CHAPTER 52

CHAPTER 52

EZRA

Exams were finally over.

I should’ve been relieved—actually, I was relieved—but underneath the relief was this weird, restless buzz.

Weeks of non-stop studying, choir practices, church retreats, and barely any contact with Dorian beyond late-night texts had left me… twitchy. Starved, even.

I’d gotten too used to his hands, his voice, his presence. And now, like an idiot, I caught myself grinning at my phone every time he texted something stupid like “Don’t skip choir practice tomorrow.”

Pathetic. I was pathetic.

The announcement came early in the morning, just when I thought I’d have a few lazy post-exam days to sleep like the dead.

“Choir members!” Genevieve’s voice cut through the speaker system like divine thunder. “Pack your bags. We are going to minister in St. Augustine’s Parish tomorrow. Another town. Bus leaves at 4 p.m. sharp. No excuses.”

The entire choir group chat exploded:

Lily 👑:

> WHAT???

Did she say another town???

Jordan 🎸:

> We just finished exams??

I barely have clean socks.

Me:

> Same 😭

Ryan Tenor:

> Competition time 😎

St. Augustine’s won’t know what hit them.

I snorted at that. Ryan took choir competitions way too seriously, like we were on The Voice: Church Edition.

Still, my heart did a weird flip. Another town. Which meant we’d be staying over. Which meant—hopefully—time with Dorian. Real time. Not just pixelated words on a screen.

I jumped off my bed and started tossing clothes into my small duffel bag. Shirts, trousers, spare choir uniform, my notes (because Lily would kill me if I forgot), and—very importantly—my cologne.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” Genevieve’s voice floated through my door.

I froze. “...I’m just packing!”

“Mm-hm.” I could practically hear the British eyebrow arch. “Don’t forget your toiletries. And a Bible. Not just your… fragrances.”

I bit my lip to hide a smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

By 3:45 p.m., everyone was dragging their luggage to the bus parked in front of the church. It was chaotic. Lily was yelling at Jordan for forgetting her white shirt. Ryan was already humming warm-up scales like we were about to perform at the Vatican.

I scanned the crowd, heartbeat quickening. And then—there he was.

Dorian. In a black shirt, dark slacks, hair a little messy from the wind. He was talking to Father Barnes, probably about logistics, but my brain was already gone.

It had been weeks. And one look at him was enough to stir everything I’d tried to shove down during exams.

“Stop drooling,” Lily whispered, appearing beside me.

“I’m not,” I hissed.

She snorted. “You’re practically wagging your tail. Ezra, behave.”

I elbowed her. “Shut up.”

We loaded the bus, everyone jostling for seats. It was one of those long, air-conditioned buses with two rows on each side.

I strategically placed my bag on a window seat, heart hammering. If he sat next to me, we could—well, not do anything obviously, but maybe whisper, maybe hold hands under a jacket, maybe—

“Yo, seat taken?”

Ryan’s grin appeared in my peripheral vision.

Panic. “Uh—uh—”

Before I could say Actually yes, he plopped down next to me with a dramatic sigh. “Perfect spot. Window view and choir crush central in the next row.” He tilted his head toward where Lily was already seated. Jordan threw her a heart sign. She rolled her eyes.

I clenched my jaw. Tch.

And then I saw it.

Dorian. Getting on the bus. Walking down the aisle. My breath caught.

Our eyes met for a split second—enough to make my pulse jump—and then… he walked past. Past me. Sat down two rows ahead. Next to Father Barnes.

I blinked. “...What?”

Lily leaned over from her row. “You okay?”

“Peachy,” I muttered.

Ryan raised an eyebrow. “You look like someone stole your snack.”

“Shut up, Ryan.”

He laughed. “Touchy. I’m just saying—you’re acting weird. Like, weirder than usual.”

I forced a smile. “I’m fine.”

Inside, I was not fine. I wanted to leap over the seats, drag Dorian to sit beside me, and—well, okay, not do that in front of Genevieve. But still. He could’ve sat here.

The bus started moving, choir chatter filling the air. Lily was scrolling through memes, Jordan was humming a song, Ryan was tapping his foot like he had drumsticks in his brain.

I tried not to stare at Dorian’s head like some kind of desperate puppy.

Failed.

Every time his shoulders shifted or his hand reached up to adjust his collar, my stomach twisted.

“You sure you’re okay?” Ryan asked suddenly.

I snapped my gaze forward. “Yes!”

He smirked. “You look like you’re plotting murder.”

“...Maybe I am.”

“Yikes.” He laughed and turned back to his phone.

Halfway through the ride, Lily and Jordan started playing some dumb “Guess the Bible verse” game across rows, dragging Ryan in. I played along distractedly, throwing out wrong answers just to hear Lily shriek “EZRA YOU SHOULD KNOW THIS!”

But every few minutes, my eyes wandered.

Dorian leaned slightly toward Father Barnes as they spoke, profile sharp against the light coming through the window. His fingers rested against his chin in that thoughtful way that made my chest ache.

I missed you, I thought stupidly.

When his hand reached up to rub the back of his neck, my brain flashed to him gripping me there. Hard. Controlling.

I bit my lip, looked away, and prayed for strength. Or a miracle. Either worked.

We arrived at the philanthropist’s house around sunset. It was huge. Like, “are we sure this isn’t a secret hotel?” huge. The choir spilled out of the bus, gawking.

Lily whistled. “Money. Sweet, sweet money.”