52. Saint
Saint
Four Months Later
I f anything has been made clear the past few months, it’s that every person in mine and Hendrix’s life loves to test my patience.
Take her mother for example…who hasn’t stopped crying since Hendrix walked off the stage with her diploma.
Half a fucking hour ago.
Then there’s the aunt who kept insisting on taking a million useless pictures: Hendrix in front of the stage. The front doors. Graduation cap on and off. Smiling at the camera. Looking away.
Dad tried that shit with me but got shut down faster than I do trying to get a blowjob from Hendrix during her period.
Archer wouldn’t leave her alone either, regardless of the death threats I gave him every time he encouraged the aunt to take more group photos.
I wouldn’t be surprised if the asshole was doing it on purpose.
Let’s face it…no self-respecting guy actually enjoys taking pictures with girls.
I’ve got my ass parked in a front row chair waiting for the twentieth photo op of Hendrix and Bex when my thoughts get interrupted by a ding from my cell phone. I look down at the screen to find a message from Cray blocking a photo of Hendrix.
Cray Cray: Well damn…guess you were smart enough to graduate.
Me: Brains and brawn motherfucker.
Me: Wait…is this your version of congratulations?
Cray Cray: Congratulations would imply I’m happy for you, can’t have that now, can we?
Me: Ice cold Cray Cray…ice fucking cold.
Cray Cray: How’s my girl looking?
I peer over at Bex with Hendrix, who are posing for selfies with Beckett, officially adding the teacher to the list of people testing my patience.
Especially now that the asshole has his arm slung over Hendrix’s shoulder.
I’ll allow it, but only for the sake of Hendrix and Bex still working on mending their friendship.
Dragging my eyes back to the screen, I type out another message to Cray, but this time with grinding molars.
Me: Like her and Hendrix want me to kill an English teacher.
Cray Cray: Beckett?
Me: Fucking Beckett.
Cray Cray: Can’t believe you’re letting him wrap his arm around your girl.
I’m about to ask the asshole how he knows when another text comes through with a selfie photo.
Of Bex, Hendrix, and Beckett.
Then another text.
Cray Cray: Shame. I’m gone for two minutes and my prodigy turns sucker.
Me: Aren’t you the one spending all your free time writing poems for your girlfriend?
Me: Rebecca Dawson…the light of my life…you shine so bright in the devil's darkest night.
Waving dots appear on the screen. Then disappear. Then appear again. Signaling Cray working hard to find a swift comeback to my impeccable one.
Cray Cray: Dick. I can’t wait until next time I see you.
Me: Awww…missing me already Cray Cray? I was just with you last week.
Cray Cray: Not as much as you’ll be missing Hendrix after the English teacher bags her up.
Me: Good point…I should definitely go and interrupt Bex’s attempt to make up for lost time with Hendrix.
More dots wave, then disappear, then wave again.
Cray Cray: I swear to fuck I will fuck you up.
Me: What was that? Sorry…can’t hear you over the sound of your blue balls exploding through the phone.
Me: Which reminds me…Bex is heading your way tonight. How willing do you think she’ll be to have sex knowing you were the one who caused me to break up the party?
Cray Cray: You made your point, motherfucker. Cut the shit.
Me: Beg first.
Cray Cray: It’ll be a cold day in Hell before I beg your dumb ass for anything.
Me: Standing in three…
Cray Cray: Saint.
Me: Yes, Cray Cray? Two…
Cray Cray: Stop fucking around.
Me: One...
Me: Too-da-loo muthafuckaaaa *middle finger emoji*
“Saint Matthias Lavell!” Hendrix shouts from the front of the stage, two hands propped on the hips she’s got hidden behind a black graduation gown. “Get over here, I want pictures!”
Ignoring the sound of back to back dinging, I shove my phone in my suit jacket pocket. “I’m good where I am! Thanks.”
Hendrix all but taps her foot as she waits, looking sexy as fuck pretending to be all annoyed.
But not enough to subject me to torture.
When she realizes fake annoyance won’t work, Hendrix ups the game to swinging one side of her open gown behind her, revealing those perfect curvy hips she’s got back in full swing.
