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It's a quiet, cool Saturday morning at the food drive, the kind that I usually look forward to. There's a certain rhythm to these mornings—the steady bustle of volunteers, the comforting sound of Father Charlie's voice directing everyone and offering his warm encouragement.
Today, though, there's something different. There's a A new volunteer. Nicholas. He is helping me pack boxes. He's funny, with an easygoing smile, and we've fallen into a friendly conversation as we work. I'm laughing at one of his jokes when I glance up and catch sight of Father Charlie across the room, his expression tense, eyes fixed on us in a way that I've never seen before.
He's watching us, his gaze sharp and almost... cold. For a moment, I think I must be imagining it, but then he looks away, his jaw clenched, and a strange feeling settles in my stomach. He walks over to another volunteer, giving them instructions in a tone that sounds a bit sharper than usual, a note of irritation underlying his words.
I try to shake it off, focusing back on Nicholas, but I can't ignore the tension radiating from across the room. Every time I look up, I feel the weight of his gaze, like he's watching every move we make. I can feel myself growing self-conscious under that steady stare, my laughter fading as I focus on packing the boxes.
Nicholas notices, raising an eyebrow. "Hey, you okay? You seem a bit... distracted."
"Oh, I'm fine," I say, forcing a smile, though I can feel the heat rising to my cheeks. "Just... a little tired, I guess."
I give another glance at Father Charlie, but he's already moving toward us, his eyes fixed on me with a look that's hard to read— something between frustration and bothered, with a touch of something I can't quite name.
"Good morning, Father," I say, trying to sound casual as he approaches.
"Morning," he replies, his voice low, almost clipped. His gaze flickers to Nicholas, then back to me. "I see you two are making quick work of the boxes."
"Nicholas has been a big help," I say, giving him a polite smile.
Father Charlie doesn't smile back. Instead, he looks at Nicholas with an expression that borders on disapproval. "I'm glad to hear it," he says, his tone tight. "Nicholas, would you mind helping sister Megan with the setup for the produce section? I think she could use an extra pair of hands."
Nicholas glances between us, clearly picking up on the tension, but nods. "Sure thing, Father," he says, giving me a quick smile before he heads off.
As soon as he's gone, Father Charlie turns back to me, his expression softening but his eyes still holding that intense look. "Are you all right?" he asks, his voice quieter now, almost vulnerable.
I blink, caught off guard by the question. " I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?
He lets out a breath, looking away as if he's struggling to find the right words. "I mean, I know it's not my place, but.." His voice trails off, and for a second, he looks almost embarrassed.
He doesn't finish his sentence, but his silence speaks volumes. He finally meets my gaze, his eyes filled with an intensity that makes my heart race.
I swallow, feeling the space between us shrink. I want to say something— anything— to ease the evident tension he's feeling, but words fail me. Instead, I reach out, my fingers brushing against his arm in a small gesture of reassurance.
He closes his eyes for a moment, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he relaxes under my touch. Opening his eyes to look at me with a warmth that makes my cheeks flush.
We stand there, our hands lingering just a moment too long. In that brief moment, I can feel everything we've been holding back— things that neither of us can fully admit.
Eventually, he steps back, clearing his throat as if regaining his composure.
"Well," I say, breaking the silence, "I should probably get going."
Charlie nods, and I catch a glimpse of something in his eyes— a softness that makes my heart ache. "Take care, okay?" he says, his voice gentle, almost vulnerable. "I'll see you tomorrow at mass?"
"Of course," I reply, giving him a warm smile. "Thank you, Charlie."
As I walk out, the cool evening starting to settle in. A quiet reminder that friendship is where we belong, but some feelings and words that linger... are better left unsaid.
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