The one by his side is doing the opposite of ignoring his surroundings.
He winks at one girl, high-fives another, and tells a random freshman to call him with a huge grin that nearly splits his face open. They all eat it up, nearly tripping over their feet in front of him.
Ronan Astor.
An earl’s son with a Prince Charming complex.
Nicknamed Death for his position on the team.
He doesn’t know that death isn’t a title. Death is the beginning of every war, and I’ve already started mine.
I stole his will, his future, and soon enough, his life will follow.
I have a secret, I’m a thief.
Ronan Astor is my next target.
As well as my future husband.
2
Teal
Beauty is subjective.
I read that once, and since then, I’ve had this weird feeling that it spoke to me.
Beauty is a strange concept for me. Black is beautiful, and dark chocolate with nuts can also be considered beautiful.
But other than that, what’s human beauty? Gigolos — sorry, I mean guys with model-like looks such as Knox’s — are considered beautiful. Aiden, Elsa’s boyfriend, is handsome, too.
There’s a different type of beauty that’s darker, a bit sinister, hiding under the surface rather than pushing to the top.
I guess that’s beauty for me. It’s not about the physical aspect but rather about what the exterior hides. You can feel it when someone possesses no beauty by societal standards but their charisma speaks to you in one way or another. You can’t see it, but it’s there.
Ronan, however, has no beauty at all.
His is the shallow type like gigolos. If he were a woman, he would be labelled a slut, but in his case, he’s called a playboy.
From the outside, he has a well-proportioned face, and it’s symmetrical, actually. It’s the same on either side of his proud straight nose, from the eyes to the cheeks to the sharp jaw and even to the ears.
It’s a symmetry like I’ve never seen in my entire life. Some people, like actors, have what resembles symmetry, but never actually a perfect one.
He does.
His face is too symmetrical, as if it were sculpted by a Greek god. People’s eyes usually have a slight asymmetry — not his. Even as the outside sun shines on them, they both glow in a rich identical brown colour.
I guess it’s part of his filthy aristocratic blood, a heritage he claims by being the whatever generation of the world’s nobility.
His beauty makes no sense at all for two reasons. A, he’s too aware of it; it’s cringy. B, and most importantly, there’s no depth behind it.
At least in Knox’s case, he uses the plastic easy-going personality as a defence mechanism to get what he wants. I know all too well what he’s hiding beneath all the laughs and grins.
In the few weeks I’ve watched Ronan, he’s never shown another facet of the sickly, cheerful personality. He’s always smiling, laughing, grinning, throwing parties, fucking, and fucking, and more fucking.
It’s…boring.
And yes, I have watched him. After all, he’s part of my plan.