by E. M. Snow
The two that are close to us aren’t as blessed in the looks department. They’re ugly but they also just seem … mean. The one with the big, square head and buzz-cut rests his hands on the table and leans down close to my face.
“So, you’re the slut that snagged Angelle, huh?” He makes a show of looking me up and down. “I guess you’ve got nice lips, but not much else going for you, huh?”
His friend laughs like an idiot. “Don’t be so short-sighted, Finn. Lips like that means she’s a pro at sucking cock. Wanna give us a demonstration, sweetheart? Let us find out for ourselves what all the fuss is about?”
I stare up at them in shock. My hands clench into fists as my blood boils with anger. Who the hell do these douchebags think they are?
“Get lost, fuckwads,” Loni speaks up in a chilly voice. “You think Saint’s going to appreciate the fact that you’re insulting his girl like this?”
I shoot Loni a wide-eyed look. I’m his girl now?
She gives me a barely perceptible shrug, and I decide to roll with it. Loni’s clearly got a plan of some kind.
“Come on, guys, that’s enough,” the third boy, the hot one, says, stepping between his friends. He grabs the one still leaning on the table by the shoulder and pulls him away from me before casting Loni a pained look. “Sorry, Lon. They’re just being assholes.”
“Yeah, well, they’re perfect company for you then, aren’t they, Bran?” Loni snarls. I’ve never seen her like this. Never seen her so hostile.
The guy, Bran, lets out a deep sigh. Turning to face me, he says, “I’m really sorry. Are you okay?”
“She’s not interested in you and your half-assed apologies.” She pushes to her feet and grabs my hand to yank me to mine. “Come on, Mal. It’s time to go.”
Baffled, I let her drag me away from the trio of testosterone. She doesn’t say a word to me until we’re outside and halfway to the academic building.
“Loni? What the hell was that back there? Who were those guys?”
She finally stops and turns to face me. Her dark gaze is bleak, and her cheeks are hollowed, as if she’s fighting for control.
“That was Jon Eric, Finnegan, and … Brandon.” She speaks the last name like a curse, putting particular emphasis on it. I’m a little confused that Brandon appears to get the most hatred from her since the other two were by and far the biggest jerks of the three. Brandon actually seemed pretty damn decent.
“There’s something you’re not telling me,” I murmur, studying her expression. “What’s got you so worked up?”
She seems hesitant to say. She looks around to make sure we’re alone, then releases a deep huff of breath. “Okay, here’s the thing,” she begins. “Last year, there was an … incident.”
The tiny hairs on the nape of my neck stand on end. “A-an incident?”
“An attack,” she admits in a small voice. “On Henry’s brother Nick.”
I blink at her, surprised. “I didn’t know Henry had a brother.”
She bobs her head, her black curls bouncing around her face. “Yeah. Nick and Henry are twins, but they’re very different people. Henry has always been more outgoing and athletic. He was on the football team and part of the more popular crowd before … well, before the incident. Nick was always quieter. A little nerdy. A little awkward. He never hurt anyone, though. Never had a mean thing to say about anybody and God knows most of the assholes on this campus deserve the worst.”
The way she’s speaking makes me think the worst happened to Nick. “Did he … is he—”
Loni’s eyes pop wide and she jerks her head from either side. “Oh, no! Nick’s still alive. Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply that he wasn’t. It was hit or miss for a little while, right after, though. He was beat so bad, he had to have surgery to reconstruct part of his face.”
“Oh my God!” I cry, nausea churning in my stomach. “Who the hell would do something like that? Why?”
She licks her lips, looking a little nervous. “The attack happened at a party Saint was throwing. Everyone assumes it was him and his friends, but the only people who know for sure are Nick. And Brandon.”
“Brandon?”
“Yeah. Nick can’t remember anything from that night, but Brandon was the one who found him, took him to the hospital. I know he knows exactly what happened because he can’t look me in the eye when I ask him about it, but he’s too much of a pussy to say anything.”
