I hold up my hands. “Fine, whatever. Doesn’t seem that sincere, but let’s just move the hell on already.”
I give her my back, intent on putting as much distance between the two of us as possible, when her next words hit me like a bullwhip.
“You know when Saint’s obsession with you wears off, you’ll go back to being a nobody, right?”
Why couldn’t she have just let me walk away?
I glance back at her and make a face. “Guess what, Laurel? I’m just as much a nobody today as I was the first day I arrived at this school. You’re the somebody he got bored with and dumped.”
Her shriek of indignation follows me as I walk away from her without a backwards glance, and goddamn, does that feel good.
The night of the masquerade ball, I’m still hesitant to attend. Loni and Henry, determined to get me over my anxiety, show up to my dorm room with a bottle of tequila and some limes.
“Pregame bitch!” she shouts, fluffing the layers of her poofy cocktail dress, as they storm my personal space.
Henry pours us all shots, and soon, I’m feeling a whole lot better about the evening to come. I’m feeling hot in my gorgeous little dress, and the mask makes me feel a little naughty.
Maybe that’s the tequila, actually.
When we’re all three good and tipsy, we make our way from my room to the campus’ ballroom—yes, I attend a school with a ballroom. It’s already filling up with the entire school, and everyone’s dressed up like this is the Oscars or something.
Henry, Loni, and I walk into the ballroom arm-in-arm. I gasp when I see the decorations. Of course, I helped put them up, but that was in the light of day without the full effects on display.
“Damn, Loni.” I grin. “Y’all really outdid yourself for this one.”
“You’re so cute when you say that. Y’all.” Loni gazes around, looking pleased, as she should. “It does look spectacular, though, doesn’t it?”
We make our way further inside, and I can’t help but gaze around for any sign of Saint. Will he like my dress? He should, since he picked it out for me. That thought makes me shiver, and I’m suddenly very horny as well as tipsy. Saint hasn’t come to my room since the night Laurel poisoned me, and I’m aching for him.
God, what the hell has he done to me?
Finally, my eyes land on a tall blonde guy standing on the edge of the dancefloor. His mask is so similar to mine, I’ve no doubt in my mind that it’s Saint. We lock eyes from across the room, and he raises his hand to summon me over with a crook of his finger.
I hesitate a moment because I’m not sure I’m ready for a public display with him. Yet, he looks so tempting and mysterious all dressed up and masked like that, I’m having a hard time resisting him.
“Guys, I’ll be right back,” I tell Loni and Henry.
“We’ll be here!” she sings, but I think she’s too distracted by everyone around her congratulating her on such a good job putting the dance together, she doesn’t notice where I’m going.
I make my way over to the masked guy and stop in front of him.
“Happy?” I ask in a syrupy sweet voice as I bat my eyelashes.
He doesn’t say anything, just holds out his hand for me to take. I slip my palm against his, and instantly, something feels wrong.
“Wait—”
Before I can finish my sentence, the guy’s pulling me out to the dancefloor with him. I feel a fissure of apprehension course up my spine. I don’t think this is Saint. He looks a lot like him, at least with the mask, but he’s not quite as broad, though he is about the right height. This guy’s hands and fingers are longer and slenderer than Saint’s thick ones, and the way he’s touching me is possessive, but not … obsessive.
As Billie Eilish’s “You Should See Me in a Crown” plays over the speaker, the guy’s hand wraps around my waist and pulls me tight against him. His body is hard, and I’m pressed so tight to him, I can feel every line, every angle, everything. My cheeks flood with heat.
“Who are you?” I realize how rude that question sounds as soon as it’s out of my mouth. “Sorry, I mean, you’re obviously not who I thought you were.”
The guy shrugs, but still doesn’t speak. I try to see behind his mask, but it covers half his face, and the room is dim. I’m beginning to think I know him because there’s something very familiar about the way he holds himself, but I can’t quite put my finger on who it is. It’s clear by his mask that he’s the one who bought me this dress, but I can’t think of anyone other than Saint who’d be motivated to do so.
“Look, I’m all for a little mystery, but this is getting kind of weird.” I move to step out of his arms and end our dance, but his fingers tighten against me, and he holds me still as his head dips and captures my lips.
I gasp in shock, and his tongue sweeps into tangle with mine. This is definitely not Saint. I know Saint Angelle’s lips. I probably have every dip and curve of them memorized, and these aren’t them. Still, this guy’s a pretty good kisser. No, not pretty good.
Pretty epic.
With a strangled cry, I push the guy off me and glare up at him. “What the hell was that?”
“Was that not good for you? We can try again, if you’d like.”
I recognize that voice. Holy fuck, I know who this is.
Reaching up, I tear the mask from his face like I’m Scooby-Doo and he’s my bad guy. I gape up in disbelief at Liam.
“What … what are you … what are you doing?”
He smirks down at me and runs his hand through his hair, which I can see now is colored with some kind of spray.
“Just thought I’d come to the Halloween ball dressed as the biggest fucking sham I know. Since I’m faking it, figured I’d bring you along for the ride.”
He’s done this on purpose. He dressed as Saint to intentionally confuse and trick me. Anger spirals from the pit of my stomach through my chest, blazing out of control. After weeks of saying nothing to me in English class, and avoiding me on campus, he pulls this bullshit on me? I shove at his chest, though I don’t budge him an inch.
“What are you trying to prove?” I demand to know.
He opens his mouth to answer, but before any words can make their way out, the crowd parts to my right. I turn, and my heart shoots up into my throat.
Saint’s storming our way, and I can tell by the look in his eyes, that he’s out for blood.
25
Saint swings at Liam without uttering a single word. His fist connects right with Liam’s cheek, sending him stumbling to the side with a growl. Saint doesn’t give him a moment to bounce back. He charges him with an enraged shout, and slams into him like a linebacker. Both boys fall to the ground, but Saint’s straddling Liam and wailing on him the next moment.
“What the hell is wrong with you two?” I scream, but they’re not listening to me.
I don’t know if Saint can even hear me over his fury. For a moment, I fear he might accidently kill Liam, but then Liam manages to throw Saint off him with his long legs. He dives after Saint, slamming his fist into his friend’s face again and again. At this point, several of the teacher chaperones, and Gabe, rush forward to try and break the two up. It seems an impossible task, as they appear pretty determined to kill each other.