by E. M. Snow
“That’s real enough for me, I guess.”
He releases my hands and moves away from me, but not to leave like I expect. Instead, he stretches out next to me, wraps his arm around my waist, and pulls me back to his chest, as if he knows how much I need someone to hold me in that exact moment.
23
From that night onward, there’s a strange shift between me and Saint during our late-night hookups. As if I’ve broken through a dam with my initial question to him to tell me something real, we find ourselves talking nearly as much as having sex. It’s confusing as hell, and I don’t know what to think about our relationship, or whatever the hell we’ve decided to call this thing between us.
We’re cautious with what we tell each other, but we’re at least telling each other things. He tells me more about his fucked-up family, though he never gets too terribly deep with his feelings on the matter. His father is a megalomaniac control freak who wants his son to follow in his exact footsteps, not only in his profession, but in his personal life as well. Mr. Angelle wants Saint to go to Stanford, just like he did, and wants him to marry a Laurel-type, because that’s who he married, and then have them produce even more demon spawns together.
Saint’s not interested in the life his dad has planned for him at all, and it’s a huge point of tension between them. His mother does nothing to help him, always taking his dad’s side and falling into line with her husband’s wishes just like Laurel would.
One night, he flat out told me that was the main reason he didn’t want her anymore.
“I don’t want a girl who’s going to kiss my ass as often as she sucks my dick. I want a girl who’ll call me on my bullshit—and then suck my dick.”
I called him an asshole, and then proceeded to suck his dick.
The only irritating thing about the new development in our thing together is that he constantly asks me to tell him more about the friend I hurt. He’s like a dog with a bone, and I can’t shake him from the topic. I refuse to expand on the topic because I just can’t go there. Not with him. Not with anyone.
“Why won’t you just tell me?” he asks me one night as we lay curled together in my bed.
“It’s none of your business, that’s why,” I snap back.
He grabs me and pulls me up and over him so I’m straddling his lap, his semi-hard cock pressing against my pussy.
“I’ve given you tons of real bullshit,” he growls. “You’re giving me nothing in return, Ellis.”
“Oh, really?” My voice is snarky as I reach beneath us and wrap my fingers around his dick. “I’m giving you nothing?”
He hardens completely in my hand and I line him up with my entrance. I sink down on top of him and make him forget all about my dirty little secrets. At least for the moment.
I know distracting him with sex won’t always be a solution, however, and I need to figure out what I’m going to do. He’s not satisfied with the small tidbits I feed him about Carley and the few happy memories from my childhood, and I understand why. He doesn’t want my crumbs. He wants the whole banquet that is my complicated, fucked-up life.
Outside of our nightly bang-fests and chat sessions, Saint and I maintain the façade that we still hate each other as thoroughly as we did before. The only other people who know about our thing are Liam and Gabe. Gabe seems cool with it and has even been treating me more and more like a friend, as if by being Saint’s fuck buddy, I’ve somehow made myself worthy of his kindness. Liam, on the other hand, refuses to give me the time of day. He hardly even looks at me anymore when we’re in English class or cross paths on campus.
Things between him and Saint seem to be more tense than usual as well. The one time I was brave enough to ask Saint about Liam, he briefly returned to his old, assholey self and told me to fuck off. I did just that, enraged, but he showed up at my door later that night and did crazy things with his tongue until I forgave him.
I let the matter drop after that. It’s their drama, not mine. I’ve got enough of my own shit to deal with.
Fall break is right around the corner, and apart from Saint, there’re two major events coming up that are occupying the entirety of my brain space. The first is the Halloween Masquerade Ball, which I’m busy helping Loni plan along with her committee. I still have no intention of going, despite Loni, and surprisingly Saint’s insistence that I should.
The second big event are tryouts for the swim team. I’m more than ready for them, but I can’t help feeling nervous. It’s been so long since I competed, I hope I’m ready for that pressure to be placed back on my shoulders.
The morning of the tryouts, I’m making my way across campus to the rec center to get ready, when I run into the very last person in the world I ever want to see.
Laurel.
She’s alone for once, no Trust Fund Barbies in sight, but a part of me expects them to burst out of the bushes at any moment and surprise attack me with socks filled with jewelry from Tiffany’s.
I stop in front of her, wary.
“Can I help you with something?” I ask, cocking my eyebrow.
She tilts her chin up and levels me with her cockiest glare. “Heard you were trying out for the swim team today.”
I shrug. “So? What’s that got to do with you?”
She folds her arms and juts out her hip. “Oh, I just wanted to wish you luck.”
“Fuck off,” I growl, moving to step around her, but she’s faster and blocks my path.
“I’m serious,” she insists.
Like I’d ever believe her bullshit.
“I don’t have time for this, Laurel. I need to get ready.”
Laurel shoves her hand against my chest to stop me. “Look, here’s the truth. I want you to make the team because if you’re busy with swimming, you won’t have time to distract Saint.”
I blink. Several times. “Distract Saint?”
She gives me a look that tells me she thinks I’m a fool. “He’s obviously interested in you, but you’re just a shiny new toy for him to play with when he’s bored. If you’re not around to give him attention, he’ll get over you and come back to me.”