“So that’s why you hate him so much?”
She scratches her head and focuses her attention on the brick pavers beneath her designer loafers. “That, and the fact that I was dating him at the time and didn’t realize how much of a shit human he was.”
“Oh, shit.”
She sighs and releases a gritty laugh. “Yeah. Oh, shit is right.”
I think about what’s she’s said and puff out a shallow breath. “So … it seems the likeliest person to have done this to Nick is Saint?”
“Yeah, it does.”
A dull weight settles in the pit of my stomach, and I’m instantly filled with disgust at Saint—and myself. I’ve been dreaming about this guy. Lusting for him, on a subconscious level at least, despite all the stuff he’s put me through.
Loni warned me, though. He destroys lives.
What have I been thinking? The guy’s a monster.
Wanting him only makes me pathetic.
“What happened to Nick?” I figure he’s not attending Angelview anymore if Henry hasn’t even mentioned him to me once.
“He’s being homeschooled in Chicago for the rest of high school, I think,” Loni says, rubbing the back of her neck. “He’s still pretty messed up from last year, and his doctors thought the stress of returning to the place where he was brutalized would only cause added trauma.”
“Makes sense.” I can only imagine what he must be going through. What does something like that do to a person?
It breaks them. Tears them down to nothing, until they think they’re worthless.
I think of the accident.
Think of the pain I left behind in Rayfort.
I think of Saint, and how he probably doesn’t think about Nick.
I hate him. I fucking hate him.
As Loni and I turn to continue onto class, I know I won’t be dreaming about him anymore. Saint Angelle is fucking dead to me.
“Ellis! I hear you’re supposed to be giving me head on the side. Why don’t you get on your knees and give the people what they want?”
My instinct is to turn around and tear into his arrogant ass, but I force myself to face forward. I figured I’d be in for it after gym, and I’ve mentally prepared myself for his bullshit. I’ve just emerged from the girl’s locker room and am not the least bit surprised to find Saint and Gabe waiting for me in the hallway.
I walk right on by them, ignoring his disgusting request.
“Someone shove a stick up your ass?” he snaps. I can hear him following me, but I don’t glance back. “Are you deaf or something?”
“Maybe she thinks if she believes hard enough, you’ll disappear,” Gabe snickers.
“Shut the fuck up,” Saint snarls. He sounds angry, and I get a sick satisfaction from that fact.
He’s suddenly right beside me, his long strides easily keeping up with my much shorter ones. I feel his eyes burning down on me, but I act as though he doesn’t exist, because to me, he doesn’t. Not anymore.
“You think you can just ignore me, huh?” He lowers his face and I feel his hot breath on my cheek. Smell the cinnamon scent of his gum. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, bitch. As long as you exist on this campus, you’re mine. Don’t forget that shit.”
The threat makes me shiver, and to my revulsion, not entirely in fear. Still, I keep my eyes locked ahead of me and keep walking. I don’t answer. I don’t look. Even when he stops chasing me, I stay strong in my conviction to ignore him.
I hear Gabe chuckle. “Damn, she’s hot and she’s got some bigggg balls on her. I’v
e never seen you turn invisible before, Angelle.”
“Seriously, shut the fuck up before I punch you in the goddamn throat,” Saint growls. To me, he calls out, “You can play your games all you want, Ellis, but you won’t be able to ignore me for long.”
Wanna bet, ass?
I grin, feeling as though I’ve won my first battle as I round the corner and leave him behind.
10
That night, as I’m sitting alone in my dorm room studying, my phone rings. I pick it up, expecting to see Carley’s name on my screen, but I freeze when I see a number I haven’t seen, along with a text flashing across the screen.
9:49 PM: Pick up. It’s ur mom.
What the fuck is Jenn calling me for?
I haven’t heard from her in months. Not directly, anyway. Carley always tried to make me feel better by saying it was risky for Jenn to call, so that’s why she didn’t, but I knew better. Jenn didn’t call me because she didn’t want to get in touch with me. End of story.
