Page 16 of Cheater and the Saint
5
Leo
Sir Emo, also known as Jacob, looked like he’d had a long weekend of partying by how sluggish he was that Monday morning. I could relate. My weekend had been one fuck-fest after another, just the way I liked it.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I mocked when I saw him lay his head down on his desk. “This teacher’s a hard-ass, remember?”
He answered me by raising his hand and flipping me off.
In the week we’d been in class, he and I’d started talking a little. Not much, but some. Enough that I knew his actual name now and also his major—performing arts with a creative writing minor.
He certainly seemed like the performing type with all the makeup he wore.
There were still seven minutes until class started, and I was already bored. We’d been assigned to read something from Voltaire over the weekend, but I’d only made it a few pages in before quitting. So, I’d typed the story into a search engine and looked up the cliff notes that’d given me a breakdown of the scenes and what it meant in actual fucking English.
For once I felt prepared for the discussion, even if I’d cheated.
Ever since Saturday morning, Saint had been weird around me. He’d seen me naked, and I wasn’t one bit ashamed of that fact. Maybe I’d even done it on purpose. He was probably acting weird because he’d totally rubbed one out in the shower directly afterward. It didn’t take much to put two and two together. Not that I’d eavesdropped at the door or anything. The guy hadn’t exactly been quiet about it.
And the shower was on the other side of the living room wall where I’d been sitting.
Mrs. Stevens came into the room with one minute to spare, and she was still so fucking hot. I hadn’t flirted with her since that first day, which was a smart move on my part. I never wanted to come across as one of those asshole guys who couldn’t take no for an answer.
She wore a cream blouse with a black pencil skirt. Some kind of antique looking necklace hung around her neck—instead of a chain it was white lace and a round blue photo with a white border dangled from the center. It looked like those silhouette pictures. They kind of freaked me out.
She began the lecture about the assigned reading, and as much as I wanted to dose off and not pay attention, I forced myself to listen and somewhat participate. Well, I took notes. That’s about it.
After class, Jacob and I walked out together, talking about the group project Mrs. Stevens had assigned. She wanted us to get into groups of two and pick a poet from the time periods we were studying and do a small PowerPoint presentation over them. The project wasn’t due until beginning of November, so we had plenty of time.
“We could pick someone from the Romantic era,” Jacob suggested.
“Whatever.” I shrugged and opened the door to go outside. The early September air was a little humid, but not too bad. As we walked on the sidewalk, the chirping of birds reached my ears, and I peered upward to the trees lining the path. “They’re all fucking boring to me, so you can pick whoever.”
Jacob scoffed and kept pace beside me. “Just tellin’ you now. I willnotbe doing all the work. Got it, pretty boy?”
I smirked and bumped his shoulder. “Yeah. Yeah. I won’t leave you hanging, emo.”
He rolled his eyes to the heavens, but he wasn’t fooling me. I saw the signs of a smile on his pale face.
“Well, I have my theatre class next,” Jacob said when we got to the fork in the sidewalk. The Breedlove building was to the left, and it housed all the studio and performing arts classes. “See ya later, Leo.”
I waved bye and veered right on the path, toward the student center. I thought it cool that Jacob and I were sort of friends. I was the type of guy who could befriend anyone, but my usual pool of friends leaned more toward the so-called jocks and popular kids. Not intentionally, but it’s how things played out.
Entering the Smith-Pendergraft building aka the student center, I passed the campus bookstore where the books were sold—duh—but where you could also buy shirts and hoodies with the school name and logo on them. And, like, coffee mugs and shit.
After the bookstore, there was a Starbucks and a cafeteria that sold fast food and various grocery items—unlike the dining hall that was for students only, the cafeteria was for visitors and students alike.
At a table against the far wall, I saw a familiar mop of blond hair and grinned before walking that way.
Saint sat with a laptop in front of him, typing away as if his life depended on it. A half-eaten bagel sat forgotten to his left and a latte was on the other side, one he grabbed and took a big drink of before getting back to his work. He stilled when I plopped down in the empty seat across from him.
“Hey, roomie,” I said.
His blue eyes lifted to meet mine. I knew desire when I saw it… and his gaze was smoldering before irritation took its place. “Hey. Shouldn’t you be in class or something?”
“Just got out,” I said, reaching and tearing a piece off his bagel before eating it. “Ew. It needs some cream cheese.”
“I prefer it plain,” Saint responded, looking appalled that I’d stolen a bite of his precious, disgusting bagel. “Sometimes I like to dunk it in my coffee.”
