Wicked Saint: Sinners and Saints Book 1

by Eden, Veronica

  My shoulders tense. This is the crowd I want to avoid most of all. The in crowd.

  The crowd I used to belong to, once upon a time.

  Remaining quiet as the group talk, I form a new understanding of the dynamic.

  I can see it in the way these people act around Lucas. The girls compete for his attention and Burns is poised to take whatever Lucas says as law.

  He’s the king around here.

  Burns pulls out his phone and he and Lucas crowd around it, the girls elbowing each other to stand next to Lucas. Tinny moans drift from the phone’s speakers and I roll my eyes. Lucas tosses me a smug look as his buddy high fives him.

  “What a slut,” one girl whines as she bats her eyelashes at Lucas.

  Lucas laughs. “Maybe that’s what I like.”

  His eyes fall on me again.

  Whatever.

  “That’s Bishop’s spot you parked in, you know.”

  I suck in a surprised breath.

  Devlin is close to my back, able to loom over my shoulder with his height. Like a creep, he uses this advantage to intimidate me.

  I narrow my eyes and take a pointed step away from him. The heat of Lucas’ gaze bores into my skin again, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of turning his way. Does he think he has some claim over me because of that kiss?

  He’s probably the caveman type that thinks that’s as good as peeing on me to mark his territory. My nose wrinkles at the thought. Fucking gross.

  “I don’t see the name Bishop on it. Or any of the spots.” I raise an eyebrow and shrug. “I guess he should’ve gotten here earlier if he wanted prime parking close to the steps.”

  Devlin considers me for a beat before he laughs. The amusement chases away the shadows that crowd his face and gives him a more boyish look.

  “That’s fair.” Devlin stomps on his cigarette and blows smoke away from my face. “If he gives you shit, tell him Lucas said you could park there.”

  “If this Bishop gives me shit, I’ll handle it myself.” I cross my arms and tip my chin up. “I’m a big girl like that. I don’t need the boys to tell me what I can and can’t do.”

  Devlin’s eyes move up and down my body, lingering on my gray tights, and his playful smirk grows. “Yeah, I bet, baby.”

  Something over my shoulder makes his eyes widen slightly. He shuffles back, tucking his hands into his pockets. I turn, prepared to thank Alec for getting his shitty new friends to back off, but it’s not my brother who glares at Devlin.

  It’s Lucas.

  My stomach drops.

  The people surrounding Lucas mess around with each other and talk about their weekends, but his fierce blue eyes are glued to me.

  I’m done with this.

  Ducking into the car, I grab my leather jacket from the backseat along with my camera bag that doubles as my school bag. Eager to put Lucas and his friends behind me, I flip the strap over my head and hurry along.

  On the way, I toss the keys to Alec and nod to him. “Later.”

  When I reach the top of the stairs, I grit my teeth and cast a glance down at the parking lot.

  I watch from afar, where I’m comfortable at a distance from the king’s court. I need to avoid his radar if I’m going to white-knuckle my way through my last year of high school.

  If I make a wrong move around him, he’ll throw me in the proverbial high school gallows.

  One more year and then I’m free to pursue my dreams. I pat my camera bag and head into school.

  In theory, it should be easy to avoid Lucas’ attention. He doesn’t have any real interest in me, so he’ll get bored and forget about this weekend in a few days when the next shiny thing draws him in.

  I know his type. Intimately.

  Six

  Gemma

  Adjusting to the new school environment is still a process.

  At least my parents didn’t take me out of one school in the middle of the year and toss me in another this time. That was rougher to get used to.

  This time it’s a fresh start with the other seniors getting accustomed to the daily schedules. The only difference is they spent the last three years learning the ins and outs of this school and they understand the innate social hierarchy much better than me.

  They know who to go to for a fix, who to avoid hooking up with if they don’t want to catch an STI, which teachers will let delinquent misdeeds slide and which ones are hardasses.

  And which seats to avoid.

  I find that out the hard way.

