Page 3 of Sins of the Flesh
We take our seats, and I try to covertly look at him again, catching his gaze.A glimmer of concern crosses his features before he turns away, greeting another parishioner.I look behind me, thinking maybe he was looking at something, but there's nothing there.
I look back at him, God, he is gorgeous, I swear, each time I see him, he's hotter.He's greeting parishioners, his ever-present warm smile reaching his honey-flecked brown eyes.You can't look at a man that kind and beautiful and not fall apart or at least I can't.
I pull out my phone and quickly text Mason:
Me:
He's wearing the green vestments
today.You know what those do to me.
Mason's reply is almost instantaneous:
Mason:
They ALL do that to you!
*eye roll emoji* Lord, have mercy
on your thirsty soul lmao *laughing emoji*
Stifling a laugh, I earn an annoyed look from my Mom.Quickly slipping my phone into my pocket I turn my attention to Father Nichols, who has just taken his place at the pulpit, his deep voice filling the room as the service begins, my eyes fix on him.
"Good morning, beloved," Father Nichols says, his rich baritone washing over the congregation.That one simple word "beloved" said in that tone makes me shiver to my core, I swear it could make me confess sins I haven't even committed yet.
He starts his sermon speaking of service and having a giving heart.His big hands are caressing the pulpit and I imagine those same hands caressing my face, tracing patterns down my chest, gripping my- I shake my head as the images cause my pants to tighten.Lord help me not again!
Crossing my legs to mask the embarrassing bulge trying to form in my jeans, I launch into mental gymnastics to distract myself with thoughts of the least sexy things imaginable, I visualize roadkill, my ancient kindergarten teacher Mrs.Peterson in a swimsuit, and that horrific moment I stumbled in on Old Man Jenkins in the Church bathroom.Anything to dodge the full-on awkwardness of sitting next to my momin Churchwith a raging hard-on.
When I open my eyes again, Father Nichols is moving through his sermon.His hands gesture expressively as he speaks about compassion and service.My phone vibrates against my thigh, startling me.I discreetly check it beneath the hymnal.
Mason:
Your face is bright red.Jesus is
watching you, perv.*eyes emoji*
I scan the Church and spot Mason three rows back, smirking at me.I give him the subtlest middle finger.
Father Nichols' voice drops to a more intimate timbre as he reaches the conclusion of his sermon."And so, ladies and gentlemen we are called to service, not just in words, but in deeds."
His eyes sweep across the church, and for one heart-stopping moment, I swear they linger on me.My breath catches, and I grip the edge of the pew."We all have gifts to share within our community."The air around us seems to crackle with energy.My heart flutters wildly in my chest.My brain knows he's not staring at me but my body is convinced otherwise.His intense stare feels like it's locked on me and I’m on fire.
As quickly as it began it ends, his gaze has released me and Mom passes the offering basket to me.I take a deep breath and mentally shake the nerves out to take the full basket to him at the pulpit.Yes, I sit in this exact seat so I can do this every Sunday, so sue me.
I reach up toward him with the basket and he grips it smiling at me.“Thank you Cole.”He says voice like honey and I swear my name on his lips is a prayer in itself.My mouth is suddenly dry as I stare up at him in a daze.Our fingers brush as he takes the basket from me, sending electric shocks up my arm.
For a brief moment, we're connected, his warm fingers against mine, his eyes meeting my gaze, and I forget how to breathe."Y-you're welcome, Father," I stammer, my voice barely above a whisper.A knowing smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, or maybe I'm just imagining it because I desperately want to see it.The moment stretches between us until someone behind me clears their throat impatiently.
Blinking rapidly, I break eye contact and hurry back to my seat, nearly tripping over my own feet.Mom gives me a questioning look as I slide in beside her.Father Nichols clears his throat, having taken the last of the baskets.
"Speaking of service and giving," he continues, that damning smile spreading across his face, "St.Mary's is in need of a handyman for some repairs around the Church.If anyone is interested or knows someone who might be, please see me after the service.
"Cole," my Mom whispers, jabbing me in the side with her sharp old lady elbow.I rub my ribs."You should apply for that job, it would be perfect for you."I shake my head.The mere thought of working closely with Father Nichols everyday sends a jolt of nerves through my entire body and my palms are instantly clammy.
"I don't know, Mom," I whisper back, my voice catching."I'm not sure I'm qualified enough."She gives methat look, the one that says she sees right through my bullshit.
"Cole Abbott, I may have been born at night but it wasn’t last night.We both know you’re plenty qualified."My phone vibrates again and I quickly snatch it up with my hands trembling.
