How Sinners Fight

by Eva Ashwood

  It takes less than a week for the Saints to start strutting around campus like they own the damn place. Aaron and Shane are bad enough, but the worst is stupid fucking Cliff, who acts like it was him who brought down the Sinners in one fell swoop.

  Brought them down my ass.

  I snort under my breath as I walk across campus on Friday, heading toward my last class before lunch.

  Maybe it would be better if everyone believed Cliff’s grandstanding. But most people on campus seem to know the truth: it was me. It was Sophie fucking Wright who brought down the Sinners. The scholarship girl, the foster kid, the girl with problems, the shit show who strips for strangers at college parties.

  And of course, the girl who fell down the stairs.

  Everyone knows about that too. And even though it happened almost a month ago, people still won’t stop talking about it. Caitlin and her little posse are behind it, I’m sure, feeding the rumor mill by making up lies about me—saying I was coked up that night, that I’ve got a mental disorder, or that I did it on purpose just for attention.

  It doesn’t matter that none of her lies can be backed up by a shred of evidence. No one cares about the truth. They just want entertaining gossip, and Caitlin goes out of her way to make sure they get plenty of that.

  I manage to duck into the back of the large classroom a couple minutes before anyone else arrives, finding my seat alone in the back and pulling out my notes. Studying has been my only anchor lately, especially when nothing good is coming out when I try to paint. I’m trying, I’m trying as hard as I fucking can, but my art just hasn’t been the same since I left Gray’s house on Christmas.

  He had to take that away too, didn’t he?

  I push down the anger that tries to well up in my chest. I’ve been working on that lately too, and the numbness is almost completely back, but I get a sinking feeling it’ll never be the same again.

  Not since the Sinners wormed their way past my carefully constructed walls.

  Not since they found a way inside my heart.

  When the first few students walk in, Professor Kelley greets them by name instead of ignoring them like he did me. Most of the professors here are like that, although a few aren’t. But a lot of them saw me as “lesser” the second they found out I was a scholarship kid. As if the fact that I don’t have parents who could buy my way into this school makes me a dumber person.

  I roll my eyes when one of the girls—a junior, I think—lingers at the professor’s side with a familiarity that can only mean one thing: they’re fucking. I’m not sure what the rules are about that here, but I’m pretty sure these rich assholes can get away with whatever they want.

  For the next fifteen minutes, students trickle into the lecture hall, avoiding the seats in the back, next to me. I obviously don’t have the cooties, but I do have a reputation, and no one wants to be associated with me, despite the morbid curiosity that surrounds my name. The jeers, the taunts, the questions. The snickers and whispers.

  I ignore it all.

  Just as class is starting and Professor Kelley dims the lights so that we can better see some boring as hell presentation, one of the side doors opens and shuts silently, casting a small beam of light into the dark room.

  I don’t look, because I already know who it is.

  It’s fucking Gray.

  This is the only class we have together—the only class I have with any of the Sinners. All three of the guys are a year ahead of me, a fact I couldn’t be more thankful for since it means our class schedules don’t really overlap.

  My heart thuds with an unwelcome ache, a spark of something that doesn’t belong there. I ignore it, keeping my eyes on the professor and not on the back of Gray’s head. He sits by himself, just like me, but the other students don’t avoid him for the same reasons they avoid me. They avoid him because everything about him says stay the fuck away.

  And they listen.

  They listen, because Gray Eastwood is Gray Fucking Eastwood, and he can get away with whatever the hell he wants to at this school. Like trying to kick out students who have every reason and every right to stay in the place they’ve earned.

  It makes my blood boil.

  He’s tried to talk to me exactly two times since school started back up. And both times, instead of apologizing or offering any explanation for why he flipped from hot to cold yet again, he’s just done his best to convince me to leave.

  Why? Why does he fucking hate me so much? Why can’t he just let me live my goddamn life?

