Page 131 of Shameless Royalty

He lets out a low chuckle before nodding once. “See you later, Dawson.”

“Later,” I say, watching as he turns and walks off, disappearing into the shifting tide of students.

I stare after him for a moment before shaking my head and returning to my book. Aiden is… an odd one. He doesn’t talk much and doesn’t try to befriend me, but he doesn’t avoid me either.

I get back to work, forcing myself to focus. My pen scratches against the paper, my highlighter glides across another line, and my brain filters through information, sorting what matters from what doesn’t.

The world fades into the background, nothing but ink and paper and the steady rhythm of my thoughts, until I hear it.

A voice.

A voice I know too fucking well.

A voice I haven’t heard in five months.

“Babyface.”

My entire body locks up.

The pen slips from my fingers, rolling down the notebook before landing in the grass. My lungs seize, my stomach twists, and for a split second, I swear the ground beneath me tilts.

No.

No, it’s not real.It can’t be real.

I close my eyes, gripping my knee, forcing myself to breathe. I tell myself I’m imagining it, that my brain is playing tricks on me, that there’s no fucking way—

“Malachi.”

The sound of my name in his voice shreds through me like a goddamn blade.

Slowly—so fucking slowly—I turn my head, and there he is.

Connor Cunningham.

Standing a few feet away, hands in his pockets, his green eyes locked onto me like I might fucking disappear if he blinks.

I can’t breathe.

He looks… different. Still cocky, still sharp-edged and reckless, but there’s something else now, something heavier sitting in his gaze, something dark lingering in the way he carries himself.

His blond hair is shorter than before, the sides shaved cleaner, the top still long enough to run his hands through when he’s frustrated. The tattoos on his arms peek out from under the rolled-up sleeves of his black Henley, the ink still so familiar, like something burned into the back of my mind.

But his eyes—fuck,his eyes.

I don’t realize I’m gripping my notebook too tightly until the pages crumple beneath my fingers.

“What are you doing here?” I finally manage, my voice too flat, too empty to hide the storm raging inside me.

Connor exhales through his nose, shifting slightly, his boots scuffing against the pavement. “Came to see you.”

I let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking my head. “Yeah? Bit late for that, don’t you think?”

Something flickers across his face, too quick for me to catch, but I don’t care. I won’t let myself care. He steps closer, so I stand immediately, my body tensed like I might have to run, even though I know he’d never fucking hurt me.

Still, the distance is necessary.

“Malachi,” he says again, softer now, like he’s trying to read me and figure out how bad the damage is.

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