Saint

19

Tentatively, I head toward the dining room, my heart in my throat. There’s no way Je

Bursting through the doors, I come to a stop and gaze around the large room. There are a few lingering parents and students who haven’t made it outside after checking in, but I don’t see any sign of Je

It’s Carley.

She’s sitting at a table by herself, smiling and waving at me. I run toward her, not giving a shit if anyone sees and thinks I’m weird or pathetic. She stands as I near and opens her arms. I fling myself into her embrace, choking on a happy sob.

“Oh, my God! What’re you doing here?” My question is muffled by her shirt, but I don’t want to step away from her yet. I want to soak up her warmth and love and let it heal my poor, shattered soul.

“Did you honestly think I would miss this weekend?” she asks with a chuckle. Pushing me gently back, she grins down at me, her blue eyes glossy with tears. “I wanted it to be a surprise. Did it work?”

“Um, yeah it did! I thought the trip would cost too much—”

“Well, you can thank your little friend Alondra for that part.”

My features crinkle into a deep frown. “What? What do you mean?”

Her expression turns mischievous as she replies, “She didn’t want you to be alone this weekend, so she stole my number from your phone when you were in the shower and invited me out. She even got her dad to pay for my ticket here and back.”

I’m stu

“Well, baby girl. Are you going to show me around, or what?”

I release a heavy, contended breath and bob my head. “Yeah. Let me give you the tour … Mom.”

We both laugh as, arm in arm, we make our way out of the dining hall.

“I can’t believe we’re eating lunch with the freakin’ Juggernaut!”

I shoot a look toward Carley and shush her with a raised brow.

“You’re acting like a crazy fangirl. Calm down!”

Except she doesn’t calm down. She does the opposite of calm down. She turns toward Loni’s incredibly attractive, incredibly ripped father and gushes at him.

“I just have to say, I’m a huge fan!”

Mr. James flashes her a white-toothed smile that even I find swoon-worthy.

“A woman like you, into MMA? You’re a fantasy come to life, huh?”

Carley blushes from her neck to the roots of her blond hair and giggles, and I turn wide eyes toward Loni, who’s staring right back at me.

“What the fuck?” I mouth across the table.

She sloughs off a shrug and shakes her head, looking as baffled as I feel.

Our parental figures are fucking flirting with each other!

Carley and I had met up with Loni and her dad before the picnic, and Carley nearly lost her shit when she’d found out who Mr. James really was. Now, as Loni and I try to choke down our lunches without gagging, Carley and Mr. James are making eyes at each other across the table like goddamn teenagers. It’d be adorable if I wasn’t so weirded out by it.

I think we’re just lucky Loni’s mom is eating with Laurel and her dad a few tables over.

Still, I can’t help gri

Leaning in so I can whisper at Carley’s ear, I say, “I need to go to the bathroom. Try not to jump his bones while I’m gone, okay?”

She whips her head to face me, gawking in shock and embarrassment. “I’m not going to … why would you say that?” She gives me a questioning look, then whispers, “Why? Do you think he’s interested?”

Snorting, I press a quick kiss to her cheek and get up from my seat. Winding my way through the tables, I head toward the dining hall. I make my way into the bathroom, pee, and wash my hands. When I near the door to leave again, I hear voices on the other side. They’re not loud, but they’re tense and heated.

I hesitate, wondering if I should step out and interrupt whoever’s talking, but I’m not willing to be trapped in the bathroom for God knows how long. Cautiously, I open the door and try to sneak out. I gaze around and freeze in my tracks. Between me and the door to the outside is Saint. He’s standing with an older couple, who I assume are his parents, and they appear to be in the middle of a tense conversation.

There’s no way out except past them, so I decide to try and slip back into the bathroom and hide. Waiting it out might not be such a bad idea after all…

Before I can open the bathroom door again, however, Saint’s gaze swings toward me. His eyes widen in disbelief as he stares at me, then they narrow with anger the next moment. Both his parents turn to stare at me, and I’m paralyzed, unable to move from my spot by the bathroom. His mother is tall, platinum blonde, and regal looking. She’s literally looking down her perfectly sculpted nose at me. His father’s eyes become slits as he studies me a little too intently.

Before I can decide whether to slip back into the restroom and pretend this terrible encounter never happened, or dart past them as if I’m not bothered by the awkwardness, Saint storms toward me.

Grabbing my arm, he hisses, “Come with me.” Then, he drags me down the hallway, past his parents, toward the entrance to the dining room.

He shoves me inside the empty space and crowds me up against the nearest wall. His nostrils flare as he asks me in a soft, steady voice, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“What do you mean?” I hiss. “I was just going to the bathroom—”

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he insists in a growl.

My breath catches, and I ball my hands into fists. “Seriously, Saint? Today? Can’t you just—”

“No. You’re not supposed to be here, Mallory. At Parents’ Weekend.” His voice grows harsher, but I still don’t understand why he’s so upset.

“Look, I’m sorry I interrupted whatever you were talking about with your parents, but I swear, it was an accident…”

He slaps his palms against the wall on either side of my head. I gasp and shrink away from him, startled by the look in his eyes. Not just anger, but fear.

What the hell is going on?

“Saint, you’re scaring me. What—?”

“Do you have any brains in that thick head of yours?” he demands. “Can’t you stay out of my fucking way for one fucking day? Just one?”

Fury flares within me and I shove at his chest. Of course, he doesn’t budge, but it’s better than punching him right in his stupid face, though hardly as satisfying. My concern for him vanishes in an instant. I open my mouth, ready to lay into him, when a deep voice booms through the hall and stops me.

“Son, what’s going on? You shouldn’t keep your mother waiting.”

We turn to find his father standing in the dining hall doorway, glaring at us. His icy blue eyes are exactly like his son’s, as are his facial features and build. They’re both tall and broad, though Mr. Angelle is a little softer around the middle. His hair is also dark brown, not blond, with gray at his temples.