  The class passes quickly, Professor Kelley’s droning voice filling the large room. When he dismisses everyone, I wait for the room to clear out before I leave like I always do, watching as Gray gets up to talk to the professor about the lecture.

  I pretend I don’t notice his gaze flicking toward me as he speaks with Professor Kelley in a quiet, even voice. Our eyes meet for a split second as I head out the door, such a fleeting moment of contact I almost think I’ve imagined it.

  Elias and Declan are waiting for me just like they’ve done every day since Monday, but I still look at them with wary distrust. I catch them glancing into the classroom, where Gray stands with his back to the door, still talking to Professor Kelley. Declan narrows his eyes a little.

  “He didn’t try to talk to me,” I say dryly, pushing past them into the empty hall. “I don’t think he will either.”

  “We’re just looking out for you, Blue,” Elias murmurs, his suspicious gaze following Declan’s.

  Maybe I should be getting used to it by now, but it’s so weird to see them act like this toward Gray. After seeing the three of them as a unit for so long, it’s strange to see them pitted against each other.

  It makes something in my chest tighten unpleasantly. I don’t like seeing them like this, honestly, but I remind myself that I didn’t make this choice for any of them. I’m just trying to fucking survive, and if they take sides among themselves about whether I deserve to be here, that’s up to them.

  Declan and Elias follow close behind me as we leave the building. They seem to think they have to be my bodyguards these days, and I don’t have the heart to tell them I don’t need them hanging around all the time to make sure nothing bad happens. I’ve got things under control by myself.

  Well… mostly.

  People don’t seem to whisper or glare at me as openly when Declan and Elias are with me though. Even though the Sinners may be broken up, all three of them are still respected on campus. Maybe even a little feared.

  Max is waiting for me in the dining hall, and I spot her easily in the crowd. My eyebrows shoot up when I realize who she’s standing with—Aaron, one of the Saints. When Max looks over at me and gives a small wave, Aaron looks too. He doesn’t sneer at me the way Cliff does, but I can’t quite read the expression on his face.

  “Max is over there,” I tell the guys. “I’ll see you later.”

  I leave them to make my way over to Max, and they let me go. Despite their insistence on escorting me across campus when they can, they’ve never gotten pushy about it or tried to stop me from going places on my own if I want to—probably because they know I wouldn’t fucking stand for it.

  When I catch up to Max, Aaron is mid-sentence, laughing as he talks. As soon as I step up to join them, the mood instantly dies, but a small smile still tugs at the edges of his mouth as he says goodbye to Max before shoving his hands into his pockets and walking away.

  “What was that all about?” I ask, giving my friend a curious look. Aaron is one of the Saints, and if she hasn’t already realized, that little posse wants very little to do with me or the people who hang around me.

  Max shrugs as we fall into line to order our food. “He was just asking some questions about the homework in Professor King’s class, that’s all,” she says, but there’s a hint of a smile under her words.

  Yeah, there’s definitely something else going on here.

  “That’s all, huh?” I raise an eyebrow, smirking. “You s
ure about that?”

  A faint blush tinges her cheeks, and I know I hit the nail on the head.

  “Yes! That’s really it,” she insists. Then she bites her bottom lip. “But I will admit it was a little strange. I’ve seen Aaron in class, and he’s doing better than I am. I mean, I’m decent with the material, but it’s not like I can really help him out.”

  “Sounds like he just wanted an excuse to talk to you.” I shoot her a sidelong glance, trying to gauge her reaction to my words. “Has he asked you for help with that class before?”

  “Yeah, but I’m sure as fuck not interested,” Max says, her voice hardening a little bit. “You know I hate the Saints even more than the Sinners… stupid fucking names too. Cliff is a creepy asshole, and anyone who’s friends with him isn’t the kind of person I could ever be interested in.”

  I nod, glad to hear Max say that—not so much for myself, but for her. Who the hell knows what brought the Saints together or why they’re all friends, but after the way Cliff has treated me, I don’t trust any of his little buddies any farther than I can throw them.

