Saint

“Whatever, Momma,” I finally say. “You’ve obviously called for something.”

“I just wanted to check in on my baby girl and see how you’re doing in that fancy new school of yours?”

Bullshit. “I’m fine. School’s fine.”

“Mal, you’re being difficult.”

Mother, you’re being impossible.

“What do you want me to tell you?” I ask. Maybe if I can glean more specifics from her, I’ll be able to figure out what she’s really after.

“Have you made any friends?”

Plenty of fucking enemies. “A couple,” I say, thinking of Alondra and Henry.

“How’re your grades?”

Like you care. “It’s still a little early in the semester, but I think I’m good so far.”

“Who all have you met there? Anyone famous I would know?”

I fight not to groan out loud. “No one famous that you would know. Just a bunch of rich kids with silver spoons shoved up their butts.”

“Like who?”

I pause. This feels … strange. Why’s she asking me so many questions about school and the people I know? She never bothered to ask me this stuff when I was at my old school.

“Why the sudden interest in my social life, Je

It takes her a few moments to answer, which I interpret to mean she doesn’t have a ready lie. “I’m just surprised you’ve made it this long and was wondering if you had people who were helping you out.”

The insult hits me harder than it probably should, but every criticism sounds so much worse when it comes from my own mother. “What does that mean?”

She sighs. “Look, sweetie, I know you were smart at your old school, but your old school was shit. Angelview’s a whole different league, baby girl. Those kids grew up with tutors and the best education money could buy. It’d be understandable if you were, well, behind.”

I bristle immediately. “I’m not behind.”

First Saint and his cronies, now my mom. Why are there so many people that think I should quit this place? That I’m incapable of surviving here?

I’ll show them all. I won’t just survive, I’ll thrive!

“I’m sure you’ll do just fine, baby girl—”

“Don’t call me baby girl,” I snap. It doesn’t sound genuine when she says it, not like when Carley calls me that. “You don’t get to disappear on me for months, then call like it’s no big deal and call me baby girl like you actually give a fuck about me.”

“It’s not my fault I had to disappear, remember,” she hisses right back. “It’s not my fault I had to go into hiding to protect your stupid ass. Stop blaming me for being a bad mother when you’re the one who couldn’t—”

“You are a bad mother!” I roar.

“If you hadn’t killed the goddamn quarterback, we wouldn’t be in this situat—”

I hang up on her and power off my phone. I can’t hear anymore, and I’m furious she would bring up James to me like that.

“Fucking bitch,” I growl, tears pricking at my eyes. My blood is hot, and my heart is racing. I’m tense and angsty now, which is usually how I am after talking with Je

The warmth and smell of the pool help calm my nerves as I step through the doors to the big room. I take a deep breath and my eyes scan the waters for Liam, as if driven by instinct. When I spot a big body cutting through the water, it takes me a moment to process that it’s not the boy I’m expecting. The muscled back and arms are clear of any tattoos, and I can tell his hair is blond, even though it’s darkened by the water.

It’s not Liam coming up for air by the pool’s wall.

Liam’s eyes are dark, not ice blue.

It’s Saint, and he’s smirking at me.

“Fuck.” The word’s out of my mouth before I can stop it.

Moving toward the ladder, he pulls himself out of the water and I can’t keep from staring at him. His body is … holy shit. I can’t think. I can’t even move as he saunters toward me. A voice in my head is telling me to run away, but I’m not listening. I’m like a sailor tempted to his doom by a siren, but instead of a beautiful mermaid calling to me, it’s a sexy demon who’s going to prove my downfall.

“Like what you see, Ellis?” he asks, stopping in front of me. He’s dripping wet and doesn’t bother with a towel as he seems to put himself on display. Arrogance makes his eyes bright, and his mouth is still curled up in a cruel, wicked grin.

I manage to shake off my stupor and remind myself why I hate him. I think about what he did to Nick, what he keeps doing to me, and even remember how angry I am at my mom just to give my fury an extra little kick. Instead of legitimizing his stupid question with a response, I narrow my eyes, turn without a word, and storm right back out of the pool room.

Of course, he follows me.

“Ellis!” he barks, as if saying my name in a threatening voice would do him any good.

I keep going, my flipflops slapping noisily on the vinyl tiles as I make my way back down the hall. Suddenly, just as I reach one of the large trophy cases displayed throughout this building, his fingers wrap around my elbow and he yanks me to a standstill.

I whirl on him. “Get your hand off me.”

“Who do you think you are?” he demands to know, ignoring my words completely.

“Who do I think I am?” I repeat back like some goddamn parrot. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

Without taking his eyes off me, he points to the trophy case. Furrowing my brow, I turn to see what it is he’s indicating. There’s a large trophy dated decades ago, but he’s not pointing at it. He’s pointing at its base, where an old photo rests. It’s faded and folded on one side, but the image is of four boys smiling proudly at the camera, the school gates behind them. I squint and study it closer, as one of the boys kind of looks like Saint, except with dark hair.