Observation is the source of all evil.
If you fail at it, you’re screwed. If you’re the subject of it, you’re also screwed.
Only a few people take the time to observe their surroundings and be aware of their environments.
Most are headed forward, not caring about the opportunities or the chances they miss. If they would just throw a look sideways, if they’d stop to watch, their lives could dramatically change.
Observing my surroundings — especially people — is what has given me a gift very few have…recognising weaknesses.
If you observe someone long enough, you’ll pick up their habits and, soon, their telltale signs and their sensitive buttons. It’s all in there, laid out for the taking.
There’s an art in observing. You can’t be too obvious, or you’ll be labelled a stalker, a creep, and a whole lot of unflattering terms.
My books have always served as a camouflage for my observation sessions. That way, I can concentrate on the words while figuring out my surroundings. Observing doesn’t interrupt my flow — if anything, it enforces it. While observing, I take the necessary time to process the words I’ve learnt.
For instance, now, during practice. Xander has thrown the ball three times off the pitch. It’s not because he’s bad — out of all of us, he probably has the best aim. He missed on purpose because he gets to run there and have a better view of Kimberly, who’s started to show up for our practices.
He’s been hung up on her since we were six or something, but then one day, he decided he should hate her. I figured out his reason some time ago, and I still think it’s dumb.
If you want something, go for it. Society and expectations be damned.
Xander doesn’t share my philosophy, so instead of acting on his feelings, he keeps getting in her vicinity, begging for a look from her or some proof that she hasn’t forgotten about him. But when she does give him validation, he pretends she’s the rock in his shoe.
He’s pathetic.
Then there’s Aiden. His poker face has been cracking whenever a certain Frozen is in sight. She’s in the track team and they’re practising across from us. He hasn’t listened to a word the assistant manager has told us. Instead, he’s been watching her with that calculative streak.
He’s more discreet than Xander about it, but it’s there, and I know, I just know that Elsa is my one-way ticket to break him the fuck off from Silver.
And they will break it off.
The curtains have fallen. They can’t fool me anymore — not that they should’ve since the start.
I run back to defence and cut off the beginning of a counter-attack. I’m good at ruining things before they start. The assistant manager shouts, “Fantastic tackle, Captain!” But his words don’t register.
Nothing does.
Since yesterday, I’ve been on a high I haven’t been able to control.
I did it.
I finally took Chaos by the throat and fucked her like I secretly fantasised for years.
It was her birthday, but I got the best gift — being her first.
It wasn’t the fucker Aiden or any other loser; it was me. She never broke her promise to me.
My head has been filled with images of her porcelain skin, of her bold flowery scent, of the way she moaned my name.
Fuck, how she moaned my name.
That’s the only way I want her to say my name from now on.
I know it won’t be easy. Silver didn’t just pull away from me as soon as I was out of her, she ran. Not to mention, she’s been acting cold and aloof since the morning.
Aiden is my fiancé.
Fuck that.
If she thinks I’ll let her hang on to his arm after I claimed her, then she must not know me at all.
I only allowed the fun because I knew there would be a day where she’d be officially mine. After Mum and Sebastian’s marriage, that option is off the table, but that doesn’t mean I can’t work around it.
The first step is done, but there’s more to come.
As soon as the assistant manager calls a break to go through the formation, I stalk towards the bench Aiden is occupying, snatch a bottle of water and settle by his side.
He’s wiping his face with a towel, his gaze focused on Elsa as she runs. I see it then — pride. He’s not just infatuated with her, he’s also proud of her. Interesting.
“She’s good,” I say nonchalantly.
His attention slowly slides to me. He must’ve noticed me sitting beside him, because even though he acts like he doesn’t care, he’s also hyperaware of his surroundings. However, he didn’t realise I was observing his observation session.
“Eyes. Off,” he orders.
There. The reaction I needed. “Relax. I was only saying she’s good.”
“Don’t say she’s good, don’t even watch her being good, speak to her, or about her. Deal? Deal.”
“I would’ve probably done that if I hadn’t realised you’re a fucking liar.”
“Me? What have I lied to you about?”
“Hey, how do I remove virginal blood from my dick? Should I just wash it?” I recite his text from back then and the words that fucking broke me. “I already washed the blood off my dick. I wouldn’t have if I’d known you have a virginal blood kink.”
