Saint: A Dark High School Romance (Angelview Academy Book 1)

by E. M. Snow

  “Sitting,” I say, like a smart ass. “What’re you doing?”

  He doesn’t answer my question, just shrugs and mumbles, “Whatever.” Turning his attention back to his book, he tries his hardest to ignore my presence.

  Well, two can play at that game.

  I pull out my books and spread them out in front of me, focusing in on my study materials for my upcoming test. We work in silence for some time, but I can feel the tension boiling just beneath the surface between us. He wants to say something. And he wants to say it bad.

  “You know, I had a lot of respect for you when the semester started,” he finally breaks the silence, looking up at me. “You were one of the only people I’d ever met who didn’t immediately fawn over Saint like he was the goddamn prince that was promised.”

  Folding my hands together on top of my books, I level him with a steely gaze.

  “So, you used to have respect for me, and what about now?” I ask.

  His nostrils flare with clear irritation. “Now? You’re just another bitch who sold herself out to someone who’s only going to use you to find out what makes you bleed.”

  My annoyance flares and I hiss, “You don’t know anything about me and Saint. I don’t know what your problem with each other is, but you can just leave me out of it—”

  “You know what my problem is?” he growls. “Fools like you who convince themselves he’s not that bad of a guy after all. That he doesn’t do terrible things to people just to get his rocks off. Not too long ago, he was torturing you for shits and giggles. Remember that?”

  “I could never forget that,” I say through gritted teeth.

  He chuckles, but it’s not because he finds anything funny. His laughter is dark and cruel and full of accusations. “You’re stupid for wanting to be with him, you know? All those fuckers kissing your ass right now think so too, and the moment he drops you, they’ll turn on you like rabid dogs. You thought you had it bad before? Wait until Saint gets whatever it is that he wants.”

  He starts packing up his stuff, as though getting ready to leave. I’m so stunned by his words that I can only stare at him for several moments with my jaw hanging open. When he begins to storm away, I snap out of my stupor and shove to my feet to follow after him.

  “I’m stupid for wanting to be with Saint, am I?” I spit, pointing at him, not giving a damn that we’re in a library. “You were his friend. If I’m stupid, what does that make you, huh?”

  Stopping, he turns to glare back at me, then shrugs. “Just another fucking pawn.”

  With that he circles around and storms away from me, and I stop chasing after him.

  I don’t try to talk to Liam again at all before fall break. Screw him. If he’s going to be an ass, I’m not going to deal with him. I’m so ready for the break, and for campus to be empty and quiet. While I’d love to go home to visit Carley, there’s a longer winter break that I’ll return to Georgia for, and it’s simply too expensive to try and go back for both.

  While I’m sure to miss Loni, and if I’m completely honest, even Saint, I’m looking forward to the time alone. I have plans to catch up on schoolwork and to begin my intensive swimming drills. And truthfully, it’ll be such a relief not to walk around and have everyone’s eyes on me. I haven’t been glared at nearly as much since it became known that Saint and I are hooking up, but people still stare at me like I’m some kind of oddity. Something they don’t quite understand but are too curious to ignore.

  The first real day of break, I wake up to absolute silence, and it’s blissful. Loni and Henry both took off yesterday, and Saint’s supposed to be on a plane to New York, where he’ll be spending the break at their Manhattan home. I get out of bed and decide to head straight to the pool. Moving to my dresser, I begin digging through one of my drawers in search of my swimsuit when suddenly, my phone starts to ring. I frown, wondering who could be calling me first thing in the morning on day one of break.

  To my shock, Saint’s name flashes on the screen.

  I answer with a baffled, “Hello?”

  “Come downstairs.”

  His voice is clipped and leaves very little room for argument.

  “Huh?”

  “Don’t make me repeat myself, Ellis.”

  He’s extra bossy today. Oh, goody.

  “I thought you were going to New York?”

  “Changed my mind. Now pack a bag and get your ass down here, I’m tired of waiting.”

  With no further explanation, he hangs up. I take my phone from my ear and stare at it for several moments, completely lost. Why would he change his mind about New York? Was it just to spend more time with me, or had something new happened between him and his dad?

