Eden

2

I spend the rest of the weekend hidden away in my room like a paranoid coward.

Because I’m just not capable of interacting with other people, I tell Loni I have a stomach virus and have to stay far, far away from everyone. She leaves me several cans of soup outside my door along with a Get Well Soon card featuring a pissed-off kitten that looks suspiciously like Dorito. Thankfully, Saint doesn’t come slithering up to my door. That’s a small miracle, especially because I know he wouldn’t be fooled by my stomach virus bullshit and would say some stupid shit like, “Your pussy isn’t sick. Spread your legs, little masochist.”

Despite my retreat into hermit-status, my weekend is far from restful. At some point on Sunday, maintenance shows up to replace the locks on my door after the request I put in on Saturday afternoon where I lied and said I lost my keys. And then, even with new locks, peace is impossible. There’s just too much weighing on my brain—from Je

Each time, I wake up in a cold sweat, breathing like I just ran for miles without stopping.

When my alarm goes off Monday morning, I’m so tired I almost sleep through it. It’s only in those last seconds before it automatically snoozes that the persistent beeping yanks me awake. I groan and silence the noisy fucker before forcing myself to crawl out of bed.

Dressing quickly, I make my way out of my building, my steps sluggish and my limbs heavy with exhaustion. Crossing the quad on my way to the dining hall, I hear Laurel’s hateful voice cutting through the morning air.

“Someone looks like hot garbage this morning!” she sings nastily. “FYI, hoebilly, double stuffing yourself with random cocks isn’t a good way to spend your Sunday nights if you plan on skanking your way into college.”

It’s not her strongest taunt, and I choose to pretend she never opened her over-plumped lips. I don’t have the energy to deal with Laurel and her bullshit. I keep walking, the spiteful cackling of Laurel’s friends barely registering in my sleep-deprived brain. They don’t follow me, which is a relief, and I continue into the dining hall and grab a tray of food before going to find Loni and Henry.

I spot them, her curly head bent close to his, at our usual table, and a few seconds later, I slump into the seat next to Loni.

“Feeling better?” Henry asks as she shoots me a smile over her shoulder, doing a double take when she takes in my appearance.

“Oh, wow, you look terrible,” she says, never one for mincing words. She plucks at the hem of my rumpled plaid skirt, her lips turning downward. “That stomach thing really did a number on you, huh? You sure you should be out and about right now?”

I nod, waving my hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, guys. Thanks for the soup, by the way, it was great.” I instantly feel like garbage for lying. The cans of soup are still stacked by my microwave, untouched. “I’m just a little tired now. Don’t mind me.”

She doesn’t look like she’s buying what I’m trying to sell, but Henry does.

“So, what are you going to do?” he asks, attempting to bring Loni back into whatever conversation they were having before I stumbled along looking like an extra on The Walking Dead.

She darts her gaze from me to him before letting out a deep sigh. “Well, obviously tell him no. After what he did, he doesn’t deserve shit from me.”

I’m just curious enough that I cock an eyebrow and ask, “Who is he and what did he do?”

Loni nibbles on her bottom lip as she looks back to me. “It’s Brandon. He asked me to prom.”

“That’s unexpected, yes?”

“Yup. But I’m telling him no.”

Still, something in her voice makes me think she really wants to tell him yes. If not, why wouldn’t she have just said no already?

I want to be engaged in this conversation—really, I do—but I just don’t have the energy as my friends verbally skewer Brandon for staying quiet about his teammates’ brutal attack on Nick, Henry’s brother, last year. I’m only half-listening when my attention wanders across the dining hall. I can’t help but feel a little curious if blond Satan’s around. Though I’m grateful he left me alone the rest of the weekend, it was out of character for him to do so.

Maybe he’s just gone back to ignoring my existence again. That’s become pretty typical after we’ve had any kind of sexual encounter.

We fuck. He dips. Rinse and repeat.

My eyes naturally gravitate to his usual table, and sure enough, he’s there. Gabe and Rosalind are with him, a nasty little detail that sends a pang of jealousy shooting through me, but I don’t spot Liam anywhere. That wouldn’t be so unusual, given how tense his and Saint’s relationship tends to be, except he helped Saint with Jon Eric’s body.

The fact that he’s not around makes me … nervous.

Suddenly, Saint’s gaze turns to meet mine and he lifts his chin slightly, as if in acknowledgment. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since he walked me to my dorm late Friday night, and I feel oddly self-conscious. The way he’s staring at me is primal and possessive. More so than any other time he’s looked at me. He’s always claimed ownership over me, but now, after what’s he’s done for me, it feels way more real.

What’s even stranger though is that, instead of revulsion, a strange fluttering starts in the pit of my stomach as I stare back at him.

I tear my eyes away, u

“Are you not eating?” Loni’s asking me just as I turn toward her.

I follow her stare down to my untouched tray, and the sight of the egg white omelet makes my insides roll with nausea. “Stomach’s still a little off.”

Her brow furrows with concern. “Okay, but you should try to eat something today, okay? You can’t just exist on chicken noodle soup.”

I’m not existing on anything, but not because of any stomach virus. I was too stressed out and too freaked out to even bother with eating.

Even now, I don’t feel hungry. My stomach is too knotted.

Still, I force a smile for Loni and move my head up and down. “All right. I promise I’ll try.”

The rest of my day is a complete blur. I’m so out of it, I feel like I’m wading through mud and surrounded by fog. I barely register people’s taunts today, and I don’t remember anything my teachers say in any of my classes.

By the end of fourth period, I’m tempted just to go back to my room and blow off the rest of my day.

Unfortunately, that’s also the moment Saint decides I matter again.

Lucky me.

“Ellis!” His sharp tone startles me, and I whip around to face him. I’m standing in the hallway, and he’s stalking towards me, irritation tugging at his brow, the lights behind him making his messy hair seem like a halo.

He looks like a fallen angel.

“There’s no need to yell at me,” I snap when he comes to a stop right in front of me.

He tilts his head toward the ceiling and releases an exasperated sigh. “I called your name like five times.”

“You did?” I honestly can’t recall hearing it.

“What the fuck is your problem?” he growls, glaring down at me. “Are you drunk, or—”

His words start to blend together as I space out again, and I just stare up at him like an idiot. I watch his lips move, unable to distinguish the words. He’s got such pretty lips. Full and so soft to the touch—it’s amazing how his kisses can be so harsh and demanding.