Saint at five years old
Gripping the metal handles of the swing, Saint glared down at the floor. He hated his name, and his mom hated his name. She didn’t want him to be called after the club that his father ruled. The MC was always a problem for his mother. She was always saying horrible things.
“You know, swings are not for being sad or moody.”
Saint gripped the handles of the swing as he was suddenly pushed firmly in the back. He looked behind him, in time to see a girl with wild red hair, giggling.
“Leave me alone!”
“Oh, someone is a moody pants.” She stood in front of him, and he had no choice but to glare back at her.
“Leave me alone.”
“You’re on the swing, so swing.” She pushed his knees, and he glared at her.
“I don’t want to swing.”
She sighed, and then took a seat on the swing beside him. “You scared?”
“No. I’m not afraid of anything.”
“I’m scared. My cousin, she only comes down from the city, but she has like, really long blonde hair, and she said that I was going to get bullied for my hair. She said it looked like blood, and no one likes blood, or girls with freckles.”
Saint simply stared at her as she kept talking. Her voice was lovely, even if he didn’t want to like her.
“What do you think?” she asked.
“Your hair is lovely.”
She smiled at him, and he couldn’t help but smile back. “We’re going to be best friends. I’m Natasha.”
“Your name is Saint?”
“Yeah, my dad named it after his club.”
“I’ve heard of those. Daddy says they’re bad men.”
“I’m not bad,” Saint said.
“I know. Now, let me push you on the swing.”
Natasha got off the swing and started to push him. Instead of fighting her, Saint lifted his legs, and allowed her to push him so that he could fly.
Saint at nine years old
“Take it back!” Saint slammed his fist against the boy’s face, not caring that he was going to get in trouble, and his dad would probably use the belt. Mom and Dad were not having the best time of it, even though little Elena had just been born.
He loved his baby sister, even though she was just a little baby who screamed a lot, and needed her diapers changed. Saint helped even though he didn’t want to. They stank!
The boy, Mark, had pissed him off, talking shit about his mom. Telling him that she was crazy, and that Mark’s mom had said she would be leaving him soon.
Saint didn’t believe it. His mom would never leave him, nor would she leave Elena either.
“Saint,” Natasha said, grabbing his arm.
The moment she spoke, he stopped hitting Mark.
“He’s not worth it. Your mom is fine,” she said.
He got to his feet and stared into his best friend’s green eyes, and felt the calmness of her presence settle over him.
“Ha, Saint needs a girl to finish his battles for him! He’s a baby!” Mark said.
“Shut up,” Natasha said.
“What are you going to do about it, Red?”
Saint burst out laughing as Natasha slammed her fist against Mark’s face. She hated someone calling her “red”, or being mean about her hair.
Before he could say anything, the head teacher was already grabbing hold of Natasha’s bag, and hauling her off with Mark. Within seconds both of them were being led toward the office, and she looked back giving him a wink.
She’d done it on purpose, pummeling Mark’s face so that she got taken to the office rather than Saint.
Later that day, he sat beside her in class. “You didn’t have to do that,” he said.
“Beat up Mark. I can handle him.”
“I know, but you shouldn’t have to beat him up. I’m happy doing it for you. You’re my best friend.” She grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze.
The pain around his heart lifted. This was why he loved Natasha. Like Elena, she was the best part about his entire world.
Saint at twelve
“I can’t believe your parents let you have the house alone,” Natasha said, looking through his endless supply of films.
“I know. Dad is trying to keep Mom happy. She’s going on at him about the club whores.”
Natasha sighed. “What are the club whores again?”
“Women that sleep with the club brothers.”
“I never really understood the whole MC thing. Girls at school are going crazy for you. It’s kind of gross.” She placed the tape into the machine and sat beside him on the sofa. Elena was asleep upstairs. Saint had offered to babysit. The arguments at home were getting worse. Yesterday his mom didn’t come home all day, or all night, and his dad was going mental over it. Saint wasn’t ready to tell Natasha about that. There were days and nights that his mom would just leave.
He worried more for Elena. She was so young. He hoped she never remembered it.
“Brittany kissed me yesterday,” he said.
“That skank? She kisses everyone.” Natasha tucked some hair behind her ear, and Saint stared at her. When they had first gotten to know each other, he’d adored Natasha. Her wild hair always surrounded her face, the red curls making him want to reach out and tug on one. Over the past few months, he’d noticed how beautiful she was. Her green eyes shot fire at him that matched the flame of her hair. He’d also noticed that her body was no longer a dorky looking stick. She’d started to grow boobs.
He liked it when she was close to him, and he loved the scent of her hair.
“I didn’t want to kiss her.”
“No. She just face planted her lips on mine.”
She raised a brow, staring at him.
“It’s the truth.”
“Yeah, whatever. Your name may be Saint, but I know you’re not one.” She let out a little chuckle, and Saint couldn’t resist. Leaning across the sofa, he cupped her cheek, and claimed her lips.
Natasha was soft, gentle, and perfect. She let out a little gasp, and like in the movies he’d seen, he plunged his tongue into her mouth. When she didn’t pull away, he stopped freaking out, and simply enjoyed the feel of her mouth on his.