“Let’s drink,” I rasp, hoping to distract her from what happened this morning.
Loni appears hesitant for a moment, but I hit her with some puppy dog eyes and she releases a heavy sigh.
“Fine, fine. Let’s drink until we forget that this school is full of assholes like the stepshitster.”
She hands me the bottle and a glass, and I take a shot. The tequila burns as it flows down my throat, but it’s smooth and expensive tasting and I savor the heat as I pass the bottle back to Loni. She takes a long drink herself, then holds it out to Henry. And around and around we go until my head is fuzzy and my body is loose.
We talk and laugh, finding every mundane little thing we talk about hilarious. The pizza’s gone before too long, and soon after, we’ve drunk half the bottle. The night wears on, and I don’t give a shit that we’ve got class tomorrow. I don’t give a shit about anything at the moment, except Loni and Henry and the blissful buzz numbing my brain.
Around midnight, she staggers to her feet and burps before announcing, “Bedtime.”
“Noooo, don’t go!” I beg, my words slurred.
She grins and pats me on the top of my head like I’m a dog. “Skipping class two days in a row is a no, no. Go to sleep, drunky.”
I pout, but drunk Loni is surprisingly firm once she’s made a decision. Pushing to my feet, I walk them to my door and wave as they make their way down the hallway, leaning on each other for support. Once Henry drops Loni off at her room and then disappears from sight, I shut my door again and lean against the cool wood.
I let out a deep breath. Now that I’m alone, I realize how sleepy I am and bedtime suddenly sounds like such a good idea…
A knock on the door officially shits all over that plan. I jump away from it with a cry before turning around to answer it.
“Loni, did you forget—” I fall silent when I see that it’s not Loni, but Liam standing in my doorway. I’m surprised, and somewhat … disappointed.
Because he’s not Saint?
God, I need help. I’m so messed up in my head, even drunk me knows how fucked up that thought is.
“Liam,” I squeak. “Wh-what are you doing here?”
His eyes scan my face and darken slightly before he answers, “I wanted to make sure you were okay. You weren’t in any of our classes today, but then I heard you in there with your friends, and I…”
He trails off and tugs at his sleeves, a clear indication that he’s uncomfortable. I decide to take pity on him and invite him into my room.
“It was sweet of you to check on me,” I murmur as I close the door. “Did you wait all night for them to leave?”
He shakes his head. “Nah. Once I heard you had company, I went to the pool for a bit and came back to check a few minutes ago. I spotted Henry and Loni leaving your room and figured it was safe now.”
“You okay?” I ask. He looks agitated.
“Am I okay? How’s your face?” he asks through gritted teeth, his dark eyes landing on my bruise.
I self-consciously brush at it with my fingertips, but then shrug as if it’s no big deal and whisper, “It’s fine. Really. Looks worse than it feels.”
“Good to hear.” He still looks angry, but I don’t think it’s just about my bruises.
“Really, Liam, you can tell me what’s bothering you,” I insist. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”
“Just let it go, Mallory. It doesn’t concern you.”
I’m a little taken aback. If he doesn’t want to tell me what’s wrong, then why the hell did he come to my room?
“Just tell me! Don’t be such a fucking drama queen—”
He suddenly grabs the back of my neck and yanks me into his broad chest. When his lips come crashing down on mine, I let out a gasp, shocked. His tongue slips into my mouth as he kisses me deep. My fingers curl into his t-shirt, but I’m not really pulling him closer. I just need to hold onto something to keep me upright.
Right?
His other hand comes up to skim my cheek, but he doesn’t try to touch me anywhere else. Our bodies are pressed so tightly together, though, that I can feel every hard ridge of his torso beneath his shirt. His kiss is good, like it was the night of the masquerade, but strange. My mind is telling me to kiss him back. To respond. To forget all about Saint because Liam is a good guy who looks out for me.
I can’t, though. I can’t get excited. I can’t enjoy this moment, even though I know I should because it does feel good.
After a few moments, he goes very still and then pulls back to stare down at me.
“What’s wrong?” he asks in a low voice. “You don’t like this?”
I don’t know how to answer that question.
“It’s … it’s not that,” I stammer. My face is hot, and I need him to not be touching me right now. I take a step back to escape his arms.
His brow furrows. “Then what is it?”
“I…” How can I tell him when I’m not even sure myself? When I know I’m crazy and stupid and my hesitation doesn’t make any type of sense?
“Don’t tell me,” he growls, a glimmer of recognition in his brown eyes, “you still want him?”
He doesn’t have to say Saint’s name for me to know that’s who he’s talking about. My stomach twists, and I recognize how fucked up this is. Saint has done nothing but hurt me, again and again. Of the two, Liam should be the clear choice.
But my heart won’t let me choose him.
He’s staring at me, his eyes boring into me as he waits for my response. I open my mouth, but no words come out. I have no explanation, because I have no logical reason for why I can’t seem to let Saint go.
After a moment of continued, idiotic silence on my part, his expression grows momentarily disappointed. Then, he clenches his teeth so hard that I swear he’s going to do permanent damage.
“I’ve told you, again and again, that he’s a piece of shit,” he grinds out. “He’s proven it himself more than once, yet you’re still hung up on him? For a smart girl, Mallory, you can be such an idiot.”
I can’t even be mad at his words because he’s right. I am a fucking idiot. And, like an idiot, I just stand there silently as he turns and stalks out of my room without a backwards glance.
The next day, I drag my tired, hungover ass out of bed and force myself to go to class. Mostly because I know Loni will come kick my ass if I don’t show up, but also because continuing to hide away will only make the rest of the school think they’ve beat me. I do my best to ignore the onslaught of abuse I receive as I go through the dining hall for breakfast, but by the time I leave to go to my first class, I’m already physically, emotionally, and mentally exhausted.
Which is unfortunate because I’ve got a long fucking day ahead of me.
As I make my way down the hall toward the classroom, who should appear before me, but Satan’s platinum mistress.
Wonderful.
It’s clear Laurel’s been waiting for me. She’s leaning against the wall, gazing up and down the hallway, and when she spots me, she shoots toward me with an evil smirk on her face.
“Hey, bitch,” she says, her voice almost pleasant apart from the toxic edge sharpening it.