Page 24 of Cheater and the Saint
7
Leo
For years, I’d gotten speeches from Heath about me being a slut and how I needed to settle down. Never once had I actually been affected by anything he’d said. Each time he’d made comments about how big of a whore I was and how I needed to raise my standards, I’d shrugged them off.
But the moment Saint had mentioned it, something in me had broken. Like, all it took was probably one of the purest guys I’d ever met to make a comment about my promiscuity, and all of a sudden, I’d felt ashamed. Dirty.
Fuck him for making me feel that way about something that came natural to me.
I’d taken big steps to get to know him, and let me just say that pulling teeth would’ve been easier. I’d asked him questions, which I’d received extremely vague answers to. I’d taken him out to try and loosen him up a bit. That only resulted in giving him a panic attack and causing him to close up even more. He’d said he was bullied in the past, but that didn’t give him the right to be a cold bastard toward me, when all I’d done was be nice to him.
So fuck it. I was done trying.
The following Thursday morning, I went into the kitchen. Saint sat at the table reading something on his phone and drinking coffee. It’d been four days since we’d said a word to each other.
I wouldn’t be the one to break the silence, either.
On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, I had my British lit class at nine. I had two other classes those days, as well, making them my most dreaded days of the week. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I didn’t have class until one in the afternoon and another at three, so I was free to laze around a while.
I didn’t really know Saint’s schedule. I didn’t care.
I poured myself a cup of coffee before adding milk and sugar, and then I searched the fridge for something to eat. I wasn’t much of a cook, so I decided on frozen waffles. After popping two in the toaster, I leaned against the counter and drank my coffee.
That’s when I noticed Saint watching me. Fuck it all, the sad look in his baby blue eyes was like a shot to the chest. He didn’t say anything before averting his gaze to his phone, but I got the feeling he wanted to.
Always having been a rule breaker, I broke my own rule and said, “How’s it going?”
Hey, it wasn’t much, but it was more than he deserved after insulting me.
He looked just as surprised as I felt, and when his eyes focused on me and I saw the curve of a smile on his lips, I inwardly cursed my inability to ignore a pretty face.
“Okay, I guess,” he said. “How about you?”
It was small talk, and we both knew it. We were skirting around what wereallywanted to talk about, but neither of us seemed to know how to bring it up.
The waffle popping up from the toaster made me jump and nearly spill coffee down my front. Fucking, evil toaster from hell.
“I’ve been okay,” I answered, grabbing the waffles and dropping them on a plate.
“That’s good,” Saint said, going for a smile but kind of missing the mark.
God, he was so awkward. But no less attractive. In fact, he seemed even more so that morning, and I was trying to figure out why. Then it hit me.
His blond hair, which was usually perfectly styled and without a hair out of place, was adorably disheveled, as though he’d just rolled out of bed. He wore his glasses—that I’d noticed he only wore when he was reading or working—and he was in his PJs, that consisted of a baggy blue T-shirt and lounge pants.
I’d never seen him that way. He was always so put together. Like a prim and proper ol’ chap. And yeah, I wasn’t sure why my inner monologue broke out into a British accent, but here we were.
Before I could do something stupid, like keep staring at his lips and fantasize about what he tasted like, I looked away from him, grabbed my waffles, and started walking back to my room. I didn’t get far.
“Leo?”
I stopped just a few feet away from the table and cast him a look over my shoulder. “Yeah?”
Saint didn’t immediately answer. Concentration caused a wrinkle in the middle of his forehead, and he licked his lips—which yeah, didn’t go unnoticed. “I’m sorry if what I said upset you. About the hooking up. You’re free to do whatever you pleasewithwhoever you please. It’s none of my business, and I apologize for making it so.”
Wow. The guy could give one hell of an apology. I also liked the way he talked. At times, his wording would be so aged, like he was an old man trapped in a twenty-three-year old’s body. A sexy body, I might add.
“Thanks,” I said, wavering a bit in place as I was unsure of whether to join him at the table or continue on to my room. Seeing his too-beautiful face made me go with the former, and I sat in my usual seat across from him. “Sorry if I’ve been an ass lately. It just stuck under my skin for some reason.”