  I’m late to study hall because I got held up after my class in the computer lab, enjoying my chat about Photoshop and Lightroom with Ms. Huang. I got lost on the way, the huge campus like a maze to navigate. The auditorium is packed by the time I make it several minutes after the second bell.

  “Do you have a late pass?” A teacher in a tracksuit signals me forward with two fingers to the table in front of the stage, where she guards the hapless students of study hall.

  Someone smugly mutters, “Busted.”

  Rolling my eyes, I trudge down to the stage, aware of all the eyes on me. The vultures are out in force today. It’s the beginning of school, how exciting can it be to watch someone get a demerit over tardiness?

  “I don’t have a late pass. I’m sorry, I got lost,” I explain when I reach the front.

  The teacher squints at me. “I don’t recognize you.”

  “I’m new.”

  “Where are you coming from?”

  “Second floor computer lab in the north building.”

  “You mean the south,” she corrects. Frowning, she waves me off. “Don’t be late again without a late slip, please. Find a seat and work quietly.”

  Nodding, I step away and head for the first empty chair I spot rather than skulking back up the aisles to search in the back of the theater. I don’t need to piss off the teachers into giving me a detention in my second week at Silver Lake.

  I dump my bag on the armrest and catch the group in the row back watching with hawk-like focus. Furrowing my brows, I ignore them. What’s their deal?

  I plop into the seat and immediately shriek when there’s nothing to catch me, the broken seat going vertical. I slide right off the cushion to the sticky floor and blink wide eyes at my surroundings. Hyena laughter echoes in the auditorium.

  The group behind are the loudest.

  I shoot them a dirty look.

  “Five points for the squeal,” a dude with a green beanie declares.

  “All right,” calls the teacher. “Settle down.”

  She shoots an unimpressed look at me. Like I’m causing trouble on purpose.

  I struggle to my feet with as much dignity as I can muster, my cheeks hot. I smooth my hands over my skirt and freeze when I feel the unpleasant stickiness that followed me from the ground.

  The shrieking from the girls in the row behind me increases. One guy’s face is red from laughing at me.

  I grit my teeth and carefully swipe my fingers over the wad of gum stuck to my skirt, shuddering.

  “Eugh.”

  “Here.”

  A girl further down the row with hair the blue-gray color of a thundercloud offers me a napkin.

  “Thanks.”

  I take it and clean what I can from my skirt.

  “That seat’s been broken for two years, but the school hasn’t fixed it. You’d think they would with how much money they have, but no. Seat 143. Remember it, you don’t want to run into the same problem again. People usually use it to dump their gum off instead of finding a trash can.”

  “Seat 143,” I echo. “Got it. I appreciate it, thank you.”

  When I look up to make a joke about getting myself into a sticky situation, she’s bent over her work, nail-bitten fingers sticking out of her baggy sleeves. She doesn’t have the blazer, just the white shirt and the green plaid skirt.

  I scoot a few chairs down and subtly check the integrity of the chair before I take a seat. The catty group one row back cackle.
r />   The teacher's level of caring has plummeted. She's absorbed in her phone.

  “Those fireworks were epic on Friday,” the guy in the beanie says. I sense his hat is against uniform regulations, the same ones I’m breaking with my boots. “And my boy got with Kira in the lake.”

  “Shut up, Kira was with me all night,” a girl counters. She blows a bubble with her gum and pops it. “Zach wishes he could hit that, but I’m pretty sure she’s dating Mallory now.”

  Beanie dude groans, but I can’t tell if it’s in resignation or envy.

  They’re talking about Lucas’ party. My lips thin as I pull out the math homework. I’m skimming over the worksheet when my attention snags on their gossiping again.

  “Saint’s latest chick is hot as fuck though,” beanie guy mutters.

  I can’t stop my shoulders from stiffening and clench my pen until my fingertips go white. Turning my head just enough without letting on that I’m listening, I nearly startle.

  He’s watching me. They know, or they heard, or they saw firsthand at the party.