For a moment, I consider ignoring the phone. My curiosity is too great, unfortunately, and on the fifth ring, I let out an exasperated sigh and answer.
“What do you want?” I snap.
“Is that any way to greet your momma?” Jenn’s voice filters through the speaker into my ears like a worm. She’s in her mid-thirties, but her voice is scratchy from years of smoking at least a pack a day and whatever else she could cook up with her boyfriends. Still, I feel a strange ping of nostalgia, and I hate it. Hate wanting her to give a fuck about me.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m not sure what the proper etiquette is when speaking to your parent who hasn’t bothered to contact you in over three months,” I hiss in return.
“I’ve been … busy. You know that, you know why.”
She’s defensive, as always, and I know she’s about to break into some long, rambling story about how the world is completely against her, through absolutely no fault of her own, if I give in and let her wallow in her pity party.
But if it hadn’t been for Jenn, where you you be? The voice in the back of my head sadistically reminds me, and I clear my throat and scowl across the room at my bathroom doorknob.
“Whatever, Momma,” I finally say. “You’ve obviously called for something.”
“I just wanted to check in on my baby girl and see how you’re doing in that fancy new school of yours?”
Bullshit. “I’m fine. School’s fine.”
“Mal, you’re being difficult.”
Mother, you’re being impossible.
“What do you want me to tell you?” I ask. Maybe if I can glean more specifics from her, I’ll be able to figure out what she’s really after.
“Have you made any friends?”
Plenty of fucking enemies. “A couple,” I say, thinking of Alondra and Henry.
“How’re your grades?”
Like you care. “It’s still a little early in the semester, but I think I’m good so far.”
“Who all have you met there? Anyone famous I would know?”
I fight not to groan out loud. “No one famous that you would know. Just a bunch of rich kids with silver spoons shoved up their butts.”
“Like who?”
I pause. This feels … strange. Why’s she asking me so many questions about school and the people I know? She never bothered to ask me this stuff when I was at my old school.
“Why the sudden interest in my social life, Jenn?”
It takes her a few moments to answer, which I interpret to mean she doesn’t have a ready lie. “I’m just surprised you’ve made it this long and was wondering if you had people who were helping you out.”
The insult hits me harder than it probably should, but every criticism sounds so much worse when it comes from my own mother. “What does that mean?”
She sighs. “Look, sweetie, I know you were smart at your old school, but your old school was shit. Angelview’s a whole different league, baby girl. Those kids grew up with tutors and the best education money could buy. It’d be understandable if you were, well, behind.”
I bristle immediately. “I’m not behind.”
First Saint and his cronies, now my mom. Why are there so many people that think I should quit this place? That I’m incapable of surviving here?
I’ll show them all. I won’t just survive, I’ll thrive!
“I’m sure you’ll do just fine, baby girl—”
“Don’t call me baby girl,” I snap. It doesn’t sound genuine when she says it, not like when Carley calls me that. “You don’t get to disappear on me for months, then call like it’s no big deal and call me baby girl like you actually give a fuck about me.”
“It’s not my fault I had to disappear, remember,” she hisses right back. “It’s not my fault I had to go into hiding to protect your stupid ass. Stop blaming me for being a bad mother when you’re the one who couldn’t—”
“You are a bad mother!” I roar.
“If you hadn’t killed the goddamn quarterback, we wouldn’t be in this situat—”
I hang up on her and power off my phone. I can’t hear anymore, and I’m furious she would bring up James to me like that.
“Fucking bitch,” I growl, tears pricking at my eyes. My blood is hot, and my heart is racing. I’m tense and angsty now, which is usually how I am after talking with Jenn. I know there’s no way in hell I’ll get to sleep tonight unless I burn some of this anxious energy off. There’s only one thing that comes to mind, and I don’t hesitate. Standing, I go to my closet to grab my swimsuit.
