Love and Hate

Chapter 3: Alister King.

It was no exaggeration. He was absolutely stunning. He had enrapturing, loam-grey eyes, lunar shaped. His concave cheekbones rested on skin, the same shade of sun-warmed desert sand.

“Is this room taken?” His voice was deep, rumbling like bottled thunder.

Erin looked around the vacant room pointedly. “Yes, it’s totally full in here.”

He flashed her a cosmic smile, his teeth iridescent. “I was only asking to be polite.”

She wrestled with her own smile. “A gentleman, are we?”

“Depends on who I am talking to.” He turned his head to mutter something to someone behind him—out of visual range. He then entered and closed the door, meandering inside; his gaze transfixed on the piano.

Erin’s eyes did a slow crawl down his body. He had a devil-means-to-care outlook, attired in black clothing. The sleeves of his tight-fitting Barocco shirt were rolled up to his elbows, exposing the prominent, roping veins in his forearms, thick and turquoise. The only colour was the gold round the collar, a Versace print embroidered on it.

He sets down his bag midway. He ran tentative fingers through his dark hair, slick and voluminous, an undercut hairstyle, the sides trimmed with a low fade. He moved to sit on the bench before the piano, his back toward her.

“I hope you don’t mind if I play.”

“It depends,” she said. Urgently trying to mute her frantic nerves. “Are you good?”

“You tell me.”

He launched into a beautiful ballad. Erin imagined the sound to be one twinkling stars would make if they could. The symphony resonated throughout the room, filling her with a sense of awe. Then she realised she recognised the song. Claire Wyndham, I rather watch my kingdom fall.

Unaware. She rose from her seat, instinctively drawn.

She moved slowly to stand beside the piano. She observed with reverence, watching his hands, calloused fingers that gracefully frolicked between the keys of the piano.

“You are good, really good,” she answered with a nervous laugh. “I like the song, sad but great.”

She winced at the poor choice of words.

He looked over at her and looked down to gesture at the seat beside him.

Eager yet anxious. She swallowed her dismay and moved to sit at his side. She inhaled a deep breath, inhaling his strong-smelling essence, his powerful cologne, potent but not overwhelming.

“All it needs now is some vocals.”

They shared a look, and he wagged his equinox-shaped brows at her.

“Me?” She freed a wry laugh. “If you cherish your hearing, I think not.”

He chuckled. A pleasant sound. “C’mon just try, I promise I won’t judge. This is a safe place.”

A smile broke free on her face. “I don’t really tend to serenade strangers with my awful singing

He stopped and twisted his shoulders to face her, his granite jaw square and firm.

“My name is Alister King.” His accent foreign, but it resounds with a distinct note of authority “A new transfer here at Briarwood High.”

He offered his hand.

“I’m Erin Lane.”

She took his hand and he give it a gentle shake; his thumb grazes her skin.

“See.” His gaze never wavered. “Now we’re no longer strangers.”

Erin retracted her hand, heat stinging her cheeks. “And its Braidwood High,” she corrected in an attempt to distract herself. “Not Briarwood.”

“Is it?” he asked in a bored tone, straightening his shoulders. “My relocation here was fast.”

“Oh, where did you live before you came here?”

A shadow flickered in his eyes. “Far.”

He glanced at her again, a megawatt smile brightening his eyes. “Stop stalling, are you going to do this or not?”

He replayed the song from the beginning.

Erin listened to each keystroke, plotting where was in the instrumental version of the song he was, and where the signing would begin.

She mustered the courage and started to sing along. Not long after, a galactic grin exploded on his face, his shoulders shaking slightly, visibly suppressing a laugh.

Erin sealed her lips and pouted. “I told you I was terrible.”

“No.” He dragged out. “But I’m sure you have many other praiseworthy talents; singing is just not one of them.”

Erin gaped at him and smacked him reproachfully—instantly regretting it, his musclebound arm crafted from sheer rock.

