Chapter One : Rivalry is a Full-Time Job
566 Words
Saint Elysian Academy smelled like fresh-cut grass, old money, and competition.
It wasn’t a school; it was an arena.
And today, I was prepared for battle.
I slipped on my blazer, smoothed the pleats of my skirt, and adjusted the golden prefect badge over my heart. It gleamed under the morning sun, catching on the edges of the Lane family crest.
Perfect.
There was no room for error today. Not when Killian Reyes was back from whatever private island his family had shipped him off to during the summer.
I was already halfway down the courtyard when I heard his name hissed in the air.
“Reyes is here.”
Tala, my best friend and partner-in-crime, nudged me hard. “You ready?”
I didn’t look up from my planner. “I’ve been ready since ninth grade.”
But even as I said it, my hand tightened on the pen.
I didn’t need to look.
I already knew how it would go.
The air would shift.
People would move without realizing it.
And then he’d appear.
Killian Reyes.
The boy born with the world at his feet and a heart carved from ice.
I looked anyway.
And there he was.
Crisp white uniform. Black tie knotted just loose enough to break rules but not enough to get detention. Shoulders squared like he owned the school—which, technically, his family did. His dark hair was a little too long, curling behind his ear like he’d just run a hand through it in careless frustration.
And his eyes.
Sharp, unreadable, cold.
He didn’t see me.
He didn’t have to.
But he turned his head anyway, gaze cutting through the crowd, and found mine like he’d been waiting for it.
I held it.
I always did.
His mouth lifted in something that was definitely not a smile.
“Lane,” he said when he was close enough to make my skin crawl.
“Reyes,” I replied, smoothing my face into perfect calm. “Missed your jet?”
He tilted his head, all mock consideration. “You know how it is. Billionaires don’t fly commercial.”
I gave him a tight smile. “Pity. You missed orientation.”
“Why bother? I’m already ahead.”
And there it was.
The gut-punch of irritation I’d been bracing for.
He always did this.
Played it cool.
Pretended he didn’t care about winning—when we both knew that wasn’t true.
Killian Reyes was a liar.
A dangerous, brilliant liar.
And worse, he was good at it.
“Debate tryouts are tomorrow,” I reminded him, flipping a page in my planner I didn’t need to check. “Hope you’re ready.”
He slid his hands into his pockets like we were discussing the weather. “I was born ready.”
Cocky.
Infuriating.
Predictable.
And yet…
There was something about the way his gaze lingered an extra second.
Like he was waiting for me to challenge him.
Like he wanted me to.
I stepped closer. Not much. Just enough that he noticed.
“Good,” I said, my voice lower now. “Because second place doesn’t suit me.”
For a beat, his jaw clenched.
The only c***k in his perfect mask.
And it was worth everything.
He leaned in, his voice cutting clean between us.
“We’ll see about that, Lane.”
I didn’t blink. “We always do.”
- Writer
