Page 8 of Take Me to Church
I understand Christian’s point, but I’m still angry. Still frustrated. Still disappointed.
But tonight I need to shove all those feelings aside. Focus on what’s important. Bust my butt and rake in all the money I can.
Because the only group I found willing to help me collect my sister charges a hefty fee. I guess that’s the price you pay for the luxury of a no-questions-asked type of situation.
I finish emptying my last box and stack it with the rest, snagging them before heading straight back into the storage portion of the basement and carrying them to the spot we stack our recycling before hurrying back down the hall. My hand is on the door when I hear him. The lead singer’s voice is smooth and deep, carrying just the hint of a ragged edge, adding interest and depth.
I push open the swinging door and step out, hoping to hear a little better.
Piper smirks at me from behind the bar. “Told you.”
I scrunch my face up at her. “My panties are still firmly in place, thank you very much.” It would take a whole lot more than just a great voice to make me consider crossing that bridge.
But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to get a look at the man connected to the ridiculously sensual tone carrying through the empty bar. I snag a rag from one of the buckets of bleach water behind the counter and wring it out. “I’m gonna go make sure all the tables are wiped down.” It’s a lame excuse, but Piper doesn’t call me out on it. Probably because she’s enjoying being right a little too much.
I start on the tables closest to the bar so it looks like I’m just going about my job, which I am. I do need to make sure the tables aren’t sticky. I just probably don’t need to wipe each and every one of them.
But that’s what I do, creeping closer to the corner I need to see around to get my eyes on the stage. I work quickly but it still seems to take forever to reach the edge. When I step around the final hi-top, the stage comes into view. The second my gaze lands on the lead singer, the rag falls from my hand. All I can do is stare. Partially because I’m a little in shock and partially because I’ve always had a hard time keeping my focus off the man standing in front of me.
I thought Christian looked good when I saw him the other night, but that was nothing compared to what I’m seeing now. He is clearly in his element up on that stage, lips hovering a breath away from the microphone as his fingers stroke the guitar held tight to his body. The words coming out of his mouth are unlike any song I’ve ever heard.
This isn’t music. This is more like vocal seduction.
At least what I would imagine seduction to be like.
Christian’s eyes are closed as if he’s completely immersed in the music, and for a second I close my eyes too, lured in by the sound of his voice. It’s so familiar and yet so different, and the combination does things to me. Tingly, achy things. Things that make me imagine what it might be like if Christian touched me in all the ways the internet has shown me are possible.
Christian stops singing and the abrupt pause jolts me, sending my eyes flying open. They meet his across the room and we stare at each other. I feel like I’ve been caught doing something I shouldn’t. Not because I was enjoying music I’ve been taught to believe is a gateway to sin and self-destruction, but because I’m now pretty sure I understand exactly what Piper was trying to tell me. My panties aren’t necessarily dropping, but the thoughts I’m having about Christian are anything but holy.
“This is an interesting reaction.” Piper moves in at my side, crossing her arms as she looks between me and Christian, smirking. “Seems like you two might know each other.”
I force my eyes away from the stage, crouching down to grab the rag I dropped before spinning away. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Piper chases after me, completely undaunted. “I can totally see that, but you know there is no way we aren’t discussing whatever in the hell is happening.” She sounds a little too excited right now and that only sends the heat of embarrassment creeping across my skin faster.
“Nothing is happening.” Actually, something should have happened. I should have chucked my bleachy bar rag right at the center of Christian’s face, called him an asshole, and gone back about my life.
Instead I stood there hypnotized by the sound of his voice and the imaginings of a little girl that were quickly turning into the fantasies of a woman.
“Lydia.” Christian’s tone is sharp and demanding behind me and I almost stop. I’ve been trained to jump when a man calls. Conditioned to act on their whims. But that stopped a year ago, and I have no intentions of starting back up.
I keep walking, shoving through the swinging door and into the dimly lit hall, doing my best to get away from both my friend and the man who let me down. I duck into an open doorway, leaning back against the wall and letting out a breath.
I’ve barely relaxed when I hear a body hit the swinging door, flinging it open so hard it bounces off the wall.
“Lydia.”The frustration in his voice sends me slinking deeper into the room, pressing tighter to the wall. I don’t want to face him now because I’m really not sure what I’ll say. I know I shouldn’t be as mad as I am. I understand where he’s coming from. But that doesn’t change that he’s refusing to help me when I need help the most.
Christian rushes into the room, big body blocking out the tiny bit of light filtering into the windowless space from the hall. His eyes find me too quickly, locking onto my ineffective hiding space. Again, we stare at each other. It seems to be a thing we do. Like we’re still not quite sure we’re seeing what we think we’re seeing.
He is different but yet so much the same. Bigger, broader, but still focused and intense. Like there’s so much more brewing beneath the surface. I’ve always been fascinated by him and apparently that’s yet another thing that has not changed.
His gaze is sharp as it fixes on my face. “Why did you run from me?”
It’s a complicated answer. One I still struggle with every day. “You know why.”
I find a certain amount of comfort knowing Christian understands me. Understands the life I was forced to live.
Most people don’t.
