Malice

14

“Mallory! Open up! We’ve got tequila!”

I shake my head, gri

“What all this for?” I ask.

She holds the two shot glasses in her hands above her head and declares, “We’re here to get shitfaced!”

Henry shakes his head with a chuckle. “Mostly, we’re here to cheer your cute ass up.”

“Ahh, you guys are the best.” I step aside to let them in, then shut the door behind us.

Loni crosses the room to plop down on my bed, and Henry puts the pizza box down on my desk.

“You guys didn’t have to do this,” I tell them, even though I’m more touched than they could possibly know.

“When you weren’t in class today, we got worried,” Loni explained as she unscrewed the cap to the tequila. “Have you ever skipped class since you got here?”

I shake my head. “No, I haven’t. Today, though, I just … I just needed—”

Loni puts her hand up to silence me. “No need to explain. Totally understandable. I’m just so sorry I wasn’t there to defend you, Mallory. I’m so pissed at myself for letting you down.”

“You didn’t,” I insist quickly. “I promise, I’m fine. It was just stupid people being stupid and taking advantage of Monday morning faculty meetings and no adult supervision.”

Besides, the last thing I want is for Loni to feel responsible for my wellbeing. She’s done more for me than I could’ve ever hoped for from anyone in this place. The truth is, though, everyone else hates me and a lot of them want to hurt me. She can’t always be there to protect me.

“Dude, there’s literally a bruise forming on your cheek,” she points out. “Don’t stand there and tell me you’re fine when you clearly went through something fucked up at the hands of that bitch Laurel.”

She’s right, and I can’t deny it, but I don’t tell her how bad things really are. I don’t tell her about all the vicious texts I’ve gotten today telling me I should kill myself, or the disgusting ones from guys showing me their dicks and asking to fuck me. My phone’s on silent now because I simply can’t take it anymore.

“Let’s drink,” I rasp, hoping to distract her from what happened this morning.

Loni appears hesitant for a moment, but I hit her with some puppy dog eyes and she releases a heavy sigh.

“Fine, fine. Let’s drink until we forget that this school is full of assholes like the stepshitster.”

She hands me the bottle and a glass, and I take a shot. The tequila burns as it flows down my throat, but it’s smooth and expensive tasting and I savor the heat as I pass the bottle back to Loni. She takes a long drink herself, then holds it out to Henry. And around and around we go until my head is fuzzy and my body is loose.

We talk and laugh, finding every mundane little thing we talk about hilarious. The pizza’s gone before too long, and soon after, we’ve drunk half the bottle. The night wears on, and I don’t give a shit that we’ve got class tomorrow. I don’t give a shit about anything at the moment, except Loni and Henry and the blissful buzz numbing my brain.

Around midnight, she staggers to her feet and burps before a

“Noooo, don’t go!” I beg, my words slurred.

She grins and pats me on the top of my head like I’m a dog. “Skipping class two days in a row is a no, no. Go to sleep, drunky.”

I pout, but drunk Loni is surprisingly firm once she’s made a decision. Pushing to my feet, I walk them to my door and wave as they make their way down the hallway, leaning on each other for support. Once Henry drops Loni off at her room and then disappears from sight, I shut my door again and lean against the cool wood.

I let out a deep breath. Now that I’m alone, I realize how sleepy I am and bedtime suddenly sounds like such a good idea…

A knock on the door officially shits all over that plan. I jump away from it with a cry before turning around to answer it.

“Loni, did you forget—” I fall silent when I see that it’s not Loni, but Liam standing in my doorway. I’m surprised, and somewhat … disappointed.

Because he’s not Saint?

God, I need help. I’m so messed up in my head, even drunk me knows how fucked up that thought is.

“Liam,” I squeak. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

His eyes scan my face and darken slightly before he answers, “I wanted to make sure you were okay. You weren’t in any of our classes today, but then I heard you in there with your friends, and I…”

He trails off and tugs at his sleeves, a clear indication that he’s uncomfortable. I decide to take pity on him and invite him into my room.

“It was sweet of you to check on me,” I murmur as I close the door. “Did you wait all night for them to leave?”

He shakes his head. “Nah. Once I heard you had company, I went to the pool for a bit and came back to check a few minutes ago. I spotted Henry and Loni leaving your room and figured it was safe now.”

“You okay?” I ask. He looks agitated.

“Am I okay? How’s your face?” he asks through gritted teeth, his dark eyes landing on my bruise.

I self-consciously brush at it with my fingertips, but then shrug as if it’s no big deal and whisper, “It’s fine. Really. Looks worse than it feels.”

“Good to hear.” He still looks angry, but I don’t think it’s just about my bruises.

“Really, Liam, you can tell me what’s bothering you,” I insist. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Just let it go, Mallory. It doesn’t concern you.”

I’m a little taken aback. If he doesn’t want to tell me what’s wrong, then why the hell did he come to my room?

“Just tell me! Don’t be such a fucking drama queen—”

He suddenly grabs the back of my neck and yanks me into his broad chest. When his lips come crashing down on mine, I let out a gasp, shocked. His tongue slips into my mouth as he kisses me deep. My fingers curl into his t-shirt, but I’m not really pulling him closer. I just need to hold onto something to keep me upright.

Right?

His other hand comes up to skim my cheek, but he doesn’t try to touch me anywhere else. Our bodies are pressed so tightly together, though, that I can feel every hard ridge of his torso beneath his shirt. His kiss is good, like it was the night of the masquerade, but strange. My mind is telling me to kiss him back. To respond. To forget all about Saint because Liam is a good guy who looks out for me.

I can’t, though. I can’t get excited. I can’t enjoy this moment, even though I know I should because it does feel good.

After a few moments, he goes very still and then pulls back to stare down at me.

“What’s wrong?” he asks in a low voice. “You don’t like this?”

I don’t know how to answer that question.

“It’s … it’s not that,” I stammer. My face is hot, and I need him to not be touching me right now. I take a step back to escape his arms.

His brow furrows. “Then what is it?”

“I…” How can I tell him when I’m not even sure myself? When I know I’m crazy and stupid and my hesitation doesn’t make any type of sense?

“Don’t tell me,” he growls, a glimmer of recognition in his brown eyes, “you still want him?”

He doesn’t have to say Saint’s name for me to know that’s who he’s talking about. My stomach twists, and I recognize how fucked up this is. Saint has done nothing but hurt me, again and again. Of the two, Liam should be the clear choice.