Page 216 of Vicious Saint
And I’m not referring to that piece of shit Luke.
Hendrix has been at the forefront of every thought, specifically how dangerous it was to be close to her while I wasn’t in my right mind.
Didn’t make it any fucking easier to stay away.
Talk about torture.
Watching her mask the pain I caused her.
Put up with my sister’s wrath. That bitch Annalie’s too.
Who I would’ve stuffed in a trash can and tossed into the Hudson if she wasn’t proving useful in keeping Theory far from Hendrix.
Allowing me to focus on her without any distractions.
From the shadows I followed. Watched. Hid. Made sure she wasn’t aware of the monsters we’re all managing to keep at bay.
Including the asshole Carlo, who’s been growing on Hendrix a lot more now that I’m not around. Enough to pull smiles out of her. Laughs. Even selfies with her phone on occasion. Affections that, if I didn’t know what I know now, I would probably slice and dice the motherfucker for.
It’s been over a year since this spitfire of a girl walked into my life and flipped that shit upside down and sideways.
From Hendrix as a stranger to my obsession.
Obsession to my enemy.
Enemy to my…
I shake the thought out of my head.
This…feeling…is the first come to Jesus moment I’ve been trying to deny since I lost her, and all that’s left to show for it is my determination to keep her safe regardless if she hates me.
“Earth to Lavell!” Coach Balkan shouts from the sidelines. “What are you waiting for?”
Fuck.
I look down at the football clutched in my hand, then at my teammates yards in front of me still in position.
“We may have gotten through homecoming, but that doesn’t mean you start slacking! Got it?”
Spitting out my mouth piece, I yell back, “Yeah, I fucking got it!”
“Good! Now take your head out of your ass and back into practice.”
Against every impulse to smash the football into his face, I nod, shoving the mouthpiece over my teeth and returning to our shotgun formation. Only to fuck up the entire play when I throw the ball into the bleachers.
“Who the hell are you aiming at?” Balkan groans with his arms spread wide. “Casper the Friendly Ghost?”
With how fucked up my head’s been, I wouldn’t be surprised.
Bouncing on my feet, I look up at the sky and let out a harsh breath in an attempt to get my shit together.
Stop fucking around, Saint. You drew up this play.
“One more time!” Coach demands, and the team gets into position.
Then, when the ball is snapped to me again, I launch it clean into the defense’s hand.
“What in the everloving hell!” Balkan kicks an empty bucket. “Saint, get your sorry ass over here.”
