Celestino

Chapter 1

Evelyn's POV

Tic tock, tic tock, tic tock.

Inhale...exhale...inhale...exhale

My eyes trail across the room, many books with bullshit titles about self love and improvement of your relationship with the lord, but somehow even more certificates of excellence showing the completion and advancement of my therapist's "hard earned" degrees. "Evelyn...Evelyn...Evelyn" I sigh deeply, turning my attention towards my therapist who has managed to pull me out of my concentration of the poorly decorated office. 45 minutes into our hour long session and I can tell by her demeanor alone she is greatly irritated with my lack of cooperation, especially when she lets out an exaggerated sigh commenting,

"Our sessions will only bring positive results if you share your thoughts or feelings with me. At this point I will even take an explanation of how your day was."

My lack of encouragement cannot be a surprise to her, these sessions were forced, and in my own opinion unnecessary.

"I had an excellent day." I bellow out, keeping my eyes everywhere but on her and that stupid goddamn notebook "I woke up and the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and God sent a holy angel down to bless my morning coffee!"

My exaggeration does not go unnoticed, it's clearly not appreciated either given her lack of a response. The last 15 minutes of my session are spent silently with the smallest dash of peace.

Tiiiing.....Tiiiiing! Before her preset alarm can finish ringing I am already three steps out of her office with my bag lazily hanging off my shoulder.

Walking home was always the best part of my day, I finally got to be alone. Away from the over-pushed religion from my family, the commentary and gossip made at church about the deacon's daughter, the annoying ambiance and vibe of my therapist, and the overcrowded humming of noise at school. Just me and the world around me, continuing as normal without a care of who or what I am. I turn around the familiar corner to my home, adjusting my school uniform ensuring my skirt isn't too high up my waist, my tie is neatly centered, my cross necklace is on display front and centered, and my auburn colored locks are tied tightly in a ponytail. Sighing I open my front door, expectedly greeted by my mom and dad.

"Hello sweetheart!" Mother says.

"Hello honey," Dad follows with "how was your therapy session?"

All I can do is roll my eyes, what I want to say is "You mean the forced therapy sessions you put me in for the lack of belief in the same God given rules you have?" But deciding this would strain our relationship further and cause an argument I settle for,

"It was well, I really feel my connection with the lord is going to be rekindled, I'm hoping soon to better understand what my purpose is that the lord has given me."

I guess this worked well enough for them since they returned to their planning for tonight's service, leaving me to go to my room. I'm positive they see through my bullshit, but whether it's denial or a general discomfort towards addressing their silent disappointment, I'll never know. My eyes roam the walls, skimming the pictures of me and my parents, us at the church with the members, and my parents' wedding. They were high school sweethearts who had taken an interest in each other, Dad had followed in his fathers footsteps and became the Deacon of our church, and Mom was the lead singer in our church choir. They waited until marriage, had a child, continued their path within the church and raised me to do the same; this is where the therapy came in. My parents caught me kissing a boy at the age of 13, and found out I was doing much more by the time I hit 15. They didn't shun me like the rest of the church did, they blamed the devil and temptations, then stuck me in therapy with the highest rated therapists that had strict ties with other Catholic churches for "at risk" youth. Fast forward to now I'm in my senior year at a Catholic High School and in therapy with high hopes of escaping, with even higher hopes of my parents keeping in contact with me after I decide to leave the Holy lifestyle they've presented. My parents have given me everything I needed and wanted for the most part, they love me and have always made it known, so we both play along. I am respectful to them, they could have been rough like the other parents with 'disappointments' for children, but they weren't. They kept their rules and boundaries and I kept mine. Though they've pushed their religious rules and reasonings that were pushed onto them, I've never really succumbed to it, it's not that I don't believe in God or a higher power, I just don't want to live in accordance to rules given to me by a book translated by man, I want to be free.

Ridding myself of any plans that need to be dealt with later in life, I change out of my school uniform and get ready for our evening service that my dad is assisting with at a new church. Their deacon was on medical leave, God bless him, and my Dad was going to act in his place intermediately as a substitute. My Dad was close with the pastor, while I've never met him, I've heard nothing but good things. This reputation of mine should be sure not to follow me during our attendance at the new church, this should be fun. My parents have been able to keep most 'sins' of mine hushed, but rumors pass easily, which is exactly why a change in scenery should be a positive thing.

"Ready to go sweetheart?" Dad questions after my silent arrival downstairs.

"Yes sir." I respond absentmindedly , too lost in thought to focus on anything aside from leaving.

The drive was silent but comfortable, my parents humming along to gospel while I stared thoughtless out the window, until we arrived. From the outside of the church it didn't seem to be anything extraordinary, a few plants here and there, a couple signs indicating parking and such, but entering...it was beautiful. The stained glass windows, beautifully carved wooden benches, the attention to detail in the tile to create a beautiful pattern displayed perfectly in the center of the room. It was all too much, too fascinating. Our church was nothing compared to this. I follow my parents, still mind blown at the fascinating view. The pastor wears an all too friendly smile most pastors have, at least in my experience, greeting my dad with a friendly handshake and my mom with a friendly hug.

"Hello Pastor Francesco, it's good to see you again. This is our daughter Evelyn." My dad says whole heartedly.

Pastor Francesco puts his hand out,

"It's nice to finally meet you Evelyn! I've heard nothing but good things about you," shaking my hand he continues "your parents tell me you're excelling in school, and your religious studies. My son is around your age as well- I'm sure he's here somewhere" Pastor looks around before his eyes light up, "Ah there he is- Celestino, come here my son!"

Before I have a chance to say anything, time stops. The sexiest man I have ever seen walks over. He has to be somewhere around six foot four, towering over my five foot three frame, his eyes were the color of a forest, a deep green that swallows your attention, with curly brown locks on his head very lightly touching the top of his glasses, muscles straining against his white button up, full lips that are slightly pouting. This man is fucking gorgeous. The words are stolen from me when he looks up with a modest smile making his white teeth visible, reaching his hand out towards my father and mother in the same polite way as his father did. After what feels like forever, he finally began reaching his hand out to me. A delicate blush painting his cheeks, no doubt being a result of me eye-fucking him in the middle of a church.

"Hello, it's a pleasure to meet you, m-my name is Celestino." mildly stuttering and avoiding direct eye contact, this Godly man in front of me introduces himself.

I make sure to keep my eyes locked on him, looking up at him through fluttered eyelashes when reaching my hand out to his "I'm Evalyn, and the pleasure is all mine." I mutter friendly enough to come out innocently, but under several layers, a deep attraction was etched into my words.

After a few more seconds of trying to catch his attention, I finally break my stare from him and see our parents mingling and setting up for service. Taking this as my que to sit down and situate myself, I settle for placing my hand on his arm feeling the shock of touching him, muttering a quick 'see you soon' before finding a seat towards the back. I'm not sure how, shit I'm not even sure why but I need him. I need to know more about him, his likes, dislikes, wants, needs, desires. I need to understand this man like I need oxygen, and I intend on figuring out exactly how I am going to succeed in ruining the pastor's son.