Mirelle's POV I'd imagined a hundred ways the crown prince of Crescent Moon Kingdom might finally speak to me, surrounded by my own underwear. He didn't say a word. Hardin Scott — I'd know his name back at orientation, not in the second his hand closed around my last fallen book — simply held it out to me, platinum hair catching the corridor light like frost catching sun. His face gave away nothing. But his eyes stayed on mine a full beat longer than a stranger returning a book had any reason to, long enough that my pulse forgot how to behave itself. I opened my mouth to thank him. I didn't get the chance. "Ooh, cookies." A second boy dropped into a crouch beside my spilled suitcase, plucked one straight from the crushed container, and took a bite before I could so much as blink. Dark hair, easy grin, the kind of confidence that assumed the whole hallway existed for his entertainment. "Not bad. A little dry, but I'll allow it." "That's not — " I snatched the con
Zuletzt aktualisiert : 2026-07-27 Mehr lesen