  Though I’m certain it’s probably the latter option, the thought of him specifically staying for me makes my heart flutter in a very stupid way. Shaking my head to dispel the stupor he’s cast over me, I don’t hesitate to pack a bag. I should at least send him a quick “Fuck Off” text, just to save face and at least pretend he can’t order me around, but I don’t.

  I’m too curious and excited about what he has planned, and I don’t want to waste any time with the usual games.

  Once I’m packed, I hurry from my dorm and make my way down to the building’s entrance. I immediately spot a sleek looking Tesla in the street. It has to be his, and I frown, surprised at his having an electric car since he normally speeds around campus in his shiny Range Rover.

  Saint opens the driver’s side door and steps out of the car as I approach.

  “Hi,” I say, then I flinch, knowing that sounded lame.

  “Hey,” he replies with a slight tilt of his chin. His eyes run the length of my body, and it’s obvious what he has in mind for us. Without a word, he grabs my bag from my hand and tosses it into his backseat. “Get in.”

  I nod and move around the car, slipping into the passenger’s side as he settles in behind the wheel.

  “Where are we going?” I ask as he begins to drive.

  “My house. In Malibu.”

  My eyes go wide. “Your house?”

  He nods, his eyes locked on the road. Then, he takes one of his hands from the steering wheel and places it on my bare knee. I don’t know why I decided to wear leggings instead of jeans, but subconsciously I think I was hoping they’d provide him easier access. God, I’ve gotten way too easy when it comes to Saint. I don’t even try to pretend to have qualms about what we do together anymore.

  My breath hitches as his hand moves higher up my thigh, his destination clear. He never takes his eyes off the road as he hooks his fingers around the waist of my pants and pulls them down just enough to slip his hand inside. I spread my legs instinctively as the tip of one of his fingers finds my tightening clit beneath my panties.

  “Saint,” I murmur, my breathing thick and unsteady.

  “You ever been finger-fucked speeding down the interstate?” The way he asks is so casual, as if it’s a regular occurrence in his own life.

  It probably is. He probably does this all the time to girls.

  I squash the thought, not wanting to go there with myself. I’m not about to be jealous of Saint and his colorful past. His fingers inch lower, and he parts my folds. I gasp and squirm, but his grip on me is too strong to escape as his fingers work faster and faster. I’m gasping, and it feels like his hand is moving with same speed as his car. They’re synchronized, working together to get me off. It’s not long before I’m tumbling over the edge and crying out in relief as my orgasm crashes through me.

  While I’m still shaking in my seat, he pulls his hand from my pants and puts his fingers in his mouth. He hums with satisfaction, and I bite my lip, my thighs clenching at the sight.

  “What are you doing?” I murmur.

  He smirks. “What does it look like? Tasting you. I’ve missed tasting my little masochist.”

  Even though he just made me come, I’m getting revved back up watching. He’s so fucking cocky, it should infuriate me, but it
doesn’t. It turns me on, and I can’t believe how much. I can’t think of anything to say to him. My mind is mush. I can’t think straight, but luckily, he pulls up to a set of tall gates within the next few minutes.

  Rolling down the window, he punches some buttons on a keypad, and the gate swings open. We pull forward, up a winding driveway to the most gorgeous house I’ve ever seen in my life. It’s a three-story Spanish style house with big windows and elaborate iron work all over the façade.

  My jaw drops and he pulls up to park in front of the four-car garage.

  Turning to me, he arches his brow. “You ready to go in?”

  I force my mouth shut as I turn to him with wide eyes. “Y-yes.”

  Except, the truth is, I don’t think I’m ready to enter his world at all.

  27

  Stepping into the house, I’m even more floored by the interior than the exterior. This is one of those houses people dream about and see on display on HGTV, but never think they’ll get the chance to actually walk through in real life. The high ceilings are all wood planks and exposed beams, and the back walls are mostly windows that look out over the beach and gently rolling emerald waters.

