I roll my eyes and blow out a frustrated breath. “Come on, Gabe. Don’t be a dick about it. Just tell me where he is.”
He shakes his head with a grin. “Fuck no, not until you spill the goods.”
I groan. He’s just a gossip whore. I can’t tell him the truth, but I know he loves some juicy drama. “Fine,” I mutter, pretending embarrassment. “I … I wanted to ask him why he broke up with Rosalind. If it had anything to do with me.”
“Oh? And why would you want to know that particular bit of information?”
He’s toying with me, and I have no choice but to play along with his game. I’ve come to like Gabe somewhat. He can be funny and charming, but he can also be catty and vicious. If I don’t at least pretend to give him what he wants, I know he won’t help me.
Releasing a heavy sigh, I say, “I just need to know if there’s a chance, okay? A chance that Saint and I could … you know.”
His face lights up like I just gave him exactly what he wanted for Christmas. He slings an arm around my shoulder, and I force myself not to slink away from his sweaty body.
“Mallory, babe, I’m pulling for you kids. I really am,” he declares, surprising me. “Rosalind’s about as interesting as a noodle and Laurel’s annoying as fuck. You’re the most entertaining girl Saint’s ever messed around with, and because of that, I’ll tell you where he is.”
I wish he wouldn’t make such a production of things and just fucking say it, but I don’t mutter a word and just stare up at him expectantly. “Well?” I prompt when he doesn’t immediately divulge the information. “Come on.”
He drops his arm from my shoulders and pinches my cheek.
“He’s at track. Well, the first day of track conditioning. They’re probably wrapping up by now, so you’ll probably find him in the locker rooms over there.”
“Track?” My brows shoot straight up because, damn, that’s unexpected.
“What? You think he just sits around being a shithead all year? Yes, Mallory, track.”
I snort. “I’m going to decline to answer that, but thanks for the info, Gabe.”
“Fuck his brains out so he stops being such a pain in the ass!” he shouts after me as I start toward the double doors, and I’m mortified as people turn to stare after me.
By the time I reach the track, it’s just the coach and the managers out and about, picking up the last remnants of their practice. Before any of them spot me, I sneak toward the locker rooms and slip into the boys’ side.
“Ellis is here for a gangbang! Line up!”
I pause and take a deep, fortifying breath, my hands curling into fists.
They’re just assholes. They don’t deserve my anger or my time.
Keeping my head high, I march deeper into the locker room. I don’t flinch as the guys jeer at me and make obscene gestures. Several request blow jobs from me. A few others offer to “rock my world” as long as their friends can watch. One guy even opens his towel to flash me, but I ignore his tiny limp dick and wind my way through the rows of lockers in search of Saint.
I find him sitting on a bench on the last row. He’s shirtless but is wearing sweatpants and looks freshly showered. I stalk toward him and stand directly in front of him with my hands on my hips.
“You and I need to talk,” I snap despite the whistles and catcalls behind us.
He looks up at me with a raised brow, his lips thinning in an unimpressed line.
“Hey Saint, when you’re done with Ellis, mind if the rest of us have a turn?” someone cackles among the crowd that’s gathered at the end of the row.
Saint’s jaw tightens and his eyes flash with irritation. “Get the fuck out,” he barks, his gaze still locked on me. “Every one of you fuckers. Now!”
Like startled pigeons, the other guys scatter. It takes a few minutes, but soon enough, the rest of the locker room is empty and it’s just me and Saint. Alone.
I cross my arms over my chest and snort, “Must be nice to have so much power.”
He doesn’t reply but stares up at me as coldly as ever. Great. We’re still playing this fucking game.
I let out an annoyed sigh. Might as well just get to the point and get the hell out of here.
“What did you do to Jon Eric?” I demand.
To my shock, he throws his head back and laughs at me. He pushes to his feet to tower over me, dipping his blond head until his face is mere inches from mine.
“I knew you were an idiot, but I didn’t realize you were suicidal.” He moves as if to walk away from me, but I lay my hand flat against his chest to stop him. His skin is hot and his muscles flex beneath my touch. I have to fight to keep from curling my fingers to dig my nails into his skin.
“Tell me what you did, Saint,” I insist. “Did you hurt him? Get him thrown out of school? I know it was you.”
“Let it go, Ellis.” His voice turns into a growl with a clear note of warning ringing through it, but I pretend it doesn’t exist.
“Tell me now!”
His hands are suddenly on my shoulders and he shoves me back, pinning me against the lockers. I let out a stunned gasp, and he lowers his face so that our lips are nearly brushing. His expression, his body, even the air around us is tense.
“Why do you care about that piece of shit? After everything he’s done to you?”
“I cared about you when I thought you were dead,” I hiss. “Despite everything you’ve done to me.”
He smirks, and it’s cruel.
“That’s just a testament of the power of good dick,” he retorts. “You were just scared you’d never get my cock between your legs again.”
I grit my teeth, my stomach clenching. “You’re disgusting,” I spit.
“Maybe, but don’t pretend it doesn’t make you wet.” One of his hands presses against my belly, then slowly slides down to the waistband of the jeans I’d changed into after class.
My heart flip-flops, and my breathing grows shallow as he undoes the button of my pants and pulls the zipper down. He holds my gaze, as if daring me to look away or tell him to stop. I know I should. I should shove his hand away and tell him to fuck off, but I can’t deny how much I want his touch. It’s terrible of me, it really is. The last thing in the world I should want is his hands on me, but I’m helpless against him. My body wants this, and right now, it’s in charge, not my reason.
Once he’s opened my pants, he slips his hand inside, past my underwear.
“What did you do to Jon Eric?” I ask breathlessly, making one last ditch effort to reclaim control of this situation.
“Scream for me, and I’ll tell you,” he growls, his finger dipping between my legs.
I gasp at the shot of pleasure that pulses through me. “I don’t want to play your games, Saint.”
But even I’m not convinced by my words.
His lips curl into a cocky half-grin. “Then ask me to stop, Mallory. Tell me to stop touching you, and I will.”
I stare into his eyes, and there’s a challenge gleaming in his gaze. He wants me to back down. To chicken out and walk away, but I couldn’t even if I wanted to. His fingers begin lazily petting my pussy as he waits for me to reply.