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Story: Lust (Seven Deadly Sins #2)
CHAPTER SIX
SYDNEY
“ N o, no more,” I beg as Cressida and Suzi chant “Down it! Down it!” beside me. I pick up the shot, take a deep breath, my nose turning up at the smell, then knock it back like a pro. But I’m barely an amateur never mind a pro. The Sambuca burns a path down my throat, almost threatening to come back up along with the other…so many I’ve lost count.
“Whoop! Go Syd!” Cress bellows, fist pumping the air.
“I’m done,” I slur, flopping back against the sofa from my position on the floor of Cressida’s apartment.
Suzi barks out a laugh before composing herself enough to point a swaying finger at me. “You’re going to feel that tomorrow.”
She is not wrong. I can already feel my head thumping in time to a hangover knoll to end all hangovers. I close my eyes hoping to ease my churning stomach but all it does is make the room spin. I’ve heard countless stories of the famous spinning room. I can honestly say I’m not a fan. Immediately snapping my eyes open again and attempt to focus on my friends.
“Oh god, I think I’m going to be sick,” I say, sluggishly considering getting up to find the toilet before I decorate Cressida’s carpet.
“Did you just say, ‘oh my god’?” Suzi demands, rising to her knees and barely managing to remain upright. “She did. Cress, the holier than thou Syd just used God’s name in vain.”
“I did not. I would…” I can’t finish my sentence and not because of the alcohol—well, maybe just a little bit.
These two women are a bad, bad influence on me. An image of the lecture my pa would give me if he could see me now. But it’s gone as quick as it came and I drink the water I asked Cress to get me earlier, which has sat untouched since. The cool liquid soothes my Sambuca scorched throat, and I drink it all down.
“I think I need to go home,” I state, forcing myself upright before awkwardly climbing to my feet. The faint tinkle of laughter follows me as I stumble my way into the toilet, managing to close the door but give up with the lock when I my fingers refuse to work properly. The room spins again as I relieve my bladder, then find my way back to the living room where Suzi and Cressida are dancing round the room.
“Syddddd! Come on, let’s dance before the Uber gets here.” Suzi grabs my wrist and drags me forwards, twirling and making me dizzy.
My head feels like someone went at it with a sledgehammer as I roll over in bed.
“Arrgh!” I groan, holding my head in both hands, afraid it might break clean off if I don’t. “Why would people willingly do this?” I mumble, my mouth like sandpaper. I frown and squeeze my eyes closed tighter, but that simple movement causes splintering pain to arc through my head.
My phone rings, and I blindly reach out for it on my bedside table, desperate to stop the loud blaring ring tone. Snatching hold of it, I bring it to my face and crack an eye open enough to answer it before putting it to my ear.
“Hello,” I croak.
“Sydney!” Suzi hollows. “You’re alive then?”
“Barely. Never again,” I say, then add, “Please, no more shouting.”
Suzi laughs. “Famous last words of every hangover sufferer across the world. Get yourself some coffee, and if you’re lucky, you might feel semi-normal by lunch.”
“I thought you had work?”
“I’m at work. Bet you’re glad you aren’t.”
I groan at the thought. “There is no way I’d have been able to come in. I can’t even consider moving from my bed.” Suzi laughs again, then tells me she’ll message later with details for Friday night.
I drop the phone beside me, taking a moment before I attempt moving. My first hangover is not an experience I’m keen to repeat, especially as I can still taste the Sambuca. Although, I did have a good time. Cressida and Suzi don’t seem bothered by my lack of experience with drinking, or anything else for that matter, and are keen to educate me. Pa would call it corruption and quote some verse from the bible on temptation, but I’m beginning to think Jesus—the man who converted water to wine—wouldn’t judge me so harshly.
I drag myself from my bed and shower and dress while my head pulses like a blender, shaking my pickled brain every time I move. I take a couple of painkillers and brave some toast and a strong coffee. Feeling a little better, I decide to take a walk. Maybe some fresh air will clear my head, and once I’m certain I don’t stink like a homeless drunk any longer, I’ll pop and see Pa. I know I’ll ask God for forgiveness out of guilt. And because it’s who I am, how I’ve been raised.