  We grab our food and eat, talking about our plans for the weekend and bitching about the homework load on our first week back. Once we’re done, we split up to head to different sides of campus.

  As I near the building my next class is held in, my phone buzzes in my pocket. The number isn’t one I have in my contacts, and I wrinkle my nose as I swipe to answer it.

  “Hello? This is Sophie Wright,” I say, balancing my phone on my shoulder as I stuff my wallet back into my bag.

  “Hi, Sophie,” a pleasant, female voice says on the other line. “My name is Gloria Jean. I’m with the L.A. Modern Art Gallery, and I just wanted to let you know that after much consideration, our staff has decided that we would love to welcome you aboard as an intern.”

  I pull the phone away from my ear and glance at the screen, as if it’ll explain something, but it doesn’t.

  “I’m sorry,” I say slowly, “but I didn’t apply for any internship.”

  “Hmm.” I hear a rustling of papers in the background. “Well, I’ve got your application right here in front of me. And as I said, we’re very interested. We could even offer you a paid internship instead of our standard unpaid, as well as housing.”

  For a split second, my heart does a little skip.

  It all sounds good, almost too good.

  But I didn’t apply for this internship. It’s not the kind of thing I would forget about doing, and the only recent memory gap I have is from the night of the party.

  A chill washes over my skin, and I stop walking.

  “Ms. Jean,” I say, my voice stiff. “Why are you calling me?”

  There’s a beat, and then her too-pleasant voice comes through the line again. “I told you. We received your application and we—”

  “I didn’t submit an application. So why are you calling me?”

  This time, the beat turns into a prolonged silence. Then she clears her throat, some of the cheerfulness bleeding from her voice as she speaks again. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

  “I want you to answer my question,” I say evenly. “Why are you calling me? Who told you to give me this offer?”

  “I can assure you that—”

  “Who?”

  She hesitates again, and as the seconds stretch out, I realize I don’t even need to hear her say the name. I already know.

  “The Eastwood family requested that we consider you for the internship,” she says finally.

  My grip on the phone tightens. Of course.

  Only it wasn’t the Eastwood family.

  It was Gray.

  Gray, who’s so fucking desperate for me to leave that he’s bribing other companies and businesses in a desperate attempt to lure me away. He knows there’s no way he could ever convince me, so he’s gone to outside sources, hoping I’ll be flattered and convinced to do it by other people.

  “I’m not interested,” I say stiffly, my heart lurching into my throat.

  I hang up the phone before she can respond, staring down at the screen until it goes dark. I feel a little sick, so many emotions churning inside me that I don’t know how to sort through them all.

  Why is Gray doing this?

  He’s smart. He knows my fucking weaknesses. I’ve never really dared to dream about becoming a professional artist, but he knows how much painting means to me.

  So he used that to try to force me out of his life.

  He’s trying to bribe me.

  To pay me off like I’m a fucking whore.

  I try to calm myself, try to push away the dark stars that are prickling at the corners of my vision as wave after wave of anger pumps through me, but I can’t. Especially not when I see Gray walking toward me, his gaze fixed firmly on my face.

  He looks pissed. Furious, actually.

  But guess what?

  So am I.

  “Why won’t you take the fucking hint, Sophie?” he growls in a low voice, stopping just a foot away from me. “I’m trying to help you right now. Trying to give you the easy way out. Why don’t you understand that?”

  “Trying to help me?” I scoff. “By lying to me? By bribing art studios?”

  I’m practically shaking, trying to stay in control of myself. But it’s so fucking hard when all I want to do is punch his too-handsome face so hard his teeth sink into his skull.

  “Would you really rather keep going to school here, where you’ve been mocked and bullied from day one, where people don’t even fucking like you?” he continues viciously, not even trying to be subtle about it anymore. “You could go anywhere, Sophie. Anywhere.”

