Page 26 of The Love of Priest

"Two years ago, I spent about six months in Italy. My vacation turned into a short stay. Couldn't say I minded, though." Priest shrugged. "The culture is one that can't be beat. They take pride in family, loyalty, and trust— three things I stand for."

He can’t be the monster the media is portraying him to be he just can’t be!

"You hear so much about me, yet I know literally nothing about you." Priest’s dark eyes searched her inviting brown ones.

"My joy revolves around telling other people's stories so much so that I forget that I even have one myself." Britain shrugged as well.

Priest adjusted his posture with a questioning expression masking his face. "Lost yourself?"

Britain scoffed. “More like found," she corrected. "If I was able to face the woman I was a few years ago, I definitely wouldn't be able to recognize her."

"Growth." Priest nodded his head approvingly. "That's a good thing."

Britain agreed. "It definitely is. However, it's also straining. Growth is somewhat overhyped."

Britain always spoke her mind. Just like her mother, she was able to raise tension in a room just by stating her opinion. Whether people agreed with her or not wasn't her true concern. All she wanted was acknowledgment that she was indeed valid.

"Oh, I can't wait to hear this shit." Priest’s face flashed in amusement as he prepared himself to be entertained by Britain’s brewing rant. Although she was about to state some opinions that Priest would both agree and disagree with, she had his mind open.

That's all that matters— he’s open.

ChapterEleven

A yawn escapedPriest's lips as his disoriented eyes scanned the room, attempting to get familiar with his surroundings. A long night it had been. On his chest, wrapped in his arms, Britain lay sleeping peacefully. Her chest rose and fell with each breath she took. Priest silently cursed at the fact that he had lost track of time. He wasn't in his own bed, but Britain's instead. From their dinner, the two decided to have some more drinks and watch a movie with some popcorn. Within half an hour of the screening of the movie, Priest was fast asleep, leaving Britain to watch the movie alone.

Although she knew Priest would have wanted her to wake him so he could head home, she opted against it. It seemed like that was the only real sleep he had gotten in God knew how long. He was at a state of calmness, and Britain had gotten wrapped up in just admiring the way his face still managed to form a solid mean mug, all the way down to him sleeping with one hand up his shirt, resting slightly above his waistline. Britain found herself observing tiny details about him. She was close and took full advantage.

Still fully clothed from their outing at La Lealtá, Priest stretched slightly, trying not to wake Britain. He wasn't going to interrupt her sleep, so he decided to just stay.

His eyes gravitated to her. Britain was gorgeous to him. He secured her in his arms a little tighter and found his body and mind relieved of all the stress that had been weighing him down for a while.

He eventually ended up falling back asleep, this time in absolute comfort with Britain in his arms. It only took approximately two hours for the sunlight to peak through the blinds. This time around, Britain had gotten up before him.

Priest squirmed in the bed for a while, knowing he had to start his day, but dreading it. Once he mustered up the strength to get up, he was faced with the lens of a camera. The tempered glass was transparent and allowed Priest to see the shutter of the camera to go off. Quickly, his hand went up to his face, blocking any more possible shots.

"What you think you’re doing?" Priest grumbled out groggily.

It was evident that he wasn't pleased by the sight of a camera waking him, but instead of lashing out, he maintained his composure. Britain, who had already gotten cleaned up from the night before, shrugged her shoulders.

"You seemed at peace. See, look." She rose from her position on the bed where her knees were sinking into the plush mattress and sat next to him, provoking Priest to immediately put an arm around her waist as they both viewed the photos she had taken.

The photos were crystal clear and focused perfectly on Priest. Britain took birds eye view shots of him sound asleep. Priest couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of his mean mug that was permanent on his face as he slept.

"You're good at this," Priest praised her as he now held the professional camera in his hands, clicking through different photos. Britain's shots varied. There were a few shots of the scenery she enjoyed while out and about in New York Then there were natural and candid portrait shots taken of others for potential “Humans of New York” stories.

Since meeting Priest, she hadn't been out roaming the streets for her next weekly story. HerTimeseditor reached out to her, questioning why she didn’t have at least three stories in by now, but Britain really had no excuse. She couldn't tell him she had been enjoying the company of a man whose story was just as hard for her to hear as it was for him to tell.

"Thank you." Britain smiled. "It's a hobby of mine," she explained with a shrug.

Priest handed the camera over to her so he could get up. Now seated on the edge of the bed, he reached down to put on his sneakers.

"My bad for crashing last night. I didn't mean to overstay my welcome," he apologized.

"Don't apologize. You were tired— really tired. Do you ever sleep at all?" Britain turned the camera off while asking him. She lounged on her back in the bed while waiting for a response. With his back facing her, he shrugged.

"I sleep, but sleep isn't sleep if it isn't good sleep."

"Agreed," Britain replied and nodded.

---