Page 4 of Saint

There’s no escaping him.

If the stranger feels constricted by the tight backseat, he doesn’t let it show. His shoulders are relaxed as he stretches an arm across the back of the seat, getting comfortable. He tugs the neck of his hoodie, and the scent of pine and cool winter air floods my senses.

Danger.

A forest at midnight.

Darkness.

“Where are you headed?” Liam’s question snaps my attention back to the front seat.

While I’m waiting for the stranger to take a knife to us, Liam isn’t the least bit nervous. Which, I suppose, isn’t surprising, given his usual level of arrogance. If I had to guess, Liam fears nothing because he thinks he’s above everyone else. He doesn’t know what it’s like to be scared—to be vulnerable.

“The Petersons’,” the stranger says.

The dark vibration of his voice has my eyes flicking to the backseat, and my breath catches when I look at him. Those bright blue Xs hide his eyes, and still, I feel his attention on me.

Liam grips the steering wheel as he pulls the car back onto the road. “See, baby. Told you. Partygoer.”

“Mm-hmm,” I hum, forcing a smile.

It doesn’t matter if this stranger is headed to the same place we are; nothing about him feels familiar or safe. But there’s no point trying to convince Liam when he doesn’t listen to a word I say.

It’s getting harder to fake my way through this relationship, and I keep hoping at some point I’ll mean it. But as he gives me a sideways mocking grin, I’m not sure what I’m hanging on for.

The stability?

The comfort?

Liam is certainty when my life has been cloaked in unknowns.

“Chicks, man.” Liam laughs, glancing in the rearview mirror at the man who might be a serial killer. “She’s so fucking paranoid.”

The stranger hums in response, and I can’t tell whether he’s in agreement or irritated. His fingers tap the peak of his knee, and with the music turned down, it’s quiet enough in the car to hear them drumming.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

I want to know why he’s out here in the middle of the night. Walking alone on a deserted forest road. I want to know what he’s planning to do when we get to the Valentine’s Massacre party. Or why he’s wearing a mask.

Liam explained to me that the Peterson twins celebrate Valentine’s Day more like Halloween. But even with the name of the party, I didn’t expect this.

“Nice mask.” Liam tips his chin up in the rearview mirror. “Creepy as fuck.”

The stranger nods, still not speaking.

I wonder if he thinks it’s odd that my boyfriend’s making small talk with him. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t killed us yet. He’s curious what ridiculous things Liam is going to say to a man who I’m guessing is a little unhinged.

“You might get the best look of the night.”

I glance over at Liam at his comment. “I didn’t know this was a dress-up thing.”

After all, Liam and I aren’t wearing anything special and aren’t in costumes.

Liam’s wearing his usual polo shirt with his letterman jacket and jeans. He embodies the blond hair, blue-eyed football players all the girls at school fall for. And he has the muscle tone and confidence to back it up.

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