Page 32 of Friar
I woke to sunlight streaming across Friar’s bed, my body pleasantly sore and my mind still fuzzy with the memories of the night before.His arm lay heavy across my waist, his breathing deep and even against my neck.
Friar stirred behind me, his arm tightening around my waist as he pressed his lips to the curve of my shoulder.“Morning,” he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep.His hand drifted to my stomach, resting protectively over the slight swell there.
“Morning,” I whispered back, covering his hand with mine.
“You okay?”he asked, always attuned to the shifts in my mood.
“Yes.”The lie tasted sour on my tongue.I couldn’t ruin this moment with my insecurities, with the fears that had plagued me since Beast had grudgingly welcomed me into the fold.
Friar propped himself up on one elbow, his eyes, still heavy-lidded with sleep, studying my face.“Bullshit,” he said, but gently.“What’s going on in that head of yours?”
I sighed, turning to face him fully.The sheet slipped down, and I tugged it back up, suddenly self-conscious despite our intimacy the night before.“It’s nothing.Just… thinking too much.”
He traced my cheekbone with his thumb, his touch so tender it made my chest ache.“About?”
“The club,” I admitted finally.“I know they voted to accept me as your old lady, but that doesn’t mean they like it.Or me.”
Friar was quiet for a moment, his fingers still moving along my skin in slow, soothing patterns.“Give them time,” he said.“They’re protective of their own.You’re new.Different.”
“I’m the church girl who got knocked up by acting like a whore,” I said bluntly.“No matter how many times you claim me, that’s still what they see.”
His expression hardened slightly, a muscle ticking in his jaw.“What they see doesn’t matter.What matters is what I see.”
“I want to change their minds,” I said.“I want them to see me as more than the pregnant church girl you took in, to prove I belong with you, with them.”
Friar studied me with those penetrating eyes that always seemed to see more than I wanted to reveal.“And how do you plan to do that?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted, deflating slightly.“That’s the problem.I don’t know how to make them accept me.I feel like an outsider every time we go to the clubhouse, or even when they watch me when I leave the house.”
He nodded slowly, considering.“There’s a party tonight,” he said finally.“At the clubhouse.We could go, show up together.Let them see us as a couple, not just a situation they had to vote on.”
The thought of facing the entire club in a social setting made my stomach knot with anxiety.“I don’t know, Friar.”
“You can’t hide from everyone.I want them to see that I chose you.That this isn’t obligation or pity.That you’re mine, and I’m yours.”
My breath caught at the intensity in his eyes, the certainty in his voice.“Okay,” I whispered.
“Also,” he continued, his thumb tracing my lower lip in a gesture that sent heat spiraling through me, “I’ve been meaning to tell you.I asked Beast about your property cut.Should be ready next week.”
“A what?”
“Property cut.It’s like mine.”He gestured to his leather vest hanging on the back of the chair.“But it says you’re mine.Has my name on it.It’s… it’s important in the club.Means you’re officially my old lady, no questions asked.Like the one Leigha had on.”
The significance wasn’t lost on me.This wasn’t just about a piece of clothing, it was a public declaration, a statement to everyone who saw it that I belonged to Friar, and by extension, to the Reckless Kings.
“Thank you,” I said.
“Don’t thank me,” he said, echoing words he’d said to me before.“Just doing what needs to be done.”
* * *
Later that night, I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, scrutinizing my reflection with critical eyes.I’d changed outfits three times, trying to find the right balance -- something that would help me fit in without looking like I was trying too hard.I’d finally settled on tight jeans, boots, and a dark red tank top that hugged my curves but was loose enough to disguise the small bump of my stomach.Although, no one else seemed to notice it.I swore my stomach felt bigger than before.
My hair hung in loose waves down my back, and I’d applied more makeup than usual -- eyeliner smudged to create a smoky effect, a touch of color on my lips.I looked wilder than the church girl Friar always called me, but not to the extent of the night we’d met.
Friar whistled low when I emerged from the bathroom.“Damn, church girl,” he said, his gaze darkening as it traveled from my face down to my boots and back up again.“You clean up nice.”
I felt a flush of pleasure at his approval, at the heat in his eyes.“Is it okay?Not too much?”
