Eden

When I turn my head to look, she makes a noise that sounds like an objection, but I ignore it. I freeze and my jaw clenches when I see the girl that I first spotted with Saint holding him around the waist.

“Ellis,” Liam groans, “don’t watch that shit.”

Before I can look away, though, I hear a clicking sound next to me. Turning, I find one of Laurel’s friends taking a picture of Saint and the girl. She’s smirking, and though she’s not looking at me, it’s obvious she knows I’m right there.

“Well, well, looks like Saint’s found himself a new toy,” she says in a taunting voice.

“Get out of here, Jessica,” Rosalind hisses.

The girl, Jessica, shoots Rosalind the finger then gives me a haughty look before turning and disappearing into the crowd.

I stare after her, too afraid to look back at Saint. If he starts making out with that girl, I’m going to lose my fucking mind.

“Mallory? Are you okay?” Rosalind’s voice is soft and concerned.

I’m far from okay, but I’ll never admit out loud how much Saint’s actions are killing me.

I force a smile and shrug. “Yeah. I’m good. I just need a bathroom.”

“Up the stairs to the left,” Liam instructs.

“Thanks,” I choke out.

I move toward the staircase without a moment’s hesitation, but once I reach the banister, I can’t help myself and glance back over my shoulder. Saint’s staring at me, his eyes wide, as if he’s shocked to see me. That girl is still wrapped around him, giggling and staring up at him with clear desire in her gaze.

I tear my eyes from his, unable to maintain my composure a moment more, and I bolt up the stairs. Following Liam’s directions, I find the bathroom, which is thankfully unoccupied. Stepping inside, I slam the door shut behind me and lock it, then move toward the sink to turn on the cold water. I cup my hands under the faucet and when they’re full, I splash the cool liquid against my face.

Sonofabitch. My hands are shaking and I feel on the verge of crying. I wish I hadn’t come here. I wish I hadn’t seen that. I wish it didn’t hurt as much as it did watching him flirt and smile at someone other than me.

Not that he really flirts with me.

Or smiles.

That realization just makes everything worse, though.

Bracing my hands on the countertop, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I hardly recognize myself. My eyes are bleak, my dripping face thin and pale. When did I lose so much weight? I look devastated, and that guts me. I’ve been reduced to a pathetic mess because of that fucker.

God, how am I supposed to get out of here without anyone seeing me like this? This is beyond humiliating. I especially can’t let him see me like this, or he’ll lord is over me.

I stay in the bathroom until I begin to look a little less insane. My face dries and some color comes back into my cheeks. My eyes look a little less deadened, which is probably about as good as it’s going to get. It should be good enough to slip out of the party, at least.

Taking a deep breath, I move across the room to open the door.

I let out a startled cry when I find Saint standing just on the other side of the threshold.

“Thought you were busy.”

He doesn’t react. In fact, he doesn’t say a word. He just stares down at me for long, u

I blink up at him as my frazzled mind scrambles to come up with a reply.

“I came with Loni.”

He suddenly walks forward, herding me back into the bathroom. Slamming the door shut behind him, he takes a moment to lock it before leveling me with a glare.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

I gape at him. “Since when do you tell me where I can and can’t be? And why shouldn’t I be here?” I demand. “Because you don’t want me to see you being a slut with every girl that bats her eyelashes at you?”

I hadn’t really meant to tell him how furious I am, but the words are past my lips before I can stop them, and there’s really no point trying to take them back. So, instead I just glare at him as he chuckles, clearly entertained by my anger.

“Did you just call me a slut?”

I roll my eyes. “The word has never fit someone so well as you.”

“Are you jealous?” The question is almost teasing, which just infuriates me all the more.

“I’m not jealous. I’m just sick of your bullshit emotional games. One minute, you try to be my knight in shining fucking armor, and the next you act as if I don’t exist and completely abandon me to go off and fuck random girls who just trip all over themselves to get to your dick.”

As I’m talking, his face darkens, his smirk disappearing. Anger lights up in his eyes, but it doesn’t stop my rant.

“You think I’m playing emotional games?” he says once I stop talking, his voice low and vibrating. “You’re the queen of them, Mallory.”

“What are you talking about? I haven’t played any games with you.”

I’ve only ever been trying to survive his.

He leans over me, and I’m tempted to step back and away from him, but I hold my ground. I can’t give him an inch, or he’ll walk all over me.

“I told you I love you. And instead of saying it back, you tell me we can’t be together. You get jealous when I talk to other girls, but then you go and flirt with my best friend.”

“I—”

“If you think I’m interested in any other girl at this school, you’re an idiot. If you think I was going to fuck anyone at this party, you’re an even bigger idiot,” he growls, ignoring my denial. “You make everything about you. It’s always about your problems, but have you ever stopped to consider the shit I’ve gone through?”

My anger spikes again at his self-centered dismissal of the bat-shit crazy nonsense that’s happening in my life. Problems? What problems could he possibly have?

“I’m so sorry your life is so damn hard,” I spit out. “It must be so difficult being a billionaire and having everyone do everything you say all the time. I suppose you do have a psychotic killer for a father to worry about, so you’re right, both our lives suck an equal amount.”

“You’ve no idea.”

I pause and frown. His voice has turned hollow, and I’ve never heard him sound so … broken, before. “Saint,” I say in a softer tone, reaching out to him. “What do you mean?”

His nostrils flare and his mouth becomes a hard line. It’s clear he doesn’t want to delve into the topic, which only makes me need to know more.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

He stares down at me, his eyes wide and momentarily panicked. I watch him glance toward the door, and it’s obvious he’s considering bolting on me. With a gentle touch, I grab his hand to keep him there with me. He jolts at the contact, his gaze swinging back to meet mine.

“Mallory…”

“Just trust me, okay?”

It doesn’t look like he wants to trust anyone, but I hold his gaze, refusing to let him get away from me. Not now. Not after he started this.

At length, he seems to realize that, because he lets out a sigh of defeat and shakes his head. “You really want to know just how fucked-up my life has been?”

“Seems only fair,” I reply. “You know how fucked up mine really is.”

“Fine.” Giving me a tight smile, he cocks his head. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Anxiety blooms in my chest, but I shake my head.

“Try me.”

His lips dip into a heavy frown. Taking my hand, he urges me over to the toilet and has me sit on the lid. Leaning against the countertop, he crosses his arms and stares at the wall above my head.