by E. M. Snow
“It doesn’t really matter,” I say, hoping to steer the conversation away from this topic. “There’s nothing going on between us, but I thought you should know because you’re my friend—”
“So, if not Liam, what about you and Saint?”
I freeze. “What about Saint?”
She arches a brow. “That night at the beach, when you disappeared to the parking lot with him, I know you said that was a misunderstanding, but—”
“It was!” I cry, too late realizing I’m almost shouting. Lowering my voice again, I continue, “I wasn’t lying. I went to confront Saint about being such a dick to me, but that’s it.”
“So, you don’t like him at all? Especially now that we know he wasn’t part of Nick’s attack?”
Her question floors me. Like Saint Angelle? No way in hell! Do I think about what his touch felt like at least once a day? Sure. Do I sometimes fantasize about having hot hate sex with him? Fine, yes. But do I like him?
“Abso-fucking-lutely not.” My tone is firm, leaving room for little argument on the matter. “Saint Angelle is a sociopath who makes my life a living hell for fun. There’s no way I’d ever like him.”
Hate and love are two sides of the same coin.
I want to swat away the annoying little voice in the back of my head that keeps saying these stupid things.
At least my vehemence appears to convince Loni.
“All righty, that’s a big no on Saint,” she says with a megawatt grin. “Sorry, just had to ask.”
“It’s fine,” I sigh. Bending down, I pick up the sweatshirt and leggings I’d been contemplating for my study-date-not-a-date with Liam. “Now, on to more important things than Hot Draco. Does this outfit say there’s no way in hell I’m sleeping with you?”
Loni studies the outfit a moment, then crinkles her nose and nods. “That would be the general vibe, yes. If you want, you can take Dorito to solidify yourself as the cat lady who doesn’t give a shit.”
“Perfect. And no to the cat, but thanks.” I turn to my bathroom to change, knowing the last thing I want is to give Liam the idea I’m trying to impress him.
Less than an hour later, Liam picks me up in a black BMW that still smells like new car.
We’re pretty silent during the ride, and the atmosphere between us is thick and awkward. Maybe going off campus was a bad idea? At least there, we could find some neutral ground to interact on. I’m about to go straight into the lion’s den, where he’ll have every advantage to … what?
Torture me?
Seduce me?
Only work on the English project with me?
I realize I’m paranoid for no actual reason. Liam hasn’t done anything to me as of late to give any indication he has ulterior motives tonight. When we pull up to the house, I try my best to relax. I don’t want the whole evening to be this tense.
All rational thought temporarily leaves my mind as my eyes take in his family’s beach house. A more apt description of it would be beach mansion. My jaw drops at the sprawling two-story structure that looks like a blend of modern and Italian architecture. Liam gets out the car, and I stumble to do the same and follow him up to the front door. The opulence of the interior of the house is more mind-boggling than the stately exterior. It’s all sleek, black and white surfaces, with glass walls that fold open to reveal a breathtaking view of the ocean.
“Holy shit,” I murmur.
I glance toward him. He’s rubbing the back of his head, ruffling his already messy black hair, as though uncomfortable.
“Yeah, it’s cool, I guess,” he replies with a shrug.
“Jesus Christ, Liam, this place is incredible!”
He lifts his shoulders again, his mouth tight. There’s a look in his eyes that just seems sad, though he’s doing everything he can to mask it.
I’m curious what could weigh down a guy who lives in a place like this?
Is the view too spectacular?
In an attempt to lighten the mood, I ask, “Are your mom and dad home?”
His mouth thins even more, until I can’t see his lips. “Not usually. I think they’re in Italy this weekend, watching my older brother do some stupid fucking race.”
Ah, there it is. I think I’ve just stumbled onto the reason for that underlying sadness. My heart hurts a little for him because that sadness isn’t so unfamiliar to me.
“It sucks when nobody’s there,” I say softly, thinking of my own mom and how I was never the priority I should’ve been to her.
