Chapter 41
Amy
The library empties around me one chair at a time. Somewhere behind me and the rows of shelves, a clock chimes seven.
I should leave. It’s getting late, and it will be completely dark soon. I don’t want to have to walk alone in the dark back to my dorm. The past few days, I haven’t seen Rose in her dorm. I have too much going on to ask her, and besides, it’s none of my business.
I underline the same sentence for the fourth time without reading a single word. Roman’s voice won’t leave my head. The pen slips from my fingers.
I close the book and call it a night.
Outside, the air has turned sharp, carrying the scent of rain over the old stone buildings of Kenyan. The quad is nearly empty, and classes are over. The coffee shop closes in fifteen minutes.
The lights lining the walkways cast long amber shadows across the brick paths. I pull my sweater tighter around myself and start toward the dorms. Halfway across the quad, a nagging feeling returns.
The awareness of being watched.
I glance over my shoulder but find nothing except a couple walking near the fountain and two guys laughing outside the gym.
I keep walking, but the feeling doesn’t go away. It grows deeper like vines around the middle of my chest.
I make it another twenty feet before the voice comes from beside me. “Looking for someone?”
I jump.
Saint is standing beneath one of the oak trees, hands buried inside the pockets of his hoodie, as though he’d been there the entire time.
My pulse pounds against my ribs. “You scared me.”
“I didn’t mean to.” His answer is maddeningly calm.
I look around him. “I didn’t even see you.”
“You weren’t supposed to.”
I fold my arms. “Were you following me?”
“Yes.”
The honesty catches me completely off guard.
“You admit it like that is something normal?”
“Why lie.”
“Why?”
His gaze stays on me. “Because you’ve looked over your shoulder six times since you left the library.”
Heat creeps into my cheeks. “I wasn’t counting.”
“I was.” Silence stretches between us for a few scenes before he continues. “You’ve been nervous all week.”
“I’ve told you I’m fine,” I explain. “The other night in the shower…That hasn’t happened in a while.”
“You aren’t.”
“I am.”
“You’ve started walking faster after sunset.” I blink. “And you noticed that? You hold your backpack tighter now. You stay near lights. You check reflections in windows before turning corners. I can keep going.”
Each observation lands like a heartbeat because every one of them is true.
The question leaves my mouth before I can stop it. “How do you notice things like that?”
Saint looks toward the empty quad before answering. “I taught myself to.”
The words are simple, but something in his voice tells me he didn’t have a choice and was given no other choice.
A breeze slips between us, and without thinking, I rub my hands together.
Saint notices immediately. He steps closer, closing the distance between us. His hands disappear from his pockets. Before I can ask what he’s doing...
He gently catches the sleeve of my sweater and pulls it down over my fingertips. My hands disappear inside the oversized sleeves.
“There.”
I stare down at them. “What was that for?”
“They’re cold.”
“You could’ve just said that.”
“I could’ve, but I didn’t.”
I laugh despite myself. “You’re impossible.”
“So I’ve been told.”
Saint isn’t staring at me. He’s watching my hands.
“You always do that.”
He tilts his head. “What?”
“You watch my hands.”
“They tell me things.”
“Like what?”
“When you’re anxious, your left thumb rubs against your index finger.”
I immediately stop doing it, and he notices that too.
“You hide them when you’re lying.”
I swallow.
“You clench them when you’re angry.” His eyes lift to mine. “And when you’re scared...” His voice softens a fraction. “You make yourself smaller.”
Something tightens in my chest. No one has ever looked at me long enough to learn those things.
Not even Roman.
The thought hits so suddenly that I take a small step back. Saint notices.
“You’re afraid of him.”
It isn’t a question because the way my breath catches is all he needs to know.
Of course I’m afraid of him. My fingers are trembling.
Saint takes one slow step toward me. “You don’t have to keep looking over your shoulder.”
My heart pounds. “Why?”
His eyes never leave mine. “Because I’m already looking.”
