Malice

“Mallory, fucking answer me!” He shakes me, but I set my mouth in a stubborn line and maintain my silence.

That pushes him over his limit. He shoves me away and points his finger in my face.

“You’re being a fucking fool,” he spits. “Fucking reckless! If you’d only listened to me … you deserve everything bad that happens to you, you know that? Everything!”

It’s a terrible thing for him to say, but I don’t fully believe him. He wouldn’t be here if he really thought that. He wouldn’t have stepped in to stop Laurel from dumping her tray on me if he really thought that.

He’s angry and upset, but I don’t think it’s really at me.

“Why’d you break up with Rosalind?” I murmur.

He freezes, and it looks like I’ve surprised him.

After a moment, he collects himself and his glare returns.

“Why didn’t you tell me the truth about Porter?”

My stomach weaves itself into knots. I’d realized he’d figured out the truth, but to hear him say it is terrifying. I lick my lips and fight to keep my nerves from my voice as I answer, “Would it have made a difference if you’d known?”

Would it have changed anything between us? Would he have not been interested in me if he’d known I’d fucked my teacher?

He fists one hand in my long dark hair and backs me up until my ass hits my door where he presses his body flush against mine. His mouth lowers to my ear, and for several beats, his breath bursts against the side of my face.

“It would’ve mattered because you belong to me.” Then, leaning back, he rakes his gaze over me again and growls, “Fuck, I hate everything about you.”

I’m overwhelmed by him and this night and confused by his mixed message, so I don’t resist when he pulls me away from the door. He opens it and storms out into the hall, slamming it shut behind him. I stare dumbly at the door, completely at a loss.

What the hell was that?

I can’t wrap my head around Saint and his actions anymore. He’s erratic and contradictory, avoiding me one moment, and possessive the next. Saying I belong to him, then telling me he hates me.

Frazzled, I move to sit on my bed and drop my head in my hands. I just don’t get what he wants from me, and it’s driving me crazy.

I raise my head with a sigh and my eyes fall on the yearbooks scattered across my floor. I decide that might be just the distraction I need, so I move to collect them and bring them back to my bed. Resting against my pillows, I begin searching through the books for any sign of Nora, determined to shove Saint right out of my mind.

The distraction works, and to my surprise and utter disappointment, I don’t see a single image of Nora anywhere. That can’t be right. Brow furrowed, I flip through the pages again and again, going from one book to the next and back again.

Nothing.

There’s absolutely nothing about Nora.

I lean back against my headboard and release a deep breath. This is so weird.

Maybe Je

Groaning, I get out of bed to get ready to go to sleep, gathering up the books and setting them on my desk. My thoughts are bouncing all over the place as I change into my pajamas and go into the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth.

Nora’s on my mind, obviously, but unfortunately, Saint and Jon Eric both slip back in as well. As I slip back into bed, I worry how each of them will come at me next.

I know Jon Eric will try to hurt me again. Badly. I no longer doubt he’s got the balls to do it, either. I’m going to have to be way more careful and not go anywhere on campus by myself.

Hell, I’ll probably have to get Meyers and Fallon involved, which I’m dreading because they’re just waiting for me to cry wolf so that they’ll have a reason to start poking around again.

It won’t be so easy with Saint, though. He just won’t leave me alone, no matter how much he seems to want to, and I can’t seem to resist him when he’s around. It’s sick and twisted, and my fear is that I’ll get sucked back into the shit-tornado he creates whenever he’s nearby if I let him get too close.

The problem is, even when I try to avoid him, he won’t avoid me.

I need to talk to him. I need to demand to know why he keeps playing these games with me. This has to end once and for all, and I’m afraid the only way that’ll happen is if I put on my big-girl panties and confront him head on.

Sleep doesn’t come easily for me that night as I toss and turn, worry eating away at me like poison.

The next morning, as I’m getting ready for the day, exhausted and stressed, my phone buzzes.

It’s a text from Loni, and when I read it, the air leaves my lungs so fast, I feel dizzy.

ALONDRA JAMES: Just heard through the grapevine… Jon Eric’s gone missing.