Page 3 of Cheater and the Saint
The campus was a little over two hours away, so we were going to eat breakfast together at his favorite diner before I hit the road. In the car, I hooked up my phone and selected my favorite playlist. Heath was more of a death metal kind of guy, whereas I preferred pop and punk. I forced him to suffer through my music, though, and he could deny it all he wanted, but he was totally bopping his head to Lady Gaga.
“Ruined any relationships lately?” he asked after we’d driven a few miles. The diner was about a five minute drive from his house.
I groaned.
Here we go… another life lesson coming my way.
“Maybe,” I answered. “Not my fault if they wanna have an affair.”
“You could have morals, Leo,” Heath said in the disapproving tone I knew all too well. “Fooling around with a married chick is wrong.”
“Actually it was a married dude this time, but whatever. I get your point.”It’s only the fucking hundredth time you’ve told me.“Don’t really wanna talk about it.”
Heath sighed, but thankfully, let it drop.
I loved my brother, but his judgment over my sex life pissed me off.
We pulled into the diner then, and the discussion changed. He wanted to know my plans for the upcoming semester.
I’d decided to take the general classes my first year, like science, math, and English. But I planned to declare a major that year. Well, more like Ihadto declare one. The school required all students to be sorted into their majors by the end of their sophomore year, like the boring, mundane version of the sorting hat ceremony or some shit.
I still wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with my life, career wise, but I only had a handful of months to figure it out.
There were a few core courses I was taking that fall semester—like British lit to finish off the English requirement and another math class—but in the spring, I could begin taking classes for what I chose as a major before officially declaring it.
I explained all of that to him after the waitress took our drink orders. Both coffees.
“Any ideas on what you wanna do?”
“Not really.”
That was about the extent of that discussion, and apparently my joke about“if school didn’t work out, I could just become a porn star”didn’t go over well with him.
After breakfast, we drove back to his house so I could double check one last time that I had everything. Saying goodbye to him was awkward. Not that we weren’t close—because we were—but ever since my parents disowned me, Heath had stepped up and taken over the role of father figure. He was four years older than me and was protective. Always had been.
So goodbyes were hard, especially when he couldn’t find that balance between helicopter parent and older brother.
“Don’t knock anyone up and always wrap it before you—”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Heath,” I interjected with a groan. “Safe sex. Okay, got it. Love you.”
I gave him a hug before hopping into my truck and starting the engine. It was Thursday and classes started back up on Monday, the twentieth of August. Just enough time to get back to campus, get settled into my dorm room, and have one more fun weekend before school started again.
Summer was still in full-swing, and the day was hot and humid, so I decided on the air conditioner instead of rolling the windows down.
The two-hour drive sort of sucked, but I didn’t mind driving. It gave me time to think. I was a guy who lived in the moment and very rarely looked ahead. But I had to look ahead and figure out what the hell I wanted to do with my life.
When I finally got to the University of Arkansas at Fort Smith—UAFS—campus, it was bustling with activity. Some students had moved into their dorms the past weekend, but a vast majority had chosen the same day as me to move in. Cult of Slackers. Needless to say, finding a parking spot was a bitch, and I ended up having to park almost in the very last row of the lot. Good thing I didn’t have much shit to carry.
The dormitory I was moving into was set up like a two-bedroom apartment, and it was fully furnished. Therefore, I didn’t have to haul a bed and all that crap with me. Thank fuck. I grabbed my backpack and the two gym bags that had my clothes and laptop before walking through the parking lot toward the student housing.
Last year, I’d been in the freshmen dorms—which had fucking sucked. Super small rooms and I’d had an annoying roommate who spewed Bible verses at me every time I entered the room, as if I hadn’t gotten enough of that shit with my parents. Sophomores got better housing, and I couldn’t wait.
I just hoped my new roommate this year wouldn’t drive me up the wall.
“Leo, my man!” a guy shouted from the lawn. It was Tayte, a jock guy I’d banged last year and had become good friends with. He and a few of his buddies were tossing a football back and forth, and I approached them. “Which building are you in?”
“Shit. I didn’t really look,” I answered before digging into the front pocket of my backpack for the paper. We’d been mailed our assigned dorms a few weeks before, and I’d just shoved it in my bag without looking. After unfolding it, I scanned the first few lines. “Building A.”
