The classroom buzzed with the usual chatter of students, punctuated by the scratch of pencils and the low hum of the air conditioning. Prince sat slouched in his chair, a lopsided grin plastered on his face as he fiddled with a yellow crayon. It wasn't like Mr. Owens' Reading class was riveting, but at least they had a group project to pass the time.

His tablemates, however, were a ticking time bomb. Kendrick sat stiffly across from him, his arms crossed, a perpetual scowl etched on his face. To his left, King leaned back in his chair, feigning disinterest but practically radiating tension. And then there was Kiara, perched on the edge of her seat like she wanted to flee at any moment.

Prince? He was holding it together. Barely.

"So," he said, twirling the crayon between his fingers, "are we actually going to work on this, or should we just start a reality show instead? Survivor: Classroom Drama Edition has a nice ring to it."

Kiara gave him a weak smile, but the joke didn't land with Kendrick or King. Their glares were locked on each other like gunslingers at high noon.

"Why are they always arguing over Star?" Kiara finally whispered to Prince, her voice laced with genuine confusion.

Prince shrugged dramatically. "Who knows? Maybe we should let them fight it out in gym class. Winner gets... what? A framed photo of her?"

Kiara shot him a look, but even she couldn't suppress a laugh.

It didn't take long for the simmering tension to boil over.

"I'm just saying," King began, leaning forward now, his calm demeanor cracking, "maybe if you stopped treating Star like some backup plan, she'd feel like you actually care."

Kendrick's chair scraped back slightly as he leaned forward too, his jaw tightening. "Backup plan? Are you serious? I've been trying to fix things with her since the bonfire. What have you been doing, huh? Swooping in like you're some kind of hero?"

King rolled his eyes. "At least I'm not confused about who I want. You don't even really want her. You want Zara at the same time."

That one landed like a gut punch.

The entire table went silent except for the faint clunk of crayons spilling from the box King had accidentally nudged off the table.

Prince froze, the crayon still spinning in his hand. He could feel the tension thickening, pressing down on him. He hated this. Hated seeing them like this.

"Uh," Prince interjected, forcing a laugh that felt as brittle as glass. "You guys know this isn't The Bachelor, right? Roses aren't included in the project."

Kiara frowned, looking between them. "Seriously, why are you guys fighting over Star? What is going on?"

Prince shrugged again, trying to keep up the act. "Love triangles. Classic high school stuff, right? They'll probably make a Netflix show about it. Or maybe we can sell the rights to HBO."

But inside, he wanted to scream. To flip the stupid crayon and yell at both of them to stop before they completely tore the group apart.

"Maybe I am confused," Kendrick admitted suddenly, his voice low but raw. His fingers tapped rhythmically against the table, a rare sign of his nerves. "Maybe I don't know what I feel. But I'm trying to figure it out. I'm doing my best."

"Oh, so that makes it okay to string them both along?" King snapped, standing abruptly. His chair screeched against the linoleum, and the crayons Prince had spilled earlier scattered further across the floor.

"Really?" Kendrick shot back, rising from his chair now too. He planted his hands firmly on the table, glaring at King. "You want to go? Right here, right now?"

Prince's heart plummeted as Kendrick shifted into a fighting stance, his shoulders squaring. The last thing anyone needed was for this to escalate into an actual fight.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Prince exclaimed, leaping to his feet and stepping between them. He raised his hands, palms out like a referee. "Guys, Fight Club was, like, the 1960s. And spoiler alert—it didn't end well for anyone."

Neither of them laughed. Of course, they didn't laugh. But Prince wasn't giving up. Not yet.

"Seriously," he continued, his voice tinged with desperation now. "Are you two really going to throw punches over... what? Your feelings? Star? Zara? I mean, I get it—teenage angst is powerful stuff—but maybe save the boxing match for PE."

Kiara tugged on his sleeve. "Prince—"

"Don't worry," Prince said, cutting her off with a grin that didn't reach his eyes. "I've got this under control."

He didn't.

King muttered something under his breath and stormed off, his shoes crunching over stray crayons. Kendrick stayed put, his fists clenched, his jaw tight, as he stared after him.

Prince turned to Kendrick, lowering his voice. "Man, what are you doing?"

"What do you mean?" Kendrick snapped, not meeting his gaze.

