Chapter 16: Do I Have a Crush??
Danielle's POV
I stayed back, waiting until Zory had walked far enough ahead, her steps growing smaller until she turned down the main path leading to the dorms. Then I started moving too, slowly, like my body was stalling on purpose.
The road was cold and quiet. Stone tiles stretched out before me, glowing faintly under the pale light of the flickering lamps. A breeze rustled through the trees, whispering low warnings I couldn't quite make out.
I glanced up at the clock tower.
15 minutes to curfew.
If I ran now—hard and fast—I could make it inside five minutes early. I'd have just enough time to beat the guards doing final rounds, to make it to my dorm before anyone saw me.
Before anyone saw me like this.
Because somewhere between goodbye and right now… I had started crying.
And I hadn't even noticed.
My cheeks were wet. My lashes heavy. My chest tightening. My breath was coming shorter and faster and harder—panic setting in fast, like a tidal wave crashing before I could brace myself.
Calm down, Elle. Breathe, Danielle. Relax, Dani. Stay calm, Dan.
But I wasn't calm. My throat burned, and my vision swam.
Why did I entertain this?
Why did I let myself have fun, even for a second?
Why did I even—?
I broke into a sprint.
The gravel underfoot scraped and crunched as I pushed my legs harder. Trees flew past. Streetlamps blurred. I didn't care how I looked—tears soaking my uniform, hair sticking to my face, heart pounding out of rhythm. I just had to get back inside.
I reached the dorm building just in time.
One of the guards glanced my way but barely registered me.
Thank God he didn't notice. Didn't stop me. Didn't see me.
Because if he had... he would've seen someone shattered.
I slipped into the hallway, trying to look like I hadn't just run for my life.
The dorm hall was dim, the overhead lights dull and buzzing faintly. Doors lined each side of the corridor, all identical except for the tiny golden plaques bearing our names. My footsteps echoed down the marble tiles as I hurried to mine, unlocked the door, and slid inside.
My room greeted me with silence.
Curtains flapped lightly from an open window. My desk was cluttered with books, water bottles, a broken pen. My bed sat untouched, perfectly made, as though nothing in this room had ever experienced chaos.
I walked in, closed the door quietly, then dropped to my knees on the floor beside my bed.
And I broke.
Tears poured out of me—hot, thick, unstoppable. My shoulders shook. My jaw clenched. I pressed my forehead into the mattress and cried so hard it hurt. Gasping for breath. Gripping the sheets like they could hold me together.
"I don't want to feel this way," I choked out between sobs. "Please. I don't want to feel this way..."
I was alone. No Ana to hug me. No warm hand to hold. Just me. And the truth.
Somewhere in the mess of it all, I reached for my phone with trembling hands. Maybe I just wanted proof that I wasn't going crazy.
I opened the browser and typed, "how do you know when you have a crush on someone."
My vision blurred as the search results appeared. I kept crying, silent tears streaming down my face and dripping onto the screen.
Increased attention: always thinking about them.
Every second.
Physical reaction: heart skipping a beat, flushed cheeks.
I wiped at mine. Still crying.
Emotional connection: you feel drawn to them.
We just get each other. That's all, right?
Noticing details: features, height, voice.
She's 5'2". I know that without asking. Everyone knows. But... still.
Jealousy. Daydreaming.
I didn't read the rest. It was already obvious.
I dropped the phone on the mattress, still shaking.
I buried my face in the sheets. And I cried more.
Then... slowly... the crying stopped.
I didn't notice when it happened.
Just like I hadn't noticed when it started.
I sat back, pulled my knees to my chest, and whispered the truth.
"I think I might be… no. I am...." I stuttered
"I am a homosexual." I declared
The room didn't react. Nothing exploded.
But I felt something shift—something inside me unclench.
"I am a homosexual," I repeated, this time a little louder.
And then, softer, but even more true:
"And I have a crush on Zory."
The peace that followed wasn't loud.
It didn't celebrate me. It didn't make promises.
But it was real. And it wrapped around me like the night air.
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Zory's POV
Later that night, as I lay sprawled on my bed, the light from my desk lamp cast shadows across the ceiling. I stared at it, arms folded behind my head, heart still fluttering like I hadn't been able to calm down since we parted ways.
Dare I say… in all the chaos and awkwardness… this was the best night of my life.
His frame, just a little taller than me. His soft gold ponytails that caught the moonlight. The freckled trail along his cheekbones. His voice — soft but unbothered, teasing and careful. His freckled eyes when he smirked, like he knew too much and wasn't planning to tell me.
Honestly, if it were all about looks…
Then I could just as easily fall for his twin.
They're identical, after all — same hair, same freckled eyes, same voice even, since his hasn't really deepened yet.
But I don't feel this way about Daniella.
And that's how I know this is something more.
It's not just the outside.
It's the moments — those tiny, blinking seconds when I swear he forgets who he's supposed to be.
But ohh god, his height. His freckled golden eyes. That teasing smirk. His voice when he said something clever. The soft, almost shy laugh when I teased him back.
The way he called things "cute" when he was being sarcastic. Like when he told me, "Oh, you tried to get my number? How cute."
God, I replayed that line over and over like some kind of hopeless romantic.
He had no idea how weak that made me.
But then again…
sometimes, when he's being himself, there's just something different about him.
Like he forgets to act royal. He forgets to act perfect.
And in those moments, he's just… funny. And smart. And relaxed. And effortlessly charming.
It's those flashes of realness — of ease — that make my heart skip.
But the weird thing is, they only seem to come out when it's just us. Alone. Never around his family or in class or with the staff hovering nearby.
He changes around others. Gets all stiff and quiet again. Like he puts the royal mask back on.
Still… I don't mind. I get it. He probably grew up always being watched. Always having to act like a prince.
I can wait. I'll wait.
One day, maybe, he'll feel safe enough to let me see that side of him everywhere — not just when we're walking alone or hiding behind columns or sneaking into secret garden spaces.
Even in class. Especially in class.
Because that version of him — the one who says "how cute" with a grin and then rolls his eyes — he's the one I'm falling for.
He makes me laugh. He listens when I talk. He doesn't treat me like I'm annoying or weird or too much. He's patient and sarcastic and kind.
He's everything I thought my Prince Charming would be.
No — scratch that.
He's everything my Prince Charming is.
I smiled, pulling my blanket tighter across my chest as I whispered the words aloud, like they were something sacred.
"Daniel is my Prince Charming."
And then, just as softly, just as dreamily:
"...And I have a crush on him."
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