CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 19

EZRA

I should’ve been glad the rat was gone. Everyone else was. But as I sat through devotion, all I could think about was how small it had looked in Father Dorian’s hand before he tossed it out the window.

It hadn’t been its fault. It was just trying to exist.

Maybe that’s why I felt heavy in my chest. Like me and the rat had something in common—we didn’t belong here, but we’d been thrown into it anyway.

I wanted to go home.

And yet… we weren’t leaving until tomorrow.

One more night in the same cabin. One more night beside Father Dorian.

God, help me.

After the final prayer, everyone shuffled toward breakfast. Wooden benches scraped. Voices overlapped, people yawning.

I sat down at the long table, Lily on my left, Jordan across from us. They were arguing about how much sugar belonged in tea.

“Ezra,” Jordan said, sliding the sugar bowl toward me. “Tell her tea shouldn’t taste like liquid candy.”

“Liquid candy is the best,” Lily argued, already dumping more in her cup.

I forced a smile. “I’m staying out of it.”

Before I could lift my spoon, someone slid into the seat on my right.

I stiffened.

“Ezra,” Father Nico said smoothly. “A penny for your thoughts.”

I blinked at him, forcing a polite smile. “Oh—I wasn’t thinking of anything important.”

“Your face says otherwise.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t hide. Honesty is a virtue.”

I nodded quickly, not sure what to say.

Then his hand dropped under the table. Onto my thigh.

I froze.

The touch was light, just resting there. But it was enough to make my skin crawl.

“Relax,” he murmured.

I yanked my leg away so fast my knee hit the table. The dishes rattled.

“You okay?” Lily asked, looking at me.

“Yeah,” I said quickly. My voice was too high. “I just—uh—cramp.”

Jordan’s brows drew together, sharp. She looked at me, then at Nico, then back at me.

Nico only smiled wider, like nothing had happened. “Take care of yourself,” he said softly, and then he stood and left the table.

I stared down at my plate, appetite gone.

After breakfast, I needed to breathe. Needed to be away from all the noise.

“Where are you going?” Lily asked.

“Cabin,” I muttered.

“You’ll nap like an old man,” she teased.

“Good.”

Jordan tilted her head, watching me too closely. “You sure you’re fine?”

“Yeah.”

I left before they could push more.

The cabin was quiet. Too quiet.

I stepped in, grateful for the silence, and then froze.

The sound of water running.

The bathroom door half open.

And through the crack—

I saw him.

Father Dorian.

Completely bare.

Broad shoulders. Muscles carved from stone. Tattoos covering his arms, back, curling over his ribs. His hair damp, water sliding down his chest.

My breath caught. Loud. Too loud.

His head turned slightly.

I gasped, panic exploding through me, and bolted out of the cabin before he could catch me standing there like a sinner about to be dragged to hell.

Outside, the air was sharp and cold. I pressed a hand to my mouth, my heart racing so fast it hurt.

“What is wrong with me?” I whispered.

And for the first time that morning, I wished the rat was still alive—because at least then I wouldn’t be the only trapped creature here.

******

I didn’t look at him. Not once.

If Father Dorian noticed, he didn’t say anything. Good. Because if I so much as glanced at him after what I saw in that bathroom, I’d combust right there in the middle of devotion.

So I avoided him.

All day.

When he spoke, I found someone else to focus on. When he walked by, I shifted away. When he laughed—God, when he laughed—I stuffed my ears with Lily’s chatter until the sound blurred.

It wasn’t hard to avoid him, not really. We had activities. Orphanage work. Singing. Cleaning. Nico trying too hard with his “charm.” Everyone busy. Everyone distracted.

And I thanked God for that.

Because my heart was still hammering from the sight of him standing there—water dripping, tattoos spread across skin that looked too much like temptation dressed in muscle.

I prayed. Fasted a little harder. Ate less at dinner. Pretended my stomach ache was from the food.

