Page 64 of Satan's Spawn
Son of a bitch ass.
Taking a step back, I wipe down my blazer and shake the nerves from my system. When I look over to the guy attached to the voice I find no other than Saint Lavell, leaning against the lockers.
He’s smiling apologetically at me, all dark messy hair and crystal blue eyes in his Letterman jacket. Along with a very pretty redhead hanging off it.
Do any of these guys actuallygoto class? Or do they just wait around for me to make a fool out of myself?
Shrugging the girl off him, Saint takes languid strides my way, leaving princess Ariel to stomp off annoyed.
“What’s up, new girl? We haven’t been properly introduced,” he says when he reaches me, holding out his hand. “I’m Saint Lavell.”
As if he needs an introduction, all the girls seem to talk about in this school is the star quarterback and how eager they are for his attention.
“I’m Bex.” I cautiously shake his hand, still trying to figure out if he’s friend or foe.
“Oh, I know. You’re in my English and Lab class. You’ve been causing quite the stir.”
I’m pretty sure he doesn’t mean this in a good way.
“Yeah, well, I don’t want to be.” I can’t hide the bite in my tone, but Saint doesn’t seem to be deterred by it.
“Oh, that choice isn’t yours anymore, sweetheart. Now that you caught Cray’s eye.”
Not this “Crayton rules all” nonsense again.
“I don’t want hiseye. Or anyone’s if I’m being honest.”
“Now that can’t be true. I see you getting close to Archer. Even Felix.”
I don’t miss the bite in his tone this time, especially with Felix’s name.
“That’s not really any of your business.” I look away, feeling called out even though I know I shouldn’t.
“True. But as a guy with semi decent morals, and a younger sister, I feel it’s my duty to let you know you should stay away from Crimson. He’s bad news.”
He has a sister? Is she in this school?
And has hemethis best friend?
“So your buddy Crayton, is what? A stand up guy?”
He taps his chin. “Crayton’s…misunderstood.”
Says every defender of a sociopath.
“Well, where isMr. Misunderstood?” It looks like Saint’s been out here for a while, so I’m sure he spotted him barrelling out of the bathroom.
“Running an errand.”
“What kind of errand needs to be done during the school day?”
He winks. “The Crayton kind.”
Must involve torturing people, then.
“Why? You interested in my boy or somethin’?” Saint presses.
The smirk tells me he’s joking, but the hint of determination tells me he’s fishing, too.