He raises a brow. “Are you trying to prove you have a good memory? Am I supposed to clap or some shit?”
“I’m repeating your lies, King. You really thought I wouldn’t find out?”
“It took you three years.” He grins. “Three years of thinking I was her first. Three years of dying on the inside imagining I was fucking her whenever we were alone. Three years of constant doubts. Let’s not mention how you punched me that night or your petty moves whenever you could dig me a hole. Do you know what I call that? A win.”
It takes all my self-restraint not to raise my fist and punch him again, and this time, I’d ruin those features so no one would look in his direction. I’d make him an ugly monster. However, I know that will only give him the reaction he wants, so I drink a sip of water to soothe my throat.
“The fun is over. End it,” I say with a calm I don’t feel.
That’s the thing about plotting chaos. You feel it, but you don’t show it — it’s the most lethal type to ever exist.
“Why would I?” Aiden flings the towel over his shoulder.
“Because she’s mine now.” My throat closes around the word. Mine. How long have I waited to say that out loud?
Years. Fucking years.
And now, I can’t even say it to the world — just to the bastard Aiden, but it’s a start.
“I’m surprised she stayed a virgin for you with you being a dick and all that. And you’d think being with me for three years would have upped her standards.”
“More like lowered them.”
“I don’t know what perverted game you’re playing, Nash, but does she agree?”
“That’s none of your business. Your only role is to end it.”
“No can do. You see, Queens and I are it. So what if you’re fucking her? I’m the one whose ring she’ll be wearing and who she’ll marry.” His face is blank, but it couldn’t look any more gruesome if he were smirking.
They made a deal. I can smell it in the air, even without knowing it for sure.
Silver felt threatened and, therefore, pulled on her armour, in which Aiden plays a part.
The fucker must’ve been offered something that serves him in some way.
I slam the lid of the bottle shut. “Are you sure you want to play this game with me? This time I will crush you.”
“Is that a promise?”
“This is your only warning, King. I will not play fair.”
“Are you telling me you were all this time?”
“Your choice.”
“Show me your worst, Nash.”
The break finishes and Aiden saunters back to the field.
After Levi King graduated, I became the captain. He recommended me to the coach because he thinks I’m more level-headed than his dick of a cousin. He chose right. I can pretend to care, Aiden doesn’t even try.
I follow close behind him. If it were any other person, they would’ve backed away, especially if it was someone who’d witnessed how I play unfair.
However, Aiden is made for the challenge. The harder it gets, the more insistent he becomes about finishing it with flying colours.
It’s his loathsome competitive nature that resembles Silver’s, and probably the only reason why they get along on some level.
What Aiden doesn’t realise is that I know his weakness. He didn’t have it when he took off with her and played me by sending those texts. Now, he does.
I promised him and I promised her.
It took me years, but I’ll make them both fall as far as I did.
I’ll make them feel every thread of chaos I felt while riding my bike all night under that pouring rain.
When I go back to Sebastian’s house that late afternoon, it’s buzzing with energy.
Assistant, PR team, spokesman team, publicist, secretary, and even the driver. They’re all there, running about and making calls and turning the house into an elections’ hall.
Farewell, my quiet home. Mum kept the house, but it’s not like I’ll go live there on my own.
I wouldn’t anyway. Even with the number of people who are here on a daily basis, being here is worth it.
We’re under the same roof. My chaos and I.
“Oh, Cole.” Mum fusses with some plates at the kitchen counter. “Be a darling and give me that plate.”
“I’ll carry them for you.”
“Nonsense.” She motions at an empty place on her arm. “Just put it there and go have fun.”
“I can help, Mum.”
“I’ll get one thing straight with you, just like I did with Silver. I don’t need your help,” she says in a half-stern, half-jokey tone. “When I do, I’ll ask for it.”
I put the plate where she motioned. Each of Sebastian’s team members grab one and thank her with big smiles on their faces. It’s like they forgot they should eat.
Sebastian comes down the hall and helps her, then places a kiss on her temple. They smile at each other, like any reserved old couple would do, I suppose — polite and glad they don’t have to spend the rest of their lives alone.
Oh, well, if an elections’ campaign is their idea of a honeymoon, so be it. Mum knew what she was signing up for, she better not regret it.
