Malice

I don’t want to know what happens at his parties, but I immediately imagine an orgy in his basement, or some other just as ridiculous scenario. It doesn’t matter, though. It’s none of my business and I don’t give two shits.

When we reach his house, Loni parks close to his front door.

“I won’t make you go inside,” she tells me as she unbuckles her seatbelt. “Just chill here until I find Martha.”

I try not to let my complete relief show on my face. “All right. Let me know if you need help.”

She nods and gets out of the car. I watch as she hurries to the front door, until movement in my peripherals catches my attention. It’s Liam.

He’s leaning against the side of the house, smoking a joint. As if he can feel my eyes on him, he looks my way, and I freeze, unsure what I should do. Wave?

I’m pretty sure he’s still pissed at me.

To my astonishment, however, he walks over to the Jeep. Loni took her keys with her, so I can’t let the window down. Opening the door, I step out onto the sidewalk just as he reaches me.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, though there’s no heat in his tone. He just sounds genuinely curious.

I stuff my hands in my back pockets and lean back against the car. “Loni had to come by to pick up a friend. I’m just waiting for her.”

“I see,” he says. He takes a puff of his joint before speaking again. “Look, Mallory, you got a minute?”

My eyes widen, and I slowly nod. “Sure.”

“Will you come inside?”

That makes me hesitate. I’m eager to clear the air between us, but the last thing I want to do is step inside Saint’s house tonight. If he spots me, I don’t know what he’ll do. The motherfucker is unpredictable.

“Can’t we just talk out here?”

He shakes his head. “It’ll be all right. I promise. Just trust me.”

I gaze up at the house with uncertainty, but then I meet Liam’s eyes again. He looks so earnest, and I really do want to make things right between us. With a sigh, I relent. “Okay. But just for a little bit.”

“That’s all I ask.”

I make sure Loni’s Jeep is locked, then shoot her a quick text to let her know I’m coming inside to talk to Liam for a few minutes. I follow him up to the front door and tense as we go inside, certain the party will turn on me the moment everyone realizes I’m there.

To my surprise, other than a few nasty remarks and stares that Liam shuts down with a glare, few people actually pay attention to me as we walk through the sea of Von Dutch hats, Juicy Couture velour track suits, and popped Polo collars.

Jesus, Saint really took the 2002 theme serious.

As we head toward the back, I try not to think about the last time I was here. Back when Saint and I weren’t … terrible for each other.

Well, I guess that’s not totally true.

We’ve always been terrible for each other, but I just didn’t know it quite so well then as I do now.

Liam leads me out to the back deck with its gorgeous ocean view. There are a few people out here already, but he snaps at them to get lost. They all scamper away into the house, and I’m reminded that Saint isn’t the only god at this school.

He’s just the most wrathful.

When we’re alone, Liam leans against the deck railing and gazes over at me.

“I’m sorry I’ve been such a dick this week,” he says after several beats.

I blink, surprised he’s apologizing so easily.

“It’s okay. I mean, it’s not, but you get what I mean.”

He chuckles. “Damn, Mallory. You really don’t hold back, do you?”

I shrug, gri

“It’s one of the things I like about you.”

This feels good. I’m relieved we can be civil. I hate when I’m at odds with Liam because he feels like the only true ally that I have other than Loni and Henry. The thought of losing that, and him, makes me anxious.

“I’m glad you wanted to talk,” I confess. “I was afraid I’d lost not only my pool but my swimming buddy as well.” I try to keep things light to keep from straying into touchy territory, but his expression darkens, and I think I might have stumbled onto a hidden landmine anyway.

“You get why I’m pissed though, right?” he asks, his tone hardening.

“Yeah, I get it. You don’t like me with Saint, and—”

“Fuck, Mallory!” He pushes away from the railing and advances on me. “How many times do I have to tell you to stay away from him?”

“Liam, I’m sorry, but you’re not my—”

He carries on as if I’m not trying to speak, “You know how much of a fucking fool you are, right? You keep letting him reel you back into his shit. Why?”

My anger burns to life hot and fast. I’m so sick of hearing this from him over and over again. Yeah, messing around with Saint may be a huge mistake, but it’s my mistake to make, and Liam doesn’t get a fucking say in it.

“You know what?” I snap. “I don’t need this bullshit from you. I get enough of it from him already.”

“Bullshit? You think looking out for your wellbeing is bullshit?”

“No, but holding every little thing I do that you don’t like over my head sure as fuck is! He’s your friend.” I’m shouting, and I don’t care. I don’t care if the whole party hears me rip into him. “I get that you and Saint have some weird history of screwing around with the same girl, but I’m done. With all of you.”

I rush back into the house before he can stop me. I don’t want to go back through the main area of the party, so I take the back staircase up to the second floor. Even though it’s been months, I still remember the layout of the house and navigate my way easily through the hallways toward the front staircase. My plan is to hurry down it and slip outside without anyone noticing me.

When I pass by Saint’s bedroom door, I pause. I can’t help myself. I stare at the dark wood and feel my heart clench. As stupid as it sounds, I wish I could go back to that holiday weekend we spent here. It was so peaceful, and I’d been so happy having it be just the two of us together. I’d naively thought the worst was behind me at that point and was hopeful that the rest of my time at Angelview would improve.

How so terribly wrong I’d been.

As I’m standing and staring at Saint’s door, I suddenly hear footsteps approaching and voices softly talking. I tense, listening as the footsteps near the corner just ahead of me. The voices grow louder, and I’m able to recognize them.

All the blood drains from my face.

It’s Laurel and Rosalind, and they appear to be having a pretty heated discussion.

“I just don’t get what’s so special about that little country bitch, anyway,” Laurel hisses.

Oh, shit. They’re talking about me. Terrified of getting caught in the hallway while they’re shit-talking me, I instinctively reach for the doorknob to Saint’s room and slip inside. I softly close the door behind me and press my ear against the wood, ignoring the memories of Thanksgiving break that try to push their way to the surface of my mind.

“You never have been able to see it, have you? Why Saint doesn’t want you,” Rosalind finally says, which earns her a sniff from Laurel. “Sorry for being honest but it’s the truth and that’s not Mallory Ellis’s fault.”

Holy shit. Is she actually taking up for me? Again?

Laurel must think so because she growls, “God, are you fucking that slut, too? Why’d you even come back anyway?”

Rosalind is silent for a long pause where I hold my breath, but then she murmurs, “Because Saint asked me to.”