Chapter 12 #2
The lunch hall is filled with restless voices, blending together in a monotonous noise as they pile over each other. The clink of trays, the scraping of chairs… yes, a typical school atmosphere. If it weren’t for the extra extravagant chandeliers currently hanging above me, of course.
I weave through the crowd, my phone clutched in one hand. A message from Lilia lights up the screen, directing me to the corner table on the left. Relief blooms in my chest when I spot Bea and Lilia already seated, waving me over with friendly smiles.
“Hey,” I greet them, sliding into a seat. The tension that’s been knotted tight all morning eases a little in their presence, and for the first time in hours, I can breathe.
“Hi!” they chorus back in unison, but before either of them can say more, their attention flicks toward the other side of the room.
A ripple of noise cuts through the hall, and I turn my head just in time to catch a taller, broad-shouldered, boy towering over a shorter girl I immediately recognize as Paris, a scowl on his face.
His voice is low enough that I can’t make out what he’s saying, but whatever it is, it makes Paris draw back slightly, her brows furrowing, mouth tight.
She mutters something in return, chin high.
The boy steps closer.
His voice grows louder, angrier, reverberating off the walls. Paris’s eyes widen in something I can only identify as disgust, but she doesn’t move away.
For a split second, I think he might actually lunge.
But then, the air shifts.
The doors to the hall swing open and in walks someone who, without doing anything at all, stills the entire room.
A tall boy. He’s lean, but not skinny, with golden, tan skin that glows under the stained-glass skylight.
He has light brown hair that falls in perfectly tousled waves across his forehead, catching the light in a way that almost makes it shimmer.
It’s that kind of shade that feels warm; not too light, but definitely not dark either, and it blends effortlessly with the faint freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks.
Freckles that soften his otherwise intense features and add a boyish charm to his face that seems entirely out of place, but somehow suits him perfectly.
But it’s the eyes that I notice first. Not only because of their impossible beauty, but also because I’ve seen them before.
A kaleidoscope of grey and green with a ring of gold around the pupil. The same eyes I saw before I fainted.
He walks like he owns the air around him.
And maybe he does. Because in that moment, everyone’s focus turns to him. Conversations fall off mid-sentence. Utensils are frozen halfway to mouths.
He doesn’t look at anyone. Doesn’t need to.
He is so stunningly perfect it almost hurts to look at him. There’s a timelessness about his beauty, too. Like he’s lived a thousand lives already and will live a thousand more. There is no era he wouldn’t belong in.
And the control he holds shocks me to my very core, and somehow, I don’t seem to be exempt from it. The kind of control you wouldn’t expect from an eighteen-year-old boy.
People part for him without instruction, their silence not born of fear, but awe.
It’s then that I notice the hoodie he’s wearing. And not just any hoodie.
The hoodie from the bus.
My blood chills.
“That,” Lilia says, “is Kai Steele.”
I knew that, of course.
I had just… gotten lost for a second there.
However, he might have looked online or in the magazines didn’t compare to seeing him in real life.
Pictures didn’t capture the entirety of him.
How the world shifted to make room for him when he entered it.
They didn’t show how the air bent around him, how people stopped and stared because they couldn’t fathom missing a second of his presence.
And so I watch, like everyone else in the room, as he walks straight toward Paris and the boy still looming over her. Every pair of eyes in the room follows him like the floor might shift depending on where he steps.
He reaches them, steps in between without saying a word, then leans in toward the boy, just slightly, and says something I can’t hear.
Whatever it is, it works, because the boy’s posture suddenly stiffens and his face blanks. For a moment, his mouth twitches, and I think he might even argue—but he doesn’t.
He just steps back, shoulders tight. Then he turns and walks away without another word.
“Do you think he enjoys all the attention he gets?” Lilia asks, dragging my focus back to the table.
Bea doesn’t look up. “Seems exhausting.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Like being under a microscope all the time.”
“It’s like he’s not even real,” Lilia mutters, stirring the ice in her drink.
And I know what she means. There’s something about Kai Steele that feels more idea than person—as if someone carefully carved him out of marble and everyone just agreed to go along with it.
“He’s just a boy,” I say quietly, half to myself. “Not a god.”
Bea glances at me, and there’s something in her eyes—not quite surprise, but something close to agreement. “You’d be surprised how many people forget that.”
Lilia smirks. “Not when he walks around like that. Honestly, I think people would faint if he so much as dropped his pencil.”
But I keep thinking about it. About how lonely it must be, to be held up like that. Like a statue on a pedestal.
The next time I look up, Kai’s already seated with Will, Christian, and Liam.
Lilia follows my gaze. “Bea’s family used to be close to theirs,” she offers casually. Her lips twitch upward in a small, amused smile. “Even had dinner at the Steele house.”
Bea’s expression darkens, her gaze fixed on the group. “Never again,” she says flatly.
“What was it like?” I ask, unable to resist.
Bea doesn’t answer immediately, her focus still on the boys in the centre of the room. When she does speak, her voice is clipped. “Suffocating.”
Lilia, on the other hand, looks like she’s about to choke on her laughter. “She got a good telling off from Gabriel Steele too,” she adds, but as soon as she sees the look on Bea’s face, she cuts herself off with a sheepish grin.
“I didn’t get told off,” Bea retorts, though her cheeks flush slightly. “Apparently, my table manners aren’t up to the proper Steele standard.” She rolls her eyes.
Lilia grins, leaning closer. “Is he as attractive in real life as he is on the news?” she asks, a mischievous glint in her eye. Before Bea can respond, Lilia turns to me, eyebrows wiggling. “He’s a spokesperson too, you know.”
Bea nudges Lilia’s shoulder. “Stop it,” she says, though a small smile tugs at the corner of her lips. Her expression quickly sobers, though, her voice dropping. “He’s terrifying.”
