Chapter 37
Amy
Iwake before my alarm. For a moment, I don’t know why. I never wake up before it goes off, but then I remember. Saint walked me back to my dorm after the party. The way he’d looked at me before disappearing into the night.
I grab my phone from the nightstand, but my heart sinks.
No message.
No missed call.
I frown, but then again, Saint isn’t the type who texts good morning.
Still...something feels off.
I shake it away and get ready for class. By the time I walk into Behavioral Psych, the room is already filling with students. Conversations echo through the hallway. The smell of gourmet coffee floats through the air.
Everything feels normal, but it doesn’t. My eyes immediately drift toward the last row, to his seat, and find it empty.
I stop just inside the doorway, running different scenarios through my head. I have never wondered if he would show up because he always manages to be there, waiting in the shadows and appearing when I subconsciously need him to.
Maybe he’s running late, but deep down, I know Saint isn’t late. I don’t know why I know that. I just do.
Rose slides into the chair beside me. “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
“You sure?”
I nod too quickly. She looks toward the back of the room. “Oh.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
She caught me looking. Professor Owens walks in carrying his usual stack of papers. The room settles, but my mind can’t concentrate on what the professor is instructing the class to do.
Class begins, and I don’t hear half of it. Every few minutes, I find myself looking toward the door.
Waiting.
Expecting him to walk in wearing the same black hoodie. Hands shoved into his pockets. Expression unreadable.
But he never does.
When class finally ends, students begin filing into the hallway. Rose gets stopped by Melissa. “I’m heading to the library,” she says. “I’ll meet you later?”
“Okay.”
I sling my bag over my shoulder. Before I make it three steps...
“Amy.”
I turn.
Azriel is leaning against the wall outside the classroom. One shoulder resting against the brick. Hands in his pockets. Unlike Saint, Azriel smiles easily. I find myself suddenly comparing them.
The smile reaches his eyes. “You’ve been staring at that empty seat all morning.”
Heat creeps into my cheeks. “I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
“I wasn’t.”
He laughs. “You really were.”
I look past him. “So...” I hesitate. “Where is he?”
Azriel’s smile fades slightly. “He’s handling something.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means...” He shrugs. “He’s handling something.”
“Is he okay?”
Azriel studies me for a moment. Longer than feels comfortable.
Then he smiles again. “He’ll survive.”
Not exactly reassuring, but I don’t push for more. Maybe it’s not something I should be worried about. It doesn’t help that my mind keeps drifting. Wondering where he is and if he’s okay.
“I don’t like vague answers.”
“I know.”
I breathe through my nose. “You sound just like him.”
“I’ve known you for five minutes.”
I roll my eyes.
“Long enough.”
For the first time today...I smile.
Azriel notices. “There she is.”
“What?”
“You haven’t smiled once.”
The realization surprises me. Had I really been that obvious?
Azriel pushes himself away from the wall. “So...” He rocks back on his heels. “Dinner.”
I blink. “What?”
“Dinner,” he repeats
“As in...?”
“A restaurant.”
I shake my head. “I know what dinner is.”
He laughs. “I was trying to help.”
I narrow my eyes. “Are you asking me out?”
“Technically.”
“Technically?”
“I figured if I said ‘date,’ you’d say no before I finished the sentence.”
I can’t help but laugh. “You planned that.”
“A little.”
I shake my head. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”
Azriel grins. “That’s probably true, but you might come to like me more.”
“What makes you so sure?”
He immediately lifts both hands. “I’m kidding.” The smile slips from his face. “I promise this isn’t some elaborate game.” His voice grows quieter. “You’ve had a rough few weeks finding out about everything. I figured maybe you deserve one normal evening.”
“Just food.”
“Just food,” he agrees.
“When?”
“Tonight.”
I hesitate. Saint is gone, and what's surprising is that no one seems worried. Maybe I shouldn’t be either. Maybe whatever he’s doing has nothing to do with me. I hate how much that thought disappoints me.
Azriel waits patiently. After a few more seconds of me contemplating if this is a good idea, I agree. “Okay.”
He gives me a genuine smile. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”
As he starts walking away, he stops and turns back. “Oh...”
“What?”
“Don’t tell Saint.”
I blink. “Why?”
He laughs. “Because he’ll probably want to kick my ass.” Then he disappears into the crowd before I can decide whether he was joking.
**
As promised, Azriel picks me up at seven. I didn’t know what to wear, so I played it safe with a simple long-sleeve black dress, tights, and black heels. Azriel’s wearing a light-colored sweater and designer denim.
The drive out of Kenyan is quiet. Azriel doesn’t seem like the kind of person who feels the need to fill every silence.
He lets the music play softly between us. “Two Weeks” by FKA twigs. His car is just as flashy as the Saints’s, but Azriel’s is not as loud.
The city slowly replaces the campus. Brick buildings give way to glass, and traffic grows heavier as we make our way pass the different storefronts and restaurants.
