Page 31 of That Sik Luv

Saint stills in place, his eyes darting over to me as the heat in my neck rises. My back teeth grind together, the sensation of my nails piercing through my palm doing nothing to control my anger at this betrayal. The message from this morning is now clear. Forgiveness feels like an idea that will never come to fruition.

Across the windows are the words sprayed with the paint still dripping.

BRIONY STRAIT IS A SLUT FOR SAINT

Chapter seventeen

Calculated Interventions

Shattered.

Tarnishing my reputation. Destroying my hard work to establish myself in a male-dominated religion, only for him to brand me the slut of the Academy.

Tasteless. Classless. Everything a psychotic stalker should be.

Saint quickly wraps his arm around me, pulling me inside the building as the hushed crowd whispers their secrets. I know word is already traveling. The bees are buzzing away, and the town hive will know something is going on between Saint and I, naturally assuming the worst.

But this? This has the power to dismantle everything I’ve worked for.

“Listen, Saint,” I begin, pulling him down to the hallway beneath the stairs to talk before class. “About tonight...I think we should just forget—“

“No, Briony,” he interrupts me. “I’m not letting them win. Someone is seriously trying to mess with you, trying to run a smear campaign over your name, and I’m not going to allow it. It’s not going to make me fall back from you or from the ball for that matter.”

He leans against the wall with his shoulder, turning in towards me in a protective stance.

“But your father, and the diocese...everyone is already talking. How will we ever defend ourselves against this?” I ask, feeling that familiar anxiousness.

Our town is like a crooked court. You get charged first, then spend all of your time and effort defending yourself against the allegations. This is a steep hill to climb, and I can only imagine the rage that his father, Callum Westwood, will have over the fact that his son is now somehow tied into this. That man didn’t even want Saint to partake in the ceremony alongside me. Rumors of engaging in pre-marital sex? The damage, irreparable.

“It’s probably just some stupid kids from class looking to make a name for themselves by trying to get a rise out of us since we’re teaching together.”

I scoff. “Easy for you to say. Not so easy to wash the stain off this slut.”

Once they brand you with that, there’s no going back.

“I’ll do whatever I can to defend your honor, Briony. I mean that wholeheartedly,” he says, his face more serious and concerned than I’ve ever seen it. “You know that, right? I won’t put up with this.”

I take a deep breath and nod, feeling a sense of relief for his support in all of this. He could easily say he needs to take a step back from me with the eyes of the congregation on us. Knowing he has my back definitely takes some of the pressure off of me. His hand comes up as he rests it against my cheek, softly brushing his thumb back and forth comfortingly.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you. I promise,” he whispers.

All I can think is how different that sentence sounded coming from a different man.No one hurts you but me.

Yeah, he definitely hurt me with this one. Aero is toxic and entirely dysfunctional. I see it more clearly now that I’m not under his intoxicating spell.

Saint leans closer, peering at my lips, and just when I wonder if he’s going to kiss me, the warning bell for class rings, startling us both.

“C’mon Bri. Let’s show them all it doesn’t affect us,” he says, holding out his hand to me with an empathetic smile.

I take his hand, and he opens the door to the hallway for me. We walk hand in hand down the hallway as younger students giggle and point. Saint gives me a light, reassuring squeeze as we near our homeroom.

“Keep your chin up,” he whispers, noticing the shame and embarrassment keeping me cowered into myself.

Touching beneath my chin with two fingers, he tips my head up, and I feign confidence.

Parting through the flow of students, I lock eyes with the deacon at the other end of the hall, making his way towards us in his flowing white cassock. I gently tug on Saint’s arm, alerting him. He looks over at me, then down the hall towards the deacon, who’s now only yards from us.

His eyes travel the length of me, and I can see the disapproval in his condescending gaze as he finally approaches us.

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