The warmth and smell of the pool help calm my nerves as I step through the doors to the big room. I take a deep breath and my eyes scan the waters for Liam, as if driven by instinct. When I spot a big body cutting through the water, it takes me a moment to process that it’s not the boy I’m expecting. The muscled back and arms are clear of any tattoos, and I can tell his hair is blond, even though it’s darkened by the water.
It’s not Liam coming up for air by the pool’s wall.
Liam’s eyes are dark, not ice blue.
It’s Saint, and he’s smirking at me.
“Fuck.” The word’s out of my mouth before I can stop it.
Moving toward the ladder, he pulls himself out of the water and I can’t keep from staring at him. His body is … holy shit. I can’t think. I can’t even move as he saunters toward me. A voice in my head is telling me to run away, but I’m not listening. I’m like a sailor tempted to his doom by a siren, but instead of a beautiful mermaid calling to me, it’s a sexy demon who’s going to prove my downfall.
“Like what you see, Ellis?” he asks, stopping in front of me. He’s dripping wet and doesn’t bother with a towel as he seems to put himself on display. Arrogance makes his eyes bright, and his mouth is still curled up in a cruel, wicked grin.
I manage to shake off my stupor and remind myself why I hate him. I think about what he did to Nick, what he keeps doing to me, and even remember how angry I am at my mom just to give my fury an extra little kick. Instead of legitimizing his stupid question with a response, I narrow my eyes, turn without a word, and storm right back out of the pool room.
Of course, he follows me.
“Ellis!” he barks, as if saying my name in a threatening voice would do him any good.
I keep going, my flipflops slapping noisily on the vinyl tiles as I make my way back down the hall. Suddenly, just as I reach one of the large trophy cases displayed throughout this building, his fingers wrap around my elbow and he yanks me to a standstill.
I whirl on him. “Get your hand off me.”
“Who do you think you are?” he demands to know, ignoring my words completely.
“Who do I think I am?” I repeat back like some goddamn parrot. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
Without taking his eyes off me, he points to the trophy case. Furrowing my brow, I turn to see what it is he’s indicating. There’s a large trophy dated decades ago, but he’s not pointing at it. He’s poin
ting at its base, where an old photo rests. It’s faded and folded on one side, but the image is of four boys smiling proudly at the camera, the school gates behind them. I squint and study it closer, as one of the boys kind of looks like Saint, except with dark hair.
“Who are they?” I ask, glancing back at him.
“My dad and his friends when they were here,” he answers easily, releasing my elbow.
I look between him and the photo, the resemblance fascinating.
“So?” I say at length, somewhat confused as to the significance of the photo. “Good for your dad, but what’s that have to do with anything?”
“I own this school,” he sneers, taking a step toward me. “Just like my father did before me.”
He’s too close now. His size overwhelms me, and his heat and scent wrap around me. I don’t want my body to respond to him, but it does. I clench my legs against the pulse that’s started beating in my core, and I’m so disgusted with myself, it’s nauseating.
Crossing my arms, I drop my gaze from his, frazzled.
“Like I care,” I snarl. “Like I give a flying fuck about who and what you think you own. I don’t have to stand here and put up with your shit a second longer.”
I turn, intent on storming away, but his hand grabs my arm again and he spins me back around. The next thing I know, I’m pressed up against his chest and his hand is tangled in my hair, forcing my head back so I meet his gaze. A little gasp escapes my lips before I can stop it, and I’m paralyzed by fear and desire as I stare up into his cold eyes.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he snarls. His other arm is around my waist, his fingers splayed on my lower back. Too low. And inching lower. “You do have to put up with my shit, because you don’t get a choice. This is my school, and I make the rules. I choose the games, and how we play them, and I’m not done playing with you.”
“You’re a sociopath,” I hiss and focus on breathing as his fingers go further south. “You make me sick. I know what you did to Nick, you sonofabitch. Is hurting people really so much fun for you?”
