Deviant King (Royal Elite #1) by Rina Kent

As I stare at my red hands, the first tear falls on the side of my palm.

The second follows.

Then the third.

I sniffle, trying to hold back the tears as I did since Saturday.

Only this time, I can’t fight the tide.

So I let it loose.

I promise myself that this is the last time I cry for Aiden King.





Chapter Thirty-Three





For the rest of the day, I try to pretend that Aiden and Silver don’t exist.

But the thing about pretending? It’s all about putting a cool mask on the outside and burning on the inside.

Every time I see Silver’s arm draped around Aiden’s, I itch to break it. I want to pound her face into the floor until she no longer breathes.

That’s another scary thought.

I’ve been having too many scary thoughts lately. I’m probably backpedalling. To what. I don’t know. I’m not even supposed to think I’m backpedalling. That would mean I admit having a worse state of mind and I’m rearing back to that.

I really need to see Dr Khan.

With heavy feet, I head to the pitch. I’m really not in the mood to share a practice space with Aiden.

I contemplated cutting school, but that would mean I’m running away.

And after the washroom episode, I promised myself to never cry or run away anymore.

My gaze strays to the pitch where some of the football team players are stretching. Aiden stands at the sideline talking to Silver. It’s like he’s honey and she’s a bee. She wouldn’t stop hanging off his arm like a parasite.

But is she a parasite if he keeps smiling at her like that?

If he keeps flirting with her?

He wreaks everything in his path with a smile on his face. Including my heart.

I want to play tough, to think I’ll wake up tomorrow and he’ll be in the past. But I’d only be fooling myself.

So I hide in the corner like a creep, having a pity party with myself. We still have fifteen minutes until practice. I already changed into my track clothes, but I’m dreading going down there. I don’t even have Kim to keep me company.

Screw Aiden and his barbie doll. I won’t run away.

The moment I straighten myself, I notice a shadow lurking in the back. I startle with a small gasp.

Cole sits under a plum tree, reading a book — Nausea by Jean-Paul Sartre.

My cheeks tint with red at the thought that he’s seen me act like a coward for the past five minutes.

He’s dressed in Elites’ jersey and shorts. His hair is slightly wet as if he ran it under a faucet.

Aside from Aiden, Cole has always been the most mysterious. He’s not talkative at all. I can count the number of times I heard his voice. He’s usually the audience of Ronan’s animated speeches and the most adult-like out of the four horsemen. That’s probably why he’s Elites’ captain.

Cole never showed me malice or interest. He just exists as if passing through the school is a breeze in his life.

He’s popular, but he’s not a manwhore like Xander and Ronan. He’s just… serene.

Now that I study him closely, he’s quite handsome with long chestnut hair and dark green eyes like the forest after the rain. If I weren’t so biased, I’d say he’s even more good-looking than Aiden. His beauty is calm compared to Aiden’s dangerous one.

He throws me a glance over his book. I can’t help but smile at the image. He’s reading Jean-Paul Sartre while he’s in his football uniform.

“Is my book funny?” he asks with no maliciousness.

“I never thought athletes were interested in existentialism theories.”

He raises a thick eyebrow. “Aren’t you an athlete, too?”

“Touché. I should’ve said football players.”

“Because we’re so dumb?” There’s still no threat in his tone. If anything, it’s filled with mild curiosity.

“I didn’t mean that.” My cheeks tint. I don’t want to come off judgemental.

“Well, we can be.” He points at his book. “So what do you think about existentialism?”

I’m taken aback. He didn’t ask what I know about it, but what I think about it. So he’s sure I read about it. But then again, I wouldn’t have associated Nausea and Sartre to existentialism if I didn’t at least know something about it.

“Hmm.” I lean back against the stone wall. “I believe it’s a negative and a nihilistic philosophy.”

His posture quirks up as if he’s a kid given his favourite toy. “So you don’t believe that existence precedes essence?”

“Not per se. It can be true to some extent, but the whole theory is hyper-individualist. A person isn’t an entity that can’t be touched or manipulated.” I tip my chin.

Challenge that, mister. Your ace striker is a class one manipulator.

Cole seems smart. Probably to Aiden’s level of high intelligence, but like Aiden, he doesn’t show it.

I can bet money that he knows about Aiden’s true character. I suspect Xander knows, too.

They couldn’t possibly have known Aiden for all these years and not detect that something is wrong.

His brow quirks as he closes the book and lets it fall to his lap. “What if the person’s lack of existentialism causes them to be a target of manipulation?”