My Princess: No.
My Princess: Can you send me your address?
Me: I’ll drive us.
My Princess: I wouldn’t want to bother you.
Me: And I wouldn’t want you to have my address and send someone to kill me. How’s that?
My Princess: I would never. I promise.
Her promise flickered across the screen, and something stupid and soft in my chest gave at the sight of it. She actually said it. She took me seriously.
Me: Don’t believe you. I’ll drive. Final.
There was a long pause. Two minutes, thirty-six seconds to be exact.
My Princess: Okay.
The buzz of herokaylingered in my chest, warm like I’d swallowed the sun. For once, it felt like she wanted me there. Maybe she’s simply just using me to pass her class, but fuck, she can use me any day if it means I can be somewhat useful to her.If she can see me as someone she can count on when she needs something.
I stuffed my phone back into my pocket, smirking to myself like an idiot, when I saw her.
She slipped into my view as if the universe heard me thinking too loud. My body reacted before my brain did: back straight, ready to get up, to go to her. To say something, anything, even if it came out sharp like it always did.
But then I froze.
She was hugging something to her chest. Not her folder. Not her bag. Something softer, as if it mattered. And then the car pulled up. Sleek. Black. Expensive. A Mercedes, of course.
The door opened, andhestepped out. Miles Miller.
I knew him. Everyone knew him. Heir to a fortune, a name, a legacy. We’d been in the same rooms, the same events, raised in the same gilded cage. But I didn’t know him like this. I didn’t know him withher.
He smiled at her. Jogged toward her like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like he’d done it a thousand times before.
And she… she lit up.
Not fully, not like with her friend Aly, but enough. Just enough to make me want to break something.
She held out what she’d been clutching: his jacket. His fucking jacket. He took it back with a grin, easy, effortless. Then her handsmoved. Signing. Smooth, fluid, confident. And he understood. Miles Millerunderstood her language.
I stayed perfectly still, but my chest tightened, stomach dropping into fire. She gave him a smile, not just polite, not forced. A shy one. The kind of smile that only slips when youwantto give it. And I realised with a sick twist, she never smiled like that at me. Not once.
I should’ve looked away. Should’ve minded my own business. But I didn’t. Whyhim?Miles Miller, of all people. The golden boy. Rich, cocky, smug bastard who treated half the damn campus like his personal dating pool. Never serious. Never committed. Just a smirk, a wink, and another name added to his list.
And now he’s standing in front of her.MyAurora. Acting like he understands her, sharing a language only they can understand, a code, like it was them against the world. Like no one else existed… not even me.
I gritted my teeth so hard my jaw ached, because the thought of her becoming another one of his girls, another fucking story he’d tell his friends, made my stomach turn.
No.
Not her.
She wasn’t a story. She wasn’t another pretty face to pass the time until something shinier walked by. She was—fuck. She was Aurora Mae Campbell. Untouchable. Fragile. Smart, full of life, with a bright future. Gorgeous. Mine. And yet he signed to her. Smiled like she was already his. Like heunderstood her.
I nearly laughed at that thought. Loud, bitter. Because if Miles thought he could just waltz into her silence and take what she gave him—her smile, her trust—he was dumber than I thought.
She wasn’t his girl.
