My anxiety is no calmer by the time we reach the massive house the party’s being held at. Stepping out of the car, I can hear that the party’s in full swing. It’s loud and sounds packed with people. Maybe it’s a good thing we came here. I could lose myself in the crowd and temporarily forget how fucked up my life is for a few hours.
We reach the front door, and Loni doesn’t bother to knock or ring the bell. She opens it without hesitation and we make our way inside.
I come to a sudden stop when I immediately spot Gabe and Liam on the edge of the crowd packed into the home’s spacious living room. If they’re both here, the chances of Saint being here as well are high.
My eyes scan the room, and I spot him over in a corner. He’s chatting up some girl and holding a red plastic cup in his hand. My chest twists and my blood burns with instant jealousy.
I force my gaze away from him and the girl. It’s none of my business. It’s not. I keep telling myself that as I follow Loni and Henry into the party in search of Martha. I don’t get too far before Gabe finds me.
“What are you doing here?” Gabe declares, rushing up to me. Grabbing my shoulders, he lowers his voice to say, “Hey, sorry you didn’t get an invite. I was totally going to let you know about it, but Saint said not to. He didn’t want you to see him like … this.”
“Like what?” I growl. “Drunk and slutty? And this is your house? Doesn’t your dad make his millions preaching to the masses about the hellfire that partying and fornication brings?”
Gabe shrugs and digs his fingers into his messy red hair. “Don’t make it weird, Ellis.”
I shake my head. “It’s whatever. I’m not here for him, anyway. Loni, Henry, and I are just here to find her friend.”
His shoulders sag forward in relief. “Okay, yeah, that’s cool. But really, I am sorry.”
“It’s not a big deal.”
I give him a smile to put him at ease as he hurries away from me, then roll my eyes in exasperation. Looking around, I realize I’ve lost sight of Loni and Henry. Damn it. I no longer have any interest in hanging out at this party and want to get the hell out of here as fast as I can. Unable to help myself, I glance toward Saint again. Two more girls have joined the first to congregate around him. His eyes are glazed and his smile is lazy, a clear sign that he’s drunk or high. Likely both.
I gnash my teeth and try not to let my anger show.
Looking away again, my gaze seeks out a friendly face. I spot Liam again on the far side of the room and start making my way toward him. As I draw closer, however, I see he’s not alone. Rosalind is standing next to him, and they appear to be having a rather focused conversation with each other. By their body language, it almost looks flirty. Rosalind even flips her hair at one point and gives him that dazzling, dreamy look of hers.
I’m a little stunned by the time I reach them. Rosalind notices me first and grins.
“Hey! I didn’t know you were here.” She’s more chipper than usual, which is probably a good indication that she’s well on her way to drunk, just like everyone else here.
Liam gives me a friendly, albeit stiff, wave. “I thought Saint told Gabe not to invite you.”
Of course he would find my apparent defiance amusing.
“I’m not here on purpose. Loni is looking for a friend. We’re leaving as soon as we find her.”
“You should stay.” Liam’s obviously a little tipsy but nowhere near as destructively drunk as the last time we ran into each other at a party. “Just steer clear of Saint. He’s being his full, douchebag self this evening.”
Rosalind lightly hits him in the chest. “Don’t be mean, Liam.”
“What? I’m just warning her. Everyone knows he’s an asshole when he gets like this.”
“When is he not an asshole?” I grumble.
“Good point.” Liam tips his beer toward me.
Rosalind glances over my shoulder, and her face suddenly falls.
“Did you need to find Alondra? I can help. Maybe we should go look in the kitchen.”
She rests her hand on my shoulder as if to pull me away, and I scowl. What’s got her so spooked?
When I turn my head to look, she makes a noise that sounds like an objection, but I ignore it. I freeze and my jaw clenches when I see the girl that I first spotted with Saint holding him around the waist.
“Ellis,” Liam groans, “don’t watch that shit.”
Before I can look away, though, I hear a clicking sound next to me. Turning, I find one of Laurel’s friends taking a picture of Saint and the girl. She’s smirking, and though she’s not looking at me, it’s obvious she knows I’m right there.
“Well, well, looks like Saint’s found himself a new toy,” she says in a taunting voice.
“Get out of here, Jessica,” Rosalind hisses.
The girl, Jessica, shoots Rosalind the finger then gives me a haughty look before turning and disappearing into the crowd.
I stare after her, too afraid to look back at Saint. If he starts making out with that girl, I’m going to lose my fucking mind.
“Mallory? Are you okay?” Rosalind’s voice is soft and concerned.
I’m far from okay, but I’ll never admit out loud how much Saint’s actions are killing me.
I force a smile and shrug. “Yeah. I’m good. I just need a bathroom.”
“Up the stairs to the left,” Liam instructs.
“Thanks,” I choke out.
I move toward the staircase without a moment’s hesitation, but once I reach the banister, I can’t help myself and glance back over my shoulder. Saint’s staring at me, his eyes wide, as if he’s shocked to see me. That girl is still wrapped around him, giggling and staring up at him with clear desire in her gaze.
I tear my eyes from his, unable to maintain my composure a moment more, and I bolt up the stairs. Following Liam’s directions, I find the bathroom, which is thankfully unoccupied. Stepping inside, I slam the door shut behind me and lock it, then move toward the sink to turn on the cold water. I cup my hands under the faucet and when they’re full, I splash the cool liquid against my face.
Sonofabitch. My hands are shaking and I feel on the verge of crying. I wish I hadn’t come here. I wish I hadn’t seen that. I wish it didn’t hurt as much as it did watching him flirt and smile at someone other than me.
Not that he really flirts with me.
Or smiles.
That realization just makes everything worse, though.
Bracing my hands on the countertop, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I hardly recognize myself. My eyes are bleak, my dripping face thin and pale. When did I lose so much weight? I look devastated, and that guts me. I’ve been reduced to a pathetic mess because of that fucker.
God, how am I supposed to get out of here without anyone seeing me like this? This is beyond humiliating. I especially can’t let him see me like this, or he’ll lord it over me.
I stay in the bathroom until I begin to look a little less insane. My face dries and some color comes back into my cheeks. My eyes look a little less deadened, which is probably about as good as it’s going to get. It should be good enough to slip out of the party, at least.
Taking a deep breath, I move across the room to open the door.