by E. M. Snow
“Um…I mean, I guess that could be fun—”
Loni lets out an excited shriek and bounces off her bed, which sends her kitten screeching and racing toward the bathroom. “Yay! This will be so great for you, Mal, to just hang out with people who aren’t psychopaths. There might still be hope for your social life!”
I sit up and watch her skip to her closest, startled by her exuberance. While I appreciate her determination to save me from my state as a social pariah, I’m not optimistic that one beach party is going to undo all the damage Saint and his crew have done to me.
Still, it does sound like fun, and I don’t want to disappoint Loni, so I slap on a big smile when she reemerges from her closet with a cute white summer dress, and act as excited for the night as she is.
The party ends up being not terrible.
In fact, I would go so far as to say I’m having a good time. Loni was right, Martha and her friends are cool people. They all kind of claim to be fringe-types at Angelview—none of them are really friends with Saint’s crew and they wouldn’t consider themselves that popular, but they’re happy to keep to themselves and avoid the drama that seems to follow the “cool” kids wherever they roam. It’s a chill group, and none of them so much as shoot me a stink-eyed glare.
I have to admit, it’s pretty great not feeling totally despised.
Loni comes bounding up to where I’m standing by a large bonfire, a red Solo cup clutched in her hand.
“Having fun, my love?” she asks, her eyes glittering with hope.
I smile and nod. “Yeah, actually. I really am. Thanks for bringing me.”
An enormous grin lights up her features. “You deserve a little fun after everything you’ve put up with. I’m just glad you were willing to give these guys a shot.”
“Me too.” I take a sip of the drink she brought me—vodka and cranberry juice—and let myself truly relax for the first time in weeks.
There’s music playing from someone’s Jeep—one of Dua Lipa’s newer songs—and I feel the urge to start dancing. I sway my hips back and forth, the hem of the flirty blue and white off-the-shoulder dress I’d borrowed from Loni swishing around my hips and thighs, as I drink a little more. The vodka warms me up from the inside out, and I begin to feel like a regular teenager with no baggage holding me down. No MIA mom. No past mistakes looming over my head. No accident to weigh me down with guilt and nightmares.
I’m just a normal girl with no real worries.
History should’ve taught me that no good thing lasts forever.
As Loni and I are dancing and laughing around the fire, Henry suddenly comes running up to us, his expression a mixture of rage and panic. We freeze, and my brow puckers as dread unravels in the pit of my stomach.
“What’s up?” Loni asks, stepping toward him to rest a hand on his shoulder.
He’s not looking at her when he answers, though. He’s looking at me.
“They’re here.”
I know the answer before I even say, “Who’s here?”
“Saint and those motherfuckers. They all just drove up to crash the party.”
I feel instantly sick, the dread not mixing well with the vodka swirling in my stomach. For a moment, I think I might puke, but I keep it together and take a deep breath to collect myself.
“We should get out of here,” Loni murmurs, turning to me with concern bright in her dark eyes.
Then they’d just think I’m a coward.
“No.” I comb a frustrated hand through my hair and shake my head. “I don’t want to give them the satisfaction of seeing me run away. We were here first. I’m not leaving just because those jackasses show up.”
Loni looks impressed by my confident words but still worried. “Are you sure?”
I glance over her shoulder and spot Saint and a group of Angelview’s elite descending to the beach. Gabe and Liam are with him, of course, and I grimace when I spot Laurel giggling with her friends behind him. I turn my gaze from them and give Loni a resolved nod.
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
Henry, Loni, and I group together and glare in disgust as Saint and his followers reach the party. As if he knows I’m watching him, his slate blue eyes find me immediately and he grants me that self-assured, wicked grin. He elbows Gabe and Liam and points, not even bothering to hide the fact that he’s picked me out of the crowd. Gabe arches his brow, and I think he chuckles a little, but Liam watches me with a somber expression.
Does he regret not helping me? Does he miss swimming together?
