Whispers followed Gianna through campus like perfume—sweet and impossible to ignore.
Her name had become an anthem overnight. Not for her beauty. Not for her brilliance.But because of that cursed video. The slap. The tears.
But today… she walked with her head high and her signature smirk back in place. The gossip could choke on its own excitement.
Under a marble gazebo near the library, Emrys sat cross-legged with a book on architecture half open and a coffee growing cold beside him. Across from him, Gianna leaned back on the bench, sunglasses perched in her hair and the sass in her posture fully restored.
"I've officially become campus reality TV," she muttered, blowing a piece of hair from her face.
"They should pay you royalties," Emrys said, not looking up from his book.
Gianna chuckled, then sighed. "I let him get to me."
"You let your emotions out. That's not a weakness."
She eyed him. "You really are too nice to be from that family."
Just then, a shadow fell across them.
Tristan.
He stood there with hands in pockets, black button-down sleeves rolled up, jaw clenched. "You've got jokes now?"
"Tristan," Emrys warned, voice even.
"No, no, it's fine," Gianna said, rising smoothly. "Let the king speak."
Tristan's eyes narrowed. "You're sitting here with my cousin like we're not two empires at war."
Gianna stepped toward him, her chin tilted up. "Well, maybe I needed a break from dealing with emotionally stunted royalty."
His lips twitched. "You slapped me last night."
"You deserved it."
"You danced with me before that."
She blinked.
He stepped closer.
"You let me touch you. Twirl you. Look at you like I…" He stopped himself. "And then you cried. Like the world cracked. And somehow, I cracked with it."
Gianna's breath hitched. She wasn't ready for that.
"You ruined me online, and now you want to play poetic?" she snapped.
He gave a crooked smile. "I'm just confused. You've been my rival since we were kids. You were strong, sharp, untouchable. Then I see your mascara smudged and your voice shaking and suddenly…"
"You felt bad?" she scoffed.
"I felt something." He stepped even closer, lowering his voice. "And that pisses me off more than anything else."
Before she could reply, Emrys jumped in, "Alright, enough brooding flirtation. Tristan, she doesn't need more chaos."
Tristan glanced at him. "I wasn't talking to you, Em."
"Well, I'm talking to you," Emrys replied sharply.
A tension settled—one of bloodlines and blurred loyalties.
Later that day...
The courtyard was buzzing. Rael, Gianna's ex, stood there acting like the king of smirks and failed cologne choices.
Gianna strutted through the quad like she owned it.
"Missed me, Gigi?" he called out.
She held up a tiny gift box. "Actually, I came to return something."
"What—?"
Before he could finish, she dropped the bracelet he once gave her on the stone path.
And stomped on it with her heel.
Then smiled sweetly. "That's for thinking you could cheat on me and get away with it. And this..." She held up her phone and pressed play—a voice recording of Rael flirting with her best friend. Loud. Clear. Sharp.
Gasps echoed through the crowd.
Gianna leaned close. "Game over."
Behind the stone column nearby, Tristan watched, wide-eyed and amused. He couldn't help the grin creeping onto his face.
"Damn," he muttered. "She doesn't just burn bridges. She turns them into bonfires."
That evening... rooftop of the music building
Gianna leaned against the stone railing, letting the wind tug gently at her loose curls. The city lights twinkled below, but her mind was elsewhere.
A message buzzed on her phone:
The enemy wears a smile now. Watch who you trust next.
She stared at it, confused and unsettled.
"Wow. You've got stalkers now?" came a voice behind her.
She didn't need to turn. "Careful, Tristan. I bite."
He came to stand beside her, expression unreadable. "So do I."
She rolled her eyes. "Did you follow me?"
"Maybe." His tone was light. Teasing. "Or maybe I was hoping you'd bite."
She glared at him, but he was already smirking.
"You were kinda hot today," he said casually. "You destroyed Rael in front of half the school. I almost proposed."
Gianna snorted. "Save the ring for someone who doesn't hate you."
"Too late. I think I like the hate. It's… oddly sexy when you do it."
She narrowed her eyes. "You're lucky I don't push you off this rooftop."
He leaned in, voice a breath from her lips. "And miss the chance to see me grovel for your forgiveness in a tux? Never."
For a heartbeat, they just stared at each other—rivals, enemies… something more?
Gianna blinked and looked away. "Don't flatter yourself."
"Oh, but it's not flattery," Tristan whispered. "It's foreplay."
Gianna's mouth parted slightly, stunned. "You're insufferable."
"And yet you're still standing here," he whispered, brushing her cheek lightly with the back of his fingers. "Careful, Gianna. Keep looking at me like that and I might just fall."
Her heart hammered.
And for once… she didn't want him to stop talking.