I’m about to agree, before my gaze shifts across the lunch hall, landing on a figure sitting alone at a table. Kym. She’s hunched over slightly, her shoulders tight, her head down.
An idea sparks within me then, and I turn to Bea and Lilia with a hopeful expression. “What if we invite Kym to sit with us?” I suggest, turning back to Bea and Lilia. “She looks like she could use some company.”
Bea and Lilia exchange a look, and Bea’s lips twitch into a soft smile. “Why not? It couldn’t hurt,” she says.
I’m excited when I call out Kym’s name. She startles when I do, her head snapping up as if she’s been caught doing something she shouldn’t. When it becomes clear she has no plans to leave her seat, I hurriedly make my way over.
“Would you like to sit with us?” I ask, though I’m not even sure she can hear me with those big headphones she has on.
I conclude she can’t and hastily gesture to my ears, which finally gets a response, albeit not straight away.
“Yes?” she asks, slightly impatiently, pulling her headphones down so they rest on her neck.
“You wear those headphones all the time?” I say instead, slightly intimidated by the blank look on her pale face.
“It can be exhausting,” she admits, her foxy eyes distant and thoughtful, “talking to people.”
For a moment I just stare at her, trying to figure her out, but then I simply nod. “It’s a hassle. When people don’t listen,” I say. “I’ll listen.”
I watch as her eyes narrow, just slightly, and I wonder what it is that makes her so wary. But then, slowly, she neatly places all her belongings in her backpack, stands up, and without waiting for me, walks over to our table.
I smile in triumph.
“Hi,” Bea greets her warmly. “I’m Bea. Nice to meet you.”
“And I’m Lilia.”
Kym maintains the most perfect posture I think I’ve ever seen as she takes a seat beside me. “I’m Kym,” she says calmly.
“Your necklace is so gorgeous!” Bea gasps. “Where did you get it?” she asks, her tone genuinely curious.
Kym’s hand moves to the ring resting on the chain, her fingers brushing it lightly. “It’s from my mother,” she says, her voice steady but distant. “It’s not that special. Everyone in the family has one.”
“Ooo, cool! So you have siblings then?” Lilia asks, her enthusiasm bubbling over. “Do you have a lot? I’ve always wanted more siblings.”
Bea cuts in, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Not all siblings are like Dawn, Lilia,” she teases. Then, turning to Kym, she adds, “Dawn’s her little sister. She’s a little angel.”
I smile at that.
Kym nods faintly. “I only have one sibling,” she says, her voice quieter now. For the first time, her confidence falters. Her gaze drops, and she suddenly seems very interested in the food on her tray, her fingers absently toying with the edge of her plate.
Lilia leans forward, resting her chin in her hand. “Brother or sister?” she asks.
Kym meets her gaze, and there’s a flicker of hesitation before she answers. “Older brother.”
“Oh, Bea might know him then,” Lilia says brightly. “She knows everyone.”
Bea rolls her eyes. “She’s exaggerating.”
Kym glances between us, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Um,” she starts, clearly uncomfortable. Before she can say more, I interject.
“It’s okay,” I say gently. “You don’t need to say.”
Her eyes meet mine, and for a moment, it’s like she knows I already know. Before turning her gaze away from me, and to the rest of the table. “It’s Will,” she says finally, her voice quiet but firm.
I really wonder how I didn’t notice before.
Now that I really think about it, the resemblances were always there.
Kym has the same sharp jawline as Will, the same sharp features in general.
A nose that possesses a certain proud tilt, freakishly pale skin, and eyes that hold a depth I can now recognize in both of them.
The eyes, despite being a completely different colour, have a similar siren shape.
Beautiful, yes, but there’s something else there too.
A depth, a darkness that lingers beneath their surface.
A darkness that is quick to disappear if you’re not paying attention.
“Oh, what a lovely name!” Lilia chirps, ever the optimist. But the table falls silent, the atmosphere shifting as everyone else processes the revelation.
Lilia’s gaze flits between us, her cheerfulness from earlier faltering. She looks back at Kym, who meets her with a blank stare. Then, suddenly, something seems to dawn on her. “Oh,” she says, her voice softening. “Oh, you poor thing.”
Kym doesn’t respond, her face unreadable.
“Wait,” Bea speaks up, her tone sharper. “But you said he’s older?” A question I’d been wondering myself. How is it that they’re in the same year? They clearly aren’t twins like Paris and Berlin.
“I’m sixteen,” Kym says, her voice regaining some of its steadiness. “I’m in first year, but I’m taking Maths a year early.”
The table collectively freezes.
I knew she looked a bit younger. But sixteen?
Woah, this girl must be some kind of prodigy.
And I’m shocked, not only because of how extraordinary she is, but also because I’ve never met someone so mature at such a young age.
From the way she sits, to the way she carries herself—it’s so poised.
Perfect. I can’t help but wonder what happened to her to make her this way.
I’m no fool, I know maturity can come from damage too. I once read that some people learn to swim through storms because they were thrown into deep waters too soon. Others drown. Kym looks like someone who’s been swimming for a long, long time.
See, in this world there are two kinds of people. People who learn to swim under these circumstances, like Kym. And people who drown, people like me.
How many times can a person break before they’re just dust?
“Wow,” I breathe, unable to stop myself.
“Omg, that’s crazy. So, you’re, like, super smart then?” Lilia says her eyes wide with admiration.
Kym doesn’t respond immediately, her focus drifting to some invisible point beyond us. “Something like that.” Kym shrugs, but there’s the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips. It’s small, but it’s there.
And we talk, and talk, and talk. About everything, and nothing at all. And I’m laughing through it all, because it’s the most fun I’ve had in months.