The words settle over me like a promise and a warning. I can’t forget what I am in this place. I’m not any safer out there than I am in here. I’m not sure which is worse, but right now, I’ll take my chances with Saint.
We stand there for several seconds.
Saint steps back first and nods toward the path to my dorm room. “Come on, I’ll walk you.”
As we walk side by side through the quiet campus, I become aware of something that hadn’t occurred to me before. Saint never walks beside anyone else. He walks slightly behind me like he is making sure he can see everything I can’t.
And for the first time since Roman found me... I stop checking over my shoulder.
The rest of the week passes quietly, or as quietly as life at Kenyan ever allows. The school’s social media page never disappoints. Surprisingly, none are about Saint being absent.
Saint doesn’t disappear again. He doesn’t text me and doesn’t ask where I’m going.
He simply...appears.
Inside class. Outside the classes we don’t share together.
He walks across the quad when I take a seat. He waits, but never close enough to make it obvious.
I stop being surprised because it has become a routine. Which probably says something deeply concerning about my mental state.
Friday afternoon arrives with rare sunshine. Students spill across the quad between classes. Music echoes from somewhere in the distance by the parking lot. I spot Saint across the lawn talking with Azriel.
Even from here...People naturally leave space around them like predators surrounded by an invisible circle no one dares to cross.
As I get closer, Saint glances toward me for a split second and then continues talking.
I smile to myself.
“Amy?” I turn.
Elliot.
He smiles the same easy smile he wore the night of the party. “No bodyguard today?” he asks, walking toward me.
I laugh. “I don’t have a bodyguard.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Could’ve fooled me.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’ve never seen anyone watch another person the way he watches you.”
My smile fades. “He’s just...”
I don’t even know how to finish that sentence. What am I going to say? We’re just friends.
He shoves one hand into the pocket of his jacket. “So...”
“I was wondering if maybe you’d want to grab coffee sometime.”
“I’d…” But I pause. Elliot’s eyes suddenly shift past me. His expression changes to resignation.
Saint stops beside me, almost close enough that our shoulders almost touch, but his gaze remains on Elliot.
“You’re interrupting.”
Elliot laughs nervously. “I didn’t realize she was busy.”
Saint looks at me instead. “Were you leaving?”
“I was heading back to my dorm.”
Saint looks back at Elliot. “You have your answer.”
Elliot studies him for several long seconds like he is contemplating his next answer. “I wasn’t asking you.”
Fuck.
“No.” Saint’s voice remains calm. “You were asking her.”
“So let her answer,” Elliot challenges.
I don’t know if Elliot has a death wish because Saint is a large man compared to Elliot or he’s very brave.
“So you’re done.”
Elliot chuckles. “I think that’s her decision.” For the first time, Elliot’s smile slips. “I’m asking her to get coffee.”
Saint straightens to his full height. “I heard. And? I don’t drink coffee.”
“I wasn’t inviting you.”
Saint’s mouth almost curves. “That’s why I’m confused.”
I glance between them, knowing a pissing contest when I see one. “Saint...”
Neither of them looks away from the other.
Elliot folds his arms. “So what’s your problem?”
Saint grins, dangerously amused. “I’m still deciding.”
“I don’t need you to.” Elliot studies him, trying to figure him out.
With Saint, there is nothing to figure out. I don’t think Elliot realizes how dangerous Saint is.
Saint raises an eyebrow. “Is there supposed to be more?”
I clear my throat. “I don’t think coffee is a good idea, Elliot.”
Elliot holds my gaze, defeat crossing his eyes. Then he nods. “Fair enough.” He slips his hands into his pockets and walks away.
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “You were enjoying that.”
Saint starts walking. “A little.”
I try to keep up. “You were goading him.”
“He bored me.”
I stare at him. “That’s your excuse?”
“No.” He glances sideways at me. “That was me being polite.”
I laugh. “I’d hate to see rude.”
His pauses and his eyes meet mine. “As long as you don’t, that is all that matters. You still get to choose.”
“I did.”
He catches a strand of my hair blowing in the breeze. “I know.”