I try not to think too hard about him, knowing it will only confuse me more than I already am.
“Shit, drunk bitch alert,” Loni hisses. I glance in the direction she’s looking and find Laurel heading straight for us. She’s staggering slightly, and it’s obvious she’s intoxicated. Her eyes are glassy, and her smile is meaner than ever.
“Hey, dumb fucks,” she sneers. “What’re you doing here? I didn’t think you had the nerve to show your face in public, Mallory.”
I clench my teeth until pain shoots through my jaw, angry that she’s even here. Angry that she’s ruining what was shaping up to be such a fun night. Angry in general that an evil bitch like her gets to go on living her charmed life with no consequences when it comes to the demolished victims she leaves in her wake.
Stepping around Loni, I get in Laurel’s face.
“Why don’t you get out of here,” I hiss. “You and your asshole friends weren’t invited, and nobody wants you here.”
She laughs. “As if I give a shit what you or any of these other losers want.” She shoves at my shoulder. “You’re nothing but a trailer park slut.”
I can’t stop myself. I’m too pissed off, and I shove her back.
“Better a trailer park slut than an egomaniac who only takes it in the back door.”
She looks shocked that I snapped back. Her face reddens with fury, her gaze darting around as if to check if there were any witnesses to my show of spine against her.
“Why don’t you just fucking die?” she snarls, pushing me even harder. “Burn like the piece of shit trash you are.”
Her shove is stronger than I anticipated, and I’m thrown off balance, too late realizing that the bonfire is at my back. I hear Loni let out a startled shriek as I topple backwards, but before I hit the flames, strong hands wrap around my shoulders, catching me. Tilting my head back, my eyes go wide when they meet Liam’s chocolate brown irises.
“You all right?” he asks in a low tone, his face so close to mine that his hair skims the tip of my nose.
I blink, baffled that he’s speaking to me at all, let alone in such a gentle tone.
“Um … yeah. Tha-thank you.”
He helps me regain my balance before he lets me go, then shoots that jet-black stare of his toward the blonde who’d pushed me.
“Are you insane?” he snaps. “Even your daddy wouldn’t be able to bail you out of a murder charge, you dumb bitch.”
Laurel’s jaw drops, though I can’t tell if it’s because of how Liam spoke to me, or because of how he’s speaking to her.
“Liam, what the fuck—?” she begins, but he cuts her off.
“Shut up. Go jump in the ocean and sober your drunk ass up.”
He gives me a quick look, then turns to head back to Gabe and Saint. Gabe appears stunned by the entire scene, but Saint looks disgusted. Our eyes briefly meet, and he spits on the ground before turning and storming toward the parking lot.
Loni hurries to my side, grabbing my arm. “Are you all right?”
I gulp, but I can’t stop looking the direction Saint disappeared to.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I … I’ll be right back, have to go pee.”
Loni’s brows raise, but she nods and lets me go. I hurry across the beach, not fully certain why I’m doing what I’m doing. What good could possibly come from chasing after Saint? What do I even want from him?
I still don’t know the answer by the time I find him. He’s leaning against his black R
ange Rover, a joint in one hand and his phone in the other. I consider turning around because this is stupid.
Everything about this situation is.
But then his blond head jerks up and he pushes to his feet, shoving his phone in the back pocket of his jeans as he leers at me through a cloud of smoke and disdain.
“What the fuck do you want?” I don’t answer, so he flicks the tip of his tongue across his perfect teeth, then takes a deep drag from the joint. “I’d invite you to join me, but who knows where that mouth’s been.”
My posture stiffens. “Didn’t think you cared.”
“Does it look like I give a shit how many cocks you stuff in your big mouth?” As I edge closer, his eyes narrow and a muscle spasms in his jaw. “Liam might, though. That stupid fuck can’t see straight when you spill your tits out of your swimsuit.”
“What?”
