Page 36 of The Love of Priest

Priest licked his lips. "That'll be three nights in a row," he reminded her. "You sure I'm not wearing out my welcome?"

"I'm aware," Britain replied, smiling up at him. "And if you were, I wouldn't be expecting you for a fourth night."

Priest chuckled. "I don't know about a fourth night, Gioia."

Britain smirked with a slight nod of her head. "We'll see." Arrogance leaked from her tone as she got into her car without saying anything more.

Sure enough, Priest got into his vehicle and trailed behind her to her apartment. Once they arrived and entered the apartment, Britain and Priest both slipped out of their shoes. Britain led the way to her bedroom where they had been frequenting for the past few days. She was sure that since Priest came into her life, she had made more use of her Netflix subscription than she ever had before. However, because she spent so much time watching Netflix and spending her time with Priest, she had grown slightly disconnected from “Humans of New York.” Britain wasn't blaming Priest for anything. She just couldn't find it in herself to spark interest in someone else's story when Priest was still telling her his. His story was suspenseful and mind grasping, and so far, no one else's had come close to his.

Priest turned his phone off, sitting it on the nightstand adjacent to her bed. Britain realized he had been doing that lately. She didn't mind. She was just curious. "Made you turn your phone off?" Britain smirked as she tied her hair into a low ponytail.

Priest chuckled. His dark eyes were practically shuttered shut due to the number of blunts he smoked throughout the day. Shockingly, he still managed to be alert, even though he looked to be knocked off his square.

Priest took a seat at the side of Britain's bed closest to the door. He had grown accustomed to the spot, and Britain kept it prepped with three pillows for him in contrast to the one pillow she preferred at night.

"You always have my attention." He licked his lips. Britain couldn't help but to be enslaved by his rugged looks. He had this toughness that meshed perfectly with his gentleness, and Britain loved it. "You look shocked. Tell me what's up."

Britain sighed before shrugging. "Priest, I have a fucked-up past," she openly admitted.

Priest nodded. "Elaborate for me." He waved her over so she could sit.

Britain shuffled her way over, taking a seat next to him. She couldn't muster up the courage to look Priest in the eye. She kept her eyes focused straight ahead, eyeing the display of black and white vintage aesthetic photos she had pinned on her wall. Many of the photos were of different sights she managed to capture in the moment, along with a few photos of herself.

"Remember when I told you if I was able to face the woman I was before, I wouldn't be able to recognize her?" Britain asked him.

Priest nodded. "Yeah, we talked about growth that night." He refreshed his own memory.

"I still have a lot of growing to do myself," Britain admitted shamefully.

Priest ran a hand down his face. He was being patient with her; however, he was beginning to feel like Britain was speaking in code. "You're telling me all this to say…?"

"I don't want to inform you of my past because I don’t want you to be aware of the type of disrespect I allowed," Britain sighed.

Priest understood Britain's logic, but he didn't agree with it. Revisiting his past was something he did constantly. It not only humbled him, but it also smartened him as well.

Britain thought pushing things far behind her was healthy when, in reality, it wasn't. "I haven't disrespected you in a way. Have I?" he asked for clarification.

Britain shook her head. "But you're a man, and I expect it sooner or later," she admitted with a shrug. Britain was convinced all men had ulterior motives, no matter how much they tried to convince her otherwise.

This time, Priest shook his head. "I'm definitely a man, but don't forget that I'm also Priest. I operate differently than your last. Don't put the issues you have piled up with that nigga on me," Priest advised.

Priest understood that women had issues with stereotyping each man they came across after one bad and stale relationship. Priest didn't really like that mentality because it often resulted in him being penalized for the last dude's mistakes. He didn't consider himself perfect, but he for sure knew right from wrong. He understood everyone made mistakes, but he believed it was how you recovered from it that mattered.

"Listen, I'm not gonna try to force anything out of you, but I do expect to be filled in so I can be aware of what I'm dealing with," Priest advised. Britain simply nodded her head.

Priest sensed that she needed some comfort. He wrapped his arms around her, laying her on top of his body.

"Intentionally hurting someone only means you're hurting deep within yourself. Britain, I don't hurt anymore. Nothing phases me."

"And that's what scares me the most," Britain let out lowly. "Will you be able to care for me with that mentality?"

Priest kept his dark orbs fixed on the ceiling. "Caring and sensitivity to pain doesn't correlate in my opinion. Your prior situation has clouded your way of thinking," he enlightened her. Britain had spent too much time foolishly convincing herself that her ex’s treatment came from an underlying sense of care he had for her.

"I'm sorry. You probably think I'm a complete mess," Britain spilled an apology as she buried her face into her hands to hide her embarrassment from Priest.

A chuckle sounded from Priest, causing a vibration to shudder through both of their bodies. "Nothing I can't handle," he asserted with a level of confidence Britain had yet to attain.

Britain removed her hands from her face so she could look at him. As she gazed into his eyes, she felt her mind and heart fall at ease. Priest was everything she had been wanting. Attentive, caring, understanding— everything! She had to keep him around.

---