Finally, Azriel turns beneath a valet awning in front of a narrow building tucked between two high-rises. There is no massive sign, which I have learned is the type of place that doesn’t need to advertise
There are no flashing neon lights. Just polished black doors beneath warm lanterns.
A valet immediately walks toward the Range Rover. “Good evening, Mr. Vikiar.”
Azriel tosses him the keys. “Thanks, Ben.”
The man smiles at me. “Good evening, miss.”
Inside, an elevator waits with no buttons. Azriel places his thumb against a scanner, and the doors open.
“Fingerprint?”
He grins. “It’s easier.”
“For who?”
“For people who forget keys,” he teases.
I raise an eyebrow. “Rich people have weird problems.”
“They do.”
The elevator climbs silently. Thirty floors. It reminds me of those fancy hotels in New York.
When the doors slide open...I forget how to breathe. The entire rooftop overlooks the city. Glass railings disappear into the night. Thousands of lights stretch toward the horizon. Heaters are placed between tables like tall plants.
Live violin music drifts through the cool evening air. The place feels expensive. The kind of restaurant where people whisper because the view already says enough.
A hostess approaches immediately. “Good evening, Mr. Vikiar.”
“Evening,” he replies with a nod.
“Your usual table?”
“If it’s available.”
She smiles. “It always is.”
She leads us toward the very edge of the rooftop. One table is separated from the others.
I look at Azriel as we sit. “You come here often?”
“When I want to think.”
“I thought rich people thought on yachts.”
He laughs. “I get seasick.”
“I was joking.”
I wouldn’t be surprised if they had yachts at their disposal to just think.
The server appears, and I notice they did not offer us any menus. “Your usual?”
Azriel nods before looking at me. “You okay with steak?”
“I love steak.”
I do.
I was kind of worried about what I would order.
When I was with Roman, I was embarrassed a few times trying to pronounce certain dishes on the menu.
Roman always pointed out the fact that I needed to learn how to order.
It was one of his many insecurities. To him, not knowing how to pronounce dishes on the menu was an embarrassment to him.
“Perfect. She’ll have the same,” Azriel tells the server.
The server disappears.
I blink. “Did...did we just order without ordering?”
Azriel smiles. “I’ve been coming here since I was sixteen. They remember.”
I lean back in my chair. “This isn’t exactly normal.”
“No, it isn’t.” He looks out across the skyline. “But it’s peaceful.”
The city sparkles beneath us. The wind brushes gently across the rooftop. And for the first time in what feels like forever, everything is quiet. Easy.
“So...” Azriel folds his hands on the table. “Can I ask you something?”
“Depends.”
He smiles. “Fair. What did you think of Saint before you met him?”
I laugh. “I thought he was stalking me to hurt me.”
“He probably was.”
My eyes widen. “What?”
“I’m kidding.”
I narrow my eyes. “Were you?”
Azriel chuckles. “The truth? He found you on the first day. I’m sure by now it’s no secret.”
My stomach tightens. “The fountain. You knew?”
“We all did.”
He looks toward the skyline.
“When Saint is fixated on something, everyone else notices that he noticed. In our circle, I mean.”
I don’t know why, but hearing that sends warmth through my chest. At least, he has them, and he isn’t alone. Knowing what he must have gone through, it feels like relief, even if some of the things Saint has done and will do I don’t agree with.
“He disappeared,” I blurt. The words leave before I can stop them.
Azriel’s smile fades. “He did.”
“Where?”
“I can’t tell you.”
My left leg starts to shake. “Is he okay?”
Azriel studies me carefully. Then he answers honestly. “He’s alive.”
That’s not reassuring, but I can’t push or Azriel will tell me what I want to hear and not the whole truth.
“I was hoping for a little more than alive.”
“So was I.”
Silence settles between us. The server arrives with two glasses of sparkling water.
Azriel thanks him and waits until he’s gone.
Then he quietly says, “People think Saint is difficult because he doesn’t care.
That it’s part of some type of mental problem.
” His fingers trace the rim of his glass.
“They’re wrong. I think he cares too much about the people who are most important to him, and then he gets punished for it.
He has had to adapt to circumstances out of anyone’s direct control.
Saint is someone who you can’t control, but deep down there is a part of him he only lets a few people see. ”
He doesn’t have to spell it out. It’s one of the reasons they locked him up. Why they kept him in a room with padded walls. They want to contain him, but from what? Why keep him hidden on campus?
I think about the way Saint touched my neck. The way he watched me. The way he always seemed to know when something was wrong. He doesn’t have to ask or know when I need him. He shows up. He stays.
“He’s twenty years old,” he continues. “He never had a first date.” His eyes meet mine. “The rest of us made mistakes. Saint survived them, and he protected us.”
The words settle quietly between us. For the first time, I stop seeing Saint as the man everyone fears and start wondering about the boy who never had the chance to simply grow up.