Eden

17

“So … what’s going on with Angelle?” Loni questions nearly a week later as we’re walking together down the hall between classes.

My head whips in her direction, my brow creasing into a deep-set frown. “What now?”

She hikes an eyebrow and casts a curious glance over one shoulder.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact Hot Draco is following you around like some angel of death bodyguard. Admit it, he’s looking for someone to off and is pla

I almost choke on my gum at the Harry Potter reference. If Loni knew the half of it, I’m not entirely certain she’d be snorting at her own joke right now. “Oh, that?” I peep back at him as well. He’s close, almost hovering, but he doesn’t walk with us exactly.

Plus, he’s totally silent.

“Obsessed much?” I mouth, and he clutches at the spot where his heart is supposed to be in mock anguish.

When he drops his hands by his side, his lips twist derisively before he mouths back, “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Honestly? I think he’s full of it.

He’s been doing this for a few days now, and I’m not really sure what to make of his behavior. It’s not just the following me around that’s unusual, but he’s been eating breakfast with us every morning, too. It had shocked Loni and Henry the first time he’d parked his perfect ass down at our table—so much that Loni came right out and asked if he’d lost his way to Mount Olympus—but my friends haven’t tried to convince me to make him go away.

Despite being my near constant shadow, though, the one thing he hasn’t been doing is coming to my room at night. And even though I’m grateful for that—because my birth mother is a walking, talking episode of The First 48—I can’t quite wrap my head around his sudden … disinterest.

He’s being so protective of me during the day but at night he goes MIA.

The scary part? That I sort of miss it. Actually, I really miss it. I can’t even be angry at myself for that. Saint is able to make me feel things when he touches me—hell, when he looks at me—that I’d never have imagined possible.

I’m pent up and frustrated, and I don’t know what his game is. Is he intentionally withholding himself from me to make me desperate? Make me pliable and easier to manipulate?

Is he trying to make me want him more than I already do?

Sneaky, gorgeous bastard.

Loni hooks her arm through mine and tugs me close so she can whisper in my ear, “I think someone went and caught some feels, huh?”

A wave of heat spirals through my body, warming my cheeks. “I wouldn’t go that far. He just doesn’t like anyone messing with his toys—and really, that’s all I am to him.”

A pathetic toy that’s currently been shelved.

“Uh-huh, sure. Listen, I’ve known Saint for years. He was a psychopath when I met him, and he’s only gotten worse since. Buttttt … I’ve never seen him get so crazy over a girl before.”

“Crazy being the operative word,” I mumble, breaking away from her for a moment when a group of overeager baseball players come barreling down the hall, chanting about how they’re going to slaughter Lakewood Prep at their game tonight.

From what I’ve head, Angelview’s baseball team blows, but carpe diem and all that shit, I suppose.

Falling back in place beside me, Loni says, “He’s nuts. I don’t know how you’ve dealt with his bullshit all this time. He’s terrible at showing that he cares, but honestly, Mal? Everyone’s wondering what the hell you’ve done to the poor bastard.”

I clutch at the lapels of my blazer, my heart thumping wildly against my knuckles as I quickly attempt to squash the treacherous tendril of hope that starts to unfurl in my stomach.

“I don’t think Saint’s truly capable of caring for anyone,” I say softly, though I peek over my shoulder again to look at him. He’s still there, his face a mask so that I can’t discern what he might be thinking. He tips his head toward me, and I swallow hard, zeroing back in on the hall ahead of me because I’m sure my cheeks are cherry red at this point.

“You think he’ll ask you to prom?” Loni’s asking when I tune back in to her musings. “Or to spend spring break with him?”

Those two upcoming events are the only things people seem interested in talking about these days. Everywhere I go on campus, I’m either forced to listen to someone brag about their plans to traipse across Europe over break or the prom dress their millionaire parents dropped several thousand dollars on. I’ve absolutely no interest in prom—at least, that’s what I keep telling myself—and intend to just stay in my dorm that night. And as far as spring break goes, I can barely afford the Uber ride to meet Bitch Face McMurder for our bi-weekly mother-pawn chats.

Still, it’ll be nice having the campus to myself.

I find myself laughing out loud at the notion that Saint would consider me in his plans for either of those happenings, which evokes a tight-lipped scowl from Loni.

“What’s so fu

“Um, maybe the fact that those are both a hard no. Prom doesn’t really seem like his type of thing, and I’m sure he’s got some exciting, luxurious trip to a tropical paradise pla

And knowing Saint’s appetite, there will be several of those somethings.

My words are casually spoken, but the thought of him with other girls makes my stomach twist painfully. I grit my teeth and shake my head, hoping that dislodges the image of him doing the same things he does with me with someone else.

“Please, it’s obvious to anyone who sees you two together that no other girl can come close. Besides, double-Ds eventually go south,” Loni points out, giving my arm a reassuring squeeze as she nods toward my chest. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

“I’m not worried,” I lie. But if I’m the only girl he’s interested in right now, why hasn’t he been coming to my room?

At that moment, we reach Loni’s classroom.

“I’ll see you at di

Saint glowers at her, then jerks his chin in a way that might be considered friendly.

Once she disappears into her classroom, I turn my attention back to Saint.

“Did Baby Juggernaut forget my fucking name or something?” he demands.

I don’t even bother to give him a recap of Loni and Henry’s newest Netflix obsession and the absolute insanity that is Joe Goldberg and instead edge closer to him, my voice going soft when I speak. “Are you going to keep following me or actually walk with me? We’re in the same class, after all.”

Giving me a rare, genuine smile, he strides forward so we’re standing side by side.

“Didn’t realize you were so eager to be seen with me. Do you want to hold hands? Wear my blazer? Should I have ordered a class ring just so you can wear it around your neck on a janky chain?”

I roll my eyes so hard, it’s a wonder they don’t tumble out of my head and fall to the tile floor. “I already regret this.”

We begin walking together in silence. I’m dying to ask him why he hasn’t come to see me at night, but I’m embarrassed by how nervous I am to find out the exact reason he hasn’t. Also, I’m a little irritated that I now have the image of him getting some vacation strange in my head.

God, why does this have to be so complicated? I almost miss the days when I just loathed him and we hate-fucked on occasion. It was so much simpler then when his sole purpose was making my life hell.