As I walk into the dining hall again, I easily ignore the whispers and glares I receive as I scan the crowd for him. A mixture of relief and terror rushes through me when I spot him sitting alone at a table by the wall to my right. It’s unusual for him to have no one around, fawning over him, but I can guess by his thunderous expression that not many people are super willing to be near him right now. Taking a deep breath, I hurry over to him.
He meets my gaze as I near, and his glare is so icy, I physically shiver. I don’t stop, however, until I’m standing next to him.
“Hey,” I murmur. “I’ve been trying to reach you since yesterday morning. Where’ve you been?”
Slowly, he unfurls himself from his chair and rises to his feet so he’s towering over me. He looks down at me as though disgusted by my very presence. “I don’t enjoy looking like a fool, Ellis. I figured you knew that about me by now.”
“It’s not what you think—”
“I don’t want your fucking excuses.” He pushes past me to prowl toward the door. I turn, intent on following him, when my phone pings.
Pulling it out, I see I have a text from Carley, and it’s entitled URGENT.
I glance up at Saint’s retreating back, but I can’t just ignore the message. It could be about Jenn, or the accident…
Reluctantly, I let him go and open the text.
Carley: Dylan stopped by the house last night!!! He was looking for you!
My chest and my stomach seem to crash together, and my problems with Saint are suddenly shoved to the background of my mind as something much worse rises up to take their place.
Dylan’s found me. He wasn’t supposed to be able to.
My past is starting to catch up to me, and I don’t know if I can outrun it this time.
29
My hands shake as I reread Carley’s message again and again. What does Dylan want? How did he track me to Carley’s house? Why? After James’ death, he’d told me he never wanted to see me again.
No, he’d called me a trashy whore, then revealed he never wanted to see me again.
I take several deep breaths as I try to rationalize my way through this. Just because he showed up at Carley’s house, doesn’t mean he knows I’m here. She’d never tell him, and it’s not like I’m afraid Dylan would do anything to hurt me. I’m just afraid of everything he knows about me. After a few moments of continuous breathing, the world stops spinning around me, and my hands stop shaking enough that I can respond to Carley’s text.
7:36 AM: I’m sure he just wanted to check on me. He was my favorite teacher in Rayfort, after all.
That’s the fucking understatement of the century, but I can’t let Carley know that. I can’t ever let her find out what really happened between me and Dylan. It’s yet one more terrible secret among what feels like hundreds, but this one might be the worst. I just have to pray if Dylan shows back up at Carley’s, he doesn’t tell her anything.
Tucking my phone back in my pocket, I scrub my hands over my face and groan. How’d everything get so fucked up so quickly? It was all going so well. Saint and I were leaving enemy territory far behind, Liam was thawing toward me, and the school as a collective wasn’t wishing I’d dissolve into a pile of Infinity War-esque dust. It felt as though someone had thrown a switch on in my life one day, making everything better, then flipped it again another day, making it all shit once more.
I need to get away from the judging gazes and buzzing whispers all around me so I can think straight. Ducking my head, I wind my way through the tables to get to the door, then hurry outside to make my way toward English. My mind is a riot, and my heart won’t stop racing. I can’t stop thinking of Dylan. A part of me thought I’d never hear from or see him again. I would’ve never thought he’d actually try to hunt me down like this. What if he does eventually find me?
What the hell am I supposed to do then?
Maybe I should try to reach out to him and beat him to the punch. Figure out what it is he wants before he ruins my life. Which he definitely will, if he tells anyone anything about us. It’d be a huge risk for him, but he might hate me enough that he’s willing to take that risk. Fuck, fuck, fuck! I have no idea what to do. There’s no one I can talk to about this. No one to turn to for advice, or even to unburden myself to. My history with Dylan is just sitting in my gut, rotting me from the inside out.
I can only imagine what would happen if anyone around here found out about him. I can only imagine what Saint would do if he ever discovered the truth.
I bet his current rage would pale in comparison.
I’m so lost in thought, I don’t notice the cluster of girls in my path ahead until I’m nearly upon them. I come to an abrupt stop as they block the sidewalk, fanning out around me in an arch. Shit. This can’t be good.
One of the girls takes a step forward, separating herself from the pack. I recognize her. She might be a junior, but I’ve never spoken to her. I’ve never spoken to any of these people.
“Where do you think you’re going, skinny bitch?” she snaps, folding her arms over her chest.
I fist my hands. “Please move.”
“Do you have no shame?” another of the girls snarls.
“What do I need to be ashamed of?” I demand. I have this terrible feeling deep in my belly that I know where this is going, but I’m going to make these bitches say it out loud and to my face.
“It’s your fault Liam and Saint aren’t friends anymore,” the first girl hisses. “You fucked everything up between them, and everyone hates you for it. Why don’t you just quit this school? Or better yet, why don’t you just—”
“What the fuck is happening here?” a deep voice booms behind me. Recognizing it instantly, I cringe then whirl around, stunned to find Saint standing just a few feet away. Fury is turning his gaze to blue fire, but he’s not directing it toward me.
He’s glaring at the girls around me.
“Saint!” the first girl gasps. I glance over my shoulder and have to fight not to grin at the wide eyes and expressions of straight up fear I see. “W-we were just telling this slut…”
“Call her a slut again, and I’ll ruin your fucking lives from this point until you graduate from this place,” he snarls. I turn my gaze back to him, surprised. Why’s he defending me? Isn’t he still angry with me?
The stupid girl doesn’t seem to understand the tumultuous territory she’s tiptoeing through. “But … but Saint, she—”
“Get the fuck out of here,” he barks.
I hear the girls gasp and squeak in fright, and then their feet clatter against the sidewalk as they hurry to run away. I don’t bother to watch them go, though. My eyes remained locked on him approaching me like a predator.
When we’re alone, he lowers his chin, until we’re eye to eye—his storm versus my tsunami.
“What was that?” I demand.
His nostrils flare. “Just because I’m pissed at you doesn’t mean they get to talk to you like that.”
“Not without your permission, that is?” At his stony expression, I take a breath, my heart humming and my cheeks heating. “I wish you’d let me explain,” I say. “This is all a big misunderstanding…”