My foggy brain begins to clear after the first twenty minutes, and I stroll toward the church. I decide to enter through the back door, hoping to grab another coffee before finding Pa. The small kitchen is empty when I arrive, but the distant echo of a male voice reaches me from down the old stone corridor letting me know Pa is here. I make a coffee and a tea for him and head off to his office.
I can no longer hear voice I heard when I arrived, so I give a light knock and enter. “Just me, Pa. I made you a cup— Oh.”
“Sydney. I wasn’t expecting you,” Roman says, pen paused mid-air and looking up at me.
“I could say the same,” I reply, surprised and somewhat flustered. “I was… Er, is my pa here?”
He lays the pen down and reclines in his chair. “It would appear not,” he says as he scans the room. “But I’ll take the tea if it’s on offer,” he adds, pointing to the cups in my hand.
“Oh, yeah. Sure.” I step forward and place the cup of tea on the desk in front of him. “There’s no sugar in it though as it was meant to be for Pa.”
He nods, picking up the cup and bringing it to his lips. Pausing, he says, “I think I can go without today.” He takes a sip as I stand there unsure of what to do.
“Well, I’ll just…” I point to my own drink and then over my shoulder and slowly turn to leave, eager to be away from him. I’m not sure if it’s the alcohol lingering in my bloodstream or something else but it’s feeling incredibly hot in here.
“Is everything okay, Sydney? You seem a little flushed,” Roman says, halting my exit.
“Oh yeah, everything is fine. It’s a little cold out and warm in here, so…” I say, turning back to him. I expected him to still be sat at the desk, but instead, he’s right in front of me. I suck in a breath of surprise, inhaling something spicy and rich. My head snaps up, and all the air leaves my lungs as I meet his intense gaze.
“Is that so?” I catch a glimpse of his hand out of the corner of my eye a second before his finger brushes over my heated cheek. “Are you sure there’s nothing else?”
My head shakes of its own accord while my mind tries to make sense of what is going on.
Is he flirting with me?
No, that can’t be right. He’s a reverend, a man of the cloth like Pa. Not to mention he’s got to be almost a decade older than me. No. Just no.
Clarity snaps and I step back. “I…I need to go. Sorry.” I rush from the office, abandoning my coffee on the counter in the kitchen, and out the back door. I barely notice the person outside the door or stop when they call my name.
I’m halfway home before I slow my almost jog down to a walk. My heart is racing and my lungs ache with lack of oxygen. Taking in a few deep breaths, the streets around me come back in to focus, and my thoughts turn back to what happened back at the church.
I’m so confused. My experience with men is limited, but I’m not clueless enough to not recognise flirting. Why would Roman flirt with me? I mean, reverends are allowed to marry, but I’m only twenty-two and nothing special. Surely Roman could see how taken the women were with him on Sunday, even the married ones. He could have his pick of women for a wife.
I realise how ridiculous and degrading that sounds, but it doesn’t make it less true. Then there’s Blake, who not only asked to meet for coffee, but knows Roman. Are they friends? Is he a reverend too?
I shake my head, stopping in the middle of the path and receive muttered cursing from the couple behind who narrowly avoid crashing into me. I turnaround and head back the way I came, taking a left before the church towards town.
I arrive at the bookshop as Cress and Suzi are leaving on their lunch break.
“Syd,” Cress yells as she spots me. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d still be recovering.”
“I’m still feeling a little fragile, but I thought the fresh air would help.”
“You know, the best way to cure a hangover is?—”
“Don’t say it. I’m not drinking…ever again.”
Cress and Suzi laugh, then Cress hooks her free arm in mine, spinning me around, with Suzi on her other side and begins walking.
“Whatever you say. Let’s go eat.”
I don’t argue with her, allowing her to tow me down the street to the café. Cress and Suzi chat about an angry customer who laid into Sheila while I figure out how to ask them about what happened with Roman. I think I just need assurance that I imagined the whole thing, that he was simply being kind.
I pay no mind to the quiet voice screaming at the back of my mind that I’m wrong. That Reverend Roman Stone was most certainly flirting with me, as was Blake at the bookshop yesterday.
Table of Contents
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- Page 6 (Reading here)
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