CHAPTER 35

CHAPTER 35

EZRA

I swear Lily has a radar for my shame.

She yanked my sleeve in the library like she owned my arm. “Ezra, sit. We’re debriefing.”

“Debriefing what?” I asked, voice thin. My notes were spread like a crime scene across the table. My brain was still sticky from last night’s exam nap and the rain and everything that followed.

“That weirdness,” she said bluntly. “You’ve been a walking storm cloud. I need the receipts.” She plonked her bag down and readied her best serious face. “Speak.”

Jordan slid into the third corner of our little triangle, eyes already amused. “I’ll take notes. This is good content.”

“Shut up,” Lily told her with mock violence. Then she turned to me. “Okay, Ezra. Spill.”

I sighed so loud I probably made the table vibrate. “There is nothing to spill. I’m fine.”

“No,” Lily said. “You are not fine. You are dramatic. You are pale. You sigh like a Victorian poet.” She wagged a finger. “We will not have this.”

Jordan pushed her glasses up her nose and gave me that look she gives when she’s both teasing and actually worried. “Are you in love?”

My head snapped up. “No.” Too fast. Too loud. I wanted the floor to open. “I am not in love.”

“Then why are you a walking fog machine?” Lily demanded.

I looked at my hands. “Exams,” I said. “Stress. Sleep deprivation.” Truth. Half-truth. Convenient.

Lily squinted. “Exams don’t make you blush when the pastor looks at you.”

“Shut up.” I swatted at her with my highlighter. The librarian glared and we immediately went quiet. Jordan gave me an apologetic look like, oops, my bad, but her mouth twitched.

“Okay,” Jordan said softly, but still with that needle. “Is it Dorian?”

I flushed so hard I wanted to crawl under the table. “Why would you—no.”

“Because you’ve been staring at him like he’s the last croissant in the world,” she said, deadpan. “And you’ve been avoiding him like he’s the plague. That’s a very specific therapy combo, my guy.”

Lily leaned forward, elbows on the table, voice dipped to dramatic stage whisper. “Tell us everything. We’ll turn it into a W*****d series.”

Jordan snorted. “Title: Forgive Me, Father, I Love the Sin.”

“Jordan!” Lily slapped her arm. “Too much.” She turned back to me, all sharp concern. “Did he do something? Did something happen?”

I closed my eyes. It was like being dragged across broken glass. The confession booth. The rain. The kiss. The grinding. The way my body had betrayed me. The way I’d run until the rain stopped and my shame had nowhere to hide.

“It’s complicated,” I said finally. “It’s dumb. It’s sinful. It’s private.”

“Private is boring,” Jordan said with a grin. “Public scandal is better.”

“You are the worst,” Lily muttered. Then she grinned. “But we’ll help. That’s what we do.”

“Help how?” I asked. Because I didn’t know. I needed to be guided away from a cliff and they were both waving at me to jump.

“With boundaries,” Lily declared. “No more late-night alone walks. No more solo church exits. If Nico or anyone else gets weird, we intervene.”

Jordan folded her arms. “And you have to stop looking like you’re auditioning to be heartbroken in slow motion every time Dorian breathes.”

“Okay,” I said, drowning in the ridiculousness of my life. “I’ll… try.”

Lily clapped once. “Excellent. Therapy begins now. But first—” Her eyes went warm and wicked at once. “Did you ever—” She lowered her voice like it was a secret code. “—imagined grinding on a priest?”

The phrase hit me like a cherry bomb. I think the blood left my limbs. I could feel my face doing a very public collapse into tomato.

“You are disgusting,” I hissed.

Lily actually doubled over with laughter. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I can’t.”

Jordan was trying, bless her, but she cackled under her breath too. Then she recovered and pointed a finger at me. “God’s watching you, man.”

“Please kill me now,” I whispered, which was dramatic and I knew it, but it was the only prayer I could think to say.

“You asked the wrong people for death threats,” Lily said, still sniffling with mirth. “We only provide humiliation.”

We quieted when the librarian walked past, but the air between us was lighter, laced with the ridiculous. Humor somehow made the hole in my chest less sharp.

“Okay, real talk.” Jordan’s voice dropped. She was all business now. “You need a plan. If Dorian is problematic—” She made air quotes. “—for your soul, set a boundary. Tell Genevieve if you need to step out when he’s around. Use us.”

Lily nodded. “And if Nico creeps, we make a scene. Loud, dramatic. He won’t know what hit him.”

