The air has a chill this morning, which is why I decided to wear an oversize pastel-blue cardigan with 3D crocheted flowers over my lace-lined ivory tank top, paired perfectly with black leggings and tan suede Chelsea boots.
A motor revving behind me pulls my attention. My head whipping around and hair flying, I see two motorcycles getting closer, slowing down as they reach me.
One of them flips their visor up, and I immediately recognize Asher’s blue eyes.
“Left without us?”
I laugh, my heart skipping a beat. “I usually do.”
Dean flips his visor too, revealing his heated green stare. “Not anymore, Princess. We’ll be your personal chauffeurs.”
Their protectiveness pools in my core as their gazes drink me in from head to toe.
“Hmm,” I hum. “Do I have a say in the matter?”
“Of course,” Dean says right as Asher argues, “No.”
They look at each other in surprise as I start walking backward away from them.
“I’m practically already on campus. So, I don’t think your services will be required today, boys.”
Asher’s eyes narrow, amusement in his stare. “Are you trying to play hard to get, Cirella? Because I hate to break it to you, but it’s way too late for that. You’re already ours.”
My cheeks burst into flames, but I try to play it cool. “Oh, really?” I challenge him, having way too much fun pushing his buttons. “Says who?”
Dean chuckles, lightly shaking his head. “You just love getting under his skin, don’t you?”
“Are you saying I don’t get under yours?” I purse my lips, gripping my sketchbook tightly across my chest.
He cocks an eyebrow. “Oh, baby, you live under my skin.”
“Good.” I grin, feeling pride and oddly confident, knowing that these two still want me after everything. “But if you’re giving me a ride, whose bike do I get on?”
“Mine,” they say simultaneously.
“I know how to settle this.” I nod. “I’ll just ride with the better kisser.”
They both sit up cockily, but I roll my eyes, spin on my heel, and walk forward. They don’t give up; their bikes drift with my pace, keeping at my side.
“Don’t you guys have practice or something?” I ask them teasingly.
“Already done. Some of us wake up before ten a.m.” Asher tries to bait me with his sarcastic comment, knowing damn well I get up early because it’s Monday and I have work.
“Someone had to make your beds this morning,” I retort.
“I make my own bed,” Dean argues, and I turn, smirking at him.
“I know.” I glare at Asher. “At least one of you does it. You guys could save your girlfriend some work—” My face pales completely, my legs locking up and freezing in place.
Suddenly, I wish I hadn’t turned to look at them at all because now I’m staring at their widened eyes after accidentally calling myself their girlfriend …
“I-I didn’t mean that,” I stammer.
“Oh, yeah, you did,” Asher cuts me off with a devilish smirk. “You know your title, Princess. Own it.”
Dean sits up taller on his bike, resting his hands in front of him. “We should’ve made that clearer, Cirella. You’ve been ours in every way that matters since the first night at the masquerade party.”
Dean stretches out his hand for me to take. “Get on, Ciri. We’re taking you to class.”
