The study hall was the safest place we could think of.
Bright lights. Open space. At least three cameras in every corner. Students scattered across tables pretending to work while secretly scrolling.
Zero privacy.
Perfect.
I got there first and chose a table near the middle of the room, where being unnoticed was impossible. My notes were already spread out when Adrian walked in ten minutes later, backpack slung over one shoulder.
Even in a plain school sweater, he stood out. Not because he was trying to — but because people made space for him without realizing it.
He spotted me and walked over.
Half the room pretended not to watch.
"Hey," he said, pulling out the chair across from me.
"Hi."
Awkward.
Professional, I reminded myself. Strictly academic.
"So," I said, sliding the assignment sheet toward him, "The political evolution project."
"Fitting," he muttered.
I gave him a look. "Try not to accidentally use your own life as a primary source."
"No promises."
I bit back a smile and pointed at the paper. "We have to analyze how power structures change over time and how leadership affects the public."
He leaned back slightly. "That's… uncomfortably relevant."
"Good," I said. "You can do the theoretical parts. I'll do the research and data."
"You think I don't do research?"
"I think if you Google yourself, half the sources will be tabloids."
He laughed under his breath, and a few heads nearby turned.
There it was again — that easy feeling. Like we were just two students complaining about homework.
For a moment, I forgot about the cameras.
Forgot about the posts.
Forgot about the warning from the palace.
"Okay," he said, leaning forward. "Let's split it evenly. Historical examples together, analysis separately, combine later?"
"That's actually… really efficient."
"I am capable of being useful."
"I'm shocked."
He narrowed his eyes playfully. "Careful. That almost sounded like flirting."
My brain short-circuited. "It was not!"
He held up his hands. "Relax. I'm kidding."
But my cheeks were definitely warm.
We bent over our notes after that, actually working. Pens scratching, pages turning, quiet concentration.
It felt normal.
So normal that I didn't notice how close we'd leaned in until our heads almost bumped.
"Sorry," we both said at the same time again.
We froze.
Then laughed softly.
And just like that, the air changed.
Not dramatic.
Not loud.
Just warmer. Softer. Like something invisible had shifted closer.
"Do you ever," he said quietly, eyes still on the paper, "wish you could just disappear for a day? No expectations. No one watching."
I swallowed. "Every day."
"What would you do?"
"Sleep," I said immediately. "Then eat something expensive I didn't pay for. Then walk somewhere nobody knows my name."
He nodded slowly. "That sounds… perfect."
"What about you?" I asked.
He thought for a moment. "I'd like to go somewhere messy."
"Messy?"
"Yeah. Loud. Crowded. Food from street vendors. No one bowing. No one briefing me on how to behave."
I smiled faintly. "You'd last five minutes."
"Probably," he admitted. "But it would be my five minutes."
That did something to my chest I didn't want to examine too closely.
We went quiet again, but not awkwardly. The comfortable kind.
The dangerous kind.
Then—
A chair scraped loudly nearby.
"Wow," a girl's voice said. "You two look very focused."
We both looked up.
The same glossy-haired girl I'd bumped into on my first day stood there with her friends, phones loosely in their hands.
Recording.
My stomach dropped.
"We're studying," I said.
"Obviously," she replied with a sweet smile that wasn't sweet at all. "The whole school is very invested in this academic partnership."
Adrian's posture shifted instantly — shoulders straighter, expression cooler.
"Is there something you need?" he asked calmly.
She blinked, caught off guard by the tone. "No, Your Highness. Just… observing."
"Then observe quietly," he said.
Her smile faltered. She turned and walked away, whispering sharply to her friends.
I exhaled slowly. "And we're back to reality."
"I'm sorry," he said again.
"You say that a lot."
"Because you didn't sign up for this."
"Neither did you," I pointed out.
He didn't answer that.
We packed up a few minutes later, earlier than planned.
At the doors of the study hall, we stopped, an invisible line between us again.
"This is what they're scared of," he said quietly.
"What is?"
"This," he said, gesturing lightly between us. "Two people talking like it's normal."
I looked at the floor. "Maybe they're right to be scared."
"Are you?" he asked.
I met his eyes.
"Yes," I whispered.
Not of him.
Of how easy this felt.
Of how much it would hurt when the world decided it had to end.
We walked in opposite directions after that.
But all night, while I tried to focus on homework…
All I could think about was how, for a little while in a room full of cameras…
Being with him had felt almost normal.
And that was the most dangerous thing of all.