“I’m not stupid. I know where he goes at night, where you go. He won’t tell me what he’s done to you, but I can imagine. Bet it didn’t take much effort to convince you to open that gaping—”
I shove him with all my might. “Why are you doing this to me?”
He laughs—it’s soft but throaty, drawn out by his haze and his hatred of me. He really doesn’t care. “Why, Saint?” I demand.
“I warned you. From the very start, I told you this would happen.”
“Because I threw a fucking apple at you? You deserved it so get over yourself!”
“Because you were never supposed to be here,” he clarifies, tilting his head slightly, the darkness casting a dangerous shadow over the outline of his face. I hate my brain for immediately thinking he looks beautiful right now. Like a fallen angel. “There’s still time to go back to your trailer park, Mallory. I’ll even buy the ticket for you.”
“No.” I push away from him, my hands thumping his chest hard. I turn to leave, but he’s faster than me. He snatches my wrists and yanks me to him. Our breaths collide, a fusion of weed and whiskey, vodka and cranberry, and I give my lungs time to settle down before I grind out, “I’m. Not. Going. Fucking. Anywhere.”
He chuckles again, this one even more taunting than the last. “You silly little masochist.”
“You’re a shit human being, Saint,” I say in a breathless whisper through my teeth. “The world isn’t yours. People aren’t pawns. I’m not—”
He stops me with his hand. Not on my mouth, but on my body. His fingertip trails up my thigh, stealing a gasp from my lips and a flush from my skin. His touch is rough. His stare sandpaper. And his smile…
I shudder from head to toe at the vicious twist of his lips because nobody should be able to do that. Appear desirable and yet so godawful at the same time.
“Yes, you are. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t have followed me up here like a lost lamb,” he drawls. Heat floods my body, and I clamp my thighs together before he can go any higher. Before he realizes that his words are weapons in more ways than one. “If you weren’t my pawn, you wouldn’t be ready to let me dive in at the word go.”
He almost looks surprised when I stumble backward. Trembling, I swivel around so that he doesn’t see the emotions—shame, disgust, desire—going to war on my face.
There really must be something wrong with me.
Something fucked and corrupted deep in my core.
What other explanation is there for the butterflies in my stomach and the way my skin practically cries out for more of whatever … that was?
And it only gets worse, so much worse, when I feel his body against the back of mine. He bends his head until his mouth brushes my ear. At first, he doesn’t say a word. He just puffs shallow breaths into my hair as his intoxicating scent—the aroma of money and privilege—wafts over me. Then he opens his mouth, his words emerging in a low growl.
“Why am I doing this to you?” he repeats the question I’d asked when I thought I had the upper hand. “Because you’re mine, Mallory. To break. To hate. To do whatever the fuck I please to until you give me what I want.”
“And what’s that?” I whisper.
“Leave.”
9
I wake up Monday morning exhausted from the second sleepless night I’ve had in a row. The events from Friday night’s party keep playing on repeat in my mind, specifically my confrontation with Saint. No matter how hard I try, I can’t get that toxic prick out of my head. I can still feel his hand on my thigh, as if each fingertip was branded into my skin so I’d be haunted by the scars of his touch for the rest of my life. That night, I ran from him like he was a monster about to devour me, and I’m glad I did. After he declared me his to do with as he pleased, I knew I was in more danger with him than I’d anticipated. I’d fled back to the party and the safety of my friends, denying him the thrill of whatever he might have had planned for me.
In real life, that’s how it went down, but in my dreams…
In my dreams, I stayed.
In my dreams, I let his fingers continue their exploration, touching and caressing parts of my body that I’ve been determined to ignore for months. In my dreams, he’s not gentle, but I don’t care. I don’t want gentle. I want angry and brutal and rough. Saint gives me what I want, again and again and again.
My dream is so vivid, I wake up hot and sweating, on the verge of something I’ve not felt in almost a year, but I never quite manage to tip over into that mindless abyss before I’m conscious again. It freaks me out so much, I’m afraid to sleep.
