Page 5 of Break My Rules

I check my schedule for the week. I have a bunch of lectures, and two essays due. One of them is for Saint’s class on libertine and radical literature. I gulp. There’s no way I’m attending that session, just imagining being in the same room as him fills me with a panicked ache, but if I don’t submit an essay, I know there’ll be trouble from my supervisor. ‘Libertines and the Church,’ is the topic of the week, so with a sigh, I pull out the list of articles and essays I need to review, take the first dusty book, and start to read.

Luckily,the dense texts are difficult enough to require every drop of my concentration. I struggle through the reading, and outline a half-hearted essay on the subject before moving on to my next essay assignment. And the next. Before I know it, the whole day has passed, with only a short break to grab a sandwich from the commissary before returning to study again.

By the time my head aches too much to focus, it’s dark out, and the library is almost empty. I stretch, yawning, and pack up my things. Maeve has long since clocked off, so I leave the books in the return bin, hoist my backpack, and let myself out, to the cool night air breezing through the quad.

“There you are.” Saint’s voice makes me stop in my tracks. He’s hurrying from another building, looking anxious. “Tessa, thank God. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

I freeze.Fuck.

“Saint...” My voice shakes, as I take him in. He’s looking ragged and unkempt, with two-day stubble on his jaw and a rumpled button-down under his open pea coat.

My heart aches, just looking at him.

“What happened?” he demands, coming to a stop in front of me. “Fuck, Tessa, you just disappeared from the party. I was looking everywhere for you, until someone said they saw you leave. Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, raking a hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry, I just needed some space,” I say carefully, glancing around. But it’s late, and the quad is empty and dark, with only the glow of the old-fashioned lamps to light us.

I shiver.

“Space?” Saint repeats, looking angry. “Tessa, do you have any idea how worried I’ve been? You won’t talk to me, you won’t answer my calls. What the fuck is going on?”

I swallow hard, trying to think clearly, despite the conflicted emotions storming in my chest. “I’ve thought about it, and this thing between us, I think it’s best if we ended it,” I tell him. It’s the story I told my roommates. Maybe it’s my best way out of this—at least until I can figure out what the hell I’m going to do.

Saint stares at me like he’s been struck. “You want to end this…?” he repeats. “Tessa, what are you talking about? What happened?”

I avoid his gaze. “It’s just not going to work between us,” I say firmly. “We’re too different. You’re from a whole other world. We were only supposed to be a fun fling,” I add, “and then things spiraled, and we moved way too fast. The Blackthorn Society party just made me realize—it’s best for us to end it now, before anyone gets hurt.” I hitch my bag, and start walking, but Saint moves to block my path.

“Tessa, talk to me,” he says, looking anguished. “You know that bullshit doesn’t matter to me. Tell me the truth, what’s making you say this?”

“It’s just how I feel,” I lie, trying to step around him. “We want different things. You’re the hot professor, remember? You won’t have any trouble keeping your bed warm.”

“That’s what you think of me?” Saint demands, looking hurt. “After everything we’ve shared?”

Again, I feel that treacherous pang of guilt. Seeing him wounded by my words, searching to make sense of this explanation, I feel my resolve slip.

I need to get away from him, before my defenses crumble for good.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I state clearly. “Please, stop calling. Just leave me alone.”

I walk away.

“Tessa!” Saint yells after me. “Tessa, wait!”

He catches up, grabbing my arm to stop me. I instinctively recoil, adrenalin surging as I yank away. “Don’t touch me!” I scream.

Saint releases me instantly, staring in disbelief. “You’rescaredof me?” he says, realization dawning in his eyes.

Realization—and hurt.

“I don’t know what’s happened, but please, Tessa, talk to me,” Saint’s expression is the picture of tender concern. “Let me help you. Whatever’s going on, we can figure this out.”

I shake my head, more confused than ever. His innocent act isn’t slipping for a moment. Either he’s one hell of an actor—or he has no idea what’s going on. But that can’t be true.

Can it?

I feel a wretched flash of anger. I hate this, not knowing. I can’t take his deception a moment longer.

“Stop lying!” I yell, my voice echoing suddenly across the dark quad. “I know everything, Saint, I saw your tattoo!”

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