Page 12 of Gay for Pray (Arport Sacred Sacrament University #1)

Chapter Twelve

Theodore

CONSCIOUSNESS SEIZES ME BY the throat and jolts me back into my body.

I startle awake, shocked to be in my own body, shocked to be alert, shocked to feel coherent and aware.

I get one second to blink, then every nerve ending in my body aches, a symphony of discomfort lancing from the crown of my head to the tips of my toes.

Nothing hurts that bad, but it all hurts a little, and that adds up to the most unpleasant morning of my entire life.

Then I notice the arm around my waist.

The arm is limp with sleep, hanging lightly over me, but the position suggests it was once holding me. Someone lies against my back, their breaths deep and even.

The presence of the stranger alerts me to the fact that this isn’t my room.

I’ve never seen this room in my life. There’s a university-issued desk with a laptop and books scattered across it, so I must still be at A.S.S.

Uni., but beyond that, the clothes heaped on the floor in disorganized piles offer no clues as to where I am or who I’m with.

The posters on the wall depict strangers, most of them in flamboyant clothes. A few even have rainbow backgrounds.

A slow dread seeps through me. The previous night returns in flashes.

The party. Someone handing me a glass. Me drinking while I watched Jude dance.

Stumbling outside to get some air. The memories fracture after that point, but there is one thing that stands out—Jude.

Jude coming outside to help me, carrying me home, sitting me down on a bed.

Oh God. What have I done?

I can’t help but jolt this time, ripping myself out of the stranger’s arms and sitting up in a bed I don’t recognize. When I look down, my heart drops. Jude lies behind me, blinking at the rough wake up call. The moment he finds me gaping at him, he jerks up.

That’s when I realize we’re both in nothing but underwear.

I grab at the sheets, trying to cover myself, but Jude displays no such bashfulness.

He holds up his hands as though to calm a startled horse, but he doesn’t try to cover up the smooth expanse of his bare chest. Dark hair trickles down his abs and covers his legs, but a lot less than I’m sporting.

He’s lean, but not as skinny as I assumed.

I drag my eyes up him, shaking myself for staring.

His blue eyes are bleary, but they spark a memory, a memory of staring into those eyes last night, of diving into them when I felt lost and confused and disoriented, of finding solace and security in that gaze.

Perhaps that’s the reason I don’t bolt then and there.

“Relax,” Jude says softly. “You’re safe. You’re okay.”

“What happened? Why am I in your room?”

“You’re okay,” he says again. “You needed a place to crash last night, so I brought you here.”

“You brought me to your room to crash?”

He shrugs, and I try not to watch how the casual motion ripples across his chest, muscle moving under warm skin. “Where else was I going to take you? You were too fucked up to stay at the party, and I don’t know where your dorm room is. I figured this was the safest place to go.”

I was “fucked up.” How? I didn’t even drink, aside from juice. I shake my head, struggling to wrap my mind around the implications.

“I don’t understand any of this.”

“I know,” Jude says. “It’s okay. You might feel kind of crappy today, but you’re going to be fine.”

I scoff. “More than kind of.”

He grimaces with real pity, which stands out as weird even given the circumstances I find myself in. “Yeah, I thought you might. I have something that can help. Stay here, okay? I’ll be right back.”

I nod, and Jude clambers off the bed and fishes a pair of sweatpants off the floor. Somehow, when the pants are hanging from his hips, the elastic of his briefs still showing, he looks even more tempting than he did nearly naked.

I rub a hand over my face as he bustles from the room.

What is happening to my head? Why are these thoughts hitting me so hard now of all times?

I’m finally on the path to my ultimate goal, and suddenly all the thoughts I’ve been suppressing all my life are battering me like hail pounding on a tin roof.

The temptation is a constant din in the back of my mind, distracting me from the correct way forward, and a lot of it seems to be focused on Jude.

Why now, God? Is this a test? Am I failing?

Have I already failed? I pray, but instead of getting an answer from the divine, I get Jude, shirtless, his hair a beautiful mess, his cheeks still warm with lingering sleep.

He reenters the room carrying two mugs, and the second he passes one to me, I almost groan with pleasure.

The scent of fresh coffee winds down my throat, healing everything it touches on its way to my gut.

“I put some creamer in it,” Jude says, “but I don’t know if you want anything else in it.”

“It’s perfect,” I say before I can think better of it.

I take a long sip, letting the warmth soak into me. A cup of coffee has never tasted or felt so good in my life, and I cradle the mug in both hands and hunch over it like it’s my Bible and I’m sitting in church.

Church.

Wait.

I nearly spill my coffee when I gasp and sit up straighter, shooting a panicked look at Jude.

“What time is it?”

“Ten thirty.”