Thus, my bone-deep exhaustion as I stagger into the dining hall.
As soon as I walk inside, combing my fingers through messy hair that I didn’t get the chance to braid, I’m very aware that something is wrong. People stop and stare at me as I walk by, but not in the same way as usual. They aren’t glaring this morning. They aren’t angry. They’re awed.
A few are almost reverent.
What the actual hell?
Before I reach the middle of the hall, I see Loni running straight toward me. I stop and wait for her to reach me, and when she does, her eyes are wide with disbelief.
“What the hell is going on?” I murmur, gazing around at the eyes watching me. “Why is everyone looking at me like that?”
“Dude, did you hook up with Saint Friday night?” she asks in a whisper.
“What?” I cry. “Of course not!”
I’m quick to deny it, but my stomach twists as images from my reoccurring dream assault me.
Pressing her hand to her chest, she puffs out a breath of relief. “Okay, that’s what I thought, but I had to ask.”
“Is that what everyone thinks?” I grab her arm and tug her toward an empty table, ignoring the stares we get as we pass by. “Is that why everyone’s acting so weird?”
She aims both index fingers at me as we sit down. “Bingo, beautiful.”
“Why do people think that?”
She arches her brow and looks at me like I’m stupid. “I dunno, maybe because you completely disappeared into the parking lot with him at the party?”
“People noticed that?” I feel the color drain from my face as horror seizes me.
“Fuck yeah, people noticed. Did you really think you could vanish with the god among the gods and no one would catch you?”
I drop my head into my hands and groan. “Shit, shit, shit. It wasn’t like that. Nothing happened!”
She pats my back. “Well, pretty much the whole school thinks something did happen. Look on the bright side! Everyone will probably stop treating you like shit if they think Saint’s hitting it.”
“Thanks for giving me a reason to vomit.”
She falls silent for several moments. When I glance up at her, she appears thoughtful.
“What is it?” I ask, afraid of what else she could tell me.
“Why did you go after Saint? And also, why’d you lie about it?”
Sitting up, I turn in my chair so I’m facing her fully, shame burning in my chest. “I’m sorry. I should’ve just told you what I was doing, but at the time, I w
asn’t really sure what I was doing myself. I … I just needed to confront him, you know? I needed to face him on my own and ask him what his problem was.”
“And?” She tilts her head slightly, eyes burning with curiosity. “Did you get any answers.”
That I’m his to play with however he sees fit, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
“Not really,” I say instead. “He just decided I was an easy target, I guess, and he’s obviously still pissed about the apple.”
That piece of fruit is going to haunt me for the rest of my high school career.
Loni makes a face. “That’s such a stupid reason for going after someone. It’s not like you keyed his car.”
Nope, but now that I think about it, I should have. The outcome would have been the same. “You’re not wrong,” I finally say.
“Well, there’s at least one person who hates you more than ever.” She waves her fingers and smirks over my shoulder. I turn around to see who she’s taunting and meet eyes with the stepsister from hell. Laurel’s sitting at a table near the middle of the room surrounded by her minions, glaring at me with the purest rage I think I’ve ever seen in another person.
I turn back to Loni. “Damn, she looks capable of murder right now.”
“Well, she thinks you’re banging her one true love,” Loni quips, a grin quivering the corners of her lips. “Girl’s gonna be a little miffed.”
I can’t help but giggle, and Loni joins in.
“What’s so funny, ladies?”
Three boys approach our table. I’ve never interacted with them, but I recognize their faces from a few pep rallies and signage posted around campus. They’re each on the football team, and Loni’s expression goes dark as they near. I’m shocked. I’ve never seen her look so furious, not even with Laurel.
“Can I help you?” she demands through gritted teeth.
One of the boys—the dark-haired guy who looks like he should be on the cover of GQ instead of in a high school cafeteria—visibly flinches at her harsh greeting but doesn’t say anything. He kind of hangs back from the other two, looking as if he’d rather be anywhere else in the world at that moment.
