Page 8 of Cheater and the Saint
3
Leo
We’d definitely gotten off on the wrong foot. How was I supposed to know the guy had been bullied before? Sure, I was kind of an asshole to him, but it was only because he was giving me attitude, too. It went both ways.
I got so lost in my head that I was almost late to my first class. Skipping class sounded so much better, but it was the first day. I mean, I usually went at least a week before skipping a class or two. I wasn’t a total slacker.
I rushed to get dressed before hightailing it out of the dorm and across campus to the Holt building. All of the English classes took place there, and it was right beside the student center, which was always busy and crowded. I had to dodge groups of people huddled in groups outside and get around the ones walking the same way to their classes. It was like a madhouse.
The weather was still fucking hot and humid since it was only the end of August, and I was already sweating by the time I reached Holt. Even that early in the morning, the air was suffocating and thick. Just another thing to make the morning awful.
Fall could not come soon enough.
Once inside the building and seated on the last row in British lit, I closed my eyes. Class would start in two minutes, but whatever. I didn’t care about the lecture, anyway, and as long as I bullshitted my way through the assignments and at least got a C average, I’d be okay.
“Dude, you don’t wanna do that in this class,” a guy said. Reluctantly, I opened my eyes and saw he was in the desk beside mine on the other row. His light brown hair hung in his face, and he flicked it aside in typical emo fashion. “Mrs. Stevens is a hard-ass.”
“She teaches British lit. How much of a hard-ass can she be?”
The dude gave me one of thoseoh just wait and seetype smiles before facing ahead in his desk. In my head, I pictured this Mrs. Stevens to be like a drill sergeant, with a whistle around her neck and everything. When I saw what she actually looked like… I may or may not have laughed. Out loud. And then had to cover it with a cough.
I didn’t laugh because she was funny looking. Oh no. It was the exact opposite. She was tiny—like maybe five foot nothing—and she was freaking beautiful. Drill sergeant and total hard-ass were the furthest things from my mind when seeing her.
Her short black hair was angled around her heart-shaped face, giving her one of those sleek and sexy looks, and her pale eyes were lined with a smoky eyeshadow and black eyeliner. She wore a fitted dress that was a bit ruffled up top and hugged her hips. In other words, she reminded me of those Victorian-styled vampires. And I was one-hundred percent in lust.
I’d totally let her bite me.
“Good morning, class,” she said in the type of sexy, raspy voice that went straight to my crotch. “Welcome to your first day of the fall semester. This is British Literature, and together, we will read and analyze the works of the greatest minds in the classic literary world.”
I looked over at Sir Emo and raised a brow, as though to sayyou fucking kidding me?
He shrugged and faced ahead.
Mrs. Stevens continued her introduction, but I didn’t catch what she said because I was too preoccupied with staring at her hips and her nice ass when she turned to write something on the board.
It should be illegal to have teachers that hot…but I wasn’t complaining.
I imagined pushing her up against the board, wrapping her leg around my hip, and then sliding aside her panties before fucking her that way. She’d lean her head back against the board and stare at me through long, black lashes as I moved inside her wet heat.
Damn. I bet she smelled amazing. Probably tasted even better.
“If you’re going to be on your phone in my class,” she said in a harsh tone to a guy a few seats down from me, “you can grab your belongings and leave. I do not tolerate any disrespect, neither toward me or anyone else in this room. Understood?”
The guy’s face paled as all eyes turned to him, and he fumbled with his phone as he shoved it back in his pocket. “S-sorry.”
And just like that, Mrs. Stevens returned to her warm and friendly demeanor, talking more about the schedule for the semester. She wasn’t fake by any means, but she didn’t take any crap.
Honestly, it was even more of a turn-on. I loved when a woman stood up for herself and demanded the respect she deserved.
“Dude, don’t even think about it,” Sir Emo said to me once class was over.
“What?” I shoved the textbook into my bag before turning to him.
“I saw you looking at Mrs. Stevens,” he answered with a cocky little grin on his weird face. “Not. Gonna. Happen.”
“Oh yeah?” I’d never backed down from a challenge. “Watch me.”
Before he could say another word, I slid the backpack strap over one shoulder and approached Mrs. Stevens where she stood beside her desk. Most of the students were out of the room now, and she’d turned to erase the board, preparing for her next class.
