Page 117 of Picture Perfect

"Hm," she breathes out, her warmth seeping into the spaces between us.

"Come with us," I say, my hand still resting on the small of her back. "We have something for you." The urgency in my voice contradicts the calmness I try to project. We weave through the clusters of students, a sea parting for its king and queen, until we reach the quiet corridor where the computer lab hums with the promise of privacy.

"Is everything okay?" Concern flickers across Princess's features, her brow creasing delicately.

"Better than okay," Dre assures her, his smile easy and confident. Gen nods, her eyes alight with shared secrets. Gen doesn't know the whole truth. It didn't feel right to share Princess's secrets. A strange, new feeling I'm not sure I like.

I push open the door to the lab, and we step inside. The first bell is a distant thought, minutes from shattering this bubble of solidarity. My phone weighs heavy in my pocket—its twin about to change everything. I hope.

"Here," I say, slipping out the sleek device, its surface catching the fluorescent lights overhead. "This is for you."

Princess's eyes widen as she takes in the phone, turning it over in her hands. "A phone?"

"Encrypted," I clarify. "And, we set up extra security. Your family won't be able to access anything without the proper credentials. It's yours—to talk to us, or anyone else you want, any time. Without consequence."

"Saint," she starts, looking up at me, "this must have cost a fortune."

"Doesn't matter," I cut her off with a shake of my head. The price is irrelevant when it comes to her safety, her freedom.

She bites her lip, considering, then looks up with resolve hardening her gaze. "Thank you. I don't understand, but thank you."

"Nothing but the best for our girl," Dre chimes in, looping an arm around Princess's shoulder.

"Always," I affirm, my chest tight with the weight of my words. We've crossed into uncharted territory—a place where every move counts.

"Always," Princess echoes, and the word is a vow that wraps around us, binding us tighter than any encryption ever could.

Hesitation clings to Princess's movements as she taps the screen of her new phone, a shadow of doubt casting over her Nordic features. Chess, ever the mischievous strategist, leans in with a conspiratorial glint in his hazel eyes. "Hey," he says, his voice a low hum that beckons her attention. "We've got more than just encryption on our side."

I watch her closely, trying to gauge her reaction. The walls she’s built are high, but not impenetrable. Though she seems to have built them even higher where Chess is concerned. She'd been closest with him before whatever drew her away from us. Now? She leans away from him as he leans in.

There's a story there and Chess better get to the bottom of it before I do.

"Most of the school is carrying a piece of us in their pockets," Chess continues, sweeping a hand through his hair, the unique cut catching the light. "Our app. They've given us permission to dance through their digital lives. Even if they aren't aware of it," he winks.

"Meaning?" Her voice is cautious, green eyes narrowing slightly.

"Any photo, any video of you that you don't want floating around? We can make it disappear before it reaches the Winthrops," Chess explains, tapping his temple with a finger. "Tech magic at your service."

Her lips part for a moment before sealing again, a quiet acknowledgment of the fortress they're offering to erect around her. I step closer, invading her space—our space. My fingers itch to brush against her skin, to feel that electric charge again, but I hold back.

"Chess is right," I say, and my own voice sounds foreign, laced with something dark and protective. "We want you to have the freedom to breathe, Princess. To make mistakes without fear of them being used against you."

She looks up at me, and I'm caught by the intensity of her gaze. Those glaciers that once seemed impenetrable are thawing, drop by precious drop.

"Why? What if—"

"Trust us," I interrupt softly. "It's not about control. It's about giving you a life where one wrong move doesn't spell disaster. It's what you deserve."

"Freedom," she whispers, the word hanging between us like a promise.

"Exactly," I affirm, and it feels like a vow—one I intend to keep.

Chess takes her through all the extras he added for her, his eyes lighting up with his excitement. She’s still chilly toward him, but she doesn’t interrupt or ignore. Then, he shows her the most important app. The emergency beacon. We may have to bide our time until we have everything in place to get her out of there, but if she needs us. We’ll know.

The breath Princess lets out is heavy, a weight lifting visibly from her shoulders as she nods her thanks. Her green eyes meet mine, that indefinable strength that always seems to surround her softening just enough to let me see the gratitude within. "I've thought about it," she says, and there's a tremor of something like vulnerability in her voice. "And I'd like to accept your proposal."

For a moment, the world blurs around me, the hum of computer fans and the distant echo of locker doors slamming fading into insignificance. I hadn't expected this—not so soon, not when Dre and Chess seem closer to her heart than I could hope to be. But excitement surges through me, an electric current that drowns out my surprise.

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