Page 6 of The Tenth Circle (Vicious Saint: Prelude)
HENDRIX
“ T rust me when I tell you, girl. He is that big.”
My leg shakes relentlessly against the floor, trying to tune out the tenth conversation I’ve overhead this week involving Saint’s dick. The universe must have a grudge against me, because no matter how hard I try to avoid them, somehow I still end up surrounded by his sleazy conquests.
Or maybe it’s the universe's way of showing me what a pig this guy is. A pig who’s been ignoring me since the first day of school—even though he’s made it a point to sit next to me every day in Algebra II.
No words. No looks. Just orange scented suffocation.
Annalie’s jealousy makes up for that one, though.
I should be relieved Saint’s put me on his “Pay No Mind” list, the guy’s a jerk, and I’m way too much of a catch to be lowering my standards to swine.
Still. Jerkwad’s been pissing me off, yo.
Luckily this is a class I can breathe in—because not having Saint here leaves enough air in the room for the rest of us.
Besides listening to the very detailed descriptions of his cock, I’ve had Archer, Bex, and thoughts of Crazyman-maybe-Letterman, keeping my mind occupied.
Right now it’s mostly the last one, because Bex disappeared almost ten minutes ago to use the bathroom, leaving me without any excuses left for Mr. Gibson, our history teacher.
Stomach bug. Emergency call from her mom. She lost her phone. Which can very easily be debunked because the dumbass left it on her desk.
These days people forget children before their cell phones, but not Bex. She’s made it a daily routine.
Hoping Gibson lets her absence go for the final fifteen minutes of class, I’m back to wondering how likely a coincidence my situation is.
After all, I’ve searched the crevices of every wall in this castle, embarrassed to admit I stalked some possible contenders too.
“Miss Montgomery, where is your?—”
“Her dog died,” I cut off Gibson, not bothering to look up from my sketchpad.
If this girl doesn’t get her ass back soon, I’m sending Archer with a search party, since it’s obvious I suck at finding anything.
“What the hell, Hen?” Archer whispers behind me, the concern in his voice clear as day. “What’s taking her so long?”
I react like it’s nothing, but deep down my nerves are eating at me. As proven on the first day, the kids in this school aren’t the kind with open arms.
An idea hits me, and a second later my hand is raised.
“Yes, Miss Montgomery?” Gibson mutters as he turns, making me wonder how the heck he knew I was trying to get his attention.
“Can I use the?—”
“Sorry…my hall pass died.” It’s his turn to cut me off, and with an equal amount of sass.
“Sir, please.”
He raises a thick groomed eyebrow. “You can find out why your friend received an F on her assignment after the bell rings.”
Oh shitsy bitsies, Bex will not be happy. She’s higher strung than the thong between her ass cheeks. Which proves that she’s preoccupied with something. Maybe even some one .
About ten minutes later the bell goes off, and I’m up and out of my seat in a flash holding all of our belongings.
“I have to go see my grandfather,” Archer announces as I leave. “Let me know where she is.”
With a salute over my shoulder I haul ass into the hallway. It fills quickly with some kids rushing to their next class, but most are at their leisure or crowding lockers like we’re standing in the middle of a common room.
I don’t have the time to worry about other people’s poor academic standing, not when my closest friend here may be locked in a closet somewhere.
I’m deep in thought with ways to break someone out of Narnia when something slams into me from behind—sending me tumbling forward and everything I’m holding crashing to the floor.
“What the freak?!” I turn, face heated with rage, assuming it’s one of these five hundred stuck up bitches.
But what I find is the complete opposite.
“Oh, shit, shit.” An unwieldy wall of a man curses, already bending over to pick up my things. “I’m really sorry.”
I bend down to do the same. “The heck, dude? Don’t you have eyes?”
“I’m sorry, for real. Got a test on the fourth floor and my English teacher held the class back to tell us all about his thirteen year old Bearded Collie’s birthday party.” He gathers more things than he can handle and stands, carefully passing them over to me when I’m on my feet too.
A soft spot appears through my annoyance, since Bex’s got a fat chihuahua who’s been increasing my tolerance for dogs.
“Bearded Collie, huh?” I huff, a tiny smile lifting the corner of my lips. “I got myself an animal lover too.”
“Boyfriend?”
“Best friend.”
“Ah, see, I like animals, but not enough to risk losing valuable time.”
That reminds me. “A test already?”
