Page 102 of Cheater and the Saint

“Hey! Can I sit with you guys?” Callie stood by our table, wearing an oversized sweater and leggings. Her red hair was braided to the side, and a thick scarf was tossed around her neck.

Over Christmas break, she and Saint had met. Mostly by accident. He’d been in the library trying to find a book on psychopaths—which I’d told him,why look for a book when you can just look in the mirror?—but anyway. She had been searching for a book on prison reform, and they’d bumped into each other on the same aisle and had started talking. He’d then invited her back to the dorm to help her with her paper, because he had a whole freaking library on criminal justice and psychology books.

Callie had mentioned how he’d looked familiar—because I’d shown her pictures of him months before—but she hadn’t been able to place him. Until I’d walked through the door. She had then understood. But Saint had still been confused; so then, it was like, “Hey, so remember that girl I almost fucked at the Halloween party? Well, that’s her.”

Luckily, Saint had been cool with it, and they’d become friends. He trusted me not to do anything with her, and I’d never betray that trust.

“Girl, sit your ass down,” I said, motioning to the seat next to Saint.

She sat and gave him a hug before picking at her fries. “Are y’all doing anything special for Valentine’s Day?”

“Besides lying naked on the bed with cool whip and strawberries all over me?” I asked with a serious expression. “Not really.”

“Okay. That’s hot,” Callie said, pointing a fry at me. “Pics or it didn’t happen.”

Saint laughed and smirked at her. “I’ll hook you up with pics.”

“Only if you’re in them, too,” she retorted, mirroring his smile.

I loved that they were friends, and that he could joke with her about that kind of stuff.

As her and Saint started a discussion on the origin of Valentine’s Day—because my boyfriend was a fucking weirdo, but I loved him for it—I called Heath.

“Hey, bro!” he answered. “What’s up?”

“The meeting with my advisor went well,” I said, leaning back in the booth and stretching my legs out. Saint shot me a peeved look when I lightly kicked him, then I did it again, grinning. “I picked my major and I can finally breathe again.”

“I’m proud of you,” Heath said, and his voice sounded a little raspy. “You’ve grown up so much in the past few months. I was so worried about you, L. Afraid you were gonna fuck up your education by partying too much, and afraid you were gonna end up alone. But you’ve done well, kid.”

“Ah, thanks, Mom,” I teased and laughed when he told me tofuck off. I tried to hide how his words affected me. I used to hate his speeches about my life, but he’d only acted that way because he’d been concerned for me. I was glad he no longer had to worry. “Speaking of Mom, I talked to her the other day. She boxed up the rest of Dad’s stuff and wants us to go through it before she takes it to Goodwill.”

Dad had died in January, and even though he’d shown nothing but contempt toward me, I’d shed a few tears over him. Mom had taken his loss easier than I’d expected, and the times I’d talked to her since then she’d even sounded kind of relieved.

Things weren’t perfect between me and Mom, but they were better. I called her throughout the week, and we’d talk about how our days went. She didn’t ask about Saint and when I mentioned him, she’d get quiet before changing the subject. I knew it’d take time for her to come to terms with my sexuality, but it was a start.

“Yeah, she called me, too,” Heath said before sighing. “I don’t want any of his shit. Is that bad of me?”

“You’re seriously asking me this question? I don’t want any of his shit, either. It’d only be a reminder of how much of a failure I was in his eyes.”

Saint’s blue-eyed gaze flickered to me, and his brow crinkled. I nodded to let him know I was fine.

Heath talked about Tabitha after that, and how he was going to ask her to move in with him. Things were pretty serious with them, and if I knew my sappy big brother like I thought I did, I was certain there’d be an engagement ring soon.

The bald-headed bastard better ask me to be his best man at the wedding when the time came, or I was going to pitch a bitch fit of epic proportions.

Once I got off the phone with him, I joined Saint and Callie’s conversation. It’d somehow gone from Valentine’s Day origins to how charming and charismatic Ted Bundy was, which was how he made such a great serial killer.

I… I worried for their dark souls. Saint had finally met the female version of himself; just as twisted as he was.

Jacob had a forty-minute break before his next class and joined us at the booth. He had a play that coming weekend and was nervous about it. More excited, though, because his confidence was growing.

“You’re coming, right?” Jacob asked.

“I always come,” I responded, earning a kick from Saint under the table.

I never thought I’d be that happy. Ever since I stopped partying all the time, I felt more grounded and not as lost. For a while, all I’d cared about was getting drunk, hooking up, and trying to escape the emptiness in my chest.

But not anymore.

I was still me; I was just a better version of me. A happier one.

As Callie and Jacob discussed the upcoming play, Saint’s gaze met mine. My heart beat a little faster; my breath came a bit quicker. Butterflies danced in my stomach. The spark between us was stronger than ever, and I pressed my leg to his, wanting that physical connection.

His lips curved in a smile, and he placed his hand on the table. An invitation. I reached across and grabbed it.

If I had it my way, I’d never let go.

The End