I deflect because that’s what I do.
“I’ve seen the girls you give tickets to,” I say. “Your fan club is thriving.”
He smiles slowly.
“Baby, if you were mine, you’d be the only one getting tickets.”
Heat climbs my neck before I can stop it.
I laugh it off, but the air changes.
We drift closer. Shoulder to shoulder. Conversation dipping into that flirty space that feels safe with him because he never pushes past what I give.
And then?—
I feel it.
That shift in awareness.
I don’t turn immediately.
I already know.
Tristan is there.
Moving through the crowd like gravity tilts around him. White tee, sun-browned skin, that effortless confidence that used to feel like a promise and now feels like a warning.
I pretend not to see him.
I lean into Kane instead.
Laugh louder. Hold eye contact longer. Let his hand rest at my waist a second more than usual.
Kane doesn’t realize why.
He just thinks I’m finally softening.
Then Tristan is in front of us.
“Haverhill,” he drawls. Then, “Stella.” He says my name in that secret almost sand paper like whisper. My name lands differently in his mouth. Always has.
“What’s up, Vale?” Kane pulls me closer.
Tristan’s eyes move between us.
“Mind if I steal her for a minute? The queen of the court and I have some catching up t do.”
Kane looks at me.
I sigh like it’s an inconvenience. “Fine.”
We walk toward the water again. He doesn’t start with nostalgia.
He starts with curiosity. “How did it work out for you after Royal Oaks?”
I stare at the waves. “I made it work.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