He blows out a breath. “Already.”
“Sucks, sorry.”
The guy shrugs. “All good. What’s your name?”
I hike Bex’s bag over my shoulder, thankful more than ever mine’s a backpack. “Hendrix.”
He holds out a hand. “I’m Stevenson.”
I return the gesture. “Hey there, Stevenson.”
“Nice bumping into you, Hendrix.”
“Wish I could say the same.”
Remorse returns to his face. “Seriously, I’m really?—”
I wave him off, back to scouring for Bex. “It’s fine, I’m screwing around.”
A smile spreads across his face—sweet but not too sweet. A gentleman’s expression. “You lost or something?”
Negative Ghostrider, but my friend sure is.
I blink rapidly as I refocus my attention on him.
“No, why?”
Kids swarm around us, some swerving out of the way to avoid Stevenson. He doesn’t seem too bothered, though. “I dunno, you seem lost or in a rush.”
“A rush?” I laugh. “Like you?”
As if the reminder slaps him in the face, he shoots out, “Shit.”
“Yeah, shit sure is right Stevenson. Better get going.”
There’s that guilt again. “I don’t want to be rude.”
“You already accomplished that with our little fender bender.” I wink to let him know I’m kidding.
Shaking his head, Stevenson responds with, “I see you’re quick with one-liners.”
“Got my moments.” I jut my chin over my shoulder. “Now go before I bore you with stories about a Chihuahua.”
“Oh, no no. I hit my quota on doggy details for the day.”
Stepping to the side, I gesture for him to pass.
He does so with a nod. “Later, Hendrix.”
“Later, Stevenson.”
The second he disappears into the stairwell I’m on the hunt again, weaving through the masses with a higher sense of awareness of body space.
I turn a corner, then another, cursing the assholes taking their time when I’m tired of wasting mine.
Then, in the near distance, I spot a glimpse of familiar platinum hair hiding behind some giant of a man.
Things seem cordial but concern lingers for the simple fact Bex is way more passive than me and some of the twats in this school.
Then, the giant’s face shifts slightly, revealing the star quarterback I’ve been drawing and stabbing with pencils all week.
Oh, hell. Fucking. No.
Concern turns to boiling rage as my feet pick up speed.
I contain the feeling as much as I can, not wanting to show my hand, so I do in the form of worry.
“Dude! What the hell?!” I fix her bag over my shoulder again. “You disappeared for over twenty minutes. Gibson was pissed.”
Saint has the nerve to greet me with a wide grin—all handsome, confident, and repulsive.
Oh how badly I want to whip out a pencil.
Get him right in the cheek.
But, instead of the preferred wanton aggression, I choose the least obvious option and stab him with my eyes.
No satisfaction for pricks.
“I don’t believe we’ve met, either.” Saint holds out his hand for me to shake, similar to Stevenson but far less sincere.
In fact, it’s mocking, because not only is he continuing this “Hendrix doesn’t exist” charade, his eyes are trickling down my body like a bead of sweat.
Fuck this guy right up the ass with Bex’s sparkly dildo. Which won’t be hard to find since she forgets to hide it every night.
“Uh. Hendrix,” Bex says in her default awkward tone. “This is Saint, Crayton’s best friend.”
Lest we forget Crayton. The psycho she’s become enamored by who I refuse to acknowledge…along with his best friend.
The self control lasts about three seconds before I look down at Saint’s outstretched hand and spit out, “Gross.”
“Harsh,” he counters, dropping his hand.
I rip a page from Saint’s book and ignore the comment. “You’ve been hanging out with him?” I turn and face my friend, creating a much needed barrier between my chest and his bright blues. “Seriously, Bex?”
I feel his eyes on my ass now—and I refuse to acknowledge the same pattern from my Crazyman. We are not going there.
Nope.
Not while I have pretenses to maintain.
“Hey. What’s wrong with him ?” Saint pouts like the petulant child he’s proving to be.
My head whips his way. “Besides the rumors you’ve slept with the entire female population?”
Damn it, Hendrix. Pretenses.
“Not the entire female population.” Saint wiggles his eyebrows. “But we’ve got time, Hendrix. It’s only the first week.”
“You’re a pig.”
There’s a speck of annoyance staining the gorgeous features of his face. Good. He can take it as a dose of karma for all the blatant disrespect. Then, I’ll store this little tell in the arsenal of psychological weapons I may have to use against him.