Devon Blake was St Felix's notorious womanizer. Despite that, he had a really good reputation in the academy without really doing anything. I knew for sure that he was cheating on the majority of the exams and was found smoking cigarette after cigarette on school grounds. Nevertheless, he was respected and was very influential. Monica and he were well known for their 'killer parties'. He didn't get in trouble, he never got detention, and he was very polite and charismatic. And handsome.

Though I would never admit it, I had had a crush on him since the ninth grade.

He was only Monica's cousin, but everyone could mistake them for siblings. Their eyes were the same hypnotic grey shade, and their hair the same tone of dirty blonde. The fact that Monica was dead seemed so unrealistic, even after three months. I still could picture her vividly laughing in the hallway with Avery, throwing her sun-kissed locks over her shoulders, and the way she always walked like she was on the runaway. I couldn't believe that she was truly gone. I expected her to come back any day and say that it was just a prank.

She and Devon used to be very close. She'd always joke that he was actually her twin brother, and he would always hang out with her after school. Finding her lifeless body in the bathtub had scarred him to the core. It had traumatized him and he had to take time off from school. He had been severely depressed and had to go to a therapist to help him get through it.

And now he was back. He looked great, radiant, healthy. He was tall and looked more mature than he actually was, with his broad shoulders and lean muscular frame. In comparison with Damian, who had a rather slender body, Devon looked like he was training for the Olympics.

The Maths teacher patted him on the shoulder. While Gabrielle and I took our seats, I overheard a part of their discussion:

"...you'll do just fine." our teacher assured him with an amiable smile.

"Thank you, mister Andrews. I really appreciate it." His voice was low, but pleasant to listen to.

He turned his head towards the desk where Ellie and I were seated. He smiled at me and some of the boys from my class immediately whistled with a smirk on their face, including Avery's boyfriend, Paul. He made getting on every single nerve of mine a habit, which is why I tried to avoid him at all costs.

I ignored the boys and smiled at Devon in return. Ellie didn't really like him; she always said he had a bad influence on me (and she was probably right). He had something about him that just screamed fun and that attracted me. His flirtatious habits, however, didn't.

"Rosabel, always a sight for sore eyes."

"Nice seeing you too, Devon." I replied neutrally, but still kept an enchanting smile. I could see from the corner of my eye my best friend's exasperated expression while he and I gazed at each other.

"That's enough, mister Blake." the teacher chimed in with a resolute tone. "You and miss Ingold can catch up in the break time."

"And in the toilet too." Paul, Avery's boyfriend, whispered to his deskmate, loud enough for me and everyone else to hear. Most of my classmates burst out into laughter, and some of the girls giggled.

I flashed Paul a rebuking look, but my voice was saccharinely sweet when I countered:

"Oh, Paul, we'd better not visit your birthplace. That place is reserved for your girlfriend only."

The same amount of laughter filled the classroom. Paul's baby face transformed into a scowl. Devon chuckled, placing his hands in the pockets of his black jacket.

"Grayson, we'll definitely catch up in the toilet. It'll end up with your head in it."

"Very funny, Blake. Very..."

The teacher cut him short with a suggestive cough.

"I said that's enough. If you make me repeat myself one more time, the only thing you three will do in the toilets is scrub them clean. Is that clear?" he chided us.

We remained silent and Devon winked at me before leaving.

"Thank God." Ellie muttered.

I smiled apologetically and opened my copybook.

***

"Took you long enough. You're six minutes late." Avery informed me with a judgemental look the second I entered room 208.

Ellie was right; you didn't have to be a psychologist to see that she was pissed at me, and I was certain it wasn't because of my delay.

"That means I get to leave ten minutes earlier."

"Fine by me." I shrugged apathetically and placed my bag on the windowsill, next to the teacher's desk. "How many students have showed up so far?"

"If you came on time, you wouldn't have to ask me that." she retorted, propping her chin on her hand.

I grabbed a chair and dragged it next to hers, seating by her side at the teacher's desk.

Avery reminded me of a doll; she was petite and lithe like a ballerina, her short black hair framed her heart-shaped face, and her red lips were softly turned downwards. She looked fragile and delicate, but I knew very well that appearances were deceiving. She could take down a man two times her weight without flinching; if not by physical force, by her sharp mind and astuteness.

"Go on. Say it." I coaxed her with defiance.

That's all she needed:

"You exchanged about eighty million microbes and saliva with Monica's killer. Congrats." she blurted out bluntly.

"There was no tongue involved, for your information. And that's just speculation. We don't know if he killed her."

Her lips curled up in disgust, to my absolute delight. The least I could do is irritate her in return.

