Page 14 of Gay for Pray (Arport Sacred Sacrament University #1)

Chapter Fourteen

Theodore

THE SECOND I MAKE it back to my dorm, my roommate pokes his head out of his room. His cocked eyebrow holds enough judgment to have me shrinking into my shoulders.

“Where have you been?” he says.

Our room is set up like Jude and Nick’s, with two bedrooms attached to a small communal living space.

We’re in a different tower a five-minute walk from Jude and Nick’s.

I almost looped around the building and stretched out the walk to avoid going home, and perhaps if I didn’t feel like crap I would have, but the second I started moving, I knew I needed to get myself to my own bed as quickly as possible.

It’s not only my body that’s messed up. My head is buzzing after what I did in Jude’s room.

What I did.

Because it was me who went in for that kiss.

Jude certainly responded, but that kiss never would have happened if I hadn’t initiated it, and that is a truly dizzying thought.

I’ve never kissed anyone in my entire life, and now I’ve kissed a guy I should hate.

Yet how could I hate Jude after all this?

He scooped me out of that party last night and has done nothing but take care of me since.

He didn’t have to treat me so kindly, yet he went out of his way to get me through whatever happened to me last night.

As embarrassing as this whole ordeal has been, I’m sure it would have turned out even worse if it weren’t for Jude sweeping in to save me.

Maybe it’s the lingering effects of whatever that jerk at the party gave me.

Jude said it made me crave touch. Maybe that’s what propelled me toward his lips.

That’s what I tried telling myself for the entire five-minute walk over here, but no matter how many times I repeat it, a piece of my brain whispers that I would have kissed him anyway.

That image of Jude as a literal angel hovering over me lingers in my mind even now.

He looked no less handsome in the morning; he felt no less like an angel delivering mercy I haven’t earned.

“I was out,” I finally answer.

Aaron narrows his eyes at me. “Out? You missed Mass.”

He’s part of the liturgical choir as well, which I used to count as a point in my assigned roommate’s favor. Right now, it feels more like a cudgel he’ll use to beat me over the head.

“I was sick,” I say. “A…friend had to take care of me.”

“Sick? Are you still sick? Is it contagious?” He reels away, sinking into his room.

“No, I’m fine. Just tired.”

Aaron seems to accept this. “Well, you should have emailed the director. He’s super pissed.

I mean, when those two flunkies—what are their names?

Jude and Nick? When they didn’t show up, no one was really surprised, but you’re supposed to be better than people like that.

Everyone was wondering where you were. We even talked about the concert coming up. Have you heard about it?”

For some reason, it rankles to hear him talk about Jude this way.

Twenty-four hours ago, I would have agreed with him, but now, I kind of want to march over there and punch him in the face for talking about Jude like he’s some loser flunky.

What does he know about Jude? He has no idea how hard Jude works for his scholarship or how kind he is or how he’d help even someone like me if he saw them struggling.

I clench my hands, but in the end, I let the remark pass, too much of a coward to speak up even after all Jude did for me.

“I’ll handle it,” I mumble, ignoring the bit about the concert and getting to my room as quickly as I can.

I never do bother emailing the director to explain my absence.

I go right for my bed, exhausted despite how soundly I slept in Jude’s arms last night.

I wrap myself up in my sheets and drift off immediately, but even with every blanket and sheet nestled around me, my bed feels oddly cold without Jude in it with me.

I DREAD CLASS THE next day. Monday is a philosophy day, which means it’s a Jude day. After tossing and turning all night reliving that kiss, I have no idea what I’ll encounter when I head into class and face him again.

My heart is in my throat as I enter the classroom, but Jude smiles when I catch his eyes.

That heartbeat in my throat threatens to strangle me.

It’s way too easy to remember the feel of those lips when that smile is pointed at me in particular, yet I manage to give him a minute nod and slink to my seat.

All throughout class, I swear I can feel his eyes on my back, but I don’t turn or acknowledge him.

I do everything I can to focus on Professor Demsky’s lecture, but the words slip past me like sand between my fingers.

My notes are a jumble of nonsense. I’m going to have to go back and redo the readings at this rate, but there’s simply nothing that’s going to settle my brain today.

Maybe it’s that crap that guy put in my drink.

Can something like that keep affecting you this long?

Jude seemed to think there would be some kind of hangover.

Does this count? I haven’t had so much as a glass of wine in my entire life, let alone real drugs.

I have no idea what to expect from this.

Did it do permanent damage? Will I ever feel normal again?