  “I don’t want to go anywhere.” My hands curl into fists at my sides. “I want to stay right here. I’m gonna graduate from Hawthorne and use that degree to build a better life for myself. I’m not gonna be somebody’s pawn or plaything, and I’m not gonna end up like Jared—taking my own life because the world has fucked me over too many times and I don’t see any other way out.”

  Gray’s jaw clenches, his eyes growing dark. He’s breathing hard, his emotions barely under control. If this were another place and another time, I’d say he’s about to shove me against the nearest wall and fuck me until all of our problems go away for a few precious seconds.

  But it’s not.

  And he doesn’t.

  “I’ll give you a million dollars,” he says instead. “A million dollars, Sparrow. Think of how much you could do with that. You can go wherever the fuck you want to go with it. Do whatever you want. As long as you leave Hawthorne. Gone. Forever.”

  He says it with a sweep of his hands, like he’s magically poofing me away.

  For a second, I just stare at him, too shocked to do anything else.

  A million dollars.

  His family is clearly loaded, but even so, I don’t think they have that kind of money just lying around. Gray would have to make excuses to his parents, probably lie to them about what the money was for, and all for what?

  To erase me like I never existed.

  It’s so much money that if I were smarter, I’d just take it and run. I’d do exactly what he asks and buy myself a little hut on a deserted island where I’d never have to deal with another fucking person again.

  But I won’t.

  Because if I let Gray erase me like that, I have a feeling I really will disappear. That every part of me that means something will vanish into thin air, drifting away on the wind. Because I’ll have let the man I was falling in love with crush the last piece of my heart.

  “No.”

  My voice is a low rasp, my heart beating so hard I can barely hear the sound over the rushing in my ears.

  Gray’s head jerks back, surprise crossing his face a split second before anger overtakes his features again.

  “Are you fucking serious?” he demands.

  “About not letting you pay me off like some whore you’re trying to get rid of?” I laugh, but there’s no hu
mor in the sound. “Yeah, I’m fucking sure. Why can’t you fucking understand, Gray? You don’t get to tell me what to do. You don’t fucking own me.”

  I can barely think, let alone get out words at this point, and I hate him even more for making me feel unhinged like this. I feel like he kicked the world out from under my feet, and I’m spinning through space with nothing to ground me.

  “I can have you thrown out of this school if I want to, Sophie!” Gray says, raising his voice. “I can get the scholarship pulled, and you’ll leave with nothing—absolutely fucking nothing. Don’t you know what that means, Sparrow? Nothing. I know what your life was like before you came here. You want to go back to that? You could leave with a million fucking dollars, and you really want to make me do this?”

  My hands are still bunched into fists, my fingernails digging into my palms so deeply they might be drawing blood.

  I want to punch him. I want to hit him almost as much as I wanted to hit Cliff. I can almost feel myself doing it, losing myself to the violence that erupted out of me when I felt trapped and desperate.

  A crowd is growing around us. Some people already have their phones out, likely so they can plaster it all over social media. And if they catch me on video hitting Gray, he wins anyway. He won’t even have to work to get me kicked out—I’ll have done it to myself.

  So I turn away from him, ducking my head as I push through the crowd.

  Gray refuses to back down though. Refuses to let me leave. He shoves through the crowd, following close on my heels.

  “Stop being so fucking stubborn!” he hisses, his voice low and angry.

  Fuck it.

  I’m about to turn around and put my fist through his face when I nearly run into two solid forms—Declan and Elias.

  Declan catches me by the arms before I can slam into them. His gaze tracks over my shoulder, looking behind me, and his expression hardens.

  “What the hell?” he grunts.

  “Back the fuck off, Gray,” Elias growls. “We’re not gonna tell you again.”

  10

  Shit.

  Declan, Elias, and Gray stand off with me between them, each looking pissed as shit. I’m not sure the three of them have spoken at all since the first day of classes, and if they have, the words haven’t been pleasant.