“You’re being a fucking dick, that’s why.” My cheeks are on fire because I can hear a few snickers behind me. “Would you just cut it out?”
He gives me a slow blink. “Only if you start doing what you’re told.”
“I’m not your toy. Get that through your thick head.” My voice cracks in my effort to keep from shouting at him.
His lips dip down into a scowl, but I can tell it’s all an act. He’s enjoying this—making a scene. “You’re not playing nice, Ellis.”
I take my plate and shove it into his chest. He doesn’t even budge. “Eat a dick, Angelle, but make sure to save the other half for your father to choke on.” I move around him to storm away.
I don’t look back to see if he follows me, but I have a feeling he’s not this time. Good. I hope he’s as angry at me as I am with him. Pushy sonofabitch.
I stalk from the dining hall, skipping breakfast, a decision I come to regret later as I slog through my classes. I make it a point to ignore Saint in every period we share, but as the morning progresses, I’m less and less concerned with him and more and more eager for the end of the day so I can stuff my face in the privacy of my own room.
My stomach is growling so loudly, and I’m so focused on how hungry I am, I’m not paying much attention to where I’m walking on the way to history class. That’s the only reason Stalker Barbie is able to catch me off guard.
The shove seemingly comes out of nowhere. My back hits a bulletin board, the rubber backs of tacks digging into my flesh, and the breath rushes from my lungs. Eyes wide, I gape at Laurel, who’s standing with her hands balled into fists glaring at me. She’s all alone, no bimbo posse to be seen. And she looks furious, but I’m not sure what I did to make her so visibly angry. I don’t think I’ve done anything more than usual, at least.
“What now, cunt?” I snarl, my hands splaying out in front of me to push her back.
She jabs one of her stupidly long fingernails in my face. “You need to back the hell up.”
“ICE refusing to deport your stepmom again, Laurel? Is that it? You’re bitchier than usual.”
She comes at me, thrusting her face so close to mine that I can see the freckles through the makeup on her flared nostrils. “The whole school’s talking about your little show with Saint this morning at breakfast.”
I roll my eyes. Damn. I guess it was wishful thinking to have hoped I’d managed to keep my argument with Saint from being a public spectacle. It was likely a doomed effort from the start. I doubt Saint can do anything on this campus without everyone knowing about it, which is a wonder he’s accomplished so much carnage this year.
Shoving away from the bulletin board, I step forward to move around Laurel, but she rests a hand on my chest and pushes me back.
“You’re not walking away from me so easily, slut,” she snarls.
“You better take your hand off me before I smash your face into the floor.” It’s not an idle threat. Not today. I’m ready to lay her out if she doesn’t back off.
Maybe she can see in my eyes that I’m not fucking around, because she lowers her hand, but doesn’t step back to let me move away from her.
“You’re a whore,” she spits. “Everything was just fine around here before you came along. You’ve ruined everything, you redneck trailer trash freak. You stole Saint and killed my best friend and—”
“Your priorities seriously make me sick, but we both know I didn’t kill Saydi, so save your shit.” I tilt my head back and smirk. “And FYI, bitch, jealousy doesn’t look particularly good on you. You keep blaming me for Saint’s lack of interest in you, but I can’t take all the credit. It’s mostly your clingy personality and sloppy blowjobs that turn him off.”
Her eyes flash with rage and I know I’ve hit the bullseye. She really is ridiculously easy to read.
“He was mine,” she insists, her shoulders vibrating. “You stole him from me.”
“Was he really? That explains Rosalind, huh?”
I hate how much satisfaction I get at her crestfallen expression. I hate that she’s turned me into an asshole, but I’m a survivor first and foremost. If I’m not a bitch to her, she’ll eat me alive.
Her expression hardens again. “I’m going to say this once. If you don’t leave Angelview, and leave Saint alone, I’ll ruin your life.”
I almost laugh in her face. She has no idea how many people have threatened me with that before, and of all of them, she scares me the least. I’ve got drug addicts and a manipulative psycho mother back from the dead to deal with. A stuck-up mean girl whose only claim to fame is a tyrant father and a moment of cruel glory at an assembly doesn’t seem like as big of a threat anymore as she did my first semester here.
That realization gives me a strange boost of confidence.
“You know what, Laurel?” I say, crowding into her. “I’m done here.”
She scoffs at me. “I’m not joking, you baby-killing cunt. I’ll fuck up your whole world if you—”
I shove past her and leave her talking to the bulletin board as I go into the classroom.
When I first walk in, I’m so distracted, I don’t even notice Saint until I’m nearly to my seat. I look up and meet his hard gaze, and with a start, realize he’s not sitting in his usual chair. For some godforsaken reason, he’s moved to the desk next to mine, and Gabe’s sitting beside him, his flaming red head lowered to the screen of his phone.
What the hell?
Before I can say anything, I hear quick footsteps behind me and turn in time to see Laurel slinking into the room. She pauses at the door, her face scrunching in confusion as she gazes toward her usual seat, and then her eyes scan the space. When they land on Saint, they pop wide in clear surprise. Her cheeks grow red as she fully comprehends what’s going on and her upper lip quivers. She stares at him for a long time before she raises her chin and marches to her seat, pretending as if everything is fine.
I turn my attention back to Saint. He’s gazing at me, but he doesn’t say a word as I slowly make my way to my seat. We keep our eyes locked together, but silence rests heavy between us. His face is an impassive mask, and I can’t tell if he’s still angry from this morning.
I mean, I know I am, but I try not to let it show because I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he has such a lingering effect on me.
As I settle in my seat, I realize that someone is missing. Liam. Thinking back, I don’t recall seeing him in any of our shared classes today. It’s strange, because for all his moodiness and troubled artist façade, he’s a diligent student. I don’t think he’s missed any classes I’ve been in with him yet—not even last semester.
I peek back at Saint, who isn’t looking at me anymore and worry wiggles in my gut. He wouldn’t have done something to Liam, would he?
No. I shake my head as if that’ll banish the thought. No, that’s impossible. Saint wouldn’t do anything to one of his best friends.
Even if that friend helped him conceal a body, which is a crime.
Even if that friend wasn’t making it a secret that he was interested in me, the girl Saint had staked a clear and forceful claim to.