“Fuck, Marybeth, can’t you see I’m busy?”
“Yes, I can see you’re busy trying to give this poor girl an STD. It’s the middle of the day when there are people around. Where’s your sense of decency?”
“Where’s your sense of wanting to keep your fucking job?” he snaps back. I’m still in his lap, trapped by his hands on my hips. This is one of the most awkward things that’s ever happened to me. I want to dig a hole, crawl into it, and die right here and now.
At last, I scramble off of his lap, despite his firm hold on me.
“I, uh, need to use the bathroom,” I mutter, my face burning with embarrassment.
He scowls, but points toward a hallway off the living room. “Three doors down.”
“Thanks. Be right back.” I shoot an apologetic smile toward Marybeth and hurry from the room, so mortified that I don’t even care if it looks like I’m running away. I hear Saint and Marybeth continue to argue as I wander down the hall in search of the bathroom. Finding it, I’m about to step inside when I hear different voices speaking softly around a corner just in front of me.
“Poor kid, getting left behind like that,” one voice, a woman, says. “It’s no wonder he’s been in such a mood these last few days.”
I pause in the bathroom doorway. Are they talking about Saint? What do they mean he was left behind? I inch my way down the wall, getting closer so I can hear better.
“What kind of parents forget about their son’s fall break?” the second voice, which I’m pretty sure is a guy, spits. “If the pay here wasn’t so good, I’d never work for assholes like them.”
The woman sighs. “I’m right there with you, Kevin.”
The two move further down the hall and out of earshot. I don’t follow because that would be just a little too creepy. I turn back and walk into the bathroom, my mind racing.
Saint’s parents left him behind? They forgot about his break?
My heart aches for him. I know what it’s like to have a parent that doesn’t give a shit about you. Who treats you more like a burden than anything else. From the little I’ve seen of Saint’s parents, especially his father, I’m guessing this isn’t the first time he’s been forgotten.
I quickly do my business and wash my hands, then make my way back out to the living room. He’s still sitting in the chair I straddled him in, holding an unlit joint between his fingers. His brow is furrowed as he stares down at it, and he looks lost in thought. What’s he thinking about? His parents? Liam?
Me?
For some strange reason, I hope it’s me. I hope I consume his mind half as much as he’s been taking up space in mine lately.
He looks up at my approach.
“You good?” he asks.
Is my emotion showing on my face? Can he see how sorry I am for him?
I slip back into his lap and wrap my arms around his neck. He looks baffled, and I can’t really blame him. Outward displays of affection really aren’t our thing. Still, his strong arms wrap around my waist, as though he just can’t help himself.
“So, I, uh, I overheard something on my way to the bathroom,” I admit in a soft tone. I’m not sure I should be telling him this, but something in me wants to offer him comfort because I can truly empathize with what he’s going through.
His eyebrows slant up impatiently. “You gonna share or do I have to fuck it out of you?”
I hesitate a moment, but then forge ahead, throwing caution to the wind. “Did you really decide not to go with your parents, or did…did they leave you behind?”
He tenses and something dark and dangerous flashes in his eyes. Shit. Too late, I think I screwed up. Me and my damn big mouth.
“What the fuck are you doing, sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong?” he growls, releasing his hold on me. His lap is no longer a hospitable place, so I quickly push to my feet.
“I wasn’t sticking my nose, anywhere,” I say quickly. “I just heard someone say it when I was in the hall—”
He surges to standing, towering over me, his growing rage radiating from him like heat off asphalt.
“Who was it?” he snarls. “Who was saying this shit?”
I raise my hands in front of me. “I don’t know, I didn’t see. That doesn’t matter, Saint. Look, I understand what you’re feeling right now—”
“Oh, you do, do you?” His voice is sharp and cruel, meant to slice me open and make me bleed out on the expensive ass marble floor. “You think you understand what I’m feeling? You’re so fucking naïve. You’ve got no idea what my life is like.”
Anger bursts in me so suddenly, it steals my breath. How dare he say that to me?
Balling my hands into fists, I shout, “You know what? I don’t need this. Fuck you and your spoiled rich kid problems. My mom’s on the run for selling meth, so don’t tell me what I don’t understand, you sonofabitch.”
His eyes widen, but I don’t bother to wait for him to respond. Turning, I storm toward the opened wall of windows and out onto the house’s wide terrace. I dig my phone out of my pocket, determined to find a ride back to campus. No one’s around, but I bet an Uber wouldn’t be terribly expensive at this time of day. In the meantime, I’ll hide out on the beach and avoid his arrogant ass.
“Mallory!” his voice booms behind me, and I jump, startled. He’s following me, great.
I glance over my shoulder and spot him charging after me. I gasp, but don’t stop walking. The soft sand tries to swallow my feet, but I trudge ahead and try to ignore Saint calling for me. I pull up my Uber app and start to arrange for a car.
“Mallory, for fuck’s sake.” His fingers wrap around my arm and he tries to hold me in place, but I struggle to break free of him.
“Let me go,” I snarl. “I’m getting the fuck out of here.”
“No, wait, please.” He spins me around to face him. “I … I’m sorry, all right? Just don’t leave like this.”
I freeze, stunned by his attempt at an apology. Still, my blood is simmering with residual anger, and I don’t know how easily I can forgive him. I shrug from his grip, but I don’t walk away from him. Facing him, I cross my arms over my chest.
“Give me one good reason,” I snap.
He runs a hand through his hair, looking pained. Good. That helps make me feel better.
“Look, I’m an asshole, alright? I admit it. My parents ditched me, and I was mad, but … I shouldn’t have said that to you. I’m really, really sorry.”
He sounds so genuine, it’s throwing me off balance. Slowly, I unfold my arms and gaze down at the sandy ground between us.
“Fine. I’ll stay.”
He releases a deep breath, as though relieved. My heart is pounding uncomfortably in my chest. This feels so strange, so close to something real. We’ve just had a fight, and he’s apologized. I’ve forgiven him.
That’s something couples do.
Are we a couple?
I clear my throat and look back up to meet his gaze.
“I really am sorry your parents did that to you,” I murmur. “That’s really shitty.”
He hunches a shoulder, but I don’t miss the way his jaw flexes. “It is what it is.”