Page 28 of Prince of the Palisades

“Here!” Karan screeches. At the end of our row, two giggling girls fall into the last seats, blocking his exit. That doesn’t stop him. “On the way, D! One sec!”

And just like that, he uses his long legs to effortlessly climb over the seats in front of us. He jogs up to the stage. Leaving me alone with Reiss.

This is a nightmare.

After a minute, Reiss begrudgingly opens the camera app on his phone. He directs the lens toward the stage. In all the movement, his shoulder brushes mine. He leans the other way. I don’t care.

It’s not as if I was secretly trying to figure out what bodywash he uses. Nope. Never happened.

Onstage, charisma pours off Karan. He wasn’t bragging before. He’s talented.

“He’s right,” I find myself whispering. “It’s rude to lie about helping a friend.”

“Like it’s rude to be an asshole to someone who, just so we’re clear”—he half-turns his head to glare at me—“wasn’t recording you without consent.”

He doesn’t leave me room to comment.

“This is LA,” he continues, voice low. “I see celebs all the time. Cate Blanchettliterallyhad tea next to me this morning. Some of us don’t give a shit about who you are.”

I swallow, cheeks hot. “Point taken.”

“I was texting Karan that night. About you.”

He’s not looking at me anymore, but his face has softened to a pale pink. Like he’s embarrassed about admitting that.

“Good things?” I ask, conversationally. Curiously.

“Doesn’t matter now.”

My brain tries to work around what to say next. How to rewind, start over. Make this a little less uncomfortable. But no amount of royal training, lessons on diplomacy, comes to me. I’m stuck in a war of silence, just like I’m stuck in California.

Reiss seems content ignoring me. He kicks a foot up on the empty seat in front of him. My eyes widen. He’s wearing red-and-white Jordan 1 Retro High OGs. I have the same pair back in Réverie.

Surprising myself, I say, “Great shoes.”

Another surge of blush pours down his cheeks. “Sneakerhead?”

“I dabble,” I reply, then grimace.I dabble? Who the hell says that?

But the corners of Reiss’s mouth twitch. “Me too.”

Huh. We have something in common. Other than happily avoiding each other.

“I’ll have to show you my collection sometime,” I say, immediately regretting it. “On my phone. Not like. I wasn’t inviting you to mybedroom. I’m not some pervy—”

“I didn’t think you were,” Reiss says, mercifully ending my stammering. Another almost-smile brushes his lips. “I’m good at not assuming things about people.”

My whole face is on fire.

Before I can say anything, Karan climbs back over the seats. “Phew.” He fakes wiping his brow. “Not to brag, but I should probably start composing my acceptance speech for the Tonys. I slayed up there.”

Reiss lowers his phone. “True. Your ego deserves at least Best Newcomer.”

“That’s not a category, bro.” Karan nudges me. “You’re up.”

That’s when I realize Dustin’s saying, “Prince Jadon? Er, Your Highness? Your Majesty? Help, anyone?”

I jolt to my feet. “Jadon’s fine,” I say flatly when all eyes fall on me.

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