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I don’t stop until I reach the altar and stare up at the effigy of Christ hanging on the wall above the altar.
It’s hard to believe that there was a time that I thought I’d come here on some sort of divine mission. Whatever power I thought I had on my side has long since been exhausted.
All I am is lost and alone.
My hand goes into the pocket of my jacket. When my fingers clench on the fabric, it’s just another reminder of how little I have left.
“Looking for this?”
Heart in my throat, I whip around to see Drake slowly walking down the aisle between pews. On his outstretched palm is my skull rosary.
He stops in front of me, just out of reach.
“How did you know I was here?” I ask, staring at him.
“I should tell you it’s a coincidence,” he replies with a shrug. “But I’ve come here about a dozen times in the last few days hoping you’d be here. I couldn’t risk calling you with Brady breathing down my neck.”
I shiver, but it isn’t from the cold. “Why?”
The look he levels at me is heavy with meaning. “I think you know why.”
It’s impossible not to immediately think of the last time that the two of us were alone together in this chapel.
Drake follows my gaze to the altar, his expression sardonic. “There are lots of different types of worship.”
There isn’t room to back away from him, and I don’t want him to know that he has once again managed to knock me off balance.
I reach for the rosary, but he pulls it away.
“Give it,” I demand.
“Damn, you really like to give orders.” A note of playfulness enters his voice as Drake surveys me in the gloomy light. “What will you give me for it?”
It’s impossible to miss the flirtatious subtext in his question. My mind whirls as I try to decide if I want to pick up what he is obviously putting down.
The last time could be chalked up to a mistake. If I let it happen again, then I’m admitting that I want this.
“What will I give you for the thing you stole from me?” I ask incredulously. “How about I don’t tell the other Havoc Boys that you’ve snuck off to meet public enemy number one?”
“Fair enough.”
Drake tosses the rosary at me. I react in just enough time to keep it from landing on the ground. The metal beads are warm in my palm from where they were heated by his skin.
My mind refuses to focus on anything but how good he looks in the low-slung pair of dark jeans and a black t-shirt that clings to every muscle of his upper body. He acts utterly impervious to the frigid and drafty air blowing through the chapel, especially considering that he must have walked over here without wearing a jacket.
He takes a step closer to me and my heart skips a beat. As much as I want to tamp down on my body’s response to him, I can’t do anything about the fact that his proximity lights a fire under my skin.
If I’m not careful, the fire will stoke hot enough to burn.
“You’re not worried that Brady is going to wonder where you went?” I ask, almost taking an involuntary step back before catching myself. “You don’t want him to come looking for you and find us together.”
“This is a Catholic school,” he replies with a shrug. “Nobody gives you any side eye for making a trip to the confessional.”
The confession booth is empty, but I’m sure that he already knows that. “You’ve never struck me as the type to confess your sins.”
“Maybe I’ll surprise you.”
He continues to stare at me, like he’s looking for something that he hasn’t found yet. I’m not sure what to make of it.
