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“I’ve had…” I trail off, but I know I need to continue. Father Matteo will understand my wayward thoughts, but they have to stay like that. Just thoughts. As long as I don’t act on them, it can’t be too bad, right? “I have been having…inappropriate thoughts about one of our new counselors.”
He waits for a beat before he asks his question. “What kind of thoughts, my son?”
“I…I don’t want to say,” I admit slowly. “Thoughts of their attractiveness, I guess.”
“Have these thoughts been sexual in nature?”
“No. Not at all,” I insist urgently, but I can feel the lie on my tongue. “But I don’t want to stray. I need God to forgive me for this sin I’ve committed.”
“I don’t necessarily think it’s a sin to find somebody attractive,” he says. “Attraction is normal. The counselors are all of age. Would the relationship be inappropriate? For sure. But sinful? Only because you’re still married in the eyes of God.”
He’s giving me a way out. He’s trying to soothe me by reassuring me that I’ve done nothing wrong. If I was just honest with him, he would know how terrible my thoughts truly are, and how little my willpower is.
I need God to forgive me. I need God to help me resist temptation. I need God to understand that I don’t want my thoughts to go any further, but I’m only a man.
“No son of mine is going to be a fucking faggot. Come here boy and I’ll beat that shit right out of you.”
My blood runs cold at the memory. My breaths come out in short uneven bursts. I mumble a prayer under my breath, praying away the pain, praying away the memories. The memories remind me just how terrible these feelings are—howwrongthey are.
“Please, Father. This is all I can remember. I am sorry for these and all my sins,” I recite, calling the words on how to end the confession and receive penance.
I can hear a sigh from the other side of the wall. “I suppose you should do two Our Fathers and three Hail Marys. Is this sufficient for you?”
No, it should be more. I should have to crawl on my knees to the altar and beg for forgiveness until my tongue falls off, but I gladly accept. “Yes, Father. Thank you.”
“Now, I need to hear the prayer of sorrow.”
“My God, I am sorry for my sins with all my heart. In choosing to do wrong and failing to do good, I have sinned against you…” I go through the rest of my prayer in my head, adding little bits here and there about how sorry I am and how much I need His strength. Once I’m done, Father Matteo gives me the prayer of Absolution, and my soul feels lighter.
I exit the booth after that and am immediately met by Father Matteo and his curious brown eyes. “Jarred, is everything okay?”
“Yes,” I say, sweat beading my hairline at my obvious lie, and giving myself another reason to go through confession again. “I’m just…”
I can’t finish my sentence, and Father Matteo seems to understand. He looks at me with compassion as he claps his hand on my shoulder and gives me a squeeze. “Look, son. If you ever want to talk to a friend and not your priest, I’m here for you. My door is always open to you.”
I give him a lackluster smile. I don’t plan on approaching him like a friend any time soon. That would be crossing yet another line that I’m not ready to face. Regardless, I appreciate the gesture. “Thank you, Father.”
Although I feel a little bit of relief, the guilt still weighs heavily on my shoulders. It’s only day one of camp, and I’m already lusting after someone I should never consider to be mine. I don’t care how many confessions it takes.
I refuse to think of Noah Scott as anything other than my nineteen-year-old camp counselor.
CHAPTER5
NOAH
As I sit in front of the bonfire, I can feel every twitch of my sore muscles.
While I’m happy I handed Bryce and Joshua their asses in flag football, I can admit that maybe I pushed myself a tiny bit too far. Well, fuck it, it was all worth it when I saw how happy Patrick looked when he scored his first touchdown.
It’s night now, and all the counselors are sitting at our designated hangout area around a fire Kendall started. We’re all just dicking around talking to each other, and it’s kind of relaxing in a lowkey sort of way.
“Do you guys ever actually party?” I ask Patrick, reaching for a cigarette from my back pocket and lighting up.
He shakes his head from where he sits on the log beside me. “Um, not really? Mr. Walker doesn’t let us have alcohol, even though most of us are old enough to drink. I think it would be a bad influence on the kids if they caught us.”
I nod, relishing in the sweet burn of nicotine as I look around at the rest of the counselors. “Right because all of you are just so high and mighty. Perfect children who can do no wrong.”
“I get that you don’t want to be here, but would you mind not taking it out on me? I haven’t exactly given you a reason to be a jerk to me.”