On my way up, I greet all of Sebastian’s team members by name, ask them about their day, their kids, and the stats. All of them strike up conversations and appear happy someone is considering them humans instead of an extension of Sebastian. He gets all the limelight and will be remembered in history books. They’ll vanish as if they were never there.
I do it to appear polite. If you’re kind and caring, people lay off you. They don’t observe, watch, or dig deeper into you.
I sure as hell don’t do it because I’m actually kind. That’s Silver. She pretends she doesn’t care, yet she goes out of her way to buy gifts for their kids and to make them their favourite tea.
We’re opposite that way. I don’t care, but I appear as if I do. She cares, but she pretends she doesn’t.
I stand in front of my door, and yes, I did choose a room that’s right next to hers. She wanted to protest but didn’t have a valid argument, so she huffed, puffed, and glared.
I love it when she glares. It means I’m getting under her skin, and I love being there — under her skin, I mean.
Instead of going into my room, I do a discreet sweep of the hallway, and once I make sure no one is around, I step into hers.
Her bed is made, but she’s not here. The sound of running water comes from the bathroom. My cock hardens at the thought of her naked and wet.
There has never been a girl who’s pumped so much blood into my dick like she does. And that happens without even touching or seeing her.
A mere thought is enough to reduce me into one of those hormonal teenagers I always thought were fools.
There’s nothing I want more than to get in there and own her all over again. But before that, I need to do my ritual.
I don’t bother readjusting my trousers as I stride to her bedside table and put in the code to her lock. It’s the date her parents announced they’d divorce. She hasn’t changed it at all since I figured it out.
At first, I put in her birthday and smiled when it didn’t work. It meant she’s not predictable. I tried a combination of her favourite number, seven, but that didn’t work either.
Then I recalled the reason why she even started writing in her journal, why she needed a piece of paper to cry to a ‘silent friend’ as she called it in her first entry.
Her parents’ divorce.
I tried the actual date her parents finalised their divorce, which is easy to find on the internet, but that didn’t work either.
The right one is the day she learnt about her parents’ divorce, which, ironically, happens to also be William’s death anniversary.
In the drawer, she has ten journals. One for each year. Some days, she talks a lot, on others, she only writes two words.
I pull out this year’s journal. Since yesterday, I haven’t stopped thinking about what she could’ve written about last night.
When she drove her Mum home, I did sneak a peek, but she hadn’t written an entry yet. Then she returned and didn’t leave her room.
I flip to the last entry. Yesterday.
Today was Papa’s wedding and my eighteenth birthday.
Mum cried and I felt so guilty for liking Helen when Mum clearly doesn’t.
Cole took my virginity today. He just took it and it was so dirty.
Remember when I said I hate Cole? Well, I don’t only hate him.
I despise him.
I wish he would disappear from my life.
I narrow my eyes on her words. She hates me, despises me, wishes I’d disappear from her life.
Fuck that.
It’s the same as every entry she writes about me. Why does she refuse to admit the truth, even to her bloody journal? She does that with everything else.
When she talks about her parents, her life at school, or even how much she misses Kim, she says it truthfully, but every time it’s about me, it’s all fucking lies.
We’ll see about that.
I place her journal exactly the way I found it, close the drawer, and put the combination back to zeroes.
The sound of the shower is still going. I turn the door’s knob and remove my clothes on my way inside her bathroom.
As soon as I’m at the entrance, soft moans stop me with my fingers on my trousers’ buttons.
I stand there and watch the most exquisite view I’ve seen in my entire life.
Silver stands under the stream in all her naked glory. I might have seen the occasional nip slip over the years, or her underwear when she forgot to tuck her legs together when wearing a skirt, but I’ve never seen her entirely naked.
And fuck me, why haven’t I done this before?
Her tits sit high and perky, droplets of water clinging to the hard pink tips, begging to be licked off. Water soaks her golden hair as it glues to the entirety of her back.
Her smooth waist and long legs are like a porn fantasy. But that’s not the best part about the scene – it’s her hand disappearing in and out of her cunt as she reaches her other hand to tug on a nipple.
Eyes closed, her head is thrown back, letting the steam soak her. White straight teeth trap her bottom lip to rein in the moans.
It’s not working.
The slight noise she’s making turns my dick rock fucking hard, if that’s even possible, considering it was already ready when I walked in the room.
Yesterday, I signed a no-going-back oath and today, I’m keeping it.
