“For what, exactly?”
“For everything,” I shrug. “For breaking my nose, for trying to drown me in this very lake when we were teens, for sending that goddamned picture to Sinners and Saints. Take your pick, I don’t care anymore.”
Grace lifts a brow. “Is everything alright? Because something feels odd about this situation. You know he will be extremely angry. Who knows what he’ll do to you once he wakes up?”
“Let me repeat, this was your idea.”
“Yeah, but I’ve never been the sanest one of the bunch. Besides, this will literally mean war between you two.”
“We’ve been at war for years. I genuinely don’t care what he’ll do.”
“Alright, if you say so,” she shrugs, then pulls out her phone. At the same time, mine buzzes, and my heart sinks to my feet.
“Don’t tell me it’s Sinners and Saints?”
“No, no,” she says, and I sigh out in relief. “It’s Lila, in the group chat. She sent us a screenshot of the priest’s Facebook page. She’s basically salivating.”
The Saint Valley Academy values religion a lot. There are quite a few religious students, Lila being one of them. There’s a little church built around two decades ago, just behind the school, and every Sunday, one of the priests will come.
“Oh, that again?” I groan. “He’s a priest! He won’t look at her twice!”
“But he is very handsome,” Grace points out. “I mean, for a forty-year-old?”
“Forty?! As if Avalon wasn’t enough.”
“What? Do you know something?” Grace asks, and I realize my mistake. However, judging by the way she’s looking at me, it seems as though she’s aware of something, too.
“I might know something,” I shrug. “Do you know something?”
“I might know something, too,” she responds, then smirks. “We’ll talk about that tomorrow. Start before the numbing cream wears off.”
With a deep breath, I shift a little and try to ignore the rapid beating of my heart in my chest. I reach for the gun on the table, and open the ink, trying to remember everything I’ve seen on tutorials.
“Look at me.”
I turn to Grace, and she steps back, pointing her phone at me. I grin widely, sticking my tongue out. She snaps a picture, flash blinking into the room. Then, she laughs as she looks at the photo.
“Do you have anything in mind?”
I test the tattoo gun, then shake my head. “I was thinking of writing something. I have pretty handwriting, but I’m no artist. That’s the only thing that could look at least presentable, if not good.”
“Alright. I’ll be off now to drive those morons back to campus. You send me a picture of the tattoo once you’re done, got it?”
I nod and turn back to Soren’s sleeping form.
His black hair is messy, falling over his face. It’s the first time I’m able to pay attention to his face without him staring right back atme. His lashes are very thick, long, and curled to perfection. He has small beauty marks scattered all over his face, and his lips are plump, in such a pretty shade of light pink.
His jaw is defined, and even in his sleep, he looks on guard. It’s as though this man has never known peace. Truth be told — I’m the reason he will never know peace, and that makes the feeling of satisfaction flutter in my chest.
Memories of two nights ago come rushing back to me, my cheeks heating up. We haven’t spoken of it, and that’s for the better. I don’t know where he was last night, but he didn’t sleep in the same bed as me, and in some way, I’m disappointed.
It shouldn’t be disappointing. I should be happy that he’s not willing to share the bed with me, and that I can rest. Yet, I barely slept last night. Given the hard work I did yesterday and the sore muscles, I thought I’d knock right out. But the thoughts of Soren, of the way he made me come by using me as a way to get himself off.
“Get a grip, Sophia,” I mutter to myself, shaking my head.
Then, I close my eyes briefly, take a deep breath, and steel myself for what I’m about to do. The trembling of my hands stops when I start tattooing Soren’s chest, and the more I do it, the more confident I get.
I spend two minutes, then take a one-minute break. He’s not stirring, but his breathing is even, and I’m glad he’s not dead. Well, mainly because I don’t want to be sent to prison for murder.