He looks down at me, his expression unreadable. “You sound like you know exactly what that’s like.”
I drop my gaze to the scuffed toes of my white tennis shoes, remembering too late why I can’t let any details about my life be known around here. Not even Loni knows about my mom—or the accident that sent her on the run.
Not that she was a great parent before she had to disappear.
“We should get to work,” I quickly say. “We’ve got a lot to do and haven’t really started any of it.”
He looks like he wants to press me. To dig in and uncover all my dirty secrets. It’s a relief when he appears to let the matter go, shaking his head in bafflement before turning and walking toward the open concept kitchen.
“You want something to drink?” he asks over his shoulder. “We should have beer. Maybe wine.”
“Beer’s fine,” I answer.
“You don’t have to drink if you don’t want to,” he says, opening the fridge. “We’ve got some soda and juice, too.”
“I like beer,” I say with a shrug. After all, I did grow up with Jenn, who made sure the refrigerator was stocked with Natty Light before food.
He looks at me from around the fridge door, his brow cocked, and his lips curled in a surprised grin. “Huh, wouldn’t have thought a goody-two-shoes like you would indulge.”
I roll my eyes as I lean against the huge glass-topped kitchen island. “Just because I care about school doesn’t mean I’m a saint.”
He chuckles, grabs two fancy craft beers and walks over to set one before me.
“Ellis’s got a rebellious side,” he teases. “Sexy. Very sexy.”
I scowl at him but can’t help the blush that creeps into my cheeks. He’s acting so differently than any of the times we’ve interacted at school. Even during our late-night swims, he was never this friendly. It’s as if some weight or tension has been lifted off him, and he’s fully relaxed for the first time since we’ve met.
Is this what he’s always like when he’s not around Saint and Gabe?
I like this casual, approachable Liam with his black t-shirt and exposed tattoos and easy grin. He seems like someone I could genuinely enjoy being around.
We grab our beers and move to the living room. I go to grab my backpack from where I left it by the door.
“Okay, so I did do a little prep-work so we’re not starting from total scratch,” I say, sitting next to him on the plush leather couch and pulling my bag into my lap so I can dig around inside for my binder. “I’ve already compiled a list of Dickens’ works that I think we should focus on. We could center our theme around his portrayal of the poor in his writing.”
“Holy shit, Ellis. You’re the best partner ever.”
I shoot him a shy grin. “I just like to be prepared.”
I’m in the process of pulling out my binder and notebook when the doorbell suddenly rings, one of those fancy bells that plays Mozart. Frowning, I glance to the door, then to Liam.
“Expecting anyone?”
He shakes his head, but his expression darkens. “No … I wasn’t.”
He pushes to his feet and moves around me toward the door. I watch him open it, and my stomach twists when it’s Saint standing on the other side of the threshold.
Only he’s not alone.
I can see a whole group of students from Angelview gathered behind him, including Gabe and Laurel. They’re staring through the door at me in clear shock.
Liam’s shoulders ten
se, and I can see his profile tighten with rage.
“What the hell are you guys doing here?” he growls.
Saint stares him dead in the eye as he offers a taut, lifeless smile. There’s a simmering anger in his gaze as well, though I can’t begin to imagine why.
“Heard there was a party. Didn’t want to miss out.”
He tries to push past Liam, but my study-buddy doesn’t budge an inch.
“There’s no party here, you knew that already.”
Saint turns his frigid gaze toward me, and his nostrils flare. “You two gonna fuck or something?”
I gape at him, horrified. He stares right back at me, as if daring me to say something. Liam’s face is turning red and he looks like he’s on the verge of violence.
Something must be going on between the two for Liam to have such an intense reaction to Saint showing up on his doorstep. I would’ve thought such a thing would be a regular occurrence, but there appears to be trouble in filthy, spoiled rich boy paradise.
Whatever the drama, I don’t need to be part of it.
I pack up my bag and stand.