Talk about hitting below the belt.
Damn this girl.
Rolling my eyes, I slap my knees and stand, watching a satisfied grin curl Hendrix’s lips as I trek over.
The second I reach her, she throws her arms around my neck. “And here I was thinking you’d put up more of a fight.”
“Yeah, well, you’ll be making up for it later.”
When I’ve got her bent over the bed, balls deep inside her pussy.
“You two. Turn around and smile!” the aunt demands, cell phone already pointing at us.
With a low grumble, I pull Hendrix into my side, attempting a smile that doesn’t reek of fuck my life energy.
I guess it worked, because right after a few snaps we’re being ambushed by other cameras too.
June’s. Theory’s. Even Bex and Cray’s dad joined the Piss Off Saint Parade.
Demands like “Stay right there” and “You better let me get a picture next” come from Hendrix’s mom and aunt, along with a “Keep still you idiot” from Theory. The most impossible one being Dad’s “try smiling like you don’t want to kill everyone.”
Better fucking believe I get close to it when Good Guy suggests taking round three of a group photo.
I tell the asshole to eat a dick, then take off to where Hendrix is mid-posing for Cray’s dad’s camera with her mom and aunt, no less than ready to rip arms out of their sockets.
“Photoshoot’s over. You’re coming with me.” I snatch Hendrix’s arm and drag her around the makeshift stage.
She curses my “caveman bullshit” the entire time, but I could tell by the twentieth photo she was just as close to dismembering people as I was.
When we come to a stop I spin her until she hits my chest, looking up at me with an adoration I’m not sure I’ll ever be good enough to deserve.
“We did it, Jimi.” I grin, brushing wavy strands of hair behind her ear. “We reached the inevitable.”
Hendrix clutches my shirt with both hands.
“Damn straight, Letterman. Next stop for us…Bromwell and—”
“Bromwell.”
She rears her head back, dumbfounded. “What do you mean, Bromwell? What happened to Vanguard?”
“I decided to stay local.”
“Saint…” Hendrix drops her hands to her sides. “The doctor said there’s still a chance. So did your physical therapist.”
“A small chance, and I’m pretty sure they only said it at the beginning to avoid getting stabbed by one of your pencils.”
Unlike my little Jimi Hendrix, my mind was made up about college even before I started physical therapy.
My joint was completely shattered, reconstructed, and as good as the Orthopedic surgeon was, we both knew my chances at playing football again were shot from the beginning.
Did it sting? Fuck yeah.
But not nearly as much as the idea of being states away from Hendrix.
Why?
Because this girl not only flipped my world around, she changed my perception of it. Even more so of myself.
For a decade I looked in the mirror and saw a monster, convinced myself I’d never be anything more. But now? It’s like every day I’m seeing the real me for the first time.
Hendrix makes me want to do better.
Be better.
Even if it’s only for her.
I love this girl…past the need for football…past the ego…past the point of fucking madness.
It’s why I’d not only die for Hendrix without question.
I’d live a thousand lifetimes with her too.
“But you had your sights set on Vanguard since you were a kid.”
With a nonchalant shrug, I tell her, “I’m not the same person I was then. Plus, I got an empire waiting for me to take over.”
Hendrix stares up at me in awe, lips parted, leaving those big green eyes glistening as they smile. And goddamn this girl could look at me this way a million fucking times and I’ll never get sick of it.
“You’re coming with me to BU…” She breathes. “Like really coming with me?”
“How else are we gonna live in our little dark, morbid, emotionally dependent world?”
Hendrix squeals with excitement, then throws her arms around my neck. “I love you stupid.” She kisses me hard, remaining this way as she adds, “So fucking stupid.”
Gripping the nape of her neck, I inhale every bit of her like she’s my oxygen.
“I got you a present, baby.”
“Mmmm?”
“Wanna see what it is?”
“Does it involve my mouth leaving yours?”
I chuckle against her. “I’d say so, yeah.”
“Then nope.”
She attempts to fall into a makeout sesh, and as much as I’d love to have this end with me fucking her senseless against the wall, I stick to the plan and detach myself.
Hendrix lets out a whine, and fuck, the sound of her neediness is its own aphrodisiac.
