Deviant King (Royal Elite #1) by Rina Kent

Aiden is that itch that makes me all uncomfortable and aware. The mere mention of his name smashes my mood and pulls at my sanity strings.

I did everything to erase him, but the king can’t be erased, can he? Even if he’s not there, his name floats all over RES. Hell, even at home, Aunt and Uncle always talk about King Enterprises.

He’s like a ghost haunting me wherever I go.

Maybe I’ve been looking at things wrong. Maybe erasing him isn’t the solution.

If I choose to get to know him, it’s not to understand him. It’s only a tactic so I’d know how to counter him.

“You know Xander,” I tell Kim. “It did you nothing, though.”

“Knew Xander. Past tense. He’s been a stranger for years.” She releases a pained sigh. “Besides, I don’t intend to fight him. You, on the other hand, seem bent on challenging King.”

“I’m only defending myself and…” I clutch her hand, my throat suddenly dry. “Our friendship. I hate that he’s getting between us, Kim.”

“My relationship with King isn’t like that.”

Relationship?

Before I can question her, the last class’s hour dings.

“Your track training,” Kim says.

I give her a quick hug. “I’ll see you later?”

She doesn’t take any sports classes.

A grin breaks on her face. “We’ll binge Lucifer?”

“Absolutely.”

In the locker room, I finish changing my clothes in record time before the other girls arrive.

I’m always the first or the last and usually in the far corner so none of them catches a glimpse of my scar.

A scar that’s now surrounded by hickeys.

I wait in the hallway for Coach. Some of the girls are chatting amongst each other.

Since the first day when Aiden deemed me as an outcast, the track team doesn’t really like me.

I remain in my zone and they stay in theirs.

I retrieve my phone and open social media.

It’s only to know what I’m up against, I tell myself.

Nothing more.

I find Aiden_King on Instagram only because he’s been following me for about a year. I never thought much of it at the time and I always ignored the itch to go through his profile.

He has a few hundreds of thousands followers. Hundreds of freaking thousands. Geez. It’s not like he’s a celebrity or something.

His caption is Go Elites.

His feed is filled with pictures of the game. He has full shots of the entire team. Most of his pictures are with Elites’ forward line. Xander, Cole, and Ronan.

He has pics in parties while they drown alcohol. In other pictures, they have girls squeezed between them.

In older pictures, they have Levi King with them. Aiden’s older cousin and Elites’ previous captain and a current player for Arsenal. I know him because I’ve been following him so closely since the beginning of this season.

He added so much balance to Arsenal’s midfield.

At the end of last year, Levi led Elites to win the schools’ championship. Aiden commemorated the moment with a picture of the forward line carrying Levi on their shoulders. A brunette stands beside Aiden laughing so happily and genuinely.

Even Aiden appears… happy? No. Not happy. More like euphoric.

It must be some sort of a power, right? Even through his Instagram, he shows that perfect golden boy and star image.

It’s easy for the world to believe he’s living the best life and loving it.

The more I scroll, the more it feels like a mask. A method to hide something. What, I don’t know.

Then, a break of pattern catches my attention. Now and then, between rows of happy go lucky pictures, he’d post a black and white shot that doesn’t have his face on it. One has his dark silhouette from behind. Another shows a ball with his name on it. A few others have the chessboard.

He doesn’t have captions on those pictures, and if he does, they’re short and strange.

Mood.

Urges.

Long Live the Queen.

Play the player, not the game.

Stop & Stare.

Ruin before you’re ruined.

I find myself hunting for every picture of that type. Unlike the other pictures, these seem like a true window to Aiden.

He posted the last black and white picture last night. It’s a shot of a glass chessboard. Right in the middle, the black king piece stands tall while the white queen falls at his feet.

The caption is, Sick.

All the commenters – mostly females – gush and wish him to get better soon.

I don’t think he meant sick in the physical term. He’s screwed up in the head as I told him.

As I told him?

I shake my head. That can’t be true.

“Come on, Girls. Go! Go! Go!”

Coach Nessrine’s voice startles me. I close the phone, throw it in my bag and head out to practice.

The thing I hate the most about track practice in RES is that we run around the football pitch where the football team is practising.

Nope. I won’t let them ruin running for me.

Coach gives us instructions on today’s practice. As I stretch, my gaze drifts to the pitch.

I find him without even trying to. Being hyper-aware of him makes him stand out of the crowd even if I don’t want him to.

Aiden wears the royal blue jersey and shorts like he’s some model. The uniform sticks to his body like a second skin outlining his developed chest and his toned thighs and legs. He calls for the ball and when it reaches him, his eyes spark with that challenging streak. He doesn’t take long to cut through the defence.