  “Please,” bubblegum girl scoffs. “She’ll be over in two seconds. Marissa said she hung out at Lucas’ house, like, all weekend. They’re totally going to be prom king and queen this year.”

  “Marissa’s got a dope ass, but this girl right here,” beanie dude pauses long enough to shuffle down the row until he’s right behind me. He prods me. “This girl let Lucas get wild.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I turn around to block them out. “Do you mind? I’m trying to work on an assignment.”

  Hot air coasts over my ear and I flinch. His other arm comes over the seat, showing me his phone.

  “Girl, I’ve got the proof right here. You like to get freaky.”

  “You shouldn’t have touched Lucas.” The bubblegum bitch snaps her gum. “Marissa will stomp your ass.”

  “I didn’t touch him. He did all of that on his own. I was just standing there, minding my damn business.”

  “Thought you didn’t know what we were talking about?”

  I open and close my mouth. Beanie Dick laughs at me.

  “Here.” He drapes himself over the back of my chair. He presses play on the video queued on his phone. “Just watch. It’s already all over school. If you’re this much of an easy slut for Saint, I’ve got a fat sausage for you, sweetness.”

  Inhaling sharply, I pinch the inside of his arm hard, close to his armpit. He yelps.

  “You bitch!”

  Twisting around, I eye him up and down. “Don’t touch me.”

  He rubs the spot where I pinched with a surly frown. “Fine, whatever. Just watch this.”

  He starts the video over and shoves his phone in my face.

  Lucas and I fill the screen and wolf whistles sound from the speakers. The video shows his big hands digging down the back of my jeans and I’m mortified by the way I buck toward him. Before I bite his lip in retaliation, the video cuts to us kissing again, his tongue delving into my mouth and his hands all over me. Warmth creeps up my neck and pools in my belly.

  It’s not even halfway through.

  This video—the one apparently circulating through the school of the stolen lip lock Lucas forced on me—is doctored.

  It’s obviously an amateur, too. Some whack-job with too much time on their hands and the assistance of a YouTube tutorial.

  I sit in stiff silence and endure all forty-six agonizing seconds of the video. The moment where I bite Lucas and tell him off doesn’t come. The edited clip makes it look like a steamy make out with the stock moans dropped into the audio track rather than showing the unwanted advance for what it really was.

  They made it look like I was panting for it. The sleeves of my blazer pucker beneath my tight grip, no longer crisp as I hug my arms.

  This clip is designed to blow things way out of proportion.

  Okay, Gemma. Take it in, then pick yourself up. You’re not the girl in that video.

  My plan for this year is to coast by as an anonymous outsider. That goal doesn’t change if people here decide they know me. They can label me however they like.

  I still know who I am. That’s all that matters.

  I allow a breathy laugh of disinterest past my lips. “Man, you guys are a bunch of idiots if you can’t pick out stock moans. What porno did you and your limp dick buddies pull that one from?”

  Beanie Dick blinks his beady little eyes.

  I barely keep the smirk off my face.

  What, did he expect this to make me cry in embarrassment? If one second of this video clip were true, the girl depicted wouldn’t give a damn about public consumption after kissing guys like that.

  “This is the digital age.” I pat his dumbfounded cheek and affect a pout. “Try harder next time.”

  A snort further down my row draws our attention. The nice girl who gave me the napkin coughs into her hand to hide the amused curve of her mouth. She flashes me an appreciative look, her eyes full of shining mirth.

  She gets her chair kicked by the bubblegum bitch for her trouble.

  “Who told you to laugh, Raggedy Anne?”

  I glare at the mean girl.

  The whole time the teachers don’t intervene.

  Thankfully, the bell rings before things go any further.

  * * *

  Last week I remained invisible during my lunch period, but almost every eye in the room turns to me when I step out of line with my tray.

  I haven’t made many friends here compared to my other schools. Part of me regrets my pact to keep everyone at arm’s length. I used to have a lot of fun with my old friends.

  It would be nice to have someone for moral support right now.

