Page 12 of Bad Habit
“It does make me wonder even more if you’re ready.” She chopped the potato into pieces.
“I am ready. I’m just curious…”
But was I ready? Truly ready to begin this life I’d chosen?Meeting Mac had awoken something inside me, something I’d never imagined was there. What would it feel like to kiss him? To have those large hands touch mine?
The wicked feelings returned between my legs—the heat and the aching, the wetness.
If I could feel that at merethoughtof kissing a man, kissing Mac, what would happen if I did it? My breathing quickened.
“Faith…” She set her knife on the cutting board. “If you’re taking this year to be sure, then you need to reallytakethe year.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you should live a little. Let yourself feel what it’s like to live in the world outside the order. Experience some of the normal things any twenty-two-year-old woman would.”
“Like what?” Fear mixed with excitement in my chest.
“Start with something small,” she said. “Maybe go on a date? How well do you know this man?”
“Not well, but he’s kind and generous. He’s been helping me with the children’s basketball matches.”
Sister Henry smiled. “So, sounds like you’ll be seeing him again, then?”
“Yes. But that’s about the children.”
“Why not go for a coffee? Extend your conversation. See for yourself how it feels to be with a man.”
All the air sucked from my lungs. “Premarital sex?”
“I’m not saying that. Or maybe I am.” She shook her head. “Not necessarily. Okay. Listen. I had a boyfriend when I was your age, and I loved him, or thought I did at the time. We had sex—often—and God didn’t send a thunderbolt to strike me down. I confessed my sins, I atoned, and then when I was sure of what I wanted, I chose this life.”
“I can’t believe what you’re saying.” My whole life, I’d assumed that romantic love, physical love, was not for me. I was promised to the Church. But Sister Henry had experienced both?
She took my hands. “I want to be clear, Faith. I amnottelling you to have sex. All I’m saying is that I’ve never met a postulate who’s had so little idea of what she’s giving up. I don’t want to discourage your chosen path—I just think you should fully understand your choice.”
Was Sister Henry right? Should I at least experience a date before giving up on romantic love?
Scraping the skin of a particularly large potato, I made a vow. A vow to myself—I was going to go on a date.
The only thing left was for Mac to ask me.
* * *
Mac
Faith ran after the ball at the side of the court and bent to pick it up at the fence. I sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of her ass pressing back against those hideously ugly, navy things she called pants.
I’d ogled more than my fair share of female butts over the years—more than I cared to admit—but even though many of those asses had been naked or in short skirts, looking at Faith bent over, seeing even a hint of her form, made me feel unbelievably dirty. Filthy. Like a sex offender.
She straightened, and I looked the other way.
The kids were just about done. I sensed some tension between Jeremy and Marigold that would likely erupt in a fight if this game went on much longer.
“What time is it?” I asked no one in particular.
Madison ran to the small backpack she’d left at the side of the court and pulled out a phone—the only one of these kids who owned such a luxury. “Four forty-seven.”
“Crap,” Jeremy said.
