Saint up top 🥵. Just imagine him with glasses and that's him.
A letter to my younger self~ Ambar Lucid
~P H Y S I C A L E D U C A T I ON~
"I'll be there in five."
BLAISE SITS on the bleachers in gym with a frown on her face. So far, she hasn't had a class with Saint the whole day. She'd only hung out with the boy for ten minutes and she was already considering him a friend.
This is why you should stay away from new people, Blaise. You get attached too easily. She scolds herself.
It's true. She fell in love with her first boyfriend after two weeks of knowing him. Her mother says that the women in their family are known for falling in love too quickly, but no one had ever fallen quite as fast as Blaise had, or as hard. She would've done anything for that boy.
I did do everything for him. Blaise thinks bitterly.
As she's sitting on the bleachers, waiting for everyone else to finish changing, her name is called. Blaise instantly knows who it is since no one else talks to her. And it seems that every other girl in the room knows who it is too, since all of them have started stretching in slightly provocative ways. Touching their toes, stretching their arms above their heads, or doing lunges and squats. It wasn't like the girls don't do it to tease some of the guys in the class anyway, it was just that this time they were really trying to impress Saint.
That same Saint who's currently jogging over to Blaise and not paying any attention to the beautiful girls around him.
"We're in the same gym class!" Saint cheers. He wasn't expecting to see Blaise in any of his classes today. He quickly hops up the bleachers and sits down next to Blaise.
The raven-haired girl admires Saint in his t-shirt and basketball shorts. His defined muscles are easier to see and Blaise can definitely say that she's enjoying the view.
"Would you look at that? We are in the same gym class," Blaise says, slightly distracted by the eye candy sitting next to her.
Saint smiles. "What sport do you guys usually play? Football, basketball, volleyball?"
Blaise shrugs. "I don't know, I don't usually care what sport we're playing."
Saint is about to say something, but a girl walks up the bleachers to talk to him. She has long, curly, golden brown hair, toffee-colored skin, bright hazel eyes, and plump lips. She waves to Saint.
"Hi! I hear that your name's Saint. I'm Bellatrix, but everyone calls me Trixy," the girl introduces herself.
Blaise smirks. "That's a hooker's name."
Bellatrix gasps. "Rude!"
Saint chuckles and turns to Blaise. "What's a hooker?"
"Ask your mother," Blaise recites, quoting the show Lucifer.
Saint laughs. "You watch Lucifer?"
Blaise smirks. "It's my favorite show."
Trixy crosses her arms across her chest. "I'm sorry to interrupt Blaise, but shouldn't you be hooking up with Spencer? He's your boyfriend after all." She sneers. Before Blaise can retort, she starts talking to Saint. "My friends wanted me to tell you that you can sit with us at lunch. What do you say?"
Blaise rolls her eyes. "First of all, Spencer and I don't hook up at school. It's depressing and always kills the mood. Second of all, Saint's sitting with me."
Saint looks between the two girls who are glaring at each other. Bellatrix looks like she's thinking of a really good insult to say to Blaise while Blaise looks like she's refraining from hurting Bellatrix.
"I doubt that highly. You probably just said that now because you're jealous. Saint would never want to sit with a girl like you."
Saint frowns. Blaise is really nice. She's the first person to talk to me and she offered to show me around.
"You probably never gave Saint a chance to even decline your lunch offer," Bellatrix says snottily. It isn't like she doesn't have a reason to act this way. Blaise is very predictable when it comes to boys. She's so forward and direct with them, intimidating them into saying yes to everything she asks, and then she lures them in behind closed doors. Besides, she's rude and cold. There's no need to be nice to her. Everyone tried at one point or another when she first moved and ultimately got called a bitch.
Blaise turns to Saint. "I gave you a chance to decline, right babe?"
Saint blushes again at the nickname. Blaise has never been afraid to give people she likes pet names, it's a trait she inherited from hanging around her mom so much.
Saint frowns. "You never asked me about lu—" He pauses when he sees Blaise's intense glare. "N-never mind, I-I remember now. I said yes to sitting with Blaise, sorry Trixy."
The girl scowls before stomping off. Blaise doesn't have any other friends except for Spencer because both kids live in the bad side of town. They're bad kids, they do bad things. The fact that someone like Saint would ever want to hang out with the two seems baffling to everyone else. Saint's clearly not a bad kid. He lives in the good side of town, he does good things, and yet he'll hang out with the two demons of the school. Blaise's name is literally fire; she ruins everything she touches. Saint's too pure for anything horrible to happen to him.
If Blaise didn't believe the kids so much, she would've been more angry. But she's not, because she knows who she is, and who she is isn't a very good person.
Blaise hops up from her seat and storms off, muttering that she needs a smoke to Saint. Saint stares after her as she runs away, forcing himself not to follow. He has a feeling that Blaise wants to be alone.
