Aurora's POV
Nobody's touching the food—because why would you, when Arabella Kingsley just soft-launched herself as half of Adrabella™? Eggs can wait. Gossip can't.
"Arabella's literally giving main character energy now. Chic!"
"That kiss? I'm gone. BYE—"
"I mean, he looked dead inside but hot, so still counts."
Every table's glowing with screens. Hashtag ADRABELLA. TikToks already looping it with heart filters like it's a royal wedding.
Apparently Adrabella is today's house blend.
I'll stick to black coffee, thanks.
Lily massacres a croissant beside me like it personally offended her. Flakes everywhere, butter flying. "Look at them. Acting like Adra—Abra—ugh, see? That's not a ship name, that's a WiFi password."
She snaps off a shard like it's Bella's femur. Crunch. "If this is romance, I'd rather die single with a Birkin and a bottle of Veuve."
I smirk into my coffee. "RIP. St. Edmund's martyr."
She deadpans a halo gesture with her butter knife. "Canonise me. Patron saint of spotting bullshit before carbs. Jesus, give me a fucking break."
I choke-laugh into my cup. Couldn't agree more. Amen.
She takes another savage bite, mutters, "Pass the jam before I stab someone."
✦✦✦
By the time we scrape back our chairs, whispers are still buzzing like wasps at our backs. The air outside is thinner. Not kinder.
And then she arrives. Arabella Kingsley. Corridor perfectly timed like she rehearsed it. Blazer sharp, badge gleaming, hair glossy enough to need its own warning label. Smile sugared sharp enough to taste toxicity.
"Aurora Ashbourne," she says, velvet edges curling my name like a toast. Emerald eyes bright with mock curiosity.
"Enjoy yesterday's show?"
She doesn't wait, lips curving slow.
"Sweet you stayed to watch. Hope the view wasn't too bad".
Great.
Someone please explains why Queen B picked me for target practice today.
My spine locks. Nails dig into my palm under the fabric, nerves ratting me out.
"Hi, Arabella," I say, keeping it smooth. "Pretty sure this is the first time you've ever spoken to me. Historic moment, really."
Lily leans in, feral. "Please. No one's watching your shit show except you. Even your co-star looked like he lives in second-hand embarrassment."
Ouch. That one hurt.
Arabella's eyes flash. "Funny. Desperation isn't a good look on anyone."
"Oh, babe." Lily tilts her head, smile like a blade. "Then why are you wearing it like foundation? Thick, cracking, doesn't match your undertone."
Just when Arabella looks one step away from slapping Lily—he appears.
Adrian Sinclair. Precise. Unhurried. Stepping out of the shadow like he'd been waiting for this beat all along.
His gaze slices clean through the space—past me, locked on her. Cold. Unmoving.
When he speaks, it's soft enough to sound harmless.
"Bella... I thought I made myself clear."
Then he steps closer, tone dropping—smooth turning lethal.
YOU ARE READING
Bound To Be Yours 🦌
Teen FictionAdrian Sinclair isn't just St. Augustine's golden boy. He's my curse-𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓶𝔂 𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽 𝓸𝓫𝓼𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓸𝓷. He says I saved him. He never realised I was the one who pulled him under. St. Augustine's is a cage made of gold. Everyone here is starv...
