Prologue
Tristan
I knew kissing her would ruin me.
I just didn’t know how fast.
Royal Oaks doesn’t tolerate weakness.
And Stella Cortez?
She’s the one thing that makes me weak.
It started in the hallways.
After calculus.
After practice.
She rolled her eyes at me in that way that said she’s unimpressed and secretly curious.
She swore at me in Spanish when I crowded her locker.
“Idiota.”
It sounds like a love song when she says it.
Her hair smells like coconut and something warm and real.
Not perfume.
Real.
And I want her because she looks at me like I’m not inevitable.
Like I have to earn it.
That’s new and dangerous.
Leo sees it before I do. “You’re playing with fire,” he mutters one afternoon.
“I’m not playing.”
He laughs. “You don’t date scholarship girls, Vale.”
I hate that he’s right.
Royal Oaks is a monarchy.
And I’m expected to date and marry accordingly.
Legacy families only.
Board seats.
Donor daughters.
Melody Van Hinkenberg.
Which is laughable.
I broke up with Melody because she bored me and treated affection like a transaction.
Because when I look at Stella, my pulse does something I can’t control.
But being seen with Stella?
Publicly?
It would be social suicide.
Invites disappearing.
Calls not returned.
My father’s jaw tightening over dinner.
“Be careful who you align yourself with, Tristan.”
Alignment.
That’s what they call it.
So I keep it private.
I flirt in hallways.
I lean too close.
I tell her she looks dangerous in her uniform skirt the day of Homecoming.
“Are you going to dance?” I asked her.
She looked at me like long and slow.
That almost undid me—the heat building between us.
But I never asked.
Later at the dance, I pretended not to notice when she walked in. But I felt the air change when she did.
I told myself I’ll find a moment—to tease—to linger…to flirt.
The blackout wasn’t planned. But when the lights cut out instinct took over.
I saw her silhouette near the punch bowl.
I moved fast—hand on her waist before she could think.
She gasped.
I pull her behind the curtain and then I kissed her.
I had kissed girls before.
Plenty.
But that kiss was pure fire.
She tasted like nerves and lip gloss and stubborn pride.
She gripped my jacket like she was afraid I’d disappear.
And for a second—I didn’t care who saw.
I didn’t care about alignment or bloodlines or donors.
I just wanted her mouth on mine again.
“Tris—” she breathed.
I almost say it.
Almost say, ‘Let’s not hide.’
Then the lights slammed back on.
Reality crashed in.
Voices.
Stares.
We were exposed.
Her lipstick smeared.
My hands on her hips.
Silence.
And I froze.
Not because I was embarrassed.
Because I know how fast Royal Oaks can turn.
I knew how cruel it could be.
And in that half-second of hesitation—
Leo stepped in.
Laughing.
Clapping me on the back.
“Guess I owe you twenty grand,” he announced to the crowd. “Didn’t think you’d actually make out with the scholarship girl.”
The words hung in the air.
I looked at him.
What are you doing?
His eyes flicked to mine.
Cover.
Making it look like a joke instead of a declaration.
I opened my mouth to correct him.
To say it wasn’t—
But the damage is already done.
And Stella’s face changes. I’ve never seen something shut down that fast. Like a door slamming in a hurricane.
“Stella—”
She pulled away.
And when she looks at me?
There’s nothing there.
No heat.
No softness.
Just a blank slate.
She walked out.
I shoved past people, ignoring Leo’s hand on my arm. But he held me firmly.
“Tristan, wait—”
“Not now. Leo.”
Girls stepped in my path. My face was a thundercloud. The laughter might still be going but so was my heartbeat.
I searched the hallways.
The locker rooms.
Outside.
Nothing.
Gone.
She didn’t answer my texts.
Stopped flirting with me in class.
When I tried to talk to her, she turned her shoulder.
Like I was air.
Irrelevant.
That’s worse than hatred.
So I tracked her address down.
Warm light in the windows.
Christmas lights strung around the porch even though it’s not December.
I knocked.
Rain started coming down in sheets.
Her mother answered.
“Mrs. Cortez.” She looks at me once and knows. “I’m here to see Stella.”
Her eyes hardened.
“No.”
“I just need to explain—”
“I know what a pretty boy like you wants with my daughter, Mi hija.”
She said it sharply.
“You already caused too much damage just by looking.”
“I didn’t—”
“Go away, Look elsewhere. Leave her heart alone.”
The rain soaked through my jacket.
Cold runs down my spine.
“I care about her.”
She laughs without smiling.
“Boys like you care about yourselves.”
She stepped back inside while I stood there.
Drenched.
Helpless.
Because for the first time in my life—
Money and status couldn’t fix this. And the worst part?
She thinks it was a bet.
When it was the most real thing I’d ever felt.