~••~
BLAISE SIGHS as she walks into her apartment later that day. She had had a long day. She had learned that Saint was also in her science class, but since he was the hot new kid, she couldn't really talk to him much. All the kids, especially the girls, kept introducing themselves and inviting him over to sit with them at lunch. A few of the guys on the basketball team told him that he should tryout, especially since he's so tall.
Blaise sets her leather bag down next to the door and kicks off her shoes. She walks into the kitchen to find her mother getting something out of the pantry, water boiling on the stove.
"Ma? Why aren't you asleep right now?" She asks.
Kindle Nightshade, mother of one. She has the same black hair, fair skin, and height as her daughter, but her lips are thinner and her body is tired. Born and raised in Armenia, she moved to America twenty years ago and met her husband, Damien. He surprised her by being able to speak some Armenian at the grocery store and helping her figure out what it was she was buying. Kindle was only twenty-two years old when she moved over to America, twenty-three when she married Damien, and twenty-four when she had Blaise. Now she's forty-two and worn out beyond belief.
"I just wanted to see my baby once she got home from school," Kindle says softly. She is moving slowly and the bags under her eyes show that she needs to sleep. She has to work the night shift and Walmart from 8:30 p.m to 4:30 a.m and then go to her nanny job at 7:00 to 3:00, so she barely has any time to rest, or to see her own daughter.
Blaise shakes her head sadly and walks over to her mother. She gives her a gentle hug, afraid that she might hurt her frail body. Kindle doesn't take good care of herself, but that's because she is so worried for Blaise and trying to desperately get them out of the hellhole they call an apartment.
"Go to sleep, Mama," Blaise orders softly.
Kindle shakes her head. "You need to eat, Blaise. I don't cook you any good meals anymore. You're barley getting any food!"
Blaise laughs softly. "Spencer buys me food all the time, Mama. You need to rest. It's not healthy of you to stay awake for so long." It's not healthy for you to work this hard, either. You're skin and bones, mom. You look sick.
But Blaise doesn't say that. She just gives her mother a soft kiss on the forehead and leads her over to their living room, which isn't really a room but rather a couch near the old, small dining table.
"But Blaise—" Blaise interrupts her mother's protests, shushing her quietly. She helps her mother lay down on the couch (much to Kindle's protests) and grabs her a blanket. She tucks her mother in just like how her dad did for her when she was a child, and walks back over to the kitchen to turn off the stove.
"Goodnight, Mama," Blaise whispers when she hears her mother's soft snores.
Things weren't always like this in the Nightshade household. The family used to be bright and cheery... whole. That was before Damien died during a robbery while he was off duty. He was a cop— a detective— and was the best damn father and husband that Blaise or Kindle could ask for.
After Damien died, the two women were devastated. The family never had much money, so the inheritance from his death wasn't a lot. It was just enough for the two women to move into a new apartment and buy new furniture. Kindle had to quit her job as a math tutor since it didn't pay too well and get the two new jobs she has now. Now, Kindle can barely keep the family's head above water, and she refuses to let her daughter work again.
The first time didn't go so well.
So now Blaise just sits back and watches her mother work herself to death, not being able to do anything because said mother told her not to. And it's not like she hasn't tried several times to go behind her mother's back and help out, it's just that Kindle has caught her every time and she was not happy. The only time Blaise saw her mom that furious was when she found out who killed her husband. Only this time, instead of some criminal getting cursed out by a tiny Armenian woman, it was said tiny Armenian woman's child who was only trying to help.
Such a strange world we life in. Blaise thinks as she plops down onto her bed. It's times like these where she feels the need to go out and get a job, but she can't. She doesn't want to stress her mom anymore by going out and working. The only job that Kindle would be okay with are if Blaise babysat or tutored, both things that involve parents contacting Kindle every week instead of Blaise just going off when her "shift" started. The bad thing about that, which Kindle already took into account, is that Blaise hates kids and kids clearly hate Blaise. Every kid she's ever met has either thrown up on her, spit on her, bit her, screamed at her, or thrown some type of food or blunt object at her head.
Besides, babysitting won't really help them pay the bills that are way too high for such a crappy apartment. Blaise sits down on her bed and stares at the wall, too tired to do anything. Her mind starts to wander and think of her father, but she keeps telling herself not to.
Dad's dead, okay? You can't worry about a dead man when you have a mom who's about to join him. You need to find a job.
Blaise quickly picks up her phone and dials Spencer's number. After two rings, she hears his deep voice.
"Hey mama. You called?" He greets cockily.
Blaise scoffs. "I don't want to bang, Spence. I just... I'm thinking about Papa. I need someone right now."
Spencer, who was smirking when he answered the call, quickly loses his smile. "Do you want me to come over, sweetheart?"
Blaise smiles at the caring tone in his voice, along with the nickname. "Yes please."
"I'll be there in five," Spencer says before hanging up.
Aww. Imagine having a friend like Spencer... minus the benefits part. He'd be pretty fun to hang around if you ask me. 😂