By the time night came, I went straight to bed, rolled over, and faked sleep before Father even finished changing.

One more night. Just one more night, I told myself. Then we’d go home.

The next morning, bags were packed. Everyone shuffled toward the bus. Voices, laughter, yawns.

“Ezra!” Lily grabbed my wrist and tugged. “Sit with me?”

Before I could answer, Father Dorian stepped onto the bus. He scanned the rows. His eyes landed on me.

I froze.

“Go ahead,” I whispered to Lily, forcing a smile. “I’ll… I’ll sit later.”

She gave me a look, but shrugged and bounced off to find Jordan.

And just like that, the only free seat left was next to him.

Father Dorian.

I sat down slowly, gripping my bag like it was my only shield. My body went stiff as a board.

The bus rolled forward. My pulse did too.

For a while, silence.

Then sunlight cut across the aisle, slipping through the window on my side. I squinted.

A moment later, Father leaned forward and slid the curtain down. Blocking the light.

Blocking me in with him.

My breath hitched.

“Thank you,” I said quickly, too polite, too fake.

He didn’t answer. Just leaned back again, his shoulder brushing mine.

My hiccups started.

Of course.

I clamped my mouth shut, but it didn’t stop. Hiccup. Hiccup. Loud enough that people turned.

Kill me now.

“You all right?” his deep voice asked.

“Yes,” I croaked. “Fine. Totally fine.”

Another hiccup.

My ears burned. My hiccups got worse.

People were watching. Lily waved from two rows down, mouthing, what’s wrong with you?

I buried my face in my hands.

The bus pulled into town hours later. The ride had been torture. Him sitting there, steady and unbothered, while I melted into hiccups and sinful thoughts.

Finally, the brakes hissed. The doors opened. Students poured out—bags, chatter, yawns.

More than half of us were heading back to the college anyway. Different majors, but the same campus.

I followed Lily and Jordan down the steps, trying to breathe.

“Ezra, you’ve been spacey all day,” Lily said, bumping my shoulder.

“I’m fine,” I muttered.

“You’re lying,” she sing-songed. “You always blink too fast when you lie.”

I groaned. “Do not analyze me like a science project.”

Jordan fell into step beside us, sharp eyes flicking over me. “She’s not wrong. You’re jumpy.”

“I’m not—”

“You are,” they both said at the same time.

I threw my hands up. “Fine! Maybe I’m a little distracted. Is that a crime?”

“Yes,” Lily said.

“No,” Jordan corrected. “But it’s suspicious. What’s going on?”

I clenched my jaw. “Nothing. Drop it.”

“Ezra,” Lily whined, tugging my arm. “Tell us.”

“Not happening.”

Jordan smirked. “You’re hiding something. I’ll figure it out.”

I groaned again, wishing the ground would swallow me.

Lecture hall. Math.

Equations covered the board. Numbers danced like ants.

I tried to focus. Really, I did.

But then the curve of ink flashed in my mind. The rosary dangling against bare skin.

I gripped my pen.

God, why did he have to be shirtless?

Why did my brain save it in HD?

The professor’s voice blurred. Lily whispered beside me, “Are you even listening?”

I muttered, “Totally.”

Another lie.

Another sin.

I scribbled random numbers in my notebook, pretending to solve something.

But really, all I was solving was how not to combust every time Father Dorian breathed near me.

And failing.

The sun was already low when Lily and I left campus. I had my bag slung over my shoulder, and she was practically bouncing beside me.

We turned onto the street toward her house when she leaned in close and whispered, “Ezra… I think I want to get a sex toy.”

I nearly tripped. “What?”

“You heard me.”

My ears burned. “Why—why would you say that? Out loud? On the street?”

“Relax,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Nobody’s listening. But I’m serious. I want one.”

I choked. “You—Lily, this is a small town. If you go into a store here, the whole church board will know before nightfall. Genevieve will probably put you on a prayer list.”

