Chapter 2
1432 Words
Aliyah Kimberly’s POV
Dinner was served.
Lavish, elegant, and well-plated… but to me, it was just noise on a porcelain plate.
I pushed around the salmon with my fork, pretending to eat.
The warm chandelier light above cast soft golden hues on the long mahogany table, reflecting off our crystal glasses.
Everything looked perfect, but I felt like I was suffocating in my own skin.
Mum and Dad sat at the head, smiling and laughing with Mr. and Mrs. Bruce like we were already one big happy family
Adam was scrolling on his phone, showing something funny to Serena, who giggled like the sweet, bubbly girl she was.
And then there was him.
Saint.
Slouched back in his seat like the table was wasting his time, barely touching his food, one AirPod tucked into his ear.
He looked like he belonged in a teen drama perfectly tousled hair that somehow looked better messy, skin that looked annoyingly smooth under the chandelier glow, lips slightly parted like he was always in thought or too cool to care.
He hadn’t looked at me once.
Not a single glance since the elevator.
Like I didn’t exist.
And the worst part?
My heart still did that stupid skip every time I let my eyes flick toward him.
Why him?
I picked up my glass and sipped quietly. The sparkling juice fizzled gently on my tongue. I wanted to melt into the chair and disappear.
Finally, after what felt like hours, Mr. Bruce checked his gold watch. “Well, thank you again. It was a lovely evening.”
Mrs. Bruce dabbed her lips with a napkin. “Children, let’s get going.”
Serena turned to me and gave me the warmest hug. “See you Monday, Liyah. Don’t overthink it, okay?”
Her perfume smelled like strawberries and vanilla, soft and sweet the opposite of the heavy awkwardness clinging to me.
I smiled faintly. “Yeah… see you.”
Saint stood from his seat without a word, adjusting his black hoodie over his white shirt.
He didn’t say goodbye.
Just fist-bumped Adam and slipped his hands into his pockets like he was some cool shadow blending into the background.
Our parents walked them to the door while I quietly snuck upstairs, my heels clicking softly on the polished stairs.
---
The moment my door shut, I let out a long groan and flopped face-first into the bed.
The duvet was soft and cool against my skin, but my face felt hot.
Why was I acting like this?
I didn’t even know him.
But his face…
That face was carved into my mind. Those eyes that held secrets. That voice that oozed boredom and mystery.
“Ughhhhh,” I groaned louder, kicking my legs.
He was rude, cold, didn’t even say hi — but why did I care?
Was this what a first crush felt like?
Because I hated it.
--
It was finally Monday
I barely slept.
Woke up earlier than my alarm. My stomach was in knots. My palms were clammy.
I kept staring at the ceiling, mentally rehearsing how I’d introduce myself if anyone asked.
After forcing myself up, I stared at my wardrobe for too long.
First impression.
That mattered here, right?
I finally slipped into a cozy wine-colored knitted sweater that fell slightly off one shoulder, paired with clean dark jeans and white sneakers.
My curls, still slightly damp from the shower, bounced loosely around my shoulders.
I looked in the mirror.
Not too much. Not too basic. Just… me.
I whispered to my reflection, “You’ve got this.”
---
The smell of waffles and maple syrup greeted me.
Mum was by the stove in a silky robe, flipping something in the pan.
Dad was nowhere to be seen probably already at work.
Adam was already at the table, scarfing down eggs and scrolling on his phone.
Mum turned as I entered. “Aliyah, baby! Come eat.”
“Morning,” I mumbled, still half-nervous.
“Morning!” Adam said, then winced.
“Mum! Give it back!” he shouted, trying to snatch his phone from her hand.
She’d taken it while he was distracted.
“Eat your food. You’ve been glued to that screen all morning!” she snapped, putting it in her apron pocket.
I giggled, sliding into the chair beside him.
“Addict,” I whispered.
He rolled his eyes. “You’re just mad I beat your subway score last night.”
I took a bite of waffle. Sweet, buttery. But my appetite was shrinking with every passing second.
“I feel like I’m going to puke,” I said suddenly.
Mum turned. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“First day nerves,” I whispered. “What if they don’t like me?”
Mum walked over and gently touched my curls. “They will. Just be yourself, okay? You’re beautiful, smart, and kind.”
I nodded, but my chest still felt tight.
...
Before we knew it we were on our way to school, the sky was a soft peach color, sun peeking over the horizon.
Birds chirped. Cars zoomed past. The streets were smooth, clean, quiet.
We sat in the backseat of the black car, Adam humming beside me, still mad about his phone.
I stared out the window the whole time, fingers nervously fidgeting with my sleeves.
When the car turned the corner and the school gate came into view, I froze.
Royal Crest Elite Academy.
It looked like a European university from a movie — towering cream buildings with stone arches, endless rows of perfectly trimmed hedges, water fountains in the center that sparkled under the morning light.
It was grand. Intimidating. Magical.
My breath hitched. “This place is huge.”
Adam smirked. “Welcome to the jungle.”
The gates opened, and the car rolled in..
We were ushered through glass-paneled hallways that smelled faintly of lemon and paper.
Everything was pristine. Clean. Professional.
We arrived at an office with gold trimming and a sleek plaque on the door: Principal Diana Baker.
A woman sat behind the desk elegant, glowing, probably in her 40s, but looked younger. Her black hair was pulled into a clean ponytail. Her deep red lipstick didn’t even smudge when she smiled.
“Good morning, ma’am,” Adam said politely, bowing.
I followed quickly. “Good morning.”
She gestured for us to sit. “Welcome to Royal Crest. I’m Principal Baker. I trust you’re settling in well?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I replied softly, clasping my hands together.
She pressed a button on her desk. “Miss Joyce will handle your paperwork and give you your uniforms and timetables.”
Within seconds, a tall woman with a bun and clipboard entered. Her heels clicked like a metronome.
“Miss Joyce,” the principal said. “Please assist them.”
...
I was handed a neat, folded uniform: white blouse, navy blue blazer with gold embroidery, matching pleated skirt, and long socks.
After changing, I stared at myself in the mirror.
I didn’t recognize me.
I looked… rich. Important. Like I belonged.
But I didn’t feel that way inside.
Adam had already been whisked off to Physics, and I stood alone in the hallway with my timetable in one hand and my nerves in the other.
I squinted at the tiny font.
English. class B-105.
Where even was that?
“Aliyah!” someone called.
I turned.
Serena was jogging toward me, her long hair swinging behind her, skirt slightly hiked up like she didn’t care about the rules.
“OMG, I was looking for you!” she grinned.
“I’m lost,” I admitted.
She peeked at my paper. “Same English class! Come on, I’ll show you.”
First Class
We walked in just as the bell rang.
The teacher looked up and smiled. “Ah, our new student.”
I froze.
All eyes turned to me.
“Would you like to introduce yourself?” the teacher asked.
I swallowed hard. “Hi. I’m Aliyah Kimberly… I just moved here. I… hope we get along.”
Polite claps followed.
“You can sit next to Allison. Allison, raise your hand.”
A girl with cute curls and butterfly clips waved excitedly. “Hi!”
I smiled and headed toward her desk.
“Hey, I’m Allison.”
“Aliyah.”
“You’re gonna love it here,” she whispered. “Just ignore the rich brats. Most of them are chill.”
And just like that…
I survived my first entrance.
But something told me this was just the beginning.
- Writer
