Page 25 of Cheater and the Saint
“No apology needed,” Saint responded. “Can we start over? Not just start over from this past weekend, but from the beginning?” He chewed his thumbnail a second before sharply exhaling and dropping his hand. He was cute when he was frustrated. “I know that’s dumb andstarting overcan’t actually happen, but I hope you get what I mean. We’re going to live together until summer break next year, so I want us to be friends. Or at least talk. Just no more of this evasive, ignoring each other shit.”
My chest ached. It hadn’t occurred to me until that moment that our daily morning conversations had probably been the only talking he did with people, outside of his friends on social media. And now he was desperately apologizing and wanting us to start fresh so we could get back to that.
I felt like a piece of shit. I shouldn’t, because he’d brought it on himself, but I did anyway.
“Sure,” I said before lifting my cup and taking a drink. We didn’t have syrup, so I’d smothered my waffles in peanut butter. Instead of using a fork, I picked one up and ate it with my hands. The peanut butter stuck to the roof of my mouth, and I downed it with coffee.
Saint watched me with amused eyes.
“What?” I said with my mouth full.
“Nothing.” He smiled and looked away. “Starting over. Okay. I’m Saint, and I’m twenty-three. I’m a psych major with a minor in health science,” he started, taking me aback. “My best friend’s name is Chris, and he lives in the UK. We video chat sometimes, but have never met in person. My mom’s name is Victoria, but people call her Vicky. My hobbies include reading—”
“Dude.” I held up a hand. “This isn’t a dating profile.”
Saint’s pale cheeks flooded with pink. “Sorry. I know I don’t tell you much about myself, and I wanted to do better.”
The thing I was most interested to know right then was whether he was actually gay or just curious. Closeted or not closeted. Because him jacking off to me was a fact, and I saw the hunger in his eyes when he looked at me sometimes.
“All that can come in good time, Frosty.” I grinned and brought my cup back to my lips, keeping eye contact with him as I took another drink. “First you don’t tell me shit, and then you give me too much at once. Just chill.”
He gave a tight-lipped smile. “Not sure I really know how to chill. People say I’m wound tight.”
“Who would ever say such a thing about you?” I asked in mock form, which earned me an evil, blue-eyed glare from Sir Frosty of the Saintly Realm himself. I leaned forward on the table. “Know what a good way to loosen up is? Sex. Go fuck the hell out of someone and you’ll feel better. Trust me. Get someone who only wants a good fucking, too, so you don’t have to worry about that relationship shit.”
Saint’s features darkened. “Have anyone in mind who fits that bill?”
Wait… did he just come on to me?
Suddenly, he shook his head and broke eye contact. “Uh. I should probably get ready for class. See ya later, Leo.”
Quicker than I’d ever seen him move, he shot up out of his chair and went down the hall to the bathroom. Once the door closed, I finally let myself smile. It seemed the innocent and awkward nerdy jock might not be as innocent as I’d assumed.
***
“Did I piss you off?” Tayte asked, walking beside me on the sidewalk toward the Smith-Pendergraft building.
I only had an hour before my next class that afternoon, and I wanted to pop into the cafeteria and grab something to drink first.
“No. Why?”
His brown hair only reached the top of his ears, but his bangs swooped into his eyes. Eyes, I noted, that looked pretty freaking sad. “I don’t know. We just don’t hang anymore. Not in a few weeks anyway. I didn’t know if I pissed you off or something.”
How was it I managed to feel like a piece of shit twice in the same week? Ever since Saint and I cleared the air yesterday morning, we’d talked a bit more, but I still felt bad for shutting him out like I had. Just like I’d shut out Tayte.
“You didn’t do anything,” I reassured him, smiling and bumping my shoulder against his. “Fuck, man. I don’t know what’s up with me. I think the pressure of choosing a major by the end of the year is getting to me, and I’ve wanted to spend more time studying.”
Also, a certain blond-haired roommate with the most sinfully delicious lips had been on my mind a lot, and the few times I’d considered going out for a quick fuck had been ruined by my desire to havehimin my bed.
But I left that out.
“I get that,” Tayte said, looking relieved—which didn’t help my guilt any. “Maybe we can go out this weekend. You look like you need it.”
Friday nights used to be a given for me. I’d finish up my last class, go to the dorm and chill for a bit before getting ready for a night out. I’d nearly asked Tayte that previous weekend if he wanted to go out with me and Saint, but I hadn’t wanted Saint to feel any more nervous than he’d already been. In hindsight, I was fucking thankful for that, too, since the night had ended up like a shit show.
After paying for a Mountain Dew and a bag of chips, I sat at the nearest table in the middle of the room.
With it being almost one in the afternoon, I hadn’t expected it to still be so busy, but that place always seemed to be packed full of half-asleep students and ones who looked like they were one step away from yanking out their hair. Then there were the ones like me, who didn’t try hard enough and probably made all the stressed-out kids fantasize about throwing us off the bell tower. Which was huge, by the way.
