Eden

That’s what I try to convince myself.

“Where’s Prince Charming?” Loni asks after the excitement from my a

“Don’t know and honestly don’t care.”

She shifts a dark eyebrow and purses her lips, but before she can voice her opinion, Henry scoots closer, his hazel eyes flashing with curiosity. “Trouble in Eden?”

There’s that name again. Eden.

I let out a laugh, but it’s forced, and we all know it. Still, I roll with it as if nothing’s wrong.

“How can there be trouble in paradise when there’s no paradise in the first place?”

“Right,” Loni drawls, though she doesn’t look convinced—not that I’m surprised. I’m usually a better liar than this.

“I’m sure whatever it is keeping him away is no big deal.” Shit, is he going to avoid me during the day now, too? “He’s probably off ruining some poor, unsuspecting kid’s life just for shits and giggles so he can post about it on his dad’s shitty social media network.”

My dad’s shitty social media network, I mentally correct myself, and I swallow hard and glance away from my friends so they won’t see me flinch when I think of all the trouble NightOwl and the Angelles have brought to my life.

“I don’t know, Mal, doesn’t really seem like his thing anymore.” Loni sips her coffee, peering at me over the rim. I don’t miss Henry’s glance of disbelief toward her.

“Not his thing anymore?” I scoff. “If the guy couldn’t fuck with people, I think he’d wither away to a golden husk.”

“I suppose you do know him better than the rest of us now,” she says. “You’d be the one to know what he’s into or not.”

Henry snorts. “Whatever that is, it’s making Laurel go bald. Stepshitster Dearest has been leaving a trail of stringy blond hair everywhere she goes.”

Loni’s nose crinkles. “If that happens, Poppa Vanderpick will come up with an anti-baldness cream that restores his little demonling to her full bitch glory, then sell it for a hundred times what it’s worth to the masses. But until then…” She directs her focus back to me. “I’ll enjoy watching her unravel over you and her savior.”

She gives me way too much credit and is making it seem as though Saint and I are in an actual relationship, when clearly, that couldn’t be further from the truth.

“We’re nothing.” I resume poking at the fruit in my oatmeal.

“Doesn’t seem to be that way lately. Seems like you’re the only thing he pays any attention to anymore.”

“And this is where I leave you.” I drop my spoon into my bowl and clamber out of my seat, brushing my hands over my ass to ensure that my skirt is in place. “I’ll see y’all in Statistics.”

For the first time in what feels like an eternity, I head to class alone. It makes me nervous, not because I feel like I’m in any danger, but because I don’t know what this means for Saint and me. For us.

Is there an us?

Hell, was there ever an us?

Is that what I want?

I don’t know. I don’t know anything right now, so I just duck my head and keep trudging toward Environmental Lit. When I arrive, though, my heart sinks. He isn’t here. Even as I tell myself maybe he’s ru

Sliding into my seat, I pull out my phone and start to text him but then my fingers freeze over the screen.

What the hell is wrong with me that I’m so concerned about a guy who I have to watch what I say around because he could try to ruin my life at any given moment?

Tossing my phone into my backpack, I give Mrs. Hadley my undivided attention as she begins her lesson on Henry David Thoreau’s “Walking.” My plan when I woke up this morning was to aggressively focus on school, especially after learning of my first college acceptance, so that’s what I’m going to do.

And I’m pretty successful throughout the day.

Between classes it’s hard not to think of him because he’s become such a fixture on my walks from room to room, but once my instructors start talking, I’m able to temporarily push him from my thoughts. It reminds me of why I was always such a good student growing up in the first place.

Learning and hanging out with James was a welcome distraction from the shithole that was my home life.

I make it all the way through third period without losing my mind, and I’m so relieved and proud of myself. I have lunch with Loni and Henry, and to my relief, neither of them bring up Saint at all and we actually have a conversation about something that doesn’t involve Angelview’s resident gods. When I get up to leave the hall to head to History, my shoulders are a little straighter than before. I feel like I’ve overcome a significant obstacle in my life. If I can find other ways to push Saint from my mind, then maybe I can actually move past him and—

“Mallory, wait!”

I freeze, and my stomach twists and turns into tiny knots. Well, hell. I was doing so well and then the tapeworm had to make his grand reappearance.

Stabbing my tongue in my cheek, I twist around to find Saint almost sprinting toward me as I start inside the academic building.

“Yes?” I ask, a little more bite in my voice than I intend.

He doesn’t seem to notice as he stops beside me and wraps his fingers around my arm.

Electricity spirals beneath my skin at the contact, and I inhale sharply through slightly parted lips.

Once more, he doesn’t appear to notice.

“I’m glad I found you,” he pants.

“Where all have you looked?” He knows my schedule backwards and forwards. “I was thinking you’d just decided to ignore the fact that I was alive today. That tends to be our thing, you know.”

He scrubs his free hand over his face, then offers me a ghost of a smile. “Guess I deserve that, huh? Look, Ellis, I’m sorry.”

I take a step back. Saint’s … sorry? In the time that I’ve known him, I can count on one hand the times Saint Angelle has apologized and most of those apologies were dripping with scorn. And now he’s telling me he’s sorry for ditching me? Without sounding like self-serving prick?

“You sick or something?”

He must be because when some giggly brunette toting around a tiny, quilted Chanel backpack purposely bumps into me and mutters, “Baby-killer,” he whirls on her.

“And you’ll be next, bitch, if you don’t fuck off.”

She scurries away, her pink bag flapping against her ski

I rub my temples, squinting up at him. “What was that?”

Putting a little pressure on my arm, he steers me toward a small alcove in the hallway, out of the flow of traffic as other students shuffle along to their classes.

“You and me,” he says in a low voice. “We’re skipping.”

My fingers go still against my temples. It’s such a normal thing to do that I have to repeat what he said just to make sure I heard him correctly.

“That’s what this is?” The corners of my lips twitch despite my irritation with him. “You want me to skip class with you?”

“It’ll be good for you. Your pussy will thank you, Ellis, trust me.”

The body part in question clenches in response. It’s been so long since we hooked-up, I’m tempted to give in and go with him just for that.

As fun and tempting as it sounds, however, I know I have to refuse him. I had come to a decision this morning, and if I give in and break that promise to myself, I’ll be right back to where I was with him. I don’t want that.