Back at Ashwick, news of Nick’s extravagant fashion purchase had somehow spread through the gossip network with typical efficiency. By the time we reached campus, students were already whispering about the “epic romantic gesture” and speculating about whether it meant their engagement was becoming more serious.
“Privacy is impossible here,” I muttered as we walked through the main quad, dodging curious stares and pointed whispers.
“Privacy is overrated,” Julian’s voice carried from behind us. “Besides, grand romantic gestures should be properly appreciated by an audience.”
He appeared beside us with his usual theatrical flair, wearing a burgundy blazer that brought out the golden highlights in his dark hair. His hazel eyes sparkled with the kind of mischief that usually meant trouble fo
