“No, it isn’t.” He looks out across the skyline. “But it’s peaceful.”
The city sparkles beneath us. The wind brushes gently across the rooftop. And for the first time in what feels like forever, everything is quiet. Easy.
“So...” Azriel folds his hands on the table. “Can I ask you something?”
“Depends.”
He smiles. “Fair. What did you think of Saint before you met him?”
I laugh. “I thought he was stalking me to hurt me.”
“He probably was.”
My eyes widen. “What?”
“I’m kidding.”
I narrow my eyes. “Were you?”
Azriel chuckles. “The truth? He found you on the first day. I’m sure by now it’s no secret.”
My stomach tightens. “The fountain. You knew?”
“We all did.”
He looks toward the skyline.
“When Saint is fixated on something, everyone else notices that he noticed. In our circle, I mean.”
I don’t know why, but hearing that sends warmth through my chest. At least, he has them, and he isn’t alone. Knowing what he must have gone through, it feels like relief, even if some of the things Saint has done and will do I don’t agree with.
“He disappeared,” I blurt. The words leave before I can stop them.
Azriel’s smile fades. “He did.”
“Where?”
“I can’t tell you.”
My left leg starts to shake. “Is he okay?”
Azriel studies me carefully. Then he answers honestly. “He’s alive.”
That’s not reassuring, but I can’t push or Azriel will tell me what I want to hear and not the whole truth.
“I was hoping for a little more than alive.”
“So was I.”
Silence settles between us. The server arrives with two glasses of sparkling water.
Azriel thanks him and waits until he’s gone. Then he quietly says, “People think Saint is difficult because he doesn’t care. That it’s part of some type of mental problem.” His fingers trace the rim of his glass. “They’re wrong. I think he cares too much about the people who are most important to him, and then he gets punished for it. He has had to adapt to circumstances out of anyone’s direct control. Saint is someone who you can’t control, but deep down there is a part of him he only lets a few people see.”
He doesn’t have to spell it out. It’s one of the reasons they locked him up. Why they kept him in a room with padded walls. They want to contain him, but from what? Why keep him hidden on campus?
I think about the way Saint touched my neck. The way he watched me. The way he always seemed to know when something was wrong. He doesn’t have to ask or know when I need him. He shows up. He stays.
“He’s twenty years old,” he continues. “He never had a first date.” His eyes meet mine. “The rest of us made mistakes. Saint survived them, and he protected us.”
