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He turns in my direction with a pinched look on his face. Those hazel eyes stare at me for far too long, so long that I feel like any longer and I might launch myself across the console at him. He’s appraising me curiously, searching for something in my expression, and I’m not quite sure what it is. After a beat, he gives the most half-assed smile I’ve ever seen. “Yeah.”
“What are you majoring in?” I ask.
Once again, he waits. He seems to relax after a second and this time, his smile is more sincere. “Graphic Design.”
“Why that?”
“I like art, but I know I’d never make it as an artist. Graphic design lets me have some job security while also being creative,” he admits, carefully turning on the blinker as he weaves through the tight winding mountain roads. “What about you? What made you want to start Camp Trinity?”
I sink into my seat and think my answer through. “I’ve always had a special relationship with God, and I wanted to spread His word to the new generation. Catholics are known for being stuffy, and I wanted to give kids a religious experience that was not only fun but also meaningful.”
His nose does a funny little twitch, and he quickly glances at me. “Really?”
“Really,” I say, wrinkling my own nose. “Why?”
He shrugs and lets out a deep sigh. “That sounded rehearsed.”
How is it that he always sees right through me? Yes, I wanted to start Camp Trinity for all the reasons I told him, but it’s more than that. I wanted it because the guilt…the guilt of wanting something I couldn’t have became so strong. I thought that maybe if I started this camp for Him, everything would be better. I’d have a life mission I could focus on and devote all my energy to.
But that didn’t stop the thoughts. It didn’t stop the cravings. It didn’t stop mywants.
But I don’t tell him that. Instead, I change the subject. “Are you liking the camp any better than when you first started?”
His tongue flicks out against his piercing as he exhales deeply. “It’s growing on me. It’s chiller than I thought it would be.”
“I told you if you gave it a chance, you’d like it.”
“Well, there are several things to like about it.”
I don’t miss the way his eyes track every corner of my face. I think it’s supposed to be subtle, but it’s so loud in the confines of this car. Is he saying that I’m one of the things he likes about camp? How can it be when I’ve been nothing but terrible to him?
Is it because he feels what I feel too? This all-consuming, hungry, desperate need to be with him?
“Maybe we should just drive in silence,” I whisper, looking away from him and out the window. He doesn’t say anything else, and I don’t know if I’m grateful for that.
The drive feels longer than it should with the stifling silence, and I practically jump out of the car while it’s still moving to get away from it. Noah doesn’t follow me, and I look back to see that he's lighting another cigarette, perched on the hood of the van. Christ, how is it possible that he makes something so disgusting look so good?
I shake my head and walk into the store. I hate to admit that I linger a bit, browsing each aisle when I already know what it is I want. I just need to get away from him. He’s sin and temptation wrapped up in a perfectly delicious package, and I don’t know how much longer I can hold out.
I realize that after fifteen minutes, I’ve stalled for too long. As I check out, I feel a little bad about ditching Noah but that goes away the second I walk out of the store. I nearly drop the paper bags as a beautiful woman—tall, blonde, leggy—runs her hand up and down his arm, bringing her chest close to him as she flutters her eyelashes.
Once again, the foreign feeling of rage crashes through me. It’s so odd and disconcerting. I’m not a man that feels rage. I’m a man of patience and forgiveness, but the sight of that blonde tramp with her hands all over Noah sets me over the edge. It gets even worse when he chuckles at something she says and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Get in the van, Noah,” I bark, shoving the bags in his unprepared hands. He fumbles for a bit, nearly dropping them. When he doesn’t move, I grab him by his arm and haul him away from the woman, basically throwing him into the van. “Let’s go!”
The blonde goes to say something, but one look from me shuts her up. I march to the other side of the van and rip the door open. Noah looks between me and the woman, but he makes the smart choice when he drops the bags in the backseat and gets in the van.
“What the fuck?” he asks as he starts the van. “What was that about?”
“What?” I snap.
“Get in the van, Noah. That’s the second fucking time you’ve lost your cool with me. Why is that?”
I try to bite my tongue.Because she was beautiful. Because you were touching her. Because you can’t touch anybody else but me.“Promiscuity is frowned upon by God.”
“The girl? Seriously?” he says, groaning loudly as he white knuckles the steering wheel. “Fuck, Jarred. We were just talking.”
“She was flirting with you.”
