Page 78 of The Love of Priest

Britain nodded as she sat up against the headboard."Yeah, I'm fine." She glanced around the bedroom once more before clearing her throat. "Do you need anything?”

Priest shook his head as he finished rolling his final blunt. "You take too much care of me. You forget to take care of yourself," he enlightened her.

Britain raised her brow in a questioning manner. "What are you talking about?" Fresh out of her slumber, she definitely didn't expect a heavy conversation like this.

"You woke up, and the first thing you did was attempt to cater to me," Priest pointed out. "It’s nice of you, and I appreciate it, but I feel like it's coming from the wrong place."

"I'm sorry. I'm just a naturally doting person. I like to take care of people." Britain shrugged.

Priest nodded. "That's cool, but who's gonna take care of you? Stop giving so much and start receiving," he advised her.

"I've had my share of receiving," Britain concluded.

"Who told you that?" he asked as he leaned back on his elbows.

He flagged her over, resulting in her straddling his waist. He had remained shirtless, causing her small hands to palm his burly, inked chest. Britain ignored Priest's question. She simply eyed her hands as she utilized her finger to gently trace one of the tattoos on Priest's chest. "I'm talking to myself now?" He gripped her sides.

Britain shook her head before shrugging. "That's just what I was trained to think.”

Priest tilted his head in a questioning manner."Trained?" he asked, alarmed by her choice of words. “You’re not a dog,Gioia."

Britain let out a heavy sigh. "I know. I'm sorry if I'm talking in circles. It's just… I never really had a conversation like this unless I was being told what to do and what was expected of me. You're just different. You let me take the lead and give me freedom. I've never really gotten that before," she admitted. Although her relationship with Cameron was a few years before, things were still fresh. Plus, she had just run into him at Whole Foods, so memories and tendencies were beginning to resurface.

"Is this from your upbringing?" Priest asked.

He had met a few women who were nothing but submissive to their man. His mother was the first woman he ever witnessed fall to their knees for the approval of a man. Sadly, Sylvia was still being that same submissive and weak woman for Terrence. Priest was knowledgeable of the fact that some cultural beliefs revolved around catering to a man and being obedient, but to him, it was just immoral. If he ever got the privilege to become a father to a little girl, he wanted her to be raised with not only self-respect, but also with the understanding that she did not have to bend over backward to keep the next satisfied.

Britain let out another sigh. "No. You've met my mother. She's not the push over type of woman. It's just something I've dealt with in the past."

"That ex, huh?" Priest connected the dots. As soon as he pinpointed the source, Britain seemed to tense up. "Look, I'm not here to make you uncomfortable. If you want to talk about it, I'm a listening ear. If not, I can be the shoulder you lean on. Either way, I'm there for you," he assured her before lacing their fingers together so they were holding hands.

"Can I tell you my story?" She nervously bit down on her bottom lip as her eyes seared into him.Priest adjusted himself slightly underneath her. There was a sudden turn of events. The tables had turned, and it was now Britain who wanted to expose Priest to her ugly scars and the beauty of her healing. The feeling of her heart pounding against her chest caused her to squeeze Priest's hand tighter in hopes of getting some comfort. She had waited this long just to feel a genuine emotion and trust with Priest. Things were flowing organically, and all Priest had to do was just listen.

Priest nodded his head. "Yeah, of course. Everything's comfortable for you?" Priest asked since she always made sure he was comfortable whenever he began telling her his story. It helped him to trust her and not hold anything back.

"Can we do it in the dark? It'll help," Britain requested as she rose from Priest's lap.

Priest nodded once more. "Of course,Gioia. Whatever you want."

Hearing that prompted Britain to saunter over to the light switch in her bedroom. Her bedroom was now shrouded in darkness as she remembered the path over to the bed.

Together, they laid back in bed, Britain secured in Priest's arms. Her back was to his chest as she felt it rise and fall with steady breathing. There was a lengthy moment of silence. Britain was trying to figure out where to start. Anyone else would’ve started at the beginning, but the beginning was honestly full of glee and happiness. Trauma swindled itself into her life later.

Britain breathed in deeply before she began. "My mom always described me as this adorable baby. She flaunted me like I was some golden child." Britain chuckled thinking back to the times when her grandmother told her how much Seven boasted about having the most gorgeous daughter. "I always grew up being told I was the most beautiful girl in the world. I was taught to accept my imperfections and make them my perfections. Everyone around me made sure I knew I was a rare beauty, from my skin tone to the gap in my teeth. It wasn't until my mom started letting me out more that I was slapped hard with insecurities my peers used as ammunition against me. At home, my family was calling me gorgeous and beautiful, while out in society, I was getting treated and told I was the opposite. I never really voiced my issues to my mom because she's not much of a rational person. I grew up feeling two different ways about myself. I never really knew it fucked me up mentally until I started giving my all to the people who showed just the slightest attention and attraction."

