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 turned out to have an entire royal bloodline. I mean, a prince? An actual prince? Really?
I stared out the car window as we pulled into campus. My heart should have been racing with excitement. Matriculation week. Winter Ball prep. The new semester energy. Students rushed past us carrying decorations, garment bags, and talking excitedly. This should have felt normal, but it did not. My heart had its own royal parade going on in my head, and it was all prince-related.
That same prince was walking beside me as if nothing had changed. Cool, charming, composed, and ridiculously hot in that royal blue sweater that fit him unfairly well. Mia, of course, walked slightly behind us like a glittery third wheel.
"So," I said as we strolled across campus, trying to sound casual. "What does a prince do on his first week back? Send official letters to the dinner hall? A royal order to improve the food?"
He smirked. "Only if you'll agree to be my Queen of Strawberry Pancakes."
I laughed, bumping his shoulder. "Tempting. But I hear waffles hold more power."
Then I straightened. "I have a question for you. It's been bothering me, so I have to ask. Tell me why you love pancakes so much. That's your favourite, right? I thought British food would be like fish and chips or baked beans or something. So why do you love pancakes?" I said, raising an eyebrow.
He grinned, leaning a little closer. "Why? Because someone in America introduced me to pancakes. That's why I love them more than fish and chips."
"Someone in America? Who?" I asked, curious and trying not to laugh.
He leaned back, pretending to think deeply. "Hmm… I guess you could say it was fate. But I won't tell you the name just yet. You might steal all the pancakes for yourself."
I rolled my eyes, nudging him again. "Oh, so now pancakes are off-limits? I see how it is. Very royal of you."
He winked. "Only for my Queen of Strawberry Pancakes. Everyone else can fight over waffles."
We fell into a quiet silence. The kind that wasn't awkward, just full of emotion.
Mia glanced between us, smiling in a way that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Okay," she said lightly. "I'll see you tomorrow. Take care of yourself, Chris. I love you."
"Okay. Bye," he replied casually, almost bored.
As soon as she walked off, I muttered, "I really don't like her. Gosh."
He didn't say anything. He 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, but his expression softened. "It's nothing. I'd do it again. Anything for you. I want to be more than friends if you let me." He kissed my hand.
I blushed. My heart somersaulted. I cleared my throat quickly. "So… about the Winter Ball."
His eyes lit up instantly. "You've made your decision?"
"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 month. That's all I had. I had never worked this hard outside of a fencing match or diplomatic dinner meetings. I had survived royal expectations and my father's lectures. 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 exactly 7:00 a.m. the next morning. Coffee and a milkshake in one hand. Her third favourite doughnuts in a small paper bag on the other hand. A note was 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 her pyjamas. Messy bun. Sleepy eyes. An attitude that could kill. And a look that nearly made me drop everything in my hands.
"You're lucky you're cute," she muttered, grabbing the coffee. "Or this would have 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…" She froze. I paused too, realising too late where that sentence was heading.
"You love what?" I asked, raising an eyebrow with that infuriating smirk.
"I said… I love doughnuts. So, thank you." She turned away quickly, clearly flustered. I smiled.
We sat on the bench side by side as the morning sun slowly painted gold across the campus walls. She ate quietly. I sipped my milkshake. And in that quiet moment, 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 Mia appeared. Dressed like she was auditioning for Mean Girls: Royal Edition, she approached with a dazzling fake smile.
"Well, if it isn't Prince Perfect and his Pretend Princess," she said.
"Mia," Felicity warned without even standing. "Don't."
"Just thought I'd say hello. 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. "Go ahead. Finish. 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 ruining my outfit."
Mia blinked. Then she turned and stomped off like she invented the concept of dramatic exits.
I stared at Felicity, impressed. "Damn," I muttered, grinning. "Remind me never to piss you off."
She sat back down beside me, smiling like she had not just shut someone down and handled a royal drama queen with her words. "No promises," she said.
At that moment, sunlight caught in her hair. Confidence glowed in her eyes. Sass curved in her smile. Fire burned in her heart. I knew one thing for sure. I was not just trying to win her heart anymore. I had fallen in love with her all over again. I was done for and just like that, the week of hearts officially began. One week filled with decorations, matriculation preparations, excited freshmen running across campus, whispers in the hallways, and stolen glances between classes. One week where every smile felt deeper, every touch lasted a second longer, and every moment with her mattered more than it should. I had one month to win her heart. But this week? This week felt like the beginning of everything.