Page 181 of Vicious Saint
For starters, I didn’t have Bex, Archer, or the crippling fear of an unknown madman.
Because said madman was right beside me, along with his sister and two royal behemoths causing unwanted attention until we were forced to part ways for classes.
Not Saint, though. No.
He seems to have started a special tradition.
“Seriously? Every single one?” I grumble as we make our way to English, which I’m sure will be the only other class besides Art and Illustration I’ll be able to tolerate thanks to who the teacher is.
“Aw, c’mon, Jimi. It’ll be fun.” Saint brings me in for a sideways hug and leans into my ear. “Gives us time for extra foreplay.”
Tearing myself from his hold, I hit him in the chest with my English textbook. “I amnotone of your groupies.”
He raises an eyebrow in question. “So what are you then?”
Damn him, damn him.
I am nowhere near prepared for the conversation about us, because I didn’t intend to have it until we partook in one about him.
Along with theotherhim.
Like most of my original intentions, I’ve put the Vicious talk on the back burner, knowing how crucial it is to find the right moment and version of Saint to make it go smoothly.
In the midst of danger, family drama, and sexcapades is the literal definition of terrible timing.
But now that Vic made me promise to help Saint and stick this out until things blow over, I have no choice but the present if I want to understand what exactly he needs protection from.
“What I am is late for class,” I respond halfheartedly, right before I’m saved by a cliché ring of a bell, and dart into the classroom.
Saint follows behind, muttering irritation under his breath as I head to the back of the room to avoid prying eyes.
There’s a lot of them, too, thanks to the asshole spending three periods calling me dumb shit like Little Sis, Sissy Poo, even his adopted kitty.
That’s what I get for demanding him not make things obvious, given I haven’t even told my best friends about any extrasbetween us.
Not even our first encounter.
I slide into a desk and groan when Saint yanks the poor, unfortunate soul next to me out of his by the collar, then drops into the seat.
“Was that really necessary?”
“What?”
It’s frightening how genuinely confused he looks.
“There’s like five seats available around us.”
Saint wiggles his perfectly groomed eyebrows. “You know how much I like the view from the back but I prefer easy access.”
With a bored exhale, I start unpacking my things. “We really need to work on your lame jokes.”
“And his social skills,” Bex chirps out of nowhere, beside Archer, the both of them sliding into the desks in front of us.
“Shouldn’t take long,” Archer deadpans. “He doesn’t have any.”
Saint biffs him off the head, making Archer grumble, “Case in point.”
Ignoring their bickering, I kiss my best friends on their cheeks. “Missed you guys this morning.”
