That night, I lie in bed and stare up at my ceiling, going over my most recent interactions with Saint to try and figure out what might have spooked him from our rage-fueled hookups. He didn’t come again tonight, and the disappointment is crushing. Masturbating helped, and I’ve done it a ton the last week, but it only takes the edge off. It’s never as satisfying as being with him.
It’s not just the physical release I’m missing, though. I miss curling up against his hard body and falling asleep with his scent invading my senses. The pillow he usually sleeps on has been a poor substitute, and his smell is already fading from it. I feel so pathetic, yet so frustrated at the same time.
“God, you’re the worst, Angelle,” I growl softly, punching my pillow as my brain drifts back to the last time he was here.
He’d kissed me. Told me that I looked like garbage. And before that—
Shit.
I sit straight up in my bed as my attempt to get him to bare his feelings replays in my head.
Damn, did that freak him out? Is that why he’s staying clear of me at night?
I lie back down with a heavy thunk and a groan. I’m such a fool. At the time, I thought if I could get him to say it, then maybe I’d have a little bit of power in our dynamic. I didn’t think he’d do a full 180.
My eyebrows draw together as I consider his reaction to my probing. It seems a little extreme to cut off the sex completely. Could it be he’s pulling back in that area because I was … right?
Now, Loni’s confident words from earlier blast through my head.
“I’ve never seen him get so crazy over a girl before.”
Saint’s a twisted soul with a mean streak that makes the whole school wary of him. He’s done terrible things to me during my time at Angelview and has shown little to no compassion for everything he’s put me through.
But then there’s everything else. What he did with Jon Eric. His confrontation with the Thornhaven boys and how he’d shown up to warn me about the attack at Ravenwood.
That has to be something.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, squeezing my eyes shut because I’m certain that has to be the reason for his distance. Nothing else makes as much sense.
And at least I won’t feel so shitty for the feelings he’s ripped from me.
I shake my head, immediately dispelling the thought. Nope. Not going there. Not now. I’m tired and confused, and that is not the state of mind I wish to be in when I consider my emotions for the person responsible for my social leprosy at this school.
I can sort out my feelings for him some other time.
Rolling over to my side, I lie to myself that they’re not actually feelings at all, but dick withdrawals, pull the covers up to my chin and curl into a ball, willing myself to go to sleep so I stop having these stupid thoughts.
The next day, I decide to throw all my attention into school. I’ve been distracted long enough, and I’m not about to let my academic record suffer for some guy. Plus, I had climbed out of bed this morning to find my first dose of truly good news in a long time—a letter of acceptance from Georgia Tech. Saint doesn’t join us for breakfast that morning, so he misses my celebratory coffee toast with Loni and Henry, but that’s a relief and not a disappointment.
That’s what I try to convince myself.
“Where’s Prince Charming?” Loni asks after the excitement from my announcement dies down, tugging my attention from poking at the peaches in my limp oatmeal.
“Don’t know and honestly don’t care.”
She shifts a dark eyebrow and purses her lips, but before she can voice her opinion, Henry scoots closer, his hazel eyes flashing with curiosity. “Trouble in Eden?”
There’s that name again. Eden.
I let out a laugh, but it’s forced, and we all know it. Still, I roll with it as if nothing’s wrong.
“How can there be trouble in paradise when there’s no paradise in the first place?”
“Right,” Loni drawls, though she doesn’t look convinced—not that I’m surprised. I’m usually a better liar than this.
“I’m sure whatever it is keeping him away is no big deal.” Shit, is he going to avoid me during the day now, too? “He’s probably off ruining some poor, unsuspecting kid’s life just for shits and giggles so he can post about it on his dad’s shitty social media network.”
My dad’s shitty social media network, I mentally correct myself, and I swallow hard and glance away from my friends so they won’t see me flinch when I think of all the trouble NightOwl and the Angelles have brought to my life.
“I don’t know, Mal, doesn’t really seem like his thing anymore.” Loni sips her coffee, peering at me over the rim. I don’t miss Henry’s glance of disbelief toward her.
“Not his thing anymore?” I scoff. “If the guy couldn’t fuck with people, I think he’d wither away to a golden husk.”
“I suppose you do know him better than the rest of us now,” she says. “You’d be the one to know what he’s into or not.”
Henry snorts. “Whatever that is, it’s making Laurel go bald. Stepshitster Dearest has been leaving a trail of stringy blond hair everywhere she goes.”
Loni’s nose crinkles. “If that happens, Poppa Vanderpick will come up with an anti-baldness cream that restores his little demonling to her full bitch glory, then sell it for a hundred times what it’s worth to the masses. But until then…” She directs her focus back to me. “I’ll enjoy watching her unravel over you and her savior.”
She gives me way too much credit and is making it seem as though Saint and I are in an actual relationship, when clearly, that couldn’t be further from the truth.
“We’re nothing.” I resume poking at the fruit in my oatmeal.
“Doesn’t seem to be that way lately. Seems like you’re the only thing he pays any attention to anymore.”
“And this is where I leave you.” I drop my spoon into my bowl and clamber out of my seat, brushing my hands over my ass to ensure that my skirt is in place. “I’ll see y’all in Statistics.”
For the first time in what feels like an eternity, I head to class alone. It makes me nervous, not because I feel like I’m in any danger, but because I don’t know what this means for Saint and me. For us.
Is there an us?
Hell, was there ever an us?
Is that what I want?
I don’t know. I don’t know anything right now, so I just duck my head and keep trudging toward Environmental Lit. When I arrive, though, my heart sinks. He isn’t here. Even as I tell myself maybe he’s running late, I know that’s not true. He’s skipping today. He’s done it before, for various reason, but I can’t help but think this time is about me.
Sliding into my seat, I pull out my phone and start to text him but then my fingers freeze over the screen.
What the hell is wrong with me that I’m so concerned about a guy who I have to watch what I say around because he could try to ruin my life at any given moment?
Tossing my phone into my backpack, I give Mrs. Hadley my undivided attention as she begins her lesson on Henry David Thoreau’s “Walking.” My plan when I woke up this morning was to aggressively focus on school, especially after learning of my first college acceptance, so that’s what I’m going to do.