22

I don’t believe in extraterrestrial beings but at the moment, I would rather have an alien standing in my dining room instead of Aiden fucking King. I’m too stunned to react. The toast is suspended mid-air with my jaw almost dropping to the floor. Aiden saunters to the middle of my dining room with confident, nonchalant steps. People feel awkward — or at least reserved — when entering a place for the first time. Not Aiden. His gleaming eyes fix mine with so much ease like all this is an everyday occurrence. The school’s jacket stretches over his defined shoulder muscles giving him an older edge than his eighteen years. His inky hair is slicked back to perfection and he’s even wearing the tie, today. His pressed trousers and elegant, designer shoes complete his shiny appearance. Aiden only looked this way at the end of the year ceremony when he had to give speeches. He doesn’t dress to impress, but today, he most definitely is. It’s a subtle reminder that he’s not only a student at RES