  I wander through the massive foyer, marveling at how the place feels like a medieval castle, but with a modern, airy twist. Saint moves past me toward the spacious living room, and I follow him because what the fuck else am I supposed to do?

  “This place is amazing,” I murmur, my eyes sweeping over the grand, marble fireplace dominating one wall of the room.

  “Trust me, it’s not,” he growls, dropping down into a cream-colored chair that looks too fancy to sit in.

  My brows shoot up nearly to my hairline. “What do you mean by that?”

  He shrugs. He’s not looking at me, which typically means he’s doesn’t want to talk to me about something. I gingerly sit on the edge of a long sofa that matches his chair in design and fanciness.

  “You’re being weird, Saint. Why’d you bring me here?”

  He leans forward in his chair until his face is inches from mine. “Isn’t it obvious? I was bored and wanted my favorite girl to play with.”

  I scowl at him. “I’m not your damn toy.”

  “Okay, Mal.” He claims my lips with his, and before I fully comprehend what’s happening, he’s pulled me from my seat into his lap. I’m straddling him, clutching his hair as his kiss consumes me.

  “Oh, Jesus Christ, Saint. What do you think you’re doing?”

  I startle, tearing my lips from his and spinning my head around to find an older woman in a maid’s uniform ogling us from the foyer. Saint lets out a growl of annoyance.

  “Fuck, Marybeth, can’t you see I’m busy?”

  “Yes, I can see you’re busy trying to give this poor girl an STD. It’s the middle of the day when there are people around. Where’s your sense of decency?”

  “Where’s your sense of wanting to keep your fucking job?” he snaps back. I’m still in his lap, trapped by his hands on my hips. This is one of the most awkward things that’s ever happened to me. I want to dig a hole, crawl into it, and die right here and now.

  At last, I scramble off of his lap, despite his firm hold on me.

  “I, uh, need to use the bathroom,” I mutter, my face burning with embarrassment.

  He scowls, but points toward a hallway off the living room. “Three doors down.”

  “Thanks. Be right back.” I shoot an apologetic smile toward Marybeth and hurry from the room, so mortified that I don’t even care if it looks like I’m running away. I hear Saint and Marybeth continue to argue as I wander down the hall in search of the bathroom. Finding it, I’m about to step inside when I hear different voices speaking softly around a corner just in front of me.

  “Poor kid, getting left behind like that,” one voice, a woman, says. “It’s no wonder he’s been in such a mood these last few days.”

  I pause in the bathroom doorway. Are they talking about Saint? What do they mean he was left behind? I inch my way down the wall, getting closer so I can hear better.

  “What kind of parents forget about their son’s fall break?” the second voice, which I’m pretty sure is a guy, spits. “If the pay here wasn’t so good, I’d never work for assholes like them.”

  The woman sighs. “I’m right there with you, Kevin.”

  The two move further down the hall and out of earshot. I don’t follow because that would be just a little too creepy. I turn back and walk into the bathroom, my mind racing.

  Saint’s parents left him behind? They forgot about his break?

  My heart aches for him. I know what it’s like to have a parent that doesn’t give a shit about you. Who treats you more like a burden than anything else. From the little I’ve seen of Saint’s parents, especially his father, I’m guessing this isn’t the first time he’s been forgotten.

  I quickly do my business and wash my hands, then make my way back out to the living room. He’s still sitting in the chair I straddled him in, holding an unlit joint between his fingers. His brow is furrowed as he stares down at it, and he looks lost in thought. What’s he thinking about? His parents? Liam?

  Me?

  For some strange reason, I hope it’s me. I hope I consume his mind half as much as he’s been taking up space in mine lately.

  He looks up at my approach.

  “You good?” he asks.

  Is my emotion showing on my face? Can he see how sorry I am for him?

  I slip back into his lap and wrap my arms around his neck. He looks baffled, and I can’t really blame him. Outward displays of affection really aren’t our thing. Still, his strong arms wrap around my waist, as though he just can’t help himself.

  “So, I, uh, I overheard something on my way to the bathroom,” I admit in a soft tone. I’m not sure I should be telling him this, but something in me wants to offer him comfort because I can truly empathize with what he’s going through.

