By the time we reached my dorm building, my face was basically a tomato with legs. Students had actually followed us like it was some kind of parade, cheering, whispering, even placing bets on who'd win. Oxford had never been so dramatic.
I stopped at the entrance, holding out my hands. "Okay, thanks, both of you. You've officially made this the most embarrassing walk of my life. You can go now."
Chris tilted his head, giving me that infuriating smirk. "Not until I know you've gotten inside safely."
Alex, not to be outdone, leaned one hand against the doorframe, casual and charming as ever. "Safety check requires at least two escorts, clearly. Can't risk anything happening to you."
"Wow, amazing," I muttered. "Two bodyguards and one broke princess. I do have legs, you know—I can walk just fine on my own. I don't need anyone hovering like I'm a child. So quit treating me like one."
Penelope's voice piped up from the back of the crowd, gleeful as ever: "Final round, gentlemen! Who gets the victory moment?!"
Chris shifted closer, lowering his voice so only I could hear. "For the record, I always finish what I start."
The heat in his tone sent a shiver down my spine. But then Alex—oh, Alex—took my hand gently before Chris could. He lifted it, brushed his lips just barely against my knuckles, and smiled with wicked triumph.
"Goodnight, sunshine," he whispered.
My brain promptly short-circuited.
Chris's jaw tightened, eyes narrowing at Alex like he was plotting actual murder. "Cute trick," he muttered. "Don't get used to it."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Alex said smoothly, clearly already dreaming of it.
And me? I bolted through the door with my heart pounding, slamming it shut behind me. On the other side, I could still hear the muffled sounds of Chris and Alex bickering while Penelope shouted commentary like a sports announcer.
I slid down the door, buried my face in my hands, collapsed on the ground and groaned.
"Oh, Felicity," I whispered to myself. "What have you gotten yourself into?"
The moment the door slammed behind me, I pressed my back against it, heart pounding like I'd just sprinted a marathon. On the other side, muffled voices rose—Chris's low growl clashing with Alex's smooth laughter.
Of course. My life had officially become a Regency novel with a touch of reality TV.
I crouched, ear pressed to the wood. Don't judge me. You would've eavesdropped too.
"Really?" Chris's voice was sharp enough to slice glass. "You think you can swoop in with some cheap stunt and win her over?"
Alex's reply oozed satisfaction. "Oh, I don't think, mate. I know. You had the chance to walk her home, but you hesitated. That's not how you win a girl like her."
There was a thud. My stomach twisted—Chris must've shoved him.
"You don't know the first thing about her."
Alex chuckled, maddeningly unbothered. "I know enough to see she lit up when I touched her hand."
"Careful," Chris warned, voice low, dangerous. "You're playing with fire."
"And you," Alex shot back, "are afraid to burn."
For one terrifying second I thought they were actually going to start brawling right outside my dorm. Instead, footsteps scraped the pavement—Alex retreating, still smug.
"Enjoy your sleepless night, Chris," he called. "I know I will."
The silence that followed was somehow even louder.
Then, just before leaving, Chris muttered something so soft I almost missed it:
"She's not yours."
My knees went weak.
By the time I tiptoed up to my room, Penelope was already sprawled across my bed, munching crisps like it was prime-time television.
"Well?" she demanded, eyes sparkling. "Who won the Prove It challenge? Mr. Dark-and-Broody or Mr. Sunshine-and-Smooth?"
I collapsed face-first onto my pillow with a groan. "Don't. Ask."
Her grin widened. "So both. Both is good."
I peeked up at her, horrified. "This is not funny, Pen."
"On the contrary, Felicity," she said in her best mock-serious voice, "this is the most entertainment I've had in years. Two gorgeous men practically dueling for your honor? Chef's kiss. Ten out of ten. Would watch again."
I threw a pillow at her. She dodged, laughing so loud the girls in the next room banged on the wall.
"Come on," she teased, flopping next to me. "Spill. Hand kisses? Smoldering death glares? Who whispered what?"
I hid under my blanket, groaning. "I'm going to die. Actually die. My obituary will read: Felicity Paddington, taken too soon by embarrassment and excessive male attention."
Penelope pulled the blanket down, smirking. "Correction. Felicity Paddington, future heartbreaker of Oxford, currently starring in her own romantic comedy."
"By the way, it's neither of them," I sighed, rolling my eyes. "They're both so annoying." Then I hesitated, my voice dropping lower. "But… come to think of it, Alex is pretty great. Still… Chris—" I stopped, a faint smile tugging at my lips. "I don't know… he just gets me, Pen. Like no one else ever has."
Penelope froze mid-sip of her juice box, eyes widening like she'd just uncovered national treasure. "Ohhh, wait—did the princess just confess?" she gasped, clutching her popcorn dramatically. "Somebody stop the clocks! Felicity Paddington has feelings."
"What?! No. Absolutely not. Me? Catch feelings?" Felicity sputtered, waving her hands like she was swatting flies. "Nooo way. I don't catch feelings. Feelings catch me." She paused, her cheeks heating up. "Okay wait—ugh—am I… catching feelings?!"
Penelope nearly choked on her popcorn. "Girl, you're not catching them—you're already knee-deep in them. Face it, you're doomed."
Felicity buried her face in a pillow with a groan wishing the ground would swallow me whole. "This is so unfair. I came here to study, not star in a tragic rom-com."
But deep down, despite my protest…my heart was still racing.