"Exactly, we don't. Which means he could have." she emphasized in a patronizing tone. "By the way, tell your lover-boy to watch his back."

"Why would you sa..."

I was interrupted by a knock on the door. Two girls entered shyly. Avery got up from the chair and clasped her hands together elegantly on her purple dress. She welcomed the girls and gestured for them to take a seat.

After fifty long minutes, Avery and I finally decided on accepting five students out of twelve: two boys and three girls of different ages. As she initially forewarned me, she left ten minutes prior without giving me a chance to ask her about what she meant when she mentioned that Damian should watch his back, as I was interviewing yet another three girls.

When I was done with them and the clock struck 3:24 PM, I was finally free. I took my phone out of my bag and checked it while heading to the exit. I almost got out of the classroom when someone appeared out of nowhere, blocking my path. I stopped abruptly to avoid bumping into him and raised my eyes gradually until I met his.

And for the second time that year, I found myself inches away from Damian Belfort. His whimsical sight languorously travelled to my lips, which gave me a mini heart attack, but then, to my relief, lowered to my chest and the rest of my body. Did he really have the audacity to check me out when we were this close? He did, although my dress wasn't revealing in any way. Except it was somewhat tight...

I distanced myself and dropped my phone in the bag, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Move." I growled, trying to slip by him.

He slammed his palms on the door jamb on either side to keep me from leaving before I could make another move, and I glowered at him as hostilely as I could. He leaned forward slightly.

"I don't think so. Sit down." he said with a head motion to a chair, clearly not accepting no as an answer. He was definitely used to bossing people around.

Unluckily for him, so was I.

I raised my eyebrows and then proceded to look around me, pretending to search for someone.

"How strange," I started, biting my lower lip pensively, "...it almost seems like you're talking to me. So I'm not invisible after all."

"You were never invisible to me." He affirmed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, a soft frown creasing his forehead. I didn't let myself be fooled by his innocent, solemn look, because I already had noticed the shadow of a conspiratorial smile playing upon his lips.

I narrowed my eyes, trying to read him. There was nothing about his body language that could tell me much: he let his hands fall by his side and got in, leaning against the wall. He was still close to the door, as if he was expecting me to try to run out, in which case he'd easily stop me. The thought made me jubilate in silence. I suddenly wished to be the worst headache he had ever had. He wasn't relaxed; his body stance was taut and his dark eyes scrutinized me intently.

"I want in." he announced with a gentle voice as if he was talking to a scared child. He had a euphonious voice, the one you could listen to all day without getting tired of it.

"You want to be a member of the 'Bullshit Group'?" I sniggered in disbelief, lowering my middle and index finger into an air quote when pronouncing his tag for the Elite Group. "Why on earth would you want that?"

"I have my personal reasons."

"...right," I uttered dubiously, running a hand through my hair. "Anyway, application time is over. Come again tomorrow or better, never." I replied, striding towards the door again.

My unwavering tone didn't dishearten him. He used his elbows to propel himself forward and this time, his fingers encircled my wrist to keep me in place. His hand was ice cold, but it still managed to spread warmth all over my body. I sighed and let my bag fall softly on a chair nearby.

"I'd really appreciate it if you kept your paws off me." I smiled sweetly at him, tilting my head to the side.

"I'd really appreciate it if you stopped being such a nuisance and did what you're told for once." he chaffed, slightly leaning forward.

I stifled my sudden urge to slap him and leant forward in return.

"Maybe I would, but since it's coming from a jerk, I think not. You know there are some criteria that people have to fit, right? Even if I tolerated you - which I do not, by the way - I wouldn't be able to just magically make you part of the group." I saw him part his soft lips and I raised my index finger in the air as a warning. "I'm not done yet. You are well aware that Avery is not...fond of you. And neither is Devon, who is also a member of the club. So to answer your request, no, you are not accepted into the Elite Group." I concluded, trying to maintain a steel face.

The fact that he was that attractive certainly didn't help. I had to be true to myself; there was something eerie and mysterious about him that drew me to him like a fly to a carnivorous plant. But at the same time, I literally wanted to smother him; that's how much his opinionated attitude irritated me. And then there was my brain, reminding me that there still existed a chance that he killed Monica, which explained the glacial frissons that ran down my spine whenever I saw him. And I couldn't help but wonder: what if he was truly dangerous? What if the person holding my wrist was not just a troubled boy, but something far worse?

A killer. He could be a killer.

The thought felt like being electrocuted. I hauled back brusquely, taking him by surprise. He let go of my wrist and my back hit a hard surface, causing it to shake under the impact. After that, everything happened too fast for me to process.

