Page 15 of That Sik Luv

Saint’s face is entirely blank as he peers over at me with my books. With a quick blink, his grin forms, pulling at his full lips.

I don’t understand. Aero insinuated I’d see something on his face. Some evidence of the fact that maybe he also knew Jacob was waiting for me. That this was some sort of setup in the making. But I get nothing from him at all. Nothing but a nod with his bright, sexy grin, silently calling me over to him.

I get this strange feeling that I can trust Aero. I don’t know what that is. Call it intuition perhaps, but so far, everything he’s said and done has seemed like a game to force me not to trust the only people I know.

Class finishes achingly slow as I’m left wondering about what’s happening on the other side of the building behind those closed doors. After the session is over and the students file out, I pack up my bag as quickly as I can, needing to leave this building before my anxiety over what happened cripples me entirely.

I want no part in whatever Aero did to Jacob. But I know if by some random chance he’s still alive, I’ll be tied to his assault. His family is far too proud and far too rich to allow the injuring of their baby boy to go unpunished, even if his intentions were to harm me. It’s sickening, really.

Saint drives me home, stalling outside near the curb of my house as he puts the vehicle in park. He turns to me casually with his elbow on the console.

“So I know this may seem odd...” He pauses, and I await what’s next to fall out of his mouth. “But I wanted to know if you’d come with me to the Governor’s Ball tomorrow night.” He clears his throat, looking down between us before his eyes slowly trail up to mine. “As my date.”

My heart thuds in my chest. I feel something inside of me wanting this; wanting to be his date and to allow him to show me who he really is. But there’s another part of me that knows what I’m feeling right now is the extent of what I’m going to feel for him.

My mind flashes to Aero. It’s strange to think of your psychotic stalker when you’re getting asked out by a guy who’s truly more your speed.

Saint and I come from similar backgrounds. Our families are very religious and heavily involved in the church, and the need to progress our names has never been more prevalent. We’re both hard workers, evident by the constant competition between us in our past, and have real goals that don’t involve camping out and watching girls in their rooms late at night who they haven’t completely decided if they want to kill or not.

Feeling angered by the mind games, I answer quickly, “I’d love to.”

A genuine smile crosses his face, and as I turn to open the car door, he grabs for my left hand. Turning back to face him, he pulls my hand up to his lips. With his soft eyes on mine, he brings his warm, gentle lips to the top of my hand, placing a kiss on my skin.

I get that flutter between my thighs again and my mouth parts, sucking in a breath, as he rests his lips against my hand, almost savoring the sensation for himself. His eyes trail down from mine, settling at my lips.

Just as I’m getting the feeling he’s contemplating kissing me, a loud crash has me screaming out loud.

Pulling my arm back to my chest, I curl into myself as an explosion of sharp objects rain down on me. Saint throws an arm over me for protection as his windshield shatters into thousands of pieces.

Trembling, I find the courage to open my eyes. A single brick lies on the hood of his Jeep, his windshield now a distant memory. His eyes are wide and panicked as he pants through his parted lips.

“Are you alright?” he asks quickly, scanning my face and brushing the hair back behind my ears.

He dusts some shards off the shoulder of my uniform, sending them to the bottom of the Jeep floor, adding them to the collection pooled below.

“I-I’m fine,” I stutter, my hands now shaking.

As we both turn to look out the broken glass, I spot a shadow behind him.

There he stands, on the driver’s side of the vehicle, in his black, dirtied jeans, and his mud-stained sweatshirt, the ski mask still over his tipped head. He shakes his head once at me before disappearing behind the Jeep.

Saint looks forward, eyes locking on the brick that broke the windshield. He reaches for it, his forearm littered with tiny cuts as he grips it in his palm. Pulling it toward his face, his eyes narrow as he appears to read something on it. Looking over at me through furrowed brows, he swallows.

“What?” I ask in a panic. “What does it say?”

“Nothing. There’s nothing.” He clutches it to his side, opening the door of the Jeep and stepping out into the street. “Stupid kids,” he mutters under his breath.

Walking around to the passenger side, he opens the door, the brick now gone, and holds his hand out to me.

“Come on, I’ll walk you to the door,” he says tenderly, his jaw flexing as his narrowed eyes scan the street protectively.

I take his hand, standing as the mess of glass falls from my lap onto the grass of my yard. Saint helps me brush off the rest of the glass before his damp palm squeezes tightly onto mine while he walks me up the stairs of our porch. He lingers there for a moment, running a hand over his shaved, blonde hair, keeping his eyes on the street.

Opening the lock, I take a step through and turn to face him.

“Do you want me to come in? Take a look around?” he asks.

I think about that for a second, contemplating it, before I feel the eyes burning into the back of my head. The hairs on the back of my neck stand.

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