Moving next to Liam, I look up at him and say, “Maybe we can just reschedule?”
His brown eyes fly to mine. “No, we don’t need to.”
“Ahhh, so you were gonna fuck.” Saint’s voice is burning venom in my ears.
I ignore him and place a hand on Liam’s arm, ignoring the sound of Saint filtering in a sharp breath. “It’s okay. Really. We can meet up on campus next week.”
“Mallory…”
The sound of my first name on his lips gives me a little jolt, but I try not to let it show. Saint’s watching me like a predator tracking its prey, and I don’t want to give him any insight into my increasingly complicated relationship with Liam. Especially since it appears their relationship is far more complicated than I would have initially thought.
I smile up at Liam. “I’m going to call Loni to come pick me up. You guys have fun.”
Before he can speak another word of protest, I step past him to try and go outside. Saint doesn’t budge, though, and I’m forced to squeeze between him and the doorframe, which means my body presses tight to his before I’m free. My heart races at the contact, and I shove my way through the rest of the group and their kegs, ignoring Laurel’s sharp glare and Gabe’s amused smirk and inclined red head.
Making my way from the house, I text Loni, who responds right away. There’s a loud roar as the party swings into motion, and I stand on the sidewalk dejected and alone, wondering if anyone will chase after me.
Terrified of just who it might be.
15
I sit down for breakfast in the dining room Monday morning distracted and groggy from a weekend of little sleep and tons of anxiety. I couldn’t get the weird animosity between Saint and Liam out of my head. There’s a part of me that thinks I’m the reason for it, but Saint knew we were kind of hanging out before Friday night. Was it because we were off campus at Liam’s house that made him so angry?
Was he afraid we were going to hook up?
I’m his toy, after all, and he doesn’t like to share.
The thought sends a spike of anger rushing through me. I’m not his property, no matter what he thinks. If Liam and I want to hang out at his house together, there’s not a damn thing Hot Draco can do about it.
I’m stewing over my plate of pancakes when Loni comes rushing up to me and distracts me from my frustrating thoughts.
“Mallory! I need your help!” she declares without preamble, and my eyebrows shoot up.
“Umm … with what?”
She sits down next to me. “Okay, so Headmaster Aldridge asked me to take over the planning for decorations and prep for Parents Weekend.”
I blink, confused. “But … that’s only a few weeks away, isn’t it?”
She groans and bobs her head. “Yeah, it is. Apparently, they put an idiot in charge before me and she dropped pretty much every ball she could and spent all the prep money on coke since her parents have apparently cut her off.” She gives me a second to process this information, before explaining, “I’ve helped plan the weekend before, so Aldridge picked me out for the job personally.”
“That sucks.”
“Big time,” she agrees. Clasping her hands together, she makes her eyes so wide, she reminds me of an anime character. “Mallory, would you please, please help me? Pretty, pretty please with a cherry on top?”
I almost laugh at her earnestness because it’s kind of adorable. “Of course, you didn’t even have to ask.” I mean that. Other than something that would get me expelled, there’s not much I wouldn’t do for the girl who’d made my year bearable.
“Oh, thank you!” She claps in delight then lunges forward to wrap me in a tight hug. “You’re a lifesaver.”
I pat her back and chuckle. “No problem.”
Suddenly, she stiffens in my arms.
“Hey Mallory? Why’s Saint looking at you like that?”
My features sink into a frown as she pulls away. “What do you mean?” Twisting around, I scan the hall until my attention lands on him a few tables away. A small gasp escapes my lips at the intensity behind his stare. I mean, the bastard always looks intense, but today he looks frustrated—and pissed.
Is he still upset about Friday night’s drama?
“I can’t tell if he wants to kill you or fuck you in front of everyone here,” Loni murmurs.
“I’m pretty sure it’s the first option,” I reply, turning back around so I don’t have to endure his icy glare any longer.
