He places his hand over his heart and looks at me with a dramatically wounded expression.
“Ellis, I’m hurt. You keep accusing me of all these terrible things lately.”
“Answer the question, Saint,” I whisper, hugging my arms over my chest.
Releasing an irritated breath, he rolls his blue eyes. “Are you asking if I orchestrated some elaborate scheme to get your dead best friend’s predator brother in trouble? No, Mallory. Believe it or not, I’m neither desperate nor pussy-whipped. Porter brought this on himself by playing show-me-yours with teenage girls.”
That I can actually believe. Dylan was always arrogant, and arrogance can make you sloppy. He likely thought he’d never get caught creeping on girls.
Well fuck him. I hope he gets what he deserves.
Saint’s grinning like a little boy on Christmas morning.
“Why are you so happy?” I demand. “If you didn’t orchestrate this, then why do you care about Dylan’s fate?”
“Stop calling him that.”
“Jesus Christ, Saint, I—”
“It’s my birthday week,” he interrupts, as if that should answer all my questions. “Why wouldn’t I be happy?”
As much as I hate the way Dylan has treated me, it feels wrong that Saint’s getting so much glee out of what’s happening. The guy really doesn’t have any empathy or compassion in his entire body, does he?
“You’re repulsive,” I say with a shake of my head.
“Just how you like me,” he taunts. “Repulsive and bad with your cunt on my face.”
I turn from him, done with this awful conversation, and walk out of the classroom back into the hallway. I’m more determined than ever to put him from my mind and avoid him at all costs. Saint Angelle can go straight to hell, right alongside Dylan Porter.
Friday night, while Saint’s hosting his big ego-inflating birthday party, Loni and I decide to have a movie night. I chose us an old slasher with plenty of blood and gore to match the burning anger I’ve felt all week toward Saint. Loni and I are curled up together on her floor, enjoying pizza, when her phone buzzes.
She picks it up and twists her lips to the side. “Martha’s calling me.”
I pause the movie so she can answer.
“Hey,” Loni says after accepting the call and putting it on speaker. “What’s up?”
“Loni! Hey girl … what’s you doing?”
It’s obvious Martha’s tipsy and well on her way to full-on hammered. There’s the thumping of loud music in the background and muffled voices. It sounds like she’s at a party.
I exchange an amused glance with Loni, who replies, “Watching a movie with Mallory. What are you doing?”
“Getting fucked up at Saint Angelle’s birthday party,” she shouts.
I tense and gawk at Loni, and she holds my gaze as she snaps, “What the hell, Martha? You hate Saint and his crew.”
“But I love his house and parties,” Martha laughed, clearly oblivious to Loni’s growing irritation. “It’s an early 2002 themed one!”
“How fucking creative.” Loni releases a heavy breath of frustration before she speaks again. “Why did you call, Martha?”
“Oh, yeah! Can I get a ride?”
“But you’re having so much fun. Why ever would you want to leave?” Still, even as Loni says this, she’s already on her feet and searching for her keys.
“I want tacos, and there aren’t any here,” Martha explains. “Also, I’m drunk, and they won’t give me back my keys.”
Loni’s eyes shut for several long moments, but then she sighs, “Of course I’ll come get you. Just … don’t do anything stupid until I get there, okay?”
“You’re the love of my life,” Martha declares, then she disconnects the call.
Shoulders slumped, Loni turns to me, nibbling on her bottom lip. “I don’t suppose you’d want to tag along?”
I don’t. I really, really don’t, but I also don’t want Loni going to that lion’s den by herself.
Nodding, I say, “Sure, I’ll come.”
She gives me a grateful smile and we hurry from her room down to her Jeep.
“I can’t believe Martha would do this,” she growls as we drive away from campus toward Saint’s house. “She’s such a traitor.”
“No, she’s not,” I insist. “It’s probably a pretty awesome party because Saint poured so much money into it. You can’t blame her for wanting to check it out.”
She rolls her eyes. “Like hell I can’t. She knows what happens at Saint Angelle parties. She’s an idiot for not steering clear.”
I don’t want to know what happens at his parties, but I immediately imagine an orgy in his basement, or some other just as ridiculous scenario. It doesn’t matter, though. It’s none of my business and I don’t give two shits.
When we reach his house, Loni parks close to his front door.
“I won’t make you go inside,” she tells me as she unbuckles her seatbelt. “Just chill here until I find Martha.”
I try not to let my complete relief show on my face. “All right. Let me know if you need help.”
She nods and gets out of the car. I watch as she hurries to the front door, until movement in my peripherals catches my attention. It’s Liam.
He’s leaning against the side of the house, smoking a joint. As if he can feel my eyes on him, he looks my way, and I freeze, unsure what I should do. Wave?
I’m pretty sure he’s still pissed at me.
To my astonishment, however, he walks over to the Jeep. Loni took her keys with her, so I can’t let the window down. Opening the door, I step out onto the sidewalk just as he reaches me.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, though there’s no heat in his tone. He just sounds genuinely curious.
I stuff my hands in my back pockets and lean back against the car. “Loni had to come by to pick up a friend. I’m just waiting for her.”
“I see,” he says. He takes a puff of his joint before speaking again. “Look, Mallory, you got a minute?”
My eyes widen, and I slowly nod. “Sure.”
“Will you come inside?”
That makes me hesitate. I’m eager to clear the air between us, but the last thing I want to do is step inside Saint’s house tonight. If he spots me, I don’t know what he’ll do. The motherfucker is unpredictable.
“Can’t we just talk out here?”
He shakes his head. “It’ll be all right. I promise. Just trust me.”
I gaze up at the house with uncertainty, but then I meet Liam’s eyes again. He looks so earnest, and I really do want to make things right between us. With a sigh, I relent. “Okay. But just for a little bit.”
“That’s all I ask.”
I make sure Loni’s Jeep is locked, then shoot her a quick text to let her know I’m coming inside to talk to Liam for a few minutes. I follow him up to the front door and tense as we go inside, certain the party will turn on me the moment everyone realizes I’m there.
To my surprise, other than a few nasty remarks and stares that Liam shuts down with a glare, few people actually pay attention to me as we walk through the sea of Von Dutch hats, Juicy Couture velour track suits, and popped Polo collars.