Stick to the plan, asshole.
Sex later.
Before I allow myself the chance to surrender to my needier dick, I pull out the small box I have stuffed inside my suit jacket pocket.
Hendrix’s eyebrows shoot up her forehead.
“Relax, Jimi. It’s not a ring.”
She whooshes out a breath. “Oh, thank fuck.”
Most guys would take offense to that, but I’m not like most guys—and I take plans for the future seriously.
Hendrix and I decided a while ago that we were going to take our time getting through college, careers, and enjoy the quiet moments that are owed to us.
Plus, when I propose to this girl, there’s no fucking way it’ll be as basic as getting down on one knee in an ugly ass graduation gown.
I hand the box over to her, and with a curious eye on me she opens it.
“Keys?”
“Not just any keys, Jimi. Keys to the kingdom.”
A.K.A. the five million dollar penthouse I bought in one of Cray’s dad’s buildings.
“Our own place?” Her face brightens. “Did you just give me keys to our own fucking place?!”
“Eh. You can stop by occasionally.”
She shoves me. “Stop messing around.”
“Fine, fine. Every other weekend.”
Hendrix groans, amused but also anxious, so I put her out of her misery and pull her closer by the waist.
“Our own fucking place, baby. Three bedrooms, three bathrooms, a balcony overseeing the skyline. Ten minutes from Bromwell and twenty from your studio.”
“Does this mean we’ll have actual privacy?”
“Well, as much as we can with your uncle breathing down my damn neck.”
Cringing, Hendrix asks, “Yikes…what’d he do now?”
“Besides buying out the entire university we’ll be attending?”
Remember that list of people in our lives who love pissing me off? Yeah. This motherfucker Dante has been at the top of it for months.
Ever since the night we joined forces to save Hendrix, the two of them have been developing quite the irritating relationship.
Phone calls, dinners, looking through family photo albums at his mansion uptown. His goons trailing us out in the open everywhere we go.
Apparently, Dante thinks now that he no longer lives in the shadows of his niece's life, he can take control of it.
Which isn’t so much a thought than it is an actual fact.
Because neither desperate-to-be-in-Hendrix’s-good-graces June or my father have the balls big enough to challenge him.
And as for Hendrix, well, she’s made her mind up about wanting a relationship with the guy the second they walked out of that basement together four months ago.
It’s for this reason, and this reason only, that I’ve been biting my tongue through all of it, even when Dante showed up to one of my father’s Sunday dinner’s announcing his newest gift to his niece.
A whole ass university he can take control over too.
“He moved two of his guys into the floor below us.”
“Well, at least your dad can chill out…”
“Seriously? He had cameras put up before I even had the papers signed.”
“Are they in the house?”
“I drew the line inside the elevator.”
Hendrix breathes out a long sigh. “Then I don’t care.”
“You don’t care? It’s private. What if I want to fuck you in it?”
With her arms snaking around my waist, Hendrix all but purrs, “Then you’ll just have to fuck me everywhere else.”
Seems you can take the crazy but not the dog out of a man, because those words are all Hendrix needs to say to have the one inside me ready to mount her.
“Wherever I want?”
“ However you want.”
Taking two palmfuls of Hendrix’s ass, I respond, “How about right here?”
“Easy…” She laughs. “Your dad has cameras, and Dante may have left, but his men haven’t.”
Leaving—the bare minimum the guy could do after his grand entrance into the ceremony, taking just about every eye off Hendrix as she walked up the stage to get her diploma.
It took everything in me not to punch the fucker in the face.
Again.
“Fine,” I grit out, still copping a feel of her ass. “But under one condition.”
“Should I even bother?”
“Fighting the inevitable? Nope.”
“Ugh. What’s the condition?”
In one swift movement, I lock my arms under Hendrix’s ass, making her yelp as I pick her up. Then watch and wait until the surprise on her face turns to a gleam.
“The condition is…we blow this popsicle stand so I can take you home.”
“Home…” Hendrix sighs. “It’s got quite the ring to it.”
“Oh yeah?” I spin her around. “Well, just wait till you hear what forever sounds like.”
The End
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