Page 101 of Cheater and the Saint
Epilogue
Leo
Two Months Later
Leaving the student center, I couldn’t wipe the smile from my face. I’d actually done it. I’d chosen a major. What I wanted to do career wise was still up in the air, and I had a few ideas, but I’d settled on majoring in Business Organization and Leadership. With that degree, I could do basically anything. It taught you how to be a team leader, a great manager, and other valuable workplace skills.
During the presentation for British literature back in November, I’d realized I enjoyed putting together PowerPoints and giving speeches. So I was considering a career in advertising. I had a pretty face, a charming smile, and was approachable. I was also somewhat skilled with computers and coming up with ideas. Saint said all of those things were good for when you were trying to convince people to buy shit from you or choose you for their big project.
The weight was lifted from my shoulders, and as I went outside into the chilly February air, I did a little skip-hop thing. Totally dorky, but I felt accomplished.
A girl laughed at me, and I waved.
Yeah, I’m a dumbass.
Saint was sitting by the fountain in the courtyard. A book was on his lap, and he was highlighting passages in it. My little psychology major with his big brain and big—well, other parts of him.
I snuck up behind him and put my hands over his eyes. “Guess who.”
“My annoying boyfriend?” he guessed. I dropped my hands with a sigh and went to sit beside him. The sun made his blue eyes sparkle even more, and his pale skin was pink from the cold. “How did it go?”
“You’re looking at a dude who now has a major,” I said.
He broke out into a grin and threw his arms around me, his book forgotten. “I’m so proud of you.”
To anyone else, it didn’t seem like a big deal, but it was huge for me. Having Saint’s support and excitement made me feel like the luckiest guy in the world. Which, being his boyfriend, kind of made me that anyway.
“It’s fucking cold out here,” I said, rubbing his arms. Even bundled up in a puffy coat and wearing a scarf around his neck, he was still cold. “Let’s go to the dining hall. They should have lunch ready.”
“Sex and food.” Saint rolled his eyes and stood to gather his things. “That’s all that’s ever on your mind.”
“Not true.” I slipped my arm around him as we began walking across the lawn. “I also think of you, which yeah, makes me think of sex, but I think of other things, too. Like…”
Saint peered at me with a droll look. “The fact you have to think so hard proves my point exactly.”
“Shut up, Frosty.”
The dining hall was crowded when we arrived. The doors had just opened for lunch, and there was a line of students walking in. The wind blew harder, bringing with it an arctic chill that had me cursing winter and praying for spring. We went to the back of the line, and I stood behind him, wrapping my arms around him and trying to keep him warm.
He relaxed against me and turned his head, resting it on mine.
Fuck, I was so in love.
Fortunately, we didn’t have to stand in the cold for long. We made it inside the building, scanned our student IDs at the front counter, and then were set loose on the various buffet tables. I piled my plate high with fresh brick-oven peperoni pizza, and then grabbed a chocolate brownie from the dessert bar.
Saint was being all healthy and shit, going to the gourmet chef and ordering some kind of organic, gluten-free, whatever-the-fuck, probably tasteless tofu stir fry.
He was such a weirdo.
I grabbed a soda from the drink station before meeting Saint in the middle of the room and looking for a table or booth near the wall. When he spotted one, he took off walking, and I followed behind him, slapping some people on the back in greeting and bumping fists with others.
He slid into the side that had the wall behind him, and I sat across from him.
“That shit looks nasty,” I said, scrutinizing his food. Then, I picked up a slice of my pizza. “This? Now this is food. See all that cheesy goodness?”
“You’re cheesy goodness,” he retorted, rolling his eyes to the heavens.
“Damn, right I am.”
