Page 20 of Heartless Sinner

“Something like that,” I grumbled.

“Did you miss me?” She’d gone to Martha’s Vineyard with her mom over the weekend.

“Of course. Couldn’t eat. Couldn’t sleep. Just kept looking out the window like a sad puppy, waiting for you to return.”

She patted my head like I was said sad puppy. “That’s my good best friend.”

“And for that, I’m finding a new bestie.”

“You’d never. You and I have too much history to ever give up on each other.”

My smile faded at the truth of that.

Adelina had been my first friend in the States. She’d stood by me when no one else had. And I’d repaid her by betraying her family.

If she ever found out, it’d be the end of our friendship.

She lowered her voice, pointing her glittery gel pen at me. “I heard you and my brother had quite the spat this weekend while I was gone.”

“Blair’s big mouth?”

“Nope. Brooks texted me a list of replacement best friends.”

“And you got us fighting from that text?”

“No, then I asked Blair, and she told me.” She capped her pen and tossed it to the side. “He’s such an asshole. I blocked him for two days, just so you know.”

“It should’ve been at least five.”

“That was my intention, but then I needed him to bring me Taco Bell. A chicken quesadilla was calling my name.”

“If you’d said a Crunchwrap, our friendship would be over.”

“Ugh, never.”

She turned back to her bright pink laptop, tapping away behind the privacy screen. I didn’t need to see it to know she was on her anonymous social media account.

I faced the front and gave listening to Laurent my best shot.

That lasted maybe thirty seconds.

Like every lecture hall here at Saint Vale, this one looked more like a cathedral. Stained glass stretched up one stone wall while crystal chandeliers hung overhead. The desks probably cost a small fortune and were still uncomfortable as hell.

Laurent’s lecture about the media’s powerful sway over politics faded into background noise.

I rubbed the tender spot on my lip where Brooks had bitten me before pressing my thumb against it while his words replayed in my brain.

“By the time I’m finished with you, you’ll wish I’d poured that rat poison down your throat.”

Saint Vale’s dining hall looked more like a five-star restaurant than a university cafeteria.

Crystal glasses replaced paper cups, servers took orders instead of lunch ladies, and a Michelin-starred chef flew in once a week to manage the sushi bar.

I spotted my friends the second I walked in.

When I reached the table, Seraphina was in the middle of a story, waving her glass around. The pink bows tied around her dark-haired buns bounced with every word.

Across from her, Gemma buttered a roll. Her vintage Dior sweater was a violation of the dress code, but I’d risk a warning slip for that outfit too. And her hair? I was forever jealous. If I tried a blunt black bob like that, I’d look exactly like Lord Farquaad.