Saint

“I’m sorry about that, by the way,” he says. “That was a dick move to just ignore you.”

“True.” I nod. “But it’s fine now, I guess.”

We’d managed to meet by up on Wednesday, as pla

“Good,” he says, breaking me from my thoughts. “I don’t want things to be awkward between us.”

I’m at a complete loss. He’s throwing me for a loop, and I’m struggling to keep up. One moment he wants nothing to do with me, the next he’s overly friendly and flirty.

He’s like Saint, except Saint is neither friendly nor flirty.

Saint just expects what he wants when he snaps his fingers, no questions asked.

“Hey, Liam, can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he assures me with an easy grin that seems so out-of-character, I briefly wonder if maybe he has a twin who’s pulling a prank on me.

“So, I was wondering…why did Saint have you watch me at the pool? What was his game?”

Liam’s brow furrows, and he looks less than pleased by my query. “Saint? You want to talk about Saint right now?”

“Well, no, not necessarily…”

He removes his arm from the back of my chair, his scowl deepening. “What makes you think Saint asked me to do anything?”

I’ve upset him, and I could kick myself for it. That’s the last thing I wanted to do.

“Well, Gabe said—”

“Gabe said what? That Saint fucking ordered us to look out for you? Like some goddamn king? Jesus Christ, what is with everyone kissing his ass all the time?”

I wish I could take the question back. I wish I could pluck my words from the air and shove them back into my mouth. Liam’s not just upset. He’s legitimately pissed off.

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

He turns in his chair so he’s facing me. “You think Saint really gives a shit about you? Really? He’s not the type to care about anyone, Mallory. Not you. Not me. Not a fucking soul. The sooner you realize that, the better it’ll be for you.”

Where is any of this coming from? I never thought Saint cared about me. He’s proven time and time again that he doesn’t.

But he saved your life and made you scream his name in pleasure.

Stupid fucking i

“Liam, I—”

He shoves away from his desk, gathering up his things, and storms away before I can get a word in edgewise. Returning to his usual seat, he drops down in the chair and doesn’t even look my way the remainder of the class.

So much for apologies.

The morning of Parents’ Weekend, I’m having a difficult time putting on a cheery smile. It’s got nothing to do with the fact that I don’t have anyone coming to see me. In fact, it’s a relief that Je

No, what’s bothering me are the gods.

Gabe’s probing questions.

Liam’s explosion of temper.

Saint’s icy silence.

He’s gone back to pretending I don’t exist, and I haven’t bothered to try confronting him again. I have a feeling it’ll do little good. If I was smarter, I’d get over his behavior and attitude and carry on with my life like nothing was the matter.

If I was smarter.

But I can’t help my disappointment and sense of rejection. The guy had his lips on my vagina, for god’s sake. The least he could do is fucking look at me when we pass each other on campus.

I make my way toward the picnic to help with final prep. Angelview is crawling with people as other students show off their illustrious school to their filthy rich parents paying for them to go here. Both of Loni’s parents are supposed to be coming, separately of course, so I offered to make sure everything was in place for the big luncheon so she could visit with them and not be distracted. I’m happy to see that everything appears in order when I arrive outside the dining hall. The tables are still perfectly set, and the kitchen staff are busy bringing out the dishes for the buffet.

There really doesn’t appear to be anything for me to do. Should I just go back to my dorm room and hang out until the day is over?

The thought of being alone right now is a little … depressing.

With a sigh, I turn to head back toward my building.

“Mallory!”

I gaze around and see one of the staff organizers, the freshman history teacher, Mrs. Elders, approaching me, a confused frown tugging at her features.

“Hi, Mrs. Elders. Everything okay? I’m here if you need extra help.”

Coming to a pause, she shakes her head. “Mallory, I came to ask why you aren’t with your mom?”

My heart stops. Literally stops.

No. No, she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t dare.

I swallow, but it feels like razor blades line my throat, so I’m fighting to maintain my composure as I wheeze out, “I think there’s been some mistake. Nobody’s coming for me today, Mrs. Elders. The trip was too expensive and—”

“Well, then she must have wanted to keep it a surprise because she checked in not that long ago and is waiting for you to meet her in the dining hall.”

My stomach drops and I think, for a moment, that I might pass out.

I’m so screwed.