"I mean, do you even hear yourself?" Prince asked, his voice softer now but no less urgent. "You're not just messing things up with King—you're messing things up with all of us. Including Star. Including Zara. Do you really want to do that?"

Kendrick didn't respond. Instead, he sat down heavily, rubbing a hand over his face.

Prince sank back into his seat, letting out a long breath. His heart was still racing, but he forced another smile as he looked at Kiara. "So... anyone want to actually work on the project now?"

Kiara rolled her eyes. "You're impossible."

"Impossible is just another word for charming," Prince quipped. But the joke tasted bitter, and his chest felt tight.

As the others settled back into uneasy silence, Prince picked up a crayon and started doodling aimlessly on a scrap of paper.

His hands were steady, but inside, he felt like he was about to fall apart. 

The hallway buzzed with life as students shuffled to their next classes. Kiara was clutching her books, navigating through the chaos, when she felt a familiar presence sidle up beside her. She didn't even need to look to know who it was.

"Kiara, darling," Prince drawled, his tone dripping with faux charm. "Fancy bumping into you in this crowded, terribly romantic hallway."

She sighed, rolling her eyes but unable to suppress a small smirk. "What do you want, Prince?"

"Want? From you? Only your undying affection," he said, placing a hand over his heart dramatically. "Or maybe just help with this math homework I forgot to do. You know, whichever you feel like giving first."

Kiara stopped walking, turning to him with a glare. "Do you ever take anything seriously, or is it all just a big joke to you?" she suppressed a laugh due to irritation she liked this boy but she didn't want to throw in the bucket.

Prince blinked, his easy grin faltering for just a moment. "Whoa, harsh much? I was just—"

"Just what? Flirting? Trying to get a laugh?" she cut in, her voice sharper than she intended. "You can't keep playing with people like this, Prince."

His smile flickered, a crack in his usual armor. "I wasn't—"

"You were," she said, stepping closer. Her voice softened, but her words still carried weight. "You can't keep pretending nothing matters. Not when—" She stopped herself, taking a deep breath. "Not when people actually care."

There it was, hanging between them. Kiara wasn't sure if she'd meant herself or someone else—or maybe both. Either way, she wasn't sticking around to see how he'd respond.

She turned on her heel and started walking away, but Prince reached out and gently grabbed her arm.

"Wait," he said, his voice uncharacteristically earnest. "Kiara."

She hesitated, glancing back at him. His usual carefree expression was replaced with something more vulnerable, though he was trying to hide it.

"You're good at, you know, all that... people stuff," he said, waving a hand vaguely. "Like making them get along. Fixing things."

Kiara raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

"King and Kendrick," he admitted, running a hand through his hair. "They're at each other's throats, and it's only getting worse. I've tried jokes, I've tried ignoring it—it's not working. And now, well..." He trailed off, then added with a wry smile, "I'm desperate."

Kiara blinked, unsure if she was more surprised by his honesty or his sudden reliance on her. "You're asking me to play mediator?"

"Look, I know it's not really your thing, but I figured... I don't know. You're smart, you're good with people, and—"

"And I have a brain," she finished for him, her tone dry. "Thanks for noticing."

"C'mon, Kiara," he said, stepping in front of her to block her path. "Do you have any ideas? Even a bad one? Because anything's better than the two of them cutting each other's throats."

She stared at him for a moment, trying to gauge if he was being serious. The look in his eyes told her he was.

"I might have an idea," she said slowly. "But it's... not great."

Prince's face lit up like she'd just handed him the answers to a test. "Not great sounds perfect. Lay it on me."

Kiara couldn't help but laugh, shaking her head. "You're impossible."

"And yet you're still talking to me," he teased, his grin returning. But this time, it wasn't hiding anything.

She sighed, clutching her books tighter. "Fine. Meet me after school, and I'll tell you what I'm thinking. But if this backfires, it's on you."

Prince saluted her with mock seriousness. "Got it, boss. And, Kiara?"

"What now?" she asked, her tone half-annoyed, half-curious.

He leaned in slightly, a sly smile creeping onto his face. "Thanks. For not letting me drown in my own stupidity."

She rolled her eyes but felt a warmth in her chest that she wasn't ready to admit was there. Without another word, she turned and headed back to class, leaving Prince watching her retreating figure with a thoughtful look.