I can’t believe how desperate she is.
“Do you even really like Saint, Laurel, or do you just like that everyone else fears him?”
Her face goes bright red and I can tell I’ve pinched a nerve. Instead of screaming at me like I expect, however, she takes a moment to cool herself down before talking again. “I get it,” she mutters. “I can see why you’d think that, but what do you care? You don’t even like him. Wouldn’t you rather he pay attention to me and leave you alone?”
She clearly doesn’t know Saint and I are sleeping together, which is a relief. The last thing I needed is her boiling a bunny and leaving it outside my door.
“Look, I don’t know what your history with Saint is, and I don’t want to know. All I can say for certain is he’s a guy that won’t do anything he doesn’t want to do. If he doesn’t want to do you, keeping me busy and away from him isn’t likely going to change that.”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” she hisses. “Look, you don’t need to believe me, but as a show of good faith, here.” She roots around in her giant designer bag for a moment and then produces a fancy glass bottle of water.
“What’s this?” I ask, instantly suspicious.
“A peace offering,” she explains. “Just for today. To say good luck on your tryouts.”
I eye the bottle like it’s a viper readying to strike.
“What’s in it?”
She rolls her eyes. “It’s fucking designer water. Look, the seals not even broken.”
I inspect it more closely, and she that she’s telling the truth about the seal at least. Hesitantly, I reach out and take the bottle from her.
“Thanks, I think…”
“You need to stay hydrated so you don’t cramp up and fuck everything up,” she says. Then, she lifts her nose and marches past me. I guess we’re done with the conversation.<
br />
Snorting, I twist off the cap of the peace water and take a healthy swig as I continue on my way to the rec center.
She poisoned me. The bitch fucking poisoned me!
I’m so stupid. I shouldn’t have trusted her. I should’ve known she had some diabolical plan up her sleeve. When I got to my locker in the rec center, the door had been opened, which was my first sign that something was seriously wrong. When I looked inside, my school issued swimsuit for the tryouts had the word SLUT written in big red letters on the front. I’d stared at it in horror, my mind scrambling to come up with some way to fix it.
Then my stomach gurgled.
I barely made it to a toilet stall before the disaster started. My stomach was cramping, and it just wouldn’t stop. By the time I was able to stagger out of the stall, my face was wet with tears and my stomach was completely empty, yet still somehow cramping. There was no way I was going to be able to try out for the team in this state. With a choked sob, I ran from the locker room and didn’t stop running until I reached my dorm.
The bathroom drama continued for the rest of the day, and I ignored all messages asking me about the tryouts. I did send a quick email to the coach, explaining how I’d gotten suddenly sick, so she wouldn’t think I’d just bailed for no reason. The only other person I bothered to communicate with was Saint. Just one, simple text to tell him I wouldn’t be in the mood tonight.
4:51 PM: Your girlfriend poisoned me, so no tryouts, and no sex. I’ll be too busy destroying my toilet. Jerk off to that image, asshole.
I had no reason to be so mean to him in my message, but I was angry and heartbroken, and Laurel’s animosity toward me was, in part, because of him. After I sent my text, I turned my phone off and curled up in my bed to cry until I had to run to the bathroom again.
I’ve fallen into a terrible pattern. Curl up and cry, run to the bathroom. Rinse, repeat. By the time night falls, I’m exhausted and totally empty. Any attempts at food have only resulted in immediate trips to the bathroom. I think I might need to go to the ER, but I’m worried about the cost for a visit. Maybe if I make it through the night, it’ll be better by morning?
As I weigh the pros and cons of a trip to the hospital to make sure I’m not dying, my laptop, which is sitting open on my desk, pings. With a groan, I crawl out of bed to see who could be emailing me at this, my lowest point in life?
To my surprise, it’s the swim coach.
Ellis,
I’m sorry you weren’t feeling well today. I was looking forward to seeing you swim. Don’t worry, though, your friend Saint sent me the video of your personal practice, and I’m more than satisfied with the performance I saw in it. There’s a spot for you on my team, if you still want it.
Coach Friedricks
I have to reread the email at least three more times before it sinks in that I’m on the team. What’s even more surprising? Saint’s the one who got me my spot!
When had he filmed me swimming?
I don’t bother to think about why he did it. I’ve got a pretty good idea, and it’s gross.
Just as I’m finishing my fourth read through of the email, there’s a knock on my door. I frown, because there’s only one person I think it could be, and I told him not to bother visiting tonight. Moving across the room, I open my door, and sure enough, Saint is standing on the other side.
“Hey,” I murmur, gazing up at him and feeling overwhelmed with emotions I can’t really explain.
“Hey,” he replies with a tilt of his chin. “Wanted to stop by and check on you. Make sure Laurel hadn’t killed you with those eye drops.”
Eye drops.
Well that explained the diarrhea.
“How’d you get it out of her she used eye drops on me?”
“Laurel’s not great at keeping things from me,” he explains. He seems … off tonight. He’s not trying to come in, and he’s got his hands tucked into his jeans’ pockets in a way that makes him seem nervous.
