Eden

5

7:53 AM: Where are you? I’m worried. Please respond.

I send the text and let out a frustrated breath. It’s Friday morning, and I’m on my way to first period, but my mind’s occupied with Liam. There’s still been no sign of him. Worried is an understatement for how I feel. I’m borderline terrified. Saint continues to refuse to tell me anything, and Gabe remains as clueless as ever. I’ve tried texting and calling Liam several times as well, but he’s never answered or responded.

Staring down at my phone’s screen, I have little hope that he’ll reply this time either. As I walk into the academic building, I’m just about to tuck my phone away in defeat when it suddenly pings and sets my heart racing. Disappointment stabs through me when I see that it’s an email, though, not a text.

The email is from Ravenwood’s Headmaster.

Opening it, I skim through the message. Headmaster Poynter suggests I co

I freeze when I see Saint sitting at the desk right behind my own.

Sonofabitch. He’s been doing this in all our classes together. Moving his seat so he gets closer and closer to me, but he never says a word.

It’s fucking a

Storming toward him, I put my hands on my hips and snarl, “What the fuck are you doing?”

He blinks up at me in exaggerated i

Gabe, who’s sitting nearby, lets out a snort. I glare at him before returning my attention to Saint.

“You’re becoming a nuisance. Does Harvard and Princeton know that?”

But I can’t deny I’m envious. While I was a little late getting my college applications out, I’ve yet to hear back from any of the schools I applied to.

Saint leans forward, resting his arms on the top of his desk and gri

“What color panties are you wearing? That’s all I want to know.”

It takes every ounce of my willpower not to slap him right then and there.

Spi

“You didn’t answer my question.” His voice is low, his breath hot on my neck, making me shiver from head to toe.

“It’s none of your business.” I keep my eyes locked straight ahead. The teacher is calling the class to order, but I’m not naïve enough to think that’ll stop Saint.

“Maybe you’re not wearing any.” He must be leaning so far forward that he’s right behind me. I feel his fingertips on my nape, and my thighs clench when he tangles a lock of my hair around them. “Is that it, Mallory? Did you not wear panties, just hoping I’d want to sneak a taste of your pretty pussy between classes? I knew you were full of shit when you said you were done.”

I’m shocked he’s talking to me like this with other people around, but I also don’t think anyone else can hear him. His words have what I’m sure is the desired effect as my nipples pebble beneath my blazer and button-up shirt and my center clenches. God, how can he get me so worked up with just a few crude words?

“Back off, Saint,” I whisper out of the corner of my mouth. “We’re in class.”

“That just makes it hotter, doesn’t it?”

It does, actually, but fuck if I’m going to admit it.

“You still mad at me?” he asks, knowing full well that I am still fucking mad at him.

“What do you think?”

He chuckles softly then blows a puff of air against the shell of my ear. I squirm involuntarily in my seat.

“I think a rough dirty fuck would make you feel just as good, but if it helps, I’m sorry.”

I tighten my hands into fists as anger and lust battle for control of my body.

“Thanks for the half-assed apology, but I only care about one thing at this point. Where’s Liam?” I growl, hoping not only to change the subject, but to catch him off guard.

“I’m not his fucking keeper,” he snarls back. “Are you trying to make me jealous or some shit?”

“No, you arrogant ass.” I glance toward the front of the room to make sure Mrs. Hadley hasn’t noticed us, and then I ask, “Have you done something terrible to him?”

He goes silent for several tense moments, and I can’t even hear him breath.

“You really think I would?” he asks at length, his tone hard.

I gulp, afraid of stepping into dangerous territory here.

“I … I don’t know.”

“I didn’t do shit to Liam.” He sounds furious, but it’s not like he’s done much to dissuade my suspicions in the past. Saint is capable of doing horrible things to people, even those who’re supposed to be close to him.

Just look at everything he’s done to me, and we’re about as close as two people can physically get. Emotionally, though, we’ve never felt further apart.

“Then where is he? You have to know.” Nothing happens around here without Saint knowing.

“Fucking ask him yourself.”

I flinch at the harshness in his tone.

“I’ve … tried,” I confess.

That earns me a dark chuckle. “And here I thought that fucker would bend over backwards to make you happy all for a shot at seeing your tits and a raincheck for a rub and tug. Yet now he’s ignoring you. Hilarious.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

I wish we didn’t have to have this argument right here. I feel like I’m at a huge disadvantage with him at my back. It’d be so much better if I could look him in the eye as I tell him to fuck off.

“It’s fu

My shoulders stiffen at his words. “What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

I do. Of course, I do. The image of Jon Eric floating in that pool rises in my mind, a horrific memory I know I’ll never be able to forget, no matter how much time passes me by. I never asked Saint if he had anything to do with it because I know he didn’t. It’s not a mystery to me who killed Jon Eric, but I can’t tell Saint that. So, I keep my mouth shut.

My silence seems to have the opposite effect I was hoping for, however. I think I accidently confirm whatever suspicions he’s already got in his mind.

His breath brushes my ear again and he whispers, “We both know why you didn’t ask me, Mallory.”

“Because you assume I did it,” I hiss back.

“You don’t really think that, do you? You couldn’t hurt a fucking fly, little masochist.”

“I’m not doing this with—”

“But you know why you haven’t asked me?” he interrupts, his breath hotter against my nape—almost scalding. “Because you already know I’m i

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit.

I keep my gaze locked straight ahead and don’t give him anything else.

It’s too little too late, though. If Saint thinks I know who killed Jon Eric, he won’t stop until I confess it to him.

I’m able to find some distraction that night when I go to help Loni get ready for her date with Brandon. Still, Saint’s remarks from class still haunt me, as well as some new information I uncovered about Nora and Je