“So, what? Your first day at a new school and you… hole yourself up in a music room?”

“I like quiet, I like peace and music gives that to me.” He stopped playing to gaze into her eyes. Erin feared if she dared to look any longer, she would be lost in them. “Besides, I’m not alone. I find your company… tolerable.”

Erin gawked at him. “Tolerable?” she echoed with absolute offense.

He nodded ruefully, wrinkling his nose. “Yeah. But maybe if I got used to you, I don’t know. Maybe I’d learn to tolerate you less and enjoy you more.”

Very smooth. Erin thought.

“Tempting.” She rose from her seat. “But I already have friends that enjoy my company.”

She walked to her desk and closed her bag.

“Then I will just have to become one of them.” He swivelled on the seat to face her; his legs spread. He slanted forward to rest his elbows on his thighs. “So you can enjoy the pleasure of mine.”

Erin grinned to herself. She pushed the laptop closed and tucked it underarm as she shouldered her bag. “Cockiness is not as attractive as you think.”

She moved to exit.

“Just as playing hard to get is so tired,” he said to her back.

Several hours tumbled by, just a few more until the day was over.

Ariana trudged to her way to her locker. When she arrived, she unlocked it and surveyed the pharmacy of half-empty bottles of pills that she had been storing over the years that just grew and grew. She knocked a few over, wedged between books, hunting for specific pain pills. Desperate to dull the constant throb in the one side of her face.

“Ari, babe.”

Xavier breezed by and leaned his shoulder against the random locker next to her.

Ariana slowly closed the locker door. “Call me that again, and I’ll rip out tongue.”

She moved to pass him, but he moved quickly to obstruct her path.

Nearby, two of the transfer students strolled down that very same hallway. Alerted, one of them hits the other’s chest to direct the attention to a girl being harassed by some wanker in a varsity jacket.

“Aren’t you tired?” He c****d his head to the side. “You know, cause I’m sure resisting fate, what’s meant to be, must be exhausting.”

She cringed. Deeply. “No, resisting the urge to punch you is.”

A sickening smile lengthened on his face. “You like it rough?”

Ariana tried to dodge him again, but this he grabbed her waist to stop her.

“Cause so do I.”

Her eyes implode wide before she reacts in a heartbeat. She relinquished his hold and hurled a fist at his gut. She seized him and shoved his towering heft into the lockers with a clangorous thud. Ariana jabbed her forearm underneath his chin, pressing hard, pining him to the surface.

“Touch me again—” she shook her head furiously. “If you even breathe in my direction, I will show you how rough I can get.”

Ariana whipped her head to the right at the growing whoops. Two guys she has never seen before approach with smug smiles, but their drip was on fire.

One of them applauded. He had raven-black hair, medium-length that reached his neck.

 “And here I thought I was going to save the day.

The other looked at Xavier, scanning him scathingly. “But it seems you’re the one in need of rescuing.”

In an outburst of wounded masculinity. Xavier's cheeks huffed like a beast ready to attack. “Get off.” He caught her off guard, pushing her away so hard, it sent her stumbling.

The long-haired one lunged forward and slammed him back into the lockers with brute force. “Watch yourself.”

Xavier tried to wrench his hand away, but his arm was a pillar of iron that couldn’t be moved.

“Easy there,” the other warned. “You know we can’t afford trouble on our first day. But if he continues.” A lethal smile lacerated his face. “It will be worth it.”

The one that had him, released him. Evading further embarrassment, he stormed off without retaliation. At least one that was not immediate. The two transfers perused their surroundings, loitering students instantly sped up their pace.

The raven-haired one approached Ariana. “You good?”

“Always was, never needed your help.”

“I could see that.” His eyes explored her, captivated by her strong spirit. “Though a thank you would be nice.”

Ariana’s expression was engraved in a scowl.

His hands flew to his shoulders. “I can settle on a glare—you could at least do that a little nicely, less… intensely.”

Ariana spun around and marched away, leaving him dumbstruck.