Deviant King (Royal Elite #1) - Rina Kent Page 0,2
“What’s your name?”
“Kimberly. You?”
“Elsa — and in my defence, I was born way before the Disney film came out.”
She chirps a little laughter. “Your parents must have psychic powers.”
“Aunt said Mum named me after a Swedish nurse who did lots of saving in both World Wars and was nicknamed the ‘Angel of Siberia’. You know, Siberia, Elsa, and then Frozen, the ice princess? So maybe Mum did have psychic powers. Pretty lame. I know.”
“No. It’s so cool.” Her shyness slowly withers away as we walk together. Now that I have her, I don’t feel as alone or dejected.
My grin widens as Kimberly shows me around elegant, huge classes. The locker rooms. The pool — that I avoided. The principal’s office that she jokes we shall never visit in a Shakespearian-like tone.
My three years in RES will be marvellous. I can almost feel it.
Once we reach the enormous, bright green football pitch, another type of giddiness takes me over. Not only because I’m such a nerd fan of Premier League and a die-hard Arsenal fan like Uncle, but also because of the long track surrounding the pitch.
This school definitely has better equipment than my last and I can continue running as usual. Hopefully, my heart condition won’t start acting up again.
A crowd of RES’s students gathers near the wiring that surrounds the pitch. Eager murmurs and excited gleams float in the air and it tastes like Christmas or a kid’s first visit to the amusement park. Everyone seems to be naturally drawn to this place and they keep multiplying by the second.
“Elites.”
“They’re here.”
“I say it’s a championship year.”
“For sure.”
“Have you seen how that little shit became even more illegal? I’d so do him.”
“Shut it. He doesn’t know you exist.”
While everyone chatters happily, Kimberly stands at the far end of the wiring, near the wall to the exit. Her easy, albeit timid smile withers away and her fair skin whitens some more.
I join her and follow her gaze.
On the pitch, the football team players pass the ball amongst each other with their heads or shoulders. They weren’t playing or even in the team’s jerseys. The school’s uniform for the girls is pretty, but it’s dead gorgeous for the boys, especially if they have fit bodies like these athletes.
They wear pressed dark blue trousers, white shirts and fitted jackets like ours. The only difference is that the boys have red ties with the school’s symbol.
The crowd’s attention strays to the four boys standing off to the side, half-playing with the team and half-chatting amongst each other.
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out they’re in a league of their own.
Kimberly’s gaze remains on the tallest boy who’s throwing a ball in the air and laughing like a young film star in the making. He has a classical, golden boy handsomeness. Slicked blond hair, sharp jawline, tanned skin, and a blinding smile, even from this distance.
However, the expression on Kimberly’s face isn’t of admiration or excitement like everyone present. If anything, it’s of… dread?
“Who are they?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.
“They’re the elite of the elite.” Her voice trembles, genuinely, it trembles. “If you want to have a peaceful life in RES, you have to be on their good side.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Kids can’t own a school. “Who’s the golden boy?”
“Xander Knight and he’s trouble,” she blurts fast as if her butt is on fire. “I like you, Elsa, and I mean it when I say, stay away.”
His put together type doesn’t interest me, anyway. I throw another look at him for a double-take.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand like needles when I meet the smokiest, most chilling eyes I’ve ever seen.
I hadn’t noticed him earlier because he was half hidden by Xander and his ball. He’s almost the same height as Xander, but with more developed shoulders. His uniform is missing the tie and he looks ruggedly handsome. Inky black hair runs long and slick in the middle, but it’s buzzed on the sides. His nose holds an aristocratic vibe although it appears a bit crooked like it was hurt before. That little imperfection adds more mystery and intrigue to him.
Something in my chest moves. I don’t know what it is, but it just moves.
It’s like a prisoner has been lurking in the corners of my chest and now decided it wanted to be set free.
Even if I want to break eye contact, I can’t.
He stares at me with a slightly tilted head and a silent, manic interest