We went over actual, practical steps, which felt like adulting for five minutes: times to avoid, who to sit with after service, safe routes home, who to text if someone comes close. It was so boring and so grounding that I almost cried from the relief.

“You sound like a support group,” I said, grateful. “I—thank you.”

Lily squeezed my hand. “We got you, Ez.”

Jordan smiled in that small way she does when she’s actually serious. “We do.”

We packed our things and walked out into the cooling afternoon together. The campus smelled like wet concrete and old books. I breathed the air like it was medicine.

“Let's go to church” Lily said as we turned the corner.

“I—” I started. My brain did that comedy skip again: Dorian grading my presentation earlier, the way he’d asked me that odd question, the way he’d looked at me when I blurted out something ridiculous about Eros. The memory made my toes curl in my shoes.

“Yes,” I said before I could overthink it. “Please.”

Lily smiled wide. “Perfect. We’ll form a human barricade.”

Jordan added, “And if Father Nico tries anything, tell him Jordan’s watching.”

“Jordan? Watching?” I said. My mouth tried to turn the words into a joke, but it sounded breathless.

“Trust me,” she said, smirking. “Nobody wants to be the object of my stare.”

We walked the short way to church, the afternoon light softening.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The piano keys clicked, the choir shuffled their sheets, and there I was—front and center, leading practice like I wasn’t losing my mind inside.

“Higher, Ezra,” Lily called from the back. “You’re flat.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not flat, you’re deaf.”

The sopranos giggled, and Jordan, sitting cross-armed in the pews like she owned the place, muttered, “Both of you are insufferable.”

I cleared my throat and tried again. My voice carried, steady this time, echoing against the old stone walls. People actually clapped, which made me blush.

And that’s when he walked in.

Father Nico.

“Beautiful,” he said smoothly, clapping slow, deliberate. “Truly beautiful, Ezra. You have a natural gift.”

I stiffened as he stepped closer. His voice sounded like honey poured over glass—sweet, but sharp enough to cut.

“Th-thank you, Father,” I muttered, forcing the words through my throat.

Then his hand landed on my shoulder. Warm. Heavy. Too heavy.

I froze. Every muscle in my body screamed to move, but I forced a smile, because what else could I do? Everyone was watching.

“Such dedication,” he murmured, squeezing slightly. “God smiles on you.”

Gross. I wanted to throw up.

And then—my eyes wandered across the hall.

Father Dorian.

Leaning against the far pew, arms crossed, jaw clenched so tight I thought his teeth might shatter. His eyes weren’t just on me—they were burning holes straight through Nico’s hand on my shoulder.

Oh God.

Holy water wouldn’t put out that look.

He looked ready to baptize Nico with a brick.

I swallowed, heat crawling up my neck, and gently stepped aside. “Excuse me, Father, I need to check the vestry.”

Nico smiled like he’d won something. “Of course. Duty calls.”

I turned fast and walked away, heart hammering.

The vestry was cool and quiet, shelves lined with old hymnals, robes neatly folded. I leaned against the wall, trying to breathe.

“Get it together, Ezra,” I whispered. “It’s fine. Totally fine. He’s just… weird. That’s all.”

The door creaked.

I froze.

And of course—it was Nico.

“Father,” I said, straightening immediately. “Do you need something?”

He closed the door behind him. Slowly. Too slowly.

“I thought I’d pray with you,” he said softly, stepping closer.

I backed up a step. “I—I usually pray alone.”

He smiled. “All the more reason to let someone guide you.”

“I’m fine,” I said quickly.

He ignored me and held out his arms. “Come. A hug. To share the Spirit.”

Excuse me—what?

My stomach twisted. My back hit the edge of the wooden shelf. “That’s not—” I stammered. “I don’t think—”

“Ezra,” he said, voice too smooth, too gentle. “Don’t be afraid. A hug is nothing sinful.”

Nothing sinful? Yeah right. Tell that to the way his eyes weren’t even on my face.

I swallowed, heart racing, hands clammy. He stepped closer again. My breath caught.

“Father, I don’t—”

He reached out.

And that was it. My body acted before my brain could. I grabbed the door handle, yanked it open, and bolted into the hallway like I’d just been chased by demons.

I didn’t stop until I hit the choir room again.

Lily looked up from her notes. “Where’d you run off to? You look like you saw Satan himself.”

“Something like that,” I muttered, pressing a shaky hand to my chest.

From the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Dorian still watching me. His eyes weren’t just cold—they were deadly.

God help me. Because clearly, none of His priests were planning to.