"My freshman year, my stepdad moved us into a much more suburban neighborhood when he got a promotion from his job. When I got to my new school, I had to deal with the fact that not only was I the only black girl, but I also was the ugly black girl. I'm not even gonna lie. White kids take bullying to the extreme. I thought I could handle them, but that wasn’t the case. I was a freshman around this time, so I was going through that stage where I was finding myself. I did a lot of weird shit to try to fit in. My mom got into my ass when I tried to perm my hair so I could be like the other girls in school. I always had a habit of seeking approval from everyone. Around the middle of my freshman year, I got a new teacher. He was the only black person on the faculty, so I instantly gravitated toward him. He made me feel human while everyone else treated me as if I had “slave” written across my forehead. I spent a lot of time kicking it in his classroom, just filling him in on how things operated from what I had experienced. He looked out for me, and I appreciated it."

"I remember my baby brother had an asthma attack one day while my stepdad was out of the country for work. My mom had to be at the hospital with him, and my grandparents lived an hour over, so I had no transportation home after my Journalism Club meeting. While I was waiting for my mom, that teacher came out and saw me. He proceeded to ask me if everything was alright, and I explained the situation to him. I remember this odd look of sympathy that flashed his eyes when I told him I had no way home. It was almost like he was feeding off it. I brushed it off because I saw him as the nice guy who normalized being black in this all-white school. He offered me a ride home, and I just jumped at the opportunity, knowing my mom would fucking kill me for getting in a car with someone she considered a complete stranger." Britain let out a heavy huff of frustration as she continued to vent aimlessly.

Priest pulled her closer, hoping to ease her stress over the memories surfacing in her mind again. "I got in the car with him anyway. I remember him having a black Durango. On the inside, it smelled like the car fresheners, Black Ice. Hanging from the rear-view mirror was his class ring strung along a thin-roped silver necklace. We were pretty comfortable with each other, so I stupidly made an attempt to slide my finger through the ring to see if it would fit. He found it funny and laughed. He asked what type of music I preferred as he started the drive. I told him I'd listen to pretty much anything, and he put the radio on a random station. While pulling off campus, he asked me where I stayed, and I told him. My house was fifteen minutes away from school by car, so I prepared myself for the ride. I texted my mom that I found a ride home and there was no need to rush over to me.

“Sitting in the car, we listened to music and kept conversation light as I told him which turns to take every so often. About eight minutes into the ride, the conversation grew a bit heavy. Not heavy to the extent where I felt as though my life was in danger, but heavy to where I laughed out of nervousness while answering his invasive questions. He started off by asking me whether I had a boyfriend. I laughed and told him no. He then asked me if there was anyone I liked at school. Again, I laughed and told him no."

Priest grew tense because he had an idea where the story was headed. Britain put her hand over his, encouraging him to relax. "He went on to tell me how beautiful and intelligent I was. I never shied away from a compliment. I somewhat basked in it since I hadn't been getting much from anyone at school. I politely thanked him and prayed that he would drive a little faster so I could get out of the car. It felt wrong now. Nothing was wrong with what he was saying. It was just how he was saying it. It seemed like he was lusting over me now. When we were at a red light, he placed his hand on my thigh. I jumped, but he instructed me to relax. I obeyed. At the time, things weren't really registering with me, so I just let it happen. Luckily, he didn't go any further than that before he pulled up to my house. He did leave his hand there for the remainder of the ride. I remember getting out and thanking him for the ride. He rolled his window down with a smug smirk and called me “pretty lady” before pulling off. Once I got inside, things finally registered with me, and I was just disgusted." Britain shuttered her eyes closed as she tried her best not to let the memory evade her mind.

"When I realized that entire interaction wasn't okay, I started to withdraw myself. I just stopped going to school since I truly didn't know what to expect from him next. When Truancy got ahold of my mom, she was livid that I managed to miss that many days of school when she was the one dropping me off at campus. Even though she was upset, my mom knew something was wrong, so I told her. I thought my mom was gonna console me and get everything straightened out since what he did was wrong, but she didn't. She didn't even believe me. She thought I had a wild imagination since I'd been complaining about being the only black kid at school. She thought I came up with this elaborate story about my teacher touching me so I could get transferred to another school."

Hearing this come out of Britain made Priest's heart clench. This definitely changed his perception of Seven as a mother, but he knew he couldn't say much since it was evident that Britain had forgiven her mother, and they'd moved past it. It definitely bothered him, though. He couldn't fathom not believing Jazzy's claims. It cut him deep, so he couldn't see why Seven couldn't believe what her daughter said as the truth.

---