Malice

11

My stomach is a bundle of nerves all day Sunday. I stay in my room and avoid my friends, certain that I won’t be able to hide something is going on from them. The last thing I need is Loni drilling me, trying to figure out what’s wrong. I’m not sure I’d be able to hide it from her, and I definitely don’t want to have to lie to her.

I’ve done plenty of that already.

But Je

If she can benefit in some way by making me feel like shit, she’ll play that card.

Just like always.

I get a few texts throughout the day from Saint, demanding to meet to talk, but I ignore them all.

Fuck him. He doesn’t get a thing from me.

When Sunday evening rolls around, I try to distract myself by studying for Global History since it’s the one class that I need to put in extra effort for. Dylan’s not going to do me any favors. He’s made that perfectly clear. He doesn’t call on me to answer questions, which I’m sure he’s going to use against me when it comes to my participation grade, but at least he’s stopped letting Laurel get away with whatever she wants. He’d barked at her a few times when she’d started sniping at me, and she’d finally shut the hell up.

I’m so into studying that when my phone finally buzzes, it startles me, and I let out a surprised cry. Taking a deep breath, I dive for the phone to find a text. This time, it’s from Ghost’s number.

UNKNOWN: I’m outside. Come down.

I gulp, my anxiety ratcheting up to a suffocating level. The fact it’s so late is a little u

I have my head ducked, so I don’t see what’s in my path until I run smack dab into a tall, solid form. I stumble back slightly, and two strong hands reach out to grab my arms and steady me. Glancing up, I’m swallow hard when I find Saint looming over me, the night breeze ruffling his blond hair and making him look like a fucking Hollister model.

For the love of God, why does this kind of shit keep happening to me? Why is he always getting in my way?

“What are you doing here?” I gasp. I try to glance over his shoulder to see if I can spot Ghost’s car, but Saint’s too tall.

Shit, shit, shit. He can’t be here.

“I’ve been texting you all day,” he points out coldly. “Why the hell haven’t you been answering me?”

I glare up at him, frustrated and angry and trying to figure out how I can get rid of him quickly. “That’s easy. I don’t want to talk to you,” I answer sharply, pushing out of his hold. “I figured the total silence on my part would’ve made that clear, but I guess I need to spell it out for you. Leave me the fuck alone.”

I step around him and frantically gaze around. My eyes land on a black Dodge Charger parked next to the sidewalk just a little ways down the street. I see Ghost sitting in the driver’s seat, a bored look on his face as he crooks a finger at me.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Saint’s voice is an icy hiss in my ear.

I whirl back around to gape up at him, struggling to come up with something to say. His face is tight, his eyes are flashing, and his cheeks are flushed.

And the sadist in me abso-fucking-lutely loves seeing him like this.

“I feel like I’ve been saying this to you a lot lately,” I say. “But it’s none of your business.”

“Sonofabitch, Mallory. Are you fucking serious?” he demands. “You’re going out with that piece of shit?”

Better he thinks I’m screwing Ghost than know the truth. The last thing I need is Saint doing something stupid to try and stop me from meeting up with Je

“Saint, I don’t have time for your games tonight.” I hold up my hand to stop him when he takes a step closer. “I suggest you go back to Rosalind and get your dick sucked there. I’m not interested anymore.”

I swing around to leave, but he grabs my arm and stops me.

“Mal, don’t.”

I freeze, but not because of his words. It’s because of how he says them. There’s a desperate tinge to his voice, almost as if he’s pleading with me. Bewildered, I stare back at him with eyes wide and lips parted.

“Saint…”

He pulls me closer, and I let him. “Don’t. Not with him.”

A part of me wants to stay. Wants to revel in his scent, still warm and intense. That part of me wants to let go of my anger and fall back into his arms like a fool. To go back to how things used to be—before he stood up in that auditorium and sliced me open with his cruel indifference and betrayal.

To my relief, that thought alone is enough to jolt me from my daze and launch me right back into reality where Saint remains a hateful bastard.

“No,” I mutter with a firm shake of my head. “You fucked up, so now you can fuck off.”

Yanking my arm from him, I give him my back and stagger toward Ghost’s car. Saint doesn’t try to stop me again. He doesn’t say a word as I open the passenger door and climb inside. I look back at him for a moment, and he’s still standing where I left him, gazing at me like he’s lost. Then, his expression morphs to anger, and he stabs his fingers through his hair.

“Your bitch ass boyfriend looks pissed,” Ghost chuckles as he pulls the car from the curb and speeds off down the street the moment I’m settled.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I say, peering out the window at Saint as we pass him by. He meets my gaze, but I quickly avert my attention. Soon enough, he’s out of sight and I relax somewhat and buckle my seatbelt.

Now that I’m not distracted by Angelview’s resident sociopath, though, I’m painfully aware that I’m in a car with a stranger. If Ghost is associated with Je

What if Ghost doesn’t know my mom at all? Or what if he does, but he coerced her into writing that note? What if he’s taking me somewhere to murder me, or he’s a trafficker?

Why didn’t I consider all these possibilities before I got into his fucking car?

Because I’m an idiot who makes stupid decisions like throwing an apple at the most powerful boy in school and making enemies of predatory football players. It’s amazing I’m not dead already.

We drive for what feels like hours but is in reality only about twenty minutes. It’s the most unpleasant twenty minutes I’ve ever spent in a car, even counting that teeth-clenching ride with Laurel and Gabe at the begi