  Brows drawn together, I start toward the table by the windows I think of as mine after sitting there alone last week.

  I don’t get three steps before Lucas’ tall figure blocks my path.

  I stare at his broad chest for a beat. His blazer is discarded. Damn, his uniform fits nice. It’s tailored, unlike most guys here. The shirt is a perfect mold to the muscles beneath and highlights his athletic physique, the sleeves rolled up to the elbow to show off tan forearms.

  Fuck, focus. You need to shut up, lizard hindbrain! Stop making me drool over his stupid sexy forearms.

  “Hey, sweetheart. I didn’t realize you had the same lunch period.”

  The faux-charm in Lucas’ tone sets my teeth on edge.

  I don’t tell him I noticed him just fine. My hope that he’d ignore me today flies out the window when he smooths his hand down my arm without asking.

  No need to ask permission when you’re the popular quarterback.

  I suck on my teeth and contemplate the effectiveness of dumping my tray of food on him to make him leave me alone.

  People give us a wide berth as they find their tables, but the chatter isn’t as loud as usual. Everyone’s watching this little show play out.

  We’re the lunchtime entertainment.

  “Come eat with us.”

  Lucas tips his head, indicating the table behind him that’s packed with his groupies. Including Devlin and that football guy, Burns.

  “Oh, too bad.” I hitch a shoulder and lay on the mock-disappointment. “Looks like your table’s all full.”

  A cocksure smile curves Lucas’ mouth. It’s too smarmy and mars his attractiveness.

  “You can sit on my lap.”

  “Yeah,” I snort. “Don’t think so.”

  “Come on,” Lucas croons.

  He runs his fingers over my braid, using it as a tether. I’m forced to lean in. My fingers press into the plastic tray and the items rattle.

  “See everyone over there?” Lucas makes a sweeping gesture. It’s full of beautiful people that I bet are just like Lucas beneath their pretty veneers. “We’re where you want to be, sweetheart. I’m inviting you there. That doesn’t just happen.”

  Gritting my teeth, I roll my shoulders back.

  “I can open doors for
you. Not just here, but anywhere in town.”

  Lucas’ attention drops to my lips. His pupils dilate. He wants another go.

  Kiss thief, I call him in my head. Conman. Crooked burglar.

  “I’m not interested. Can you let me go eat now?”

  His grip on my hair tightens. He grants me a challenging look.

  “You’re going to come sit with us,” he commands.

  My chin lifts a fraction. “How do you figure, when I just said I didn’t want to?”

  Lucas smiles down at me, but there’s nothing sweet about it. The smile is all hunter, mean and precise. The smile of a hungry predator with its prey in reach.

  “Because what I say fucking goes around here. If I want you to come sit in my lap, you’ll do it. Do you need another reminder of who’s in charge around here?”

  Who the fuck does this guy think he is?

  “Did a football hit you too many times in the head?”

  A confused wrinkle appears on his forehead.

  “No,” I say slowly, so he understands. “I don’t want to sit with you. I don’t want anything to do with you.”

  Lucas tugs sharply on my braid. He literally pulls my hair, like the bullying boys that girls are always warned about.

  A scoff of amused disbelief leaves me. “Did you really just…?”

  “I’ll give you one more chance, Gemma.”

  Lucas’ playful demeanor and big-man-on-campus act has vanished. Now he’s deadly serious as he stares at me.

  “Or what?” Sheer astonishment at this whole situation bleeds into my voice.

  “You don’t want to know that. You’re either with us or you’re against us, and you don’t want to be against us. Just accept it, like everyone else does, or you’ll face the consequences.”

  With us or against us. Consequences. Lucas sounds like some power-hungry mafioso rather than a high school quarterback.

  “You’ve gotta be kidding me. I said no, you bastard.” My voice raises. “Back off, or I’m going to dump my lunch tray on you! I don’t think gravy stains will go well with your expensive tailoring.”

  He drops my braid, but I don’t get the chance to move back before he grips my hips, his fingers digging at my skin through the material.