“Shut the fuck up,” Saint snarls. He sounds angry, and I get a sick satisfaction from that fact.
He’s suddenly right beside me, his long strides easily keeping up with my much shorter ones. I feel his eyes burning down on me, but I act as though he doesn’t exist, because to me, he doesn’t. Not anymore.
“You think you can just ignore me, huh?” He lowers his face and I feel his hot breath on my cheek. Smell the cinnamon scent of his gum. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, bitch. As long as you exist on this campus, you’re mine. Don’t forget that shit.”
The threat makes me shiver, and to my revulsion, not entirely in fear. Still, I keep my eyes locked ahead of me and keep walking. I don’t answer. I don’t look. Even when he stops chasing me, I stay strong in my conviction to ignore him.
I hear Gabe chuckle. “Damn, she’s hot and she’s got some bigggg balls on her. I’ve never seen you turn invisible before, Angelle.”
“Seriously, shut the fuck up before I punch you in the goddamn throat,” Saint growls. To me, he calls out, “You can play your games all you want, Ellis, but you won’t be able to ignore me for long.”
Wanna bet, ass?
I grin, feeling as though I’ve won my first battle as I round the corner and leave him behind.
10
That night, as I’m sitting alone in my dorm room studying, my phone rings. I pick it up, expecting to see Carley’s name on my screen, but I freeze when I see a number I haven’t seen, along with a text flashing across the screen.
9:49 PM: Pick up. It’s ur mom.
What the fuck is Jenn calling me for?
I haven’t heard from her in months. Not directly, anyway. Carley always tried to make me feel better by saying it was risky for Jenn to call, so that’s why she didn’t, but I knew better. Jenn didn’t call me because she didn’t want to get in touch with me. End of story.
For a moment, I consider ignoring the phone. My curiosity is too great, unfortunately, and on the fifth ring, I let out an exasperated sigh and answer.
“What do you want?” I snap.
“Is that any way to greet your momma?” Jenn’s voice filters through the speaker into my ears like a worm. She’s in her mid-thirties, but her voice is scratchy from years of smoking at least a pack a day and whatever else she could cook up with her boyfriends. Still, I feel a strange ping of nostalgia, and I hate it. Hate wanting her to give a fuck about me.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m not sure what the proper etiquette is when speaking to your parent who hasn’t bothered to contact you in over three months,” I hiss in return.
“I’ve been … busy. You know that, you know why.”
She’s defensive, as always, and I know she’s about to break into some long, rambling story about how the world is completely against her, through absolutely no fault of her own, if I give in and let her wallow in her pity party.
But if it hadn’t been for Jenn, where would you be? The voice in the back of my head sadistically reminds me, and I clear my throat and scowl across the room at my bathroom doorknob.
“Whatever, Momma,” I finally say. “You’ve obviously called for something.”
“I just wanted to check in on my baby girl and see how you’re doing in that fancy new school of yours?”
Bullshit. “I’m fine. School’s fine.”
“Mal, you’re being difficult.”
Mother, you’re being impossible.
“What do you want me to tell you?” I ask. Maybe if I can glean more specifics from her, I’ll be able to figure out what she’s really after.
“Have you made any friends?”
Plenty of fucking enemies. “A couple,” I say, thinking of Alondra and Henry.
“How’re your grades?”
Like you care. “It’s still a little early in the semester, but I think I’m good so far.”
“Who all have you met there? Anyone famous I would know?”
I fight not to groan out loud. “No one famous that you would know. Just a bunch of rich kids with silver spoons shoved up their butts.”
“Like who?”
I pause. This feels … strange. Why’s she asking me so many questions about school and the people I know? She never bothered to ask me this stuff when I was at my old school.
“Why the sudden interest in my social life, Jenn?”
It takes her a few moments to answer, which I interpret to mean she doesn’t have a ready lie. “I’m just surprised you’ve made it this long and was wondering if you had people who were helping you out.”
The insult hits me harder than it probably should, but every criticism sounds so much worse when it comes from my own mother. “What does that mean?”
She sighs. “Look, sweetie, I know you were smart at your old school, but your old school was shit. Angelview’s a whole different league, baby girl. Those kids grew up with tutors and the best education money could buy. It’d be understandable if you were, well, behind.”
I bristle immediately. “I’m not behind.”
First Saint and his cronies, now my mom. Why are there so many people that think I should quit this place? That I’m incapable of surviving here?
I’ll show them all. I won’t just survive, I’ll thrive!
“I’m sure you’ll do just fine, baby girl—”
“Don’t call me baby girl,” I snap. It doesn’t sound genuine when she says it, not like when Carley calls me that. “You don’t get to disappear on me for months, then call like it’s no big deal and call me baby girl like you actually give a fuck about me.”
“It’s not my fault I had to disappear, remember,” she hisses right back. “It’s not my fault I had to go into hiding to protect your stupid ass. Stop blaming me for being a bad mother when you’re the one who couldn’t—”
“You are a bad mother!” I roar.
“If you hadn’t killed the goddamn quarterback, we wouldn’t be in this situat—”
I hang up on her and power off my phone. I can’t hear anymore, and I’m furious she would bring up James to me like that.
“Fucking bitch,” I growl, tears pricking at my eyes. My blood is hot, and my heart is racing. I’m tense and angsty now, which is usually how I am after talking with Jenn. I know there’s no way in hell I’ll get to sleep tonight unless I burn some of this anxious energy off. There’s only one thing that comes to mind, and I don’t hesitate. Standing, I go to my closet to grab my swimsuit.
The warmth and smell of the pool help calm my nerves as I step through the doors to the big room. I take a deep breath and my eyes scan the waters for Liam, as if driven by instinct. When I spot a big body cutting through the water, it takes me a moment to process that it’s not the boy I’m expecting. The muscled back and arms are clear of any tattoos, and I can tell his hair is blond, even though it’s darkened by the water.
It’s not Liam coming up for air by the pool’s wall.
Liam’s eyes are dark, not ice blue.