“No,” I gasp. “No. We’re late. We’re supposed to be at Mass. It started half an hour ago. The director will—”

Jude puts up the hand that isn’t holding his coffee. “Relax. Calm down. You aren’t going to Mass today.”

“But it’s Sunday. I have to.”

“You’re already late, Theodore, and you are not going to feel like standing up and singing for an hour today, I promise. Sit and drink your coffee. It’ll help.”

“But…”

I run out of arguments. Jude is right. It’s way too late to get to Mass now, and even without standing up, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be super steady on my feet. Whatever happened last night, I’m going to pay for it all day today.

It’s all my fault. I’ve never gone to a party before.

Why in the world did I rise to the bait when Jude suggested it?

Why didn’t I tell him no like I knew I should have?

I had all these excuses in my head about understanding the average college experience and using that for my ministry later in life, but I was wrong.

I was completely wrong. I never belonged in that place, and now I’m being punished for thinking otherwise.

Ultimately, I deserve this.

“Hey,” Jude says softly beside me.

I jerk my gaze up as he withdraws his hand, as though he was going to pat my shoulder and thought better of it. The aches detonating all throughout my body intensify when he pulls away.

“I’m sorry you feel crappy today,” Jude says, “but you’re going to be okay. I think someone put something in your drink last night, which is a really, really awful thing to do. If I’m right about what it was, you’re going to have a bad day, but you’ll recover and be back to normal tomorrow.”

I rack my brain trying to put all these disparate pieces together, but one thing keeps springing up.

“Why are we naked?” I say. “Did…did something happen last night?”

Jude bursts into laughter so violent he almost spills his coffee. The freedom in that joyful sound makes me ache in a whole new way.

“No, nothing happened,” Jude says when he calms himself. “Don’t worry, Choir Boy. I did not sully your virtue. All I did was put you to bed. You took off your clothes yourself.”

I can’t look up at him as I ask this next question. “Why…were we sleeping like that?”

He doesn’t answer for a beat, and I grip my coffee mug harder.

“The stuff they dosed you with,” Jude says carefully, “if it was what I think it was, it made you sort of…crave being touched. You needed human contact. You weren’t doing super well, but you seemed better when I, um, when I…”

When he touched me. When he held me. Oh God, what did I do last night? I remember getting here, sort of, and I remember feeling really bad—then really, really good.

“Listen, it’s not a big deal,” Jude says.

“That’s what happens to everyone when they’re on that stuff.

I’ve seen it before, so I kind of knew what to do.

All we did was sleep, and you really needed to sleep.

I’m sorry I couldn’t ask for permission, but you would have had a way worse night if I left you here on your own.

If you hate me, I get it, but I was only trying to get you through the night. ”

I shake my head at my coffee and the watery, baffled reflection staring back at me.

“Don’t worry,” Jude adds in a lighter tone. “I didn’t take it personally. I was just the closest warm body.”

This makes me look up at last. My chest goes tight, even as he smiles at me. I want to tell him he’s wrong, that he shouldn’t be so casual about being used like that, but I’m too afraid it would suggest I needed him in particular to hold me when I was in a vulnerable state.

“Anyway,” Jude says, rushing away from the terrifying moment hanging between us, “finish your coffee, then take a shower. I’ll set out some clothes you can borrow.”

He gets up, setting his coffee aside as he digs through the clothes on the floor. My heart races, panic fluttering through my chest.

“You’re leaving?” I say.

“Just for a few minutes,” he says as he pulls on a T-shirt. “You’re going to feel crappy today, but I know just the cure. It might be Sunday, but today we’re going to take care of your body and not just your soul.”

He winks, smirking from one side of his mouth, but it feels like a shield.

He’s still running from that statement about being used, running from the idea that I only needed him because he was the closest available human and not because he’s him .

If my head didn’t feel like it was being poked with needles, I might have the courage to push back, but in my current state, I sit there on the edge of his bed and watch him flit around his room.

After dressing himself, he pulls out a couple shirts and another pair of sweatpants.

“They might be a little small on you, but they’re better than what you were wearing last night,” he says.

“Take a shower and get changed. Take a long shower and get changed. I’ll be gone for about half an hour.

I can’t stop you from simply leaving, but please don’t, alright?

I promise you’ll feel way better if you clean up and give me thirty minutes.

Nick still isn’t back, either, so no one will bother you. ”

He pushes the clothes into my hands. He’s moving too quickly for me to follow, especially with my body all screwed up. In moments, he’s grabbing a wallet and keys off the messy desk.

“You’ll be here when I get back?” he says, pausing at the door of his room.

I should say no. I should bolt. But instead I nod, and I know it’s true.

“Good,” he says with a smile. “I’ll see you soon, Choir Boy.”