Page 95 of Prince of the Palisades

The breeze against my face. The way my stomach flips. I’ve never done something like this before.

It’s like a scene from a movie. My favorite movie—The Way He Looks. When Leo rides on the back of Gabriel’s bike for the first time.

An unexpected laugh spills from my mouth.

“Okay?” Reiss grins over his shoulder.

“Yes!” I shout as the city blurs into golds and reds and silvers. I rest my chin on his shoulder, breathing in his shower gel and the salty, damp air.

I’m not a prince. I’m not a headline. I’m a boy squeezing tightly to someone who makes me feel safe doing the most dangerous things.

It’s the freest I’ve ever felt.

“Death by Chocolate.” Reiss holds out his paper cup. “Here, try.”

We’re sitting on a bench on the far side of Third Street Promenade. After parking the e-scooter, he guided me to an ice cream shop, the menu filled with so many flavors, I couldn’t choose. The freckle-faced girl behind the counter, who clearly didn’t recognize me, picked mango sorbet. It’s perfect—sharp but sweet. Still, it’s nothing like Reiss’s choice.

Thankfully, no one’s around to hear the inappropriate noise I make. No one other than Reiss, who shifts around, biting his lip. It’s just us. Helmets at our feet, thighs touching. Scooping ice cream from tiny wooden spoons into our mouths.

“Thanks,” Reiss mutters. “For what you said to Dom.”

“It’s nothing.”

“It is.” He stabs at his melting mountain of chocolate. “Twoyears ago, one of the boys from his class had a sleepover. They watched horror movies. Dom’s not a fan.”

I grimace. “Me neither.”

Reiss nudges my bicep. “Dom was so scared he hid in the bathroom crying until Ma picked him up. Some of the boys still make fun of him because of it.”

A frown tugs at my mouth.

“I always want to protect him,” Reiss says, a tight wrinkle between his brows. “Even when he’s being a little shit. Which is constantly.”

“As a younger sibling, I’m offended.”

He ignores my fake pouting. “I never know the right thing to say. To make him feel better. To let him know it’s okay to be afraid.” He offers me his cup again. “But you did.”

I swipe another spoonful, minimizing my reaction this time. “What can I say? I’m kind of perfect.”

He shoves me, not before stealing from my cup. “Just say thank you.”

But I don’t. Instead, I say, “I’m sorry about Léon. I shouldn’t have let it happen. The way he treated you. The wayItreated you. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

He hums, spoon in his mouth. I sense he wants me to say more.

“This isn’t an excuse,” I preempt, “but my life’s been a disaster since that video. I tried so hard to fix it. To get people to respect me. But nothing works. It’s exhausting.”

“What happened? To make you say what you said?”

I squeeze my eyes shut. I wish it was from a brain freeze. But it’s from the memory.

“I was bored,” I get out. “I was supposed to be meeting my tutor, but I ended up roaming around the palace. I heard voices coming from the Rouge Room. I thought it was my papa. I hadn’t seen him in a week. But it wasn’t.”

My pulse picks up. It’s like I’m back there, ear pressed to the mahogany door. Throat tight when I heard his voice. His words.

“It was Léon’s dad,” I say, choked. “He said…he said—”

Reiss rests a hand on my jumping thigh. “You don’t have to tell me.”

---