She laughed. “Exactly. That’s why we’ll order it online.”

“We?” I asked, horrified.

“Yes, we. You think I’m dragging you home just to watch me click buttons? No. You’re picking one too.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“Lily,” I hissed, “that’s a sin.”

She smirked. “So is kissing a priest, Ezra. Want me to remind you?”

I glared. “Low blow.”

“True blow,” she shot back.

I groaned. “I don’t need a sex toy. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. You’re a stressed, repressed, blushing virgin who’s one look away from combusting. You need help.”

“I don’t need plastic help,” I muttered.

“Good thing some aren’t plastic,” she teased.

I covered my face. “Lily.”

She giggled and tugged me faster. “Come on. We’ll order discreet. No one will know.”

We got to her house, threw our bags on the couch, and she pulled out her laptop like it was Christmas morning.

“Sit,” she demanded.

“I don’t want—”

“Sit.”

I sighed and dropped into the chair beside her.

“Okay,” she said, fingers flying across the keyboard. “Step one: incognito browser. Step two: search. Step three: ruin Ezra’s entire worldview.”

I groaned. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Obviously.”

A page loaded. Photos. Bright colors. Things I had no business seeing.

I looked away. “Nope. I’m out.”

“Stay,” she said. “Pick one.”

“I told you, I don’t need it.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not!”

“You are,” she said sweetly, scrolling. “You want one. You just feel guilty.”

“That’s because I am guilty!” I whisper-shouted.

She ignored me. “Ooooh, look. This one looks like a water bottle. You could carry it to choir practice and no one would know.”

I gagged. “Don’t ever say that sentence again.”

She clicked it anyway. “Adding to cart.”

“Lily!”

“And this one looks like a stress ball. Perfect for you. You’re always stressed.”

I buried my face in my hands. “God, strike me down.”

She patted my shoulder. “God’s busy. I’ll take care of you instead.”

Two hours later, we were sprawled on her living room floor. Books, papers, highlighters everywhere. My laptop open, three tabs of math assignments glaring at me. Her business notes scattered.

“This is hell,” I muttered.

“This is college,” she corrected.

I scribbled formulas furiously. “Double degrees were a mistake.”

“You say that every week.”

“Because it’s true.”

“Shut up and solve.”

I gritted my teeth, scribbling.

Finally, she flopped back and groaned. “I’m starving.”

“Me too,” I admitted.

“Pizza?”

“Anything,” I said, already exhausted.

She ordered. Thirty minutes later, the doorbell rang. We both cheered, running to grab the boxes.

We sat cross-legged, eating like wolves, when the doorbell rang again.

We froze.

“That’s not the pizza guy,” Lily said, standing.

She opened the door. A plain brown package sat on the step.

My heart stopped.

She squealed. “It’s here!”

“Shut up!” I hissed. “The neighbors—”

She slammed the door and ran back, tearing it open like it was Christmas.

“Oh my God,” she whispered dramatically. “They’re beautiful.”

“Don’t.”

She pulled out a sleek box. “This one’s mine.”

Then she pulled out another. Smaller. Innocent-looking. She turned to me with a wicked grin.

“This one’s yours.”

“I—no—I said I don’t—”

She shoved it at me. “Take it, Ezra.”

I backed up. “No.”

“Yes.”

“No!”

“Yes.”

She stuffed it into my open bag. “Done.”

I almost died right there. “Lily—”

“Relax. They look like normal objects. Genevieve could search your whole room and not know.”

“I hate you,” I muttered, red from head to toe.

“You love me,” she sing-songed.

I dropped onto the couch, burying my face in a pillow. “I’m going to hell.”

She laughed. “At least you’ll be well-prepared when you get there.”

Hours later, as I packed my bag to leave, the box peeked out from under my notes.

I shoved it deeper, heart pounding.

I couldn’t believe it.

My best friend had just given me a sin in a box.

And I was too embarrassed to admit I might actually use it.