  His eyebrows slant up impatiently. “You gonna share or do I have to fuck it out of you?”

  I hesitate a moment, but then forge ahead, throwing caution to the wind. “Did you really decide not to go with your parents, or did…did they leave you behind?”

  He tenses and something dark and dangerous flashes in his eyes. Shit. Too late, I think I screwed up. Me and my damn big mouth.

  “What the fuck are you doing, sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong?” he growls, releasing his hold on me. His lap is no longer a hospitable place, so I quickly push to my feet.

  “I wasn’t sticking my nose, anywhere,” I say quickly. “I just heard someone say it when I was in the hall—”

  He surges to standing, towering over me, his growing rage radiating from him like heat off asphalt.

  “Who was it?” he snarls. “Who was saying this shit?”

  I raise my hands in front of me. “I don’t know, I didn’t see. That doesn’t matter, Saint. Look, I understand what you’re feeling right now—”

  “Oh, you do, do you?” His voice is sharp and cruel, meant to slice me open and make me bleed out on the expensive ass marble floor. “You think you understand what I’m feeling? You’re so fucking naïve. You’ve got no idea what my life is like.”

  Anger bursts in me so suddenly, it steals my breath. How dare he say that to me?

  Balling my hands into fists, I shout, “You know what? I don’t need this. Fuck you and your spoiled rich kid problems. My mom’s on the run for selling meth, so don’t tell me what I don’t understand, you sonofabitch.”

  His eyes widen, but I don’t bother to wait for him to respond. Turning, I storm toward the opened wall of windows and out onto the house’s wide terrace. I dig my phone out of my pocket, determined to find a ride back to campus. No one’s around, but I bet an Uber wouldn’t be terribly expensive at this time of day. In the meantime, I’ll hide out on the beach and avoid his arrogant ass.

  “Mallory!” his voice booms behind me, and I jump, startled. He’s following me, great.

/>   I glance over my shoulder and spot him charging after me. I gasp, but don’t stop walking. The soft sand tries to swallow my feet, but I trudge ahead and try to ignore Saint calling for me. I pull up my Uber app and start to arrange for a car.

  “Mallory, for fuck’s sake.” His fingers wrap around my arm and he tries to hold me in place, but I struggle to break free of him.

  “Let me go,” I snarl. “I’m getting the fuck out of here.”

  “No, wait, please.” He spins me around to face him. “I … I’m sorry, all right? Just don’t leave like this.”

  I freeze, stunned by his attempt at an apology. Still, my blood is simmering with residual anger, and I don’t know how easily I can forgive him. I shrug from his grip, but I don’t walk away from him. Facing him, I cross my arms over my chest.

  “Give me one good reason,” I snap.

  He runs a hand through his hair, looking pained. Good. That helps make me feel better.

  “Look, I’m an asshole, alright? I admit it. My parents ditched me, and I was mad, but … I shouldn’t have said that to you. I’m really, really sorry.”

  He sounds so genuine, it’s throwing me off balance. Slowly, I unfold my arms and gaze down at the sandy ground between us.

  “Fine. I’ll stay.”

  He releases a deep breath, as though relieved. My heart is pounding uncomfortably in my chest. This feels so strange, so close to something real. We’ve just had a fight, and he’s apologized. I’ve forgiven him.

  That’s something couples do.

  Are we a couple?

  I clear my throat and look back up to meet his gaze.

  “I really am sorry your parents did that to you,” I murmur. “That’s really shitty.”

  He hunches a shoulder, but I don’t miss the way his jaw flexes. “It is what it is.”

  I can see in his expression that he means that, and that’s just tragic. My hand lifts, as if of its own accord, and cups his cheek.

  “No, it sucks, and you’re allowed to feel angry about it.”

  He covers my hand with his and squeezes my fingers gently. A low growl of frustration escapes his lips, but I know it’s not directed toward me. At least, I don’t think it is. He drops his hand, pulling mine down with it, but doesn’t release me.