Page 10 of Cheater and the Saint
Saint shifted in his seat, shooting me a curious stare before focusing on his barely touched plate of chicken and veggies. I thought maybe he’d say something, but he didn’t. It was weird. And so was he.
“So, about this morning,” I started, still feeling guilty. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just trying to figure you out. I’m not used to people not liking me.”
That made him smile, but it wasn’t necessarily a nice one. More mocking if anything. “Maybe it’s good for you to be knocked down a peg. You can’t go through life expecting your charm to do all the work for you. You actually have to be a decent person sometimes, too.”
“Are you always so delightful to everyone you meet? You’re a ray of fucking sunshine, aren’t you?”
Saint shrugged, and he held my gaze for a few short moments before looking at something else. He had a timid nature that didn’t match his condescending attitude. I wondered which one was really him and which one was the mask.
“Know what I think?” I asked.
“You mean, you actually use your brain to think thoughts? Shocking.”
“Now who’s being a bully?”
My question caused his eyes to widen, and he looked at the table. “I’m sorry. That was rude of me.” His voice lacked the bite from before. A silence passed, and within the quiet, Ireallylooked at him. I hadn’t noticed it before, but he was kind of beautiful—both masculine and feminine features, long dark eyelashes, the bluest eyes, and what I bet were soft lips. “What do you think?”
“That you push people away on purpose,” I said, not taking my eyes off him, even though he was too awkward to look at me. “Not sure why. I’m not a psych major or anything, but it’s like you’re not even giving me a chance to be your friend.”
With the saddest eyes I’d ever seen, Saint finally focused on me. “Is that something you want? To be my friend?”
“It only makes sense,” I answered, leaning back against the booth and getting comfortable. “We’re going to be rooming together for the year. Might as well be civil toward each other.”
“The only way that’ll happen is if we set some rules,” Saint said, pulling a notebook from his bag and flipping it open. Amused, I watched him flip through a handful of pages with impeccably neat handwriting before finding a blank page. “Rule one: no parties, unless it’s a weekend.”
“Ah, man, you’re a buzzkill,” I said.
“I think it’s fair,” Saint countered. “I’d rather there benoparties in our dorm, but I get that you’re an extrovert and need that socialization. At least on weekends, you won’t interfere with my work as much.”
He really didn’t like people; that was obvious. However, he was trying to make some sort of compromise between us, and his effort was appreciated.
“I’ll do you one better.” I leaned forward, not missing how the action made him shrink back a bit. “I won’t have any parties in our dorm. If I invite someone over, it’ll be no more than two friends at a time. If I want to party, I’ll go to a frat house or someone else’s dorm. Does that work?”
“Yes,” he answered before giving me the first genuine smile I’d seen from him. He then wrote down the rule, followed by the amendment from me. Funny how I was getting to know him even better without him saying much. His actions spoke wonders.
Highly organized. Introverted. OCD. Cautious.
“Is there anything you want to add to the rules?” he asked, holding his pen at the ready.
He’d barely come out of his room in the time I’d been there, so there wasn’t anything he did that bugged me. Now, if he turned out to be a total fucking weirdo who, like, clipped his toenails in the kitchen or something, then I’d add something to that list of his, but for the moment it seemed thatIwas the only problem in this situation.
After a few minutes, he said he needed to go up to his room and get started on homework.
Being friends with him was probably never going to happen, but I didn’t want the awkwardness and hostility anymore. I left the dining hall shortly after him and was glad to feel a not-so-warm breeze outside. It still wasn’t cold, or even cool for that matter, but it wasn’tashumid and hot.
After scanning my student ID to get into my building—because it was after hours—I plopped down on one of the sofas in the lobby. If Saint was studying, I didn’t want to bother him, so I’d stay down there for a bit. My phone vibrated, and after seeing it was Heath, I answered it.
“I went to class today, Mom,” I said upon answering.
“You’re an ass,” Heath retorted. “But yeah, I was calling to see how your first day went. I can feel you rolling your eyes, brat.”
“The only good thing that came out of class today was my smoking hot English teacher.”
“How hot we talking?” he asked with a smile in his voice. And just like that, Heath went from helicopter parent to big brother again.
“Like giving me a boner in class hot,” I answered. “She’s married, though, and already gave me the what-for.”
Heath laughed. Hard. “My slutty little brother never changes.”
