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.
Conquest.
He stops at nothing to get to the goal.
I hate the bastard, but with his level of talent, he can be scouted into one of the Premier League’s top teams. That is if he wasn’t already. Maybe, like his cousin, RES won’t allow him to leave until he graduates.
Elites are divided into two teams, playing against each other. Cole and Aiden are on the team who wears the blue uniform. Xander and Ronan are on the team with neon T-shirts.
Aiden and Xander are the team’s strikers, but now, Xander is playing defence. A position he doesn’t usually play.
What? I might have been listening when Kim told me about the home games she watched last year.
Aiden goes for the ball, leaving a few of his opponents behind. Just when he’s gaining momentum towards the net, Xander tackles him with brute force. Aiden hits the ground with a thud.
A few gasps escape from the girls around me. Even our coach stops and stares.
The audience who gathered to watch the practice fall silent, their mouths hanging open.