“Get in,” he orders.
For the first time in a long time, I’m inclined to listen to him.
13
Saint is clearly agitated as he drives us back toward the school. The silence that’s settled between us is suffocating, but I don’t know what to say to break it. What the hell was he thinking, following me like that? Why did he follow me?
Turning to him, I say, “I’m so confused.”
He glances at me with a furrowed brow. “About what exactly?”
“How can you hate me enough to ruin my life one moment, but the next turn up like you want to be my goddamn savior?” I demand. “And how the hell did you know where I was?”
“Your phone.”
It takes me a beat to process that, but when I do, red spots stain my vision. “You’re tracking me?”
His jaw tenses, but he doesn’t answer me. Instead, he turns the car sharply toward the upcoming exit. I don’t know what he’s doing, but my stomach twists with anxiety as he speeds onto a poorly lit street. I’m on edge already because of the bar, so I’m not really thrilled about sticking around this part of town.
Saint pulls into an empty parking lot outside a hardware store and kills the engine.
His knuckles remain white on the steering wheel as he growls, “You’re a fucking fool, you know that?”
I gape at him in disbelief. “Are you being serious right now?”
He turns his glare to me. “What the hell were you thinking, going with that piece of shit to that place? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
“It’s none of your business why I went there.” Good lord, I feel like a broken record telling him again and again to leave me alone.
He slams his hand against the steering wheel. “Are you serious? You think I’m just going to let you take off and screw gangbangers now?”
My blood heats and burns away my remaining anxiety and fear. “Let me? Get over yourself,” I spit, then throw open my car door before he can stop me.
“Get the fuck back here, Mallory!” he shouts, but I slam the door shut again and begin walking across the parking lot.
I don’t turn when I hear him get out of the car, or when he yells my name again. His footsteps pound against the pavement as he chases after me. For a moment, I consider running, but then his hand wraps around my arm and he snatches me around to face him.
“I said get back here,” he growls.
“And I don’t have to listen!” I yank my arm, but his hold on me is too firm. “Don’t touch me, don’t—”
But he pulls me into his chest as his other hand finds my hair and forces my head back. “Were you thinking of me while he fucked you?” he demands, his eyes glinting dangerously. “Tell me, little masochist. I can keep a secret.”
His cruel words slash across me like a whip, and I pound my fists against his chest as I fight to get free of him. “He never touched me, you sonofabitch!”
“I hate liars. So, was it just him? Or did you let JJ tag in?”
I try to slap him, but he lets go of my hair to capture my hand. I’m so sick of this. Of him. He can go to hell for all I care and take his assumptions of me with him.
“You want to know how many guys I’ve slept with?” I don’t know why I’m telling him this, but there’s a part of me that just needs him to know. I hold up my index and middle finger, jabbing them toward his face. “Two, fucker. I’ve slept with two guys, and they both screwed me over!”
His eyes narrow and the corner of his mouth twists into a cruel smirk. “Is that why you’re so sensitive about James?” My breath catches in my lungs at the way Saint says his name—like it’s a curse word. “He fumbled his way into taking your virginity and knocked you up? I’m almost impressed.”
The comment is snide and tinged with jealousy, but he’s so far off the mark it’s almost comical.
So, I laugh in his face. I laugh until my chest hurts and my eyes burn.
“What’s so funny?” His grip on my wrist and arm tightens.
“Figure it out for yourself.” I grin, and I’m sure I look crazy, but I can’t help myself. “You’ve apparently known everything there is to know about James and me for months, so you go ahead and figure out why the idea of him taking my virginity is so hilarious.”
Because at the end of the day, James would have been more interested in Saint than me.
I shove away from him, and he finally lets me go. We stare at each other for several tense moments before he turns to walk back to his expensive new car that he no doubt got for Christmas.
“Come on,” he snarls.
I hesitate, but what other option do I really have? With slow steps, I follow him.
We’re completely silent the rest of the drive back to campus. I don’t even look at him and keep my eyes firmly on my window, though I don’t really see anything that we pass by. He’s going at least twenty over the speed limit, plus my mind’s buzzing like there’s a bunch of angry bees zipping around inside.
When Saint parks in front of my building, I practically dive for the door, but he locks it before I can escape.
“What the hell?” I groan. All I want to do is crawl up to my dorm, throw myself under my covers, and marinate over the fact that if what Jenn said is true, I returned to California for nothing. I don’t want to talk to him anymore. And I certainly don’t want to be around him anymore.
“Stay away from that guy,” he orders.
I finally turn to face him. “Who? Ghost?” There’s little chance I’ll see him again after he abandoned me tonight, but I don’t tell Saint that.
“Ghost?” He snorts with derision. “Whatever the fuck his name is, I forbid you to see him.”
My jaw drops, and I’m so stunned, it takes me a moment to find my voice. “Y-you … forbid me?”
Where does he get off?
“Something about him bothers me,” he growls. “It … reminds me of something.”
Oh, could it be that he’s likely a drug dealer? Or because he doesn’t put up with Saint’s petty rich-kid bullshit? I roll my eyes because now Saint’s just being childish. “Whatever. Like I’ve said a thousand times already, mind your own business.”
His hand reaches around to cup the back of my head and he yanks me toward him. I gasp as he presses his cheek to mine so that his lips are at my ear. “You are my business.”
“Saint, I—”
“Maybe I should follow you up to your room and fuck that asshole out of your system? Hmmm? His dick might not have been in you, but I can make it so he’s not even on your mind.”
My traitorous heart races as I clench my thighs. No, I’m not reacting to his words. The thought of him fucking me again isn’t making me wet. I have to tell myself that, remind myself that this is all a game to him, and I’m done playing it.
“I’m not your quick fuck anymore, Angelle,” I murmur. “Go back to your girlfriend.”
He doesn’t reply right away. Doesn’t even move. We stay like this for several long moments, our cheeks together and his hand in my hair until he finally leans back to stare down into my eyes. I don’t flinch from his gaze because I need him to see how serious I am.