpanned.
“Because of us, obviously. Royal Oaks’ most scandalous rebound duo.”
Shani rolled her eyes. “You two are chaos incarnate.”
“More like damage control,” I said softly.
Tristan didn’t reply, just tilted his head, letting the wind ruffle his hair. He basked in the late autumn light like a lion soaking up the last of the season.
And for a moment—for just that sliver of a second—it felt okay. Like I wasn’t broken. Like I could breathe again.
Even if I knew better.
Even if I still felt Leo’s stare, heavy on my back as we laughed. As we pretended.
But maybe pretending was all any of us could do right now.
“Homecoming,” Tristan said casually, tossing his half-eaten apple into the trash with precision. “You. Me. I’ll wear Armani. You’ll need a trip to Boston to find something worthy of standing next to me.”
