Felicity's POV
The air in England felt different.
Maybe it was just jet lag—or maybe it was the fact that the guy who used to sit beside me in class and steal my fries had an entire royal bloodline. I mean... a prince? Really?
I stared out the car window as we pulled into campus. My heart should've been racing with excitement—Matriculation week, Winter Ball prep, the new semester energy—but no. My heart had its own prince-related drumline going on.
And that same prince? He was walking beside me like nothing had changed. Cool, charming, composed… and ridiculously hot in that royal-blue sweater that hugged all the right angles. Mia, of course, was also there—like a glittery third wheel.
"So," I said as we strolled across campus, "what does a prince do on his first week back? Send ravens to the cafeteria? Royal decree for better food?"
He smirked. "Only if you'll be my Queen of Strawberry Pancakes."
I laughed, bumping his shoulder. "Tempting. I hear there's power in waffles."
Then came the silence. Sweet. Loaded. Charged.
Mia glanced between us with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow. Take care of yourself, Chris. I love you."
"Okay. Bye," he replied—casual, almost bored.
As soon as she walked off, I muttered, "I really don't like her. Gosh."
He didn't say anything. Just smirked a little, like he agreed but was too polite to say it.
I exhaled and turned to him. "Okay, we can drop the whole fake boyfriend act now. But seriously—thank you. For standing by me… and defending me. I really appreciate it."
He shrugged, softening. "It's nothing. I'd do it again. Anything for you." he kissed my hand.
I cleared my throat. "So… about the Winter Ball."
His eyes lit up instantly. "You've made your decision?"
I bit my lip. "I haven't said yes."
"But you haven't said no."
"I'm still thinking."
"Fair," he said, slipping his hands into his pockets. "But for the record, I plan to be the most charming royal you've ever seen. Prepare to be swept."
"Good luck," I replied, smiling. "You're going to need it."
But deep down? I already knew my answer.
***********
Christopher's POV
One week. That's all I had. I'd never worked this hard outside of a fencing match, diplomatic meetings. But winning Felicity's heart? This was a whole new kind of mission.
Step one: Show up for her.
That's why I was outside her dorm at 7:00 a.m. sharp the next morning—coffee and milkshake in one hand, her third favorite donut in the other, and a note tucked into the bag that read:
> "For the girl who stole my heart and ran off like a thief. Let's call this breakfast bail."
She opened the door in pajamas—messy bun, sleepy eyes, an attitude that could kill, and a look that nearly made me drop the entire tray.
"You're lucky you're cute," she muttered, grabbing the coffee. "Or this would've been a crime."
"Is that your way of saying thank you?"
"It's my way of saying I'm too tired to roast you properly. But… Thank you. I love y—"
I paused, realizing too late where that sentence was heading.
"You love what?" he asked, raising an eyebrow with that infuriating smirk.
"I said… I love doughnuts. So, thank you."
I turned away quickly, muttering under my breath, 'So close.'
We sat on the bench, side by side, as the morning sun slowly painted gold across the campus walls. She munched quietly. I sipped my milkshake. And in that quiet, something unspoken bloomed between us—not the kind of silence that begs to be filled, but the kind that feels like a promise. Peaceful. Warm. And dangerously close to falling in love.
Until, of course, she showed up. Mia.
Dressed like she was auditioning for Mean Girls: Royal Edition, she waltzed over and gave me a dazzling, fake smile.
"Well, if it isn't Prince Perfect and the Pretend Princess," she said.
"Mia," Felicity warned without even standing. "Don't."
"Just thought I'd say hi. Didn't know charity breakfasts were trending."
"Mia—" I began.
"No, let her talk," Felicity interrupted, standing slowly, coffee still in hand. Her voice was dangerously calm. "Get it all out. It must be exhausting pretending you're not obsessed."
Mia's jaw dropped.
"And if you're really looking for a fight," Felicity added, sweetly, "I'd love to give you one. But not today. You're not worth the ruined outfit."
Mia blinked. Then turned and stomped off like she invented the concept of dramatic exits.
"Damn," I muttered, grinning. "Remind me never to piss you off."
Felicity sat back down beside me, smiling like she hadn't just incinerated a rival and casually dismantled a royal drama queen with her words.
"No promises," she said.
And in that moment—sunlight in her hair, sass in her smile, fire in her heart—I knew one thing for sure: I fell in love with her all over again. I was done for.