Page 105 of Vicious Saint
“You stay at Riverside.”
My gaze shoots side to side. “You should know more than anyone that the dorms are closed.”
“The female ones, yes. But there happens to be a room available on the other side.”
“The male dorms? You can’t be serious.”
“Actually, I am.”
Leaning my elbows on the table, I say, “There was no mention of any students un-enrolling from school.”
“Oh, I know. But there’s a room available for you.”
A room available during the summer? Impossible.
Kids may go home, but they return weeks before school starts, except for maybe those who are still away on vacation.
The thought comes through like a bolt of lightning shocking my brain. “Hell. Fucking. No,” I spit. “You all lost your damn minds.”
Mom slaps her elbows down on the table, mirroring my stance.
“Hendrix. It’s either you join us for the weekend, visit with some of Vic’s family, or you stay in Saint’s room. Those are your choices.”
In spite of Mom’s claws, Vic continues with the good guy approach. “Saint won’t be back for another couple of weeks, so you could even remain there until the renovations in the female dorms are completed.”
Here I am. Forced into a true case of pick your poison.
Travel out of the state like one big happy blended family, or spend the next few days in my psycho stepbrother’s dorm room slash sex pad.
Pass.
Death sounds sweeter than both.
“I’m staying with Archer, then.”
“Unfortunately, your friend Archer is dealing with his own problems after what happened at school.”
Problems? The fuck?
He wasn’t even there, he was with us.
My heels tap relentlessly against the floor as I reach for my phone in my pocket, shooting him a text to call me asap.
Diversion and distraction.
“I can tell you’re itching to escape, Hendrix.” Vic leans back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. “But I need your answer now because we’re leaving early in the morning.”
“It’ll be fun!” Theory shakes my knee. “C’mon, come with us! You met my cousins Shay and Liana at the wedding, they’re really cool.”
Oh, yeah. I remember those two.
Drunken hot messes by nine o’clock.
The only thing worse than being a drunk hot mess, is taking care of someone you don’t give a shit about when they’re a drunken hot mess.
Harder pass.
“I don’t…” I swallow, cursing under my breath.
