I shrug in response to his question. “Sucks, but that’s kind of the point, right?”
“Saint giving you a hard time?” The question is asked casually, but there’s a burning curiosity beneath his words. He’s desperate to know the state of things between us, but he’s not about to admit it.
“We’ve been keeping our distance for the most part,” I confess. “Although today he showed up and chased away the president of his fan club when she and her minions were about to try and kick my ass, so that was nice.”
“You could’ve taken them,” he teases, splashing me.
“You’re seriously underestimating the power of crazy that can overtake a girl. They’d have ripped me to shreds like hyenas.”
He laughs. “Well, I guess thank goodness Saint was there to save you.”
Yeah, thank goodness. I ignore the sarcasm in Liam’s tone as my heart clenches at the thought of Saint. I’m so twisted up inside because of him, and I don’t know how much more of this rollercoaster I can bear.
“Hey, I think I’m going to head out,” I say, forcing my way out of my thoughts.
“Already? You can usually go longer than this. You okay?”
I nod. “Yeah, I think I’m just tired from my detention this week.”
He seems to accept that response, thank God.
“Alright, cool. Go back to your room and rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I give him a grateful smile, then swim to the edge of the pool. Quickly climbing out, I grab my towel and my stuff and hurry out the door. I’m careful as I make my way across campus, knowing Laurel’s really gunning for me now. With every step I take, though, my heart beats faster and faster with anticipation.
I’m practically running when I reach my door. Unlocking it, I throw it open.
And find that I’m alone.
I scowl, stepping into my room and shutting the door behind me. I toss my bag to the floor, tugging at my bathing suit like it will stop the tightness in my ribs.
This is a surprise.
I start across the room but come to a sudden stop when I realize something is hanging on the bathroom door. I gawk at the long, hot pink garment bag and take a tentative step closer.
What the hell now?
Grabbing the zipper, I pull it down slowly because I fully expect something awful to come pouring out, but I gasp when I see what’s inside. It’s a stunning red dress. I pull it out to get a better look. It’s form-fitting, with a ruffled, off-the-shoulder neckline. It flares at the knees and has just a bit of a train. It’s the type of dress that looks like it belongs on a red-carpet somewhere, not hanging in my room.
The first thoughts that pop into my head are Saint and prom. This is a prom dress.
I quickly put it back in the garment bag and zip it back up, afraid I’ll wrinkle it or get it dirty if I hang onto it too long. Is this Saint’s way of asking me to prom?
I pause, though, remembering the last time this happened to me. It wasn’t Saint who sent me a dress but Liam.
Is he trying to pull the same stunt a second time?
Grabbing my phone, I shoot off a quick text to Liam, asking about the gown. Within moments, I receive a response that’s just a bunch of question marks.
Okay, so maybe he didn’t send it. I dial Saint’s number, but he doesn’t answer.
“Would it kill people to leave notes with their overpriced mystery gifts?” I grumble under my breath as I make my way to my door, intent on hunting Saint down myself. My eyes are locked on my phone as I open the door because another text is coming in from Liam.
LIAM HALLOWAY: What was I supposed to have sent you?
Before I can respond, however, I run right into something tall, solid, and warm. My breath gets knocked from me and I let out a startled cry. Turning my gaze upward, I meet Saint’s cold blue eyes.
He snatches my phone from me before I can react. “What did he send you?” he demands as he begins backing me into my room.
“What?” I stammer, overwhelmed by his sudden appearance.
He holds my phone up with one hand while slamming my door shut with the other.
“Liam,” he snaps. “Why’s he texting you?”
I furrow my brow. “Because I texted him first.”
“What for?”
My back hits the foot of my bed, and he leans over me, his expression foreboding. I raise my hand and point toward the pink dress bag.
He glances at it and scoffs before turning his attention back to me. “I sent you that. Not fucking Liam.”
He tosses my phone onto my bed and steps away from me. Now that I can breathe properly, I can think properly.
“Why?” I ask, my voice soft. I don’t want to fight with him, not right now. I genuinely want to know what he was thinking.
He runs a hand through his golden hair, leaving it disheveled and distractingly sexy. “Prom, Mallory. I wanted to give you normal.”
“That’s…nice of you,” I murmur. I’m not sure what else to say. It’s an uncharacteristically kind gesture that I’m not sure what to do with.
He’s staring at me expectantly, and after another moment of awkward silence, his eyes widen with clear shock. Then, they narrow and he advances toward me. Shit. I know that look in his gaze. This is when he pins me against the wall and screws the words that he wants to hear out of me.
He stops in front of me, and I brace myself from his embrace.
To my shock, however, he doesn’t grab me and throw me to the bed. Instead, he pinches my chin between his fingers and lifts my face to his. Before I can utter a word, he lowers his head and presses his lips to mine. It’s a rather gentle kiss—at least, compared to all the others he’s given me. His tongue slips into my mouth and laps at mine, and I let out a strangled moan.
Just when I begin leaning into him, hungry for more, he draws back and stares down at me. We hold each other’s gazes and I’m not sure what he’s thinking.
He doesn’t say a word as he backs away, and I don’t say anything as he turns and walks out the door. Once he’s gone, my eyes slide from the door to the dress bag, and I lean back against my bed in amazement.
“Saint asked you to prom?” Loni repeats for the third time since I told her what happened last night. She fiddles with a curly lock of hair, shaking her head. “He’s never even been to prom before.”
“He says he wants me to feel normal.”
“What did you say?” Henry asks, his eyes wide.
“I … I didn’t really say anything,” I admit in a hushed voice. “I was overwhelmed and didn’t give him an answer.”
Loni winces, clenching her teeth in a pained smile. “You do remember the size of the guy’s ego, right?”
“He didn’t blow up on me, if that’s what you’re thinking,” I tell her, leaving out the part where he left right after.
“Do you want to go with him?” Raising a brow, Henry gives me a pointed look.
I poke at my plate of food with my fork, my eyes lowered from my friends.
“I wasn’t even planning on going myself. I don’t know what I want to do now.”
“Well, maybe you should tell him that,” Loni suggests. “Maybe ask him what he’s hoping to gain from taking you.”