Plunking her elbow on the table, she rests her chin in her hand and twists her lips. “Did you do something in particular to piss him off?”
I make a face. “Who knows anymore. I breathe, and he’s mad. It is what it is.”
Except this is different. I can feel it. I just can’t figure out why.
“He’s such a dick,” she grumbles.
“Yeah … he is.”
I fight the urge to turn back around to look at him and finish my breakfast as quickly as possible so I can get away from his burning stare.
When I reach English class later, I stop short as soon as I walk into the classroom. Liam’s sitting in his old seat, away from mine. I’m surprised by how disappointed I am by that. Slowly, I make my way over to him. He doesn’t ignore me, but his expression isn’t as friendly as the ones he was showing me Friday night.
“Hey, Liam, you okay?”
He arches a brow, his gaze almost bored. “Yeah, why?”
“Well … it’s just, you seemed really mad Friday night and—”
“I wasn’t,” he interrupts.
There’s a finality to his words that lets me know loud and clear the subject is closed. So, we’re just going to pretend nothing happened that night. Cool.
Whatever.
“We should probably schedule another time to meet for the project,” I say in the most detached voice I can muster.
“I could do Wednesday,” he sighs, rubbing a hand through his thick black hair. “Library?”
I try not to think about the last time I was there. Otherwise, my voice might fail me. “If you wanted to go somewhere else—”
“Library’s good,” he cuts me off again, and I sink my teeth into my bottom lip. “We should stick to staying on campus. Better we’re not seen in public together.”
His words sting, more so because I’d thought we were making progress toward being friends. I try not to let my hurt show, but I’m not sure I’m all that successful.
Raising my chin, I grit out, “Fine. Wednesday at the library it is. See you there.”
Spinning on my heel, I march to my seat and try my best not to look his way for the rest of class.
I fail.
My bad mood hasn’t improved any by the time I get to gym class. I’m glad today we have a free play period, so I can swim and pretend no one else is there. Mr. Norris has us all line up at the very beginning of class to explain exactl
y what we can and cannot do during class today. I’m only half-listening, though. My gaze keeps swinging toward Saint, who appears to be pointedly avoiding me, his jawline tight and his eyes narrowed straight ahead.
I gnash my teeth in frustration and anger. First, he ruins my Friday night, and now he’s pretending I don’t exist?
Stupid, privileged bastard.
When Mr. Norris releases us to go do our own activities, I’m so done with Saint’s bullshit, that I storm straight toward him. His stormy blue eyes meet mine briefly, but he turns away without a word and begins heading to the weight room with most of the other guys.
“Hey!” I snap. “I need to talk to you.”
He doesn’t turn around. Doesn’t acknowledge in any way that he’s heard me. I curl my hands into fists and keep up my pursuit.
“Saint, I swear to God—”
“Holy shit, stage five clinger alert.” I stop in my tracks and turn to find Laurel and her posse of airheads giggling at as she sneers at me. As usual, she’s got one hand on her hip. “Take a hint, bitch. He doesn’t want your loose-ass-pussy. Stop stalking him.”
Another round of snorts and giggles.
Stomach churning with fury, I let out a hiss and open my mouth to snap back a retort, but a deep, deliciously male voice beats me to it.
“For fuck’s sake, Laurel, nobody asked your opinion. Go pretend to break a sweat somewhere else.”
I gape at Saint, who’s flashing his ex with a look that could conquer cities, empires, all on its own. Laurel looks just as shocked as I feel, but she doesn’t try to argue with him. Shooting me a death glare, she slinks away, her bitches slithering right behind her.
“Thanks, I think,” I murmur.
Saint doesn’t say a word as he directs his ice-cold features toward me. Unlike Laurel, however, I don’t shirk away from him. I stare him down and let him see just how furious I really am with him. There’s a moment where I think he’ll say something, but he doesn’t. He’s determined to give me the silent treatment, it seems, as he grants me his broad back and stalks off toward the weight room.