“Are you okay?” I ask, turning my attention back up to his stormy eyes.
He shakes his head but won’t meet my gaze for a moment. “Yeah, I’m fine. You seem good too, so I’ll just go—”
“Wait!” I reach out and grab his arm to hold him still. He stares down at my hand, then up into my face. “I-I wanted to thank you for what you did. Emailing the swim coach that video and all. She … she said I’m on the team.”
“Good to hear,” he replies, his voice gruff. “Congrats.”
I lick my lips, baffled by his behavior. “Why’d you do it?”
He knew how much I wanted to make the team. Is it possible he sent the video because he knew how crushed I’d be?
He stares down at me for several moments, then dips his head to press a kiss to my forehead.
“Get some rest, little masochist,” he says, offering no answer to my question. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Before I can string together two words to ask him to stay, he’s turned and walking down the hallway, leaving me feeling breathless and more confused than ever.
24
“I’m serious, Mallory. You need to report that shit.”
I shake my head at Loni and sigh. “I’d rather just forget about the whole thing. I still made the team, so it’s not that big of a deal anyway.”
She stares at me with wide eyes. “Not that big of a deal? She poisoned you! You know eye drops can kill you, right?”
I do know, but I also know there’s little point in reporting Laurel to the administration for what she did. They’d probably just give her a pat on the wrist and send her on her way.
“Look, it all worked out, so I don’t want to stretch this whole ordeal out any longer than necessary, okay?” I make my eyes big and stare at her with a puppy dog face.
She arches a brow. “You know that doesn’t work on me, right? I’m a cat person, remember?”
“Well I do now,” I grumble.
She chuckles and I grin as we walk in the campus’ large mailroom. We always check our mail together after lunch, and every once in a while, I’ll get a little something from Carley that makes the little ritual extra special. Loni and I split up long enough to go to our respective mailboxes, and I dial in my combination and open it to find an orange slip of paper. That means I have a package waiting for me in the back.
What did Carley send me this time?
I hurry to the little window and counter where I present my paper to the student worker. They take it and disappear for a moment, only to return with a big, fancy black box with a silver bow wrapped around it.
“Ooh, what’s that?” Loni asks, startling me. She’s snuck up beside me without me realizing it and is bending her head so close to the box, her curls sweep over it.
“No clue,” I murmur. There’s no card to speak of, but maybe it’s inside.
“Well, what are we waiting for?” She claps her hands in excitement and grins like a little kid on their first visit to Chuck E. Cheese. “Let’s go take a peek at what’s inside!”
When we reach my room, I don’t waste any time. Undoing the big bow, I push it to the side and raise the lid off the box. Loni and I both gasp at what we find inside.
It’s a dress.
A gorgeous dress.
A gorgeous purple dress.
“Holy shit, babe,” Loni breaths. “Who the hell sent you this?”
I’ve got a pretty good idea of who. With gentle fingers, I pick up the dress and let it unfold as I take it out of the box. It’s got a short skirt, with a defined bodice, cinched waist, and no straps. I hold up in front of myself as I turn to the mirror. The skirt is double-layered, and there’s a cute little bow that would rest just below my boobs. It’s cute and elegant without being too flashy, and just the right amount of sexy.
“Ooooooh, I see what this is for,” Loni suddenly says.
I turn, and she’s lifting a matching purple mask from the bottom of the box. She gives me a sly look.
“Someone wants you to look real goo
d for the dance.”
I shake my head. “This is—” I take a deep breath and run my hand through my hair, moving my head to either side again. “This is too much. I’m not even going…”
“Hell no!” Loni cries, pointing her finger at me. “You do not get a beautiful dress and mask as gifts and then not show up to the dance wearing them. That’s just rude!”
I roll my eyes at her dramatics, but a part of me thinks she might be right. It’d be such waste not to wear it.
“Is there a card?” I ask, peeking toward the box. “Who sent me this?”
She digs around in the tissue paper but comes up with nothing. “Some mystery guy, I guess.”
I don’t think it’s so much of a mystery. I’m pretty certain this is from Saint and is just a sneaky, underhanded ploy to get me to go to the dance.
To my own surprise, however, it’s a ploy that just might work.
My day takes another odd twist when I run into Laurel out on campus again. I spot her in the distance, and turn, intent on avoiding her, but she follows after me like some crazed stalker.
“Hey! Mallory! Stop fucking walking!”
I freeze because I’m pretty sure she won’t stop until I do. Slowly, I face her again, and my rage spikes hot and hard as I stare into her eyes.
“What the hell do you want?” I demand. “Here to poison me again?”
Her face is twisted into a scowl. She looks about as happy to be talking to me as I am to be talking to her.
Folding her arms over her big fake boobs, she snaps, “I’m sorry for what I did the other day, okay?”
I’m so shocked, I’m certain I’ve misheard her. There’s no way Laurel would be apologizing to me. No goddamn way.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” she sneers. “I’m not saying it again.”
I hold up my hands. “Fine, whatever. Doesn’t seem that sincere, but let’s just move the hell on already.”