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"Come on. What's going on with you and Vance?” Josh nudges me as we enter the corridor towards the library. “And don’t lie, Thorne. You’ve been different lately. We’ve been helping you with this event for the last couple of weeks. There is definitely something going on between you.”

“There is nothing going on,” I reply, letting out a small, dismissive huff.

“Don’t give me that bullshit.” Josh frowns. “Organising this event is a shit ton of work. If nothing is going on between the two of you, why the hell would you even bother?”

He’s right, and I fucking hate it.

I’ve burnt through my contacts, calling in favours from musicians, local journalists, and caterers. The guys have helped narrow down the guest list too and pull a few strings of their own, but I’ve invested more time and effort than I’d originally intended.

All for her.

Walking on Josh’s other side is Marco, a very talented percussionist, extraordinarily talented in fact. He is also, for the record, the world’s worst poker player. Catastrophically bad. I have told him many times how utterly crap I think he is at bluffing, though he stubbornly disagrees.

I’ve only known Marco since arriving at Belrose, which means I’ve known him for less time than Josh, but I trust him in a completely different sort of way.

Marco has known things—significant things. He’s been in the right place at the wrong time on more than one occasion, seeing and hearing things I would have preferred him not to. Yet, he has never once sold a single shred of it to the gossip mill of Belrose. He just holds onto it. It’s the quality I value most in any person. I would trust him with my life.

So, even though Marco is a terrible poker player, and an exceptional percussionist, he is one of the few I would trust with anything that matters. Yet right now, I can’t seem to bring myself to admit my feelings to him.

God forbid either of them find out I asked her to my father’s winter gala. They’d never let me hear the end of it, and worse, putting a label on it out loud, makes it real in a way that utterly terrifies me.

I have never put a label on anything with anyone.

Labels always mean expectations.

Expectations always mean rules.

I don't follow rules.

Marco is looking at me and waiting for confirmation. “Come on, Julian. There is absolutely something going on with you two.”

“Yeah, what’s the official version?” Josh butts in.

“I have not been different.” I pause. “And there is no official version.”

“You turned down Stave on Friday,” Marco states, shaking his head.

“I was tired.” I lie.

Josh lets out a laugh. “You are never too tired for whiskey. What the hell are you on about?”

“There is a first time for everything.” I smile, trying to maintain my cool composure.

Marco makes a sound that is not quite a laugh and not quite a cough.

I cut my eyes to look at him. “Something to say?”

Josh looks at Marco, and Marco looks back at Josh. They can see through all the bullshit and the lies.

I don’t know why I don’t tell them.

What the fuck am I even afraid of?

I’m not embarrassed of Ellise—far from it. The idea of walking into my father’s gala with her on my arm, looking like the only real thing in that entire room of shallow vultures makes my chest tighten with a savage kind of pride. But I can’t put my finger on why I feel this desperate need to hide this from my mates until she’s safely mine.

“He spent Friday night with Vance,” Marco states, tilting his head at me while speaking to Josh.

“I did not.” Technically true. I was with her for part of the night.