“No, that’s not Carley,” I murmur. “She one of the most caring people I know.”
Loni gives a brisk nod. “I know.”
I haven’t made it easy, but Carley has been my rock in some of the most uncertain times of my life. She deserves to be happy too, and if Mr. James is what it takes, then I’m all for it.
On my way back to my dorm later that afternoon, I pull out my phone and give Carley a call. She answers on the second ring.
“Hello my love,” she sings. “To what do I owe this chat?”
I grin, overcome by the warmth and familiarity of her voice. “Just figured I’d check in and see if there was anything new and exciting happening in your life.”
“Not lately—unless you’d count my AC. First 80-degree day of the year and guess what’s not working again?”
“You’re the worst when you lie,” I say flatly. “Because I saw some Instagram pictures today that would beg to differ.”
There’s a second of silence before she groans and I can almost picture her blond bun flopping around as she smacks her forehead against her palm. “You can’t even see my face!”
“Please, I know the back of your head as well as I know your face. So, you and Mr. James, huh? How long has that been going on?”
“Well, we exchanged numbers at Parents’ Weekend,” she admits. “But we didn’t go on an official date until last month.”
“Hmm, and you didn’t tell me because—”
“The truth is, we’ve been keeping it kind of a secret,” she rushes to explain. “Titus didn’t want a media circus and wanted us to have the chance to get to know each other in relative peace, you know? Plus, we didn’t really want to burden you or Loni with the news until we were sure it was going somewhere.”
“And is it?” I ask, my grin splitting my face. “Going somewhere?”
Another beat of silence before she murmurs, “Yeah, I really think it is. I like him a lot, Mallory.”
I feel almost giddy for her as I make my way into my building and stride to the elevator.
“It’s been a while since you’ve dated anyone,” I say as I step inside the elevator and the doors bang shut behind me. “And now you’re dating a celebrity. You really don’t do things halfway, do you?”
She snorts. “I hadn’t thought about it that way, but I guess you’re right. It’s apparently all or nothing with me.”
The elevator dings as I reach my floor, and I step out into the hall.
“How often do you guys get to see each other?” I ask as I walk to my door.
“Titus has been trying to pop in every other weekend or so,” she says. “He wants to take me on a trip soon. Just the two of us. He said I can pick the place. Wherever I want to go.”
“What are you thinking?”
“To be honest, I’m torn between Tokyo and Paris. I want to see both cities so badly, and it’s really hard to choose between them.”
“Well, just think of it this way, whichever one you don’t choose for this trip, I’m sure Mr. James would be more than happy to take you to your second destination another time.”
“I just don’t do this kind of thing, you know,” she says. “Jump into a relationship so quickly.”
I reach my door and unlock it.
Letting it swing open, I say into the phone, “Just be yourself. That’s what you’re always telling me…”
I trail off as my eyes land on my prom dress—or rather, what’s left of it.
It’s been destroyed.
“Mallory? Are you okay? Did I lose you?”
I can hear Carley’s voice, but I’m struggling to comprehend her words.
“I’m … I’m fine,” I manage to mutter. “I have to go, Carley. I’ll call you a little later.”
“Wait, Mallory, you have to tell me what’s wrong, I—”
I end the phone call in a daze without replying to her and stare down at my ruined dress. Someone’s ripped it to shreds. Who would do this?
My first instinct is Laurel as I creep across my room toward the dress. I drop to my knees and begin scooping up the pieces when I realize there’s a sealed envelope among the wreckage. Carefully, I pick it up and rip the top open, pulling out the piece of paper inside. It’s not really a letter, more like a note. There are only three words written in bold black ink across the page.
CALL YOUR MOTHER.
Shit. I should’ve guessed it was Nora. Laurel’s not smart enough to break into my room. There’s a phone number written below the command, and I grab my phone and dial it.
It’s answered on the second ring, and I’m shocked when Nora herself, not Ghost, is on the other end.
“I told you to stay the fuck away from Saint Angelle,” she snarls, not even bothering with a “Hey, how are you.”
“You told me a lot of things, Nora,” I reply. “This one has been particularly impossible. It’s hard to avoid Saint Angelle when he refuses to ignore you.”
“Well, I suggest you figure out a way to convince him you’re not worth the trouble,” she snaps. “I don’t think you’ll like the consequences if you don’t do as I tell you.”
“Nora, I…” I trail off when I hear a noise in her background.
Someone’s crying.
Another moment, and I recognize Jenn’s sobs.
“What have you done to her?” I demand.
“Calm down,” Nora huffs. “She’s out of her medicine and she’s throwing one of her fits, but she’ll be fine. You on the other hand? Ghost will pick you up tomorrow. You and I need to have a chat face-to-face.”
The phone clicks, and I’m met with total silence. She hung up on me. Shaken, I drop my phone onto the rag pile that was once my beautiful gown. My promise of normal.
Any optimistic thoughts I’d had that I could experience one thing like any other high schooler are completely gone. I’ll never have a normal moment so long as I’m here, and I can’t even blame Saint for it. Not really.
In the end, he’s really just another pawn in Nora and Jameson’s game. It’s not his fault that my life is a raging dumpster fire.
And now, I have to go back and convince him that I hate him all over again.
23
I stand outside Saint’s door, my fist poised above the wood because I’m too afraid to knock but realizing it’s inevitable. I need to get this over with.
I’m shaken to my core. My meeting with Nora earlier in the day was harrowing. The things she told me…
I shudder to recall any of it.
Ghost had picked me up like usual, just as Nora said he would, and he’d taken me to another abandoned house. Nora had been waiting for me, and she listened as I went off about Jenn blackmailing Dylan for my scholarship. Of course, she wasn’t sorry, but I didn’t honestly expect her to be.
When I’d finished my rant, she’d calmly explained why she’d wanted to see me.
Her words today answered some of my most burning questions, but also made me see that the situation she’s forced me into is far more precarious than I’d have ever imagined.