Which makes me believe that reality finally dawned on him and he’s decided to disappear while there’s still time.
“Oh? You’re texting each other regularly now?”
“What?” I turn a wide gaze on her, shifting my head to either side. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just … he’s been following me around all week. I was curious.”
She pats my bare knee. “Sure it is. Still, I’ve got to admit you guys are kind of cute—you know, in a will-they-or-won’t-they-holy-shit-whiplash sort of way.”
A tendril of panic seizes me. Are my fucked-up feelings that obvious? Do I look like I’m some lovesick idiot, pining for a guy who’s made me miserable the majority of the time we’ve known each other?
“You’re ridiculous,” I whisper with a shake of my head. “There is no cute with Saint. We’re just…”
“Well, whatever you are, you’re the talk of the school.”
“Great,” I mutter because I honestly hadn’t noticed. I’ve been in a daze all week, and while I have realized that I haven’t been taunted nearly as much as usual, that’s about the extent of it.
“Like, people know you guys have a thing, even though it’s never really been clear what that thing is, but now everyone thinks you’re straight up dating. Saint walking you to class every day isn’t helping dissuade people from that idea. Whatever you two are, it doesn’t really matter, but you can’t deny that there’s something.”
Grabbing my phone from the grass, I check the time. “We should get going. Class is going to start soon.”
Loni arches her brow at me. “Sure, sure, avoid the subject. I’ll let you get away with it, for now.”
I quickly grab my bag and push to my feet. Saying goodbye to Loni, I hurry to get to History. I hate this class, but it’s been bearable the past week because Saint’s been so intent on staying locked at my side. No one has messed with me, including Dylan. Well, except for Laurel. She’s made it pretty clear she’d like nothing more than to kick me into a sinkhole.
As I walk into the classroom, she shoots me a brutal glare. I ignore it and her and make my way to my seat. Liam and Gabe are in their usual spots, but Saint’s nowhere in sight. I frown as I settle into my chair.
Turning to Liam, I ask, “You know where he is?”
He frowns and shakes his head. “Nope.”
I don’t know if he’s being honest with me, and that’s beyond frustrating. I want to push him to see if he’ll give me the truth, but at that moment, Dylan stands up and begins class.
Throughout the lesson, I’m only paying partial attention, my mind wandering as I think about where Saint could possibly be. It’s not like this is the first time he’s totally disappeared on me, but it’s no less annoying and baffling, especially after everything we’ve told each other.
He promised he’d protect me.
So, where is he?
By the time class is over, my stomach is a ball of anxiety and my head filled with unanswered questions.
When the bell rings, I stand and gather my stuff, intent on escaping from the classroom before anyone can question me about Saint’s absence. Of course, nothing ever really goes my way, so I really shouldn’t be surprised when Dylan’s voice rings out and stops me in my tracks.
“Ms. Ellis, a word.”
My eyes slide shut, and I fight the urge to run. Slowly, I turn around to face him. He’s standing next to his desk, his expression cold.
“Yes, Mr. Porter?” I hiss through my teeth.
He waits a second more to let the rest of the class filter out the door, and when we’re completely alone, he says, “I noticed your protector is missing today.”
I fold my arms. “And? Saint’s gone so you think you can harass me again?”
“I think we can actually have a frank conversation without your boyfriend interrupting us and plotting my demise,” he snaps.
I should just leave, I know that, but guilt keeps me rooted in place. After everything I’ve learned about Jenn blackmailing him and making everything worse, I don’t have it in me to walk away from him. I feel obligated to hear what he has to say.
“What do you want to talk about?” I grumble, even though I already know.
“I have a theory,” he begins, holding up one finger.
“About what?” I ask cautiously.
“About what happened to my brother,” he replies. “About how and why he died.”
I furrow my brow. What the hell is he talking about?
“I don’t understand. It was an accident, what happened to James—”
He’s shaking his head before I finish speaking. “No, I think that’s bullshit. I think Jenn found out about my relationship with you and killed my brother on purpose when she burned the house down to destroy her evidence.”
“What?” I gasp. “You’re insane, Dylan. You’ve been watching too many true crime TV shows.”
James and I used to laugh about Dylan’s obsession with those shows. Thinking back to those moments sends a pang of regret shooting through my heart.
“I know there’s something about that day you’re hiding from me,” he insists.
“Dylan, you need to accept the fact that what happened to James was an accident and nothing more.”
“I don’t believe you. I think Jenn killed him on purpose, and you know the truth.”
“You’re giving Jenn way too much credit,” I scoff, though my heart is beating like crazy as panic takes over me. “She couldn’t come up with something like that. Her brain is too fried.”
I can see he doesn’t believe me, and I’m overwhelmed with the urge to just tell him the truth and be done with it. I’m so exhausted by this constant back and forth between us.
As if he can sense my inner turmoil, Dylan takes a step closer to me and murmurs, “Mallory? Please.”
His tone is almost gentle, and I’m suddenly jolted back in time to before we hated each other. When his voice would fill my ear with sweet words of temptation as his hands explored my body.
I shudder in equal parts disgust and arousal. I’m no longer attracted to Dylan in any way, and I’m ashamed of what we did together. Yet, my body can’t quite forget how good he used to make me feel, and I hate myself for that.
“Mallory,” he urges. “What’s going on in your head right now?”
I can’t tell him that, but I wonder if I should just tell him about the day James died. What good is it doing me to keep the truth from him? He’ll never stop making my life hell until I confess everything, and I know that. Maybe I should just do it?
What’s the worse he could do? Go to the police? We’ll wind up having to expose more than he’s probably willing to, and after his already close call with the girl that reported him, he’d be on shaky ground at best with authorities.
That thought gives me some comfort, and I decide to just come clean and end this.
“Fine, Dylan, you want the truth?” I say through numb lips. I can’t look at him as I confess. “James’ death was an accident. But the fire … wasn’t. Jenn heard about the police raid and told me to get rid of everything. I set the fire, but I had no idea James was coming over. He must’ve thought I was still inside, a-and….”