I saw Damian flinch and his black eyes widened for a second, as he was looking at something above my head. He suddenly sprang forwards and grabbed my arm, pushing me aside. I stumbled but managed to discern an object falling from the wooden bookcase right onto his right shoulder, close to his head.

The pot shattered into little ceramic pieces onto the floor, the soil scattering all around and leaving the cactus unprotected. But the plant's wellbeing wasn't my priority at the moment. My hand raised to my mouth instinctually as I took the whole scene in. The area between Damian's neck and shoulder was reddened, because of the heavy pot. It was certainly going to bruise.

I rushed to him and placed my hand on his forearm.

"Oh my God!" I exclaimed, scanning his features. He didn't look like he was in any extreme pain, but his lips were still pressed together tightly as he pulled his coat collar to the side, revealing five spikes puncturing his traps muscle. Uneasiness and dismay took over me at the sight of them as I winced, sinking my teeth into my lower lip. "Does it hurt?" I asked apprehensively, eyeing him.

We made eye contact and, to my relief, he gave me an ephemeral smile to assure me that everything was fine. He gazed at me one more time before finally replying tranquilly:

"Are you worried about me?"

I exhaled loudly, rubbing my forehead in distress and wondering how he could maintain composure.

"What do you think, smartass? You could have died. And you have five giant spikes sticking out of your skin. How are you so calm about this?"

He burst into a peal of crystalline laughter, making it hard for me to rein back my smile.

"What?" I said with a nervous giggle, raising my eyebrows at him.

"A cactus fell over me and you think I could have died? You're just adorable."

"Shut up." I rejoined, darting him a faux scolding glance, although my lips were turned upwards into an amused smile. I realised my hand was still on his forearm and I withdrew it. "It was a big cactus. And a heavy pot. Just...let's go to the first aid room. You can't walk around like that. And we need to call the cleaning lady."

"Whatever, mom." he smirked brazenly at me.

"Don't patronize me, daddy." I chaffed mockingly in return, but when I saw the cheeky, suggestive look from his eyes, I realised that my analogy could have been misinterpreted. In a very lecherous way.

"Daddy, huh? I think you just unintentionally revealed your kink. Well, I'll definitely keep that in mind..."

"No. Just no." I riposted, avoiding his intense scrutiny. I prayed my cheeks wouldn't flush red. "Forget that I said that."

After teasing me for what seemed forever, we finally got to the medical room of the academy. We told the doctor what happened and she made Damian sit on the cot bed to examine his minor injury. I waited outside and called my dad, telling him that I'll be late. Four minutes later the doctor told me that I could come in. I entered and saw him standing exactly where I left him, perched on the right extremity of the bed.

"He's as good as new." the doctor said with a benevolent and satisfied smile as if she was proud of her work. "You should really take better care of your boyfriend." she advised me without any tinge of reproval.

"He's not—" I started, but Damian's voice covered mine as he uttered at the same time with an enchanting smile:

"Yeah, she should." His eyes blazed mine with such intensity that I looked away, clearing my throat.

The doctor checked her phone and told us she'll be right back, leaving us alone. I stifled my sudden nervousness and approached him, seating by his side.

His dark blue coat was placed on the chair and he was in his long-sleeved white T-shirt. White suited him well; it accentuated his dark hues, the fine line of his cheekbones and the lissomeness of his torso. The area between his neck and shoulder was slightly more swollen than before, presaging a massive bruise. The spines had been removed, obviously. As I was inspecting him, he inspected me in return; I could almost feel his sight on my face the way you feel a sunray. I was going to ask him if he was okay, but he was the one to break the silence:

"Why did you pull away from me that brusquely?"

I didn't know what was the right answer or what was the answer that he wanted to hear. There was one thing I knew: I couldn't tell him the truth. Oh, you know, because I remembered that you might have killed Monica. No big deal. Instead of voicing that, I avoided the answer by giving him another question:

"Why do you want to join the Elite Group?"

He pressed his lips together and moved his eyes to the floor. For whatever reason, he didn't want to tell me. I supposed we were even. Suddenly I felt like all the progress we made evaporated and we were back at the beginning, when I was at one end of the chasm and he was at the other, when there was an adamantine wall between us, and if I touched it I'd freeze. He looked cold and distant, or at least that's how I thought he looked, and I realised once again that we were nothing but strangers, no matter how many smiles we had shared. I knew nothing about him and he knew nothing about me.

"Thank you for saving me from that cactus." I said neutrally, getting up. In other circumstances, I would've found saying that out loud very funny. "I should get going, my dad's waiting for me." I waited for him to say something, but he didn't. He still had that strange, disconnected with the world look. Before heading out, I stopped by the door to notify him:

"Congratulations, by the way. You're officially part of the Elite Group."