I endure it as much as I can, but really, it’s grating on me. Every extra wrapper they throw, every plastic water bottle they pelt my way, eats at me a little more. Maybe it’s because I’m still so rattled by Dylan’s reappearance and confession, or maybe it’s because I’m so confused and heartsick over Saint, but my patience for Laurel’s torture has thinned significantly.
On the third day of my detention, I think I’m finally about to snap. I’m cleaning up near the library, in a relatively hidden area, and I’m actually optimistic that I’ve found some peace.
That’s just further proof that I’m an idiot.
“White trash picking up trash. How appropriate.”
My shoulders stiffen, and I raise myself up from where I’d been bent over picking up candy wrappers in the bushes. I turn around and find Laurel and her goons smirking at me. It only takes me a moment to realize they’ve arranged themselves in a way that blocks me from sight of anyone else. If they try something, which I’m sure they’re going to, no one will see them.
Not that most of the kids here would do anything to stop her, even if they did.
“I’m not in the mood,” I say, and she puckers her lips into an Academy Award winning pout.
“Oh? You don’t want to play with us?” Relaxing her lips, she laughs. “Too bad. Ladies, I don’t think Mallory here has nearly enough to do. She’s supposed to be being punished after all, isn’t she?”
Almost in unison, Laurel’s friends pull small trash bags out from behind their backs and dump them on the ground in front of me. I gaze down in disgust, realizing it’s not just wrappers and water bottles this time. There are used condoms and tampons, as well as half-eaten containers of old food mixed among the trash. It’s so gross, I almost retch, but stop myself just in time.
I don’t want to give Laurel the satisfaction.
“Hurry up, trailer trash,” Laurel taunts. “It’s going to take you awhile to clean up all this shit, but it’s good practice for you since this and accumulating baby daddies is probably all you’ll ever be good at anyway.”
I want to break her. Not just emotionally, but physically. I want to make her hurt so bad that she’ll never be the same. It takes every ounce of my willpower not to jump her, but I know I’m outnumbered, and even if the rest of them aren’t as good as fighting as me, their sheer number will overwhelm me. It’ll be just like what happened to me at Ravenwood, and I’m not eager for a repeat performance of that experience.
“Get out of my face, bitch.”
“Or you’ll do what?” She laughs. “Get your ass handed to you again? Face it, slut, you can’t do anything to us. No one’s coming to save you, and I’m sure as fuck not letting you walk away from here whole again.”
Just as I thought. I drop my trash bag and strip out of my work gloves, preparing for a fight. “Let’s go then.”
“What the fuck are you doing, Laurel?” a hard voice startles us. Laurel whips around and her asshole friends scatter as Saint prowls toward us.
“Saint!” she squeaks. “I … I thought you were on the other side of campus.”
“I bet you did.” He looms over her, and I feel a savage thrill watching her quake beneath his fierce stare. I don’t even care that I’m supposed to be angry with him still. “How many times do I have to tell you she’s off limits.”
Laurel blinks, moisture flooding her big eyes. “But she doesn’t deserve—”
“I decide what she deserves, not you.”
“Why? Why her? Why this one? If her mother wasn’t such a nasty drug addict, she wouldn’t be here. She’d be in some trailer park with her snot-faced little—”
“I’m never going to be with you, Laurel,” he spits, shutting her rant down and positioning his large body between us when I reach out to snatch her to me. “No matter what you do, or how big of a slut you try to act like, I will never want you.”
“But your father said—”
“Go and fuck my father then,” Saint cuts her off. “I really don’t care what you do.”
His words are harsh, and I’d feel bad for anyone other than Laurel. Her cheeks go pink with embarrassment and rage as she curls her hands into fists. “I—”
“That’s non-negotiable, Laurel. No interest.” He bends his mouth close to her ear, but I’m still able to hear what he says next, “I mean, why would you even want me after I fucked both Carrington and Saydi last summer on your dad’s yacht?”
She stumbles away from him, wide-eyed and shaking her head, breathing heavily as her eyes dart toward the only girl left to validate Saint’s claim. Laurel glowers at her for a long pause before she takes off, her friends following after her, Carrington already attempting to salvage their friendship.
“Was that true?” I ask once they become a blur in the distance.
“Does it matter?”
I can’t help but chuckle darkly, and Saint cocks a brow.
“Liked that, did you?”
I shrug. “It had its moments.”
“I meant it, you know,” he says, his tone firm. “I’ll never want Laurel.”
“Well, I’m not going to fuck you, if that’s what you’re aiming for.”
“I wasn’t until you brought it up.” Stuffing his hands into the front pockets of his gray sweatpants that leave nothing to my imagination, he narrows his blue eyes. “At least you’re talking to me again.”
I grab my work gloves from the concrete and tug them back on, shrugging. “Yes, well, I suppose you’re the lesser of two evils. If Laurel thinks we’re at odds, she’ll come for my throat. I’m still trying to figure out what she sees in you. Must be all that pretty hair.”
He snorts, and for a moment, I actually feel ordinary. It’s really strange, and I know it’s not going to last, but just standing around joking with Saint like he’s not a controlling maniac and I’m not a hopeless basket case is … nice.
Suddenly, he pulls out his phone to check the time.
“I have to go,” he mumbles, glancing back up at me. “Track practice.”
The bubble around us bursts in an instant. “I’ll just finish up here and head out myself.”
“Don’t pick this shit up,” he orders, flicking his wrist toward the mess Laurel and her friends left behind. “I’ll tell the groundskeeper what happened. Laurel can clean this up herself. I mean that, Ellis.”
I’m fighting a grin as I pump my head up and down. When I’m furious at him, it’s easy to forget how considerate Saint can be. It happens so rarely that I know I need to revel in it.
At any moment he’s bound to go back to a raging dick.
“I won’t clean it,” I promise.
“You’d better not.” His blue eyes linger on me before he turns to leave. “I’ll see you later, Ellis.”
It’s not until he’s gone that I realize he was asking permission.
“How’s detention?” Liam asks as we float along the ropes. It’s late evening now, and I forced myself to come to the pool rather than wait around for Saint like a lovesick sap. I’ve been getting back into a semi-consistent routine with swimming again, and Liam’s been with me just about every night since I started coming back. It definitely makes it easier—having someone around—to be in the pool and not think about Jon Eric’s body.