What a bastard.
I make my way to the very back row of shelves to hide, and maybe cry. I’m not sure yet.
All I know is that I just need to be alone. To not be glared at for ten goddamn minutes. To not hear the whispers from the subtler people, or the sharp insults from the more blatant, or the reminders of how I should have been the one that was burnt to a crisp that night in Angelle House by the boldest of them all. I just want a few moments of peace so that I don’t lose my freaking mind and take my crazy out on Saint or some other unsuspecting soul.
When I reach the end of the row, I press against the wall and lean my head back to stare at the ceiling a moment before I slide my eyes shut. I release a deep breath of relief.
Quiet at last.
Except, I quickly realize it’s a lot harder to avoid my thoughts in the silence as I immediately begin thinking about Saint and Rosalind again.
They looked good together. So damn good, it hurt. I doubt Saint and I looked like that together—like we were made for each other. Like we were Instagram models, documenting our perfect lives and relationship for all the world to see. Rosalind obviously comes from money, just based on the clothes she was wearing and her purse that cost more than I ever amassed working summers at the shitty diner in Atlanta or the slowly dying theater back in Rayfort.
I’m so absorbed in my depressing thoughts that I don’t hear the approach of footsteps until they’re right in front of me. With a start, I open my eyes and start to let out a scream when I find a big, muscular body towering over me, but Saint quickly presses his fingertips over my lips.
“What the fuck?” I gasp once he removes them.
“Why’d you come back?” he growls.
“What?” I’m playing catch up as my mind scrambles to shake from the stupor he’s put it in.
“Did you get fucking dumber over break?” he spits out. “I asked why you came back. You said you weren’t, so what the fuck are you doing here, Ellis?”
I blink, regaining my senses, and narrow my eyes at him. “It’s none of your fucking business why I came back.”
His hand slams against the wall next to my head, and I jolt because I’m not prepared for it. “It is my fucking business.” He bares his teeth like an animal, but I’m not afraid. No, I feel a rush of heat shoot through me, and I’m disgusted with myself for the way I react to him.
Screw this guy.
Especially when he adds, “Everything you do is my fucking business.”
“Oh, is that so?” I demand, blinking slowly. “Don’t think your girlfriend would appreciate hearing that.”
He scowls at me but doesn’t deny that Rosalind is his girlfriend. Shit! Why does this make my chest hurt so bad? Why do I even care?
He should be dead to me.
“We were together freshmen and sophomore year,” he explains in a softer tone, though I didn’t ask or expect him to. “Then her stepdad died and her mom transferred her to a boarding school in New York.”
I stare at him as it slowly sinks in. He and Rosalind have history. She was his once, then he lost her. Now she’s back, so of course he wants to be with her. Once again, I tell myself not to care since he and I were never anything more than fuck buddies on our best day.
Except, I hadn’t believed that until it was too late. I was too into my feelings to see that he never felt anything deeper for me.
Nothing but three holes.
That’s what he told me I was, and when I remember that I stand a little taller and grit my teeth into a fierce smile. “You know what? I don’t give a shit about your dating past, present, or future, Saint. The only thing I want is for you to stop the obsessed stalker act so I can finish my year in peace.”
“Obsessed stalker,” he repeats in that soft but treacherous voice that always sends chills down my spine. He takes another step toward me. “Is that what you think this is?”
“Is it not?” I arch my eyebrows. “By the way, Saint, I know you lied about Laurel. I know you weren’t with her that night.”
He stares down at me for several moments, and he’s so close I’m engulfed by his delicious heat. I don’t let myself melt for him, though. Not this time.
Never again if I can help it.
When he speaks, he doesn’t correct me, and I hate the way my shoulders sag in relief that he hadn’t gone that far.
“You should’ve stayed away.” His voice rumbles, at once gentle but firm. “You’re not wanted here. By anyone.”
He doesn’t have to say by him for me to get his message loud and clear.
Backing away from me, he gives me a lingering look, and for a moment, I wonder if he’ll take it back. Tell me he’s lying, and he’s sorry for what he did.
He doesn’t say any of that, though, because of course he isn’t. I’m still just an idiot as he turns and walks away from me, not even sparing me one last glance.
7
“Are those assholes really following us?”
Loni sounds so incensed that I can’t help but crack a smile. I glance over my shoulder and see Officer Meyers and another campus police officer lingering not too far behind us. They’re pretending not to be tailing me, but they’re also not exactly experts at being subtle. I’ve noticed ever since I returned to Angelview that there seems to be a pretty steady campus police presence around me.
When I first arrived back on campus yesterday, an officer was waiting outside the dorm building’s main door. He’d said he was just doing routine security, but I knew better. Like now. Meyers and his partner have been shadowing me almost since the moment I stepped from my building out onto the sidewalk. They’d been waiting for me to come out, and I’m certain they’re supposed to discreetly stick with me the whole day.
On top of my new campus police escort, I was also called to the administration building first thing this morning to see Headmaster Aldridge for bullshit reasons that I know he made up just to have an excuse to keep an eye on me. Despite Saint backing up my alibi, it’s clear they all still think I could be guilty. They’re watching me like they expect me to start yelling “Dracarys” and torching random buildings, even though they’ve no proof that I did anything wrong and the source of the fire is still under investigation.
It’s frustrating as hell and, to be honest, terrifying. Being back at Angelview has been harder than I expected, and I wasn’t anticipating a picnic. Not only has the administration made it pretty clear they don’t trust me, the rest of the school has really upped their game when it comes to hating my guts.
This morning, someone had left a drawing of me blowing my brains out at the makeshift memorial in front of the D-hall. And something tells me that this is only the start of the shit show.
“I think we’re going to just have to get used to them,” I murmur, turning my gaze back to Loni. She looks pissed, her jaw clenched and her brown eyes murderous.
“They can’t treat you like this,” she hisses, fidgeting with the hem of her plaid skirt. “You didn’t start that fire. They’ve got nothing to pin it on you. They’re just being fucking prejudiced pricks.”
I love how readily she defends me. I’ve only ever experienced such loyalty from James and Carley, so I’m not used to it, but I’m grateful, nonetheless. I was lucky Loni didn’t turn her back on me completely when I left for break without a word. I still feel incredibly guilty about that, but we seem to be in a good place with each other, so that’s comforting.