Is what I’m thinking and feeling even real, or is it the drug?

I wish I could trust myself. I wish I knew what was real and what was in my head.

Everything is so confusing, like a million-piece puzzle I can’t possibly hope to solve.

By the time class ends, all I want to do is run back to my room and hide.

I don’t have another class until later, and usually I use the few hours in between to do some homework at the library and grab food, but today my steps are aimless.

I walk almost accidentally toward the church, perhaps hoping I’ll find some kind of salvation along the way.

Instead, I find Jude.

He jogs to catch up to me, then falls into step beside me on the path through campus.

For a moment, I startle, sure someone will think the two of us walking together is strange, but why would they?

There are so many students on this campus that any random pair walking along is anonymous to most of the people we pass.

“How are you feeling today?” Jude says as we walk.

“Okay, I guess. Better. Almost normal, I think. How long is this supposed to effect me?”

He shrugs. “It can vary from person to person. Some people say they feel the after effects for a few days.”

“A few days ? I need to be normal again.”

“Relax, you’re normal. It’s not like you aren’t yourself. You just might be a little nicer than usual.”

He smirks, but unlike all the previous times I’ve endured that expression, today it sends my stomach into hysterics. I look away quickly, keeping my gaze forward. Once this stuff wears off, maybe I’ll be able to look at him again, but for now, it feels far too fraught.

Jude falls silent beside me, and it’s weirdly comfortable.

It reminds me of sitting on his bed eating all that greasy breakfast food before falling asleep against his shoulder.

I’m not sure I’ve ever been so relaxed in my entire life, and it’s weird that the source is a guy I should have nothing in common with.

I chance a look from the corner of my eye. Jude’s hair is wild and free, his smile light. He walks next to me as though there’s nothing strange about being here with me. It’s like that kiss didn’t even happen for him, or maybe he’s kissed so many people that my clumsy attempt simply didn’t rank.

That bothers me way more than it should.

I don’t want to be nothing to him, but that’s all wrong.

I should be purging this from my system, begging for forgiveness, promising God and myself that it’ll never happen again.

It shouldn’t have happened once, but I slipped up in a moment of ultimate weakness and…

Jude stops me with a hand to my arm. We’re on an offshoot of the main path, the branch that winds toward the church.

It’s the same path I showed him early on in the semester when he announced he was trying out for the choir.

If I’d known what that simple interaction would lead to, I might have run screaming instead of showing him the way.

“Are you okay?” he says. “Really? You look like you’re going to be sick.”

I feel like I’m going to be sick, but I don’t think it’s from whatever was in my drink Saturday night; I think it’s him.

The light filtering between the tree tops pours into his pale eyes and turns them into stained glass.

His hand on me is a point of burning warmth.

All of this is so, so wrong, yet I stand frozen before him, caught in his eyes, caught in his touch, caught in the memory of sitting on his bed with my head against his shoulder.

Then I’m falling toward him again. Just like the first time, it’s me initiating this, me causing this, yet it feels like something bigger than me, something outside of my control, a force greater than man or nature.

Something divine.

My mouth landing against his is a holy creed, a writ from on high.

Jude gasps and catches me, his hands going to my shoulders.

I press against him, intoxicated by the warmth of his lips and sweetness of his taste.

I didn’t know you could taste a person, that it was something distinct and tangible, but the sweet, warm, mellow flavor that is Jude is something I could identify with my eyes closed now.

I pull away, but this time, there’s no dorm room to run to. I’ve made this choice right out in the open, and all I can do is gape at him while he stares up at me in shock.

“Wow,” he says, breathy, quiet.

My whole body reacts to that word. I move as though to kiss him again, senseless with desire, but this time he stops me.

“I doubt you want to do this out here, Choir Boy,” he says.

He scans the path. Thankfully, we’re alone, a factor I didn’t even consider before lunging for him.

“Isn’t the church close?” he says.

My stomach drops. It is close. I was heading there before he interrupted me. He can’t possibly be suggesting…

When he bites his lip all argument dies on my tongue. He takes my hand.

“That way, right?” he says, nodding his head.

I nod as well, terrified of speaking, and he pulls me toward the church. It takes a couple steps before any of my neurons are firing again.

“Are we really…” I say.

“The practice room will be empty at this time of day,” he says without so much as a glance backward. “And I don’t think we have time to get to my room.”

There are a thousand filthy promises caught up in those two simple sentences, promises that belong nowhere near a church, yet as Jude tugs me along, I follow without a word of protest.

It would take divine intervention to stop this.