Resistance • l.h.

Epilogue--Part 1

I don't exactly know what was the best feeling in the world: Luke's divorce finally ending, or when he asked me to marry him. Of course, the answer was yes, but not until I was at least twenty. I didn't want to get married so young, and make the same mistakes as my mother.

Either way, there was definitely nothing that could beat the butterflies in my stomach every time he kissed me, or even held my hand in public for everyone to see. I finally could kiss him, touch him, without any hesitation, and the freedom was unbelievably satisfying.

"How does it feel for me to not be your Daddy anymore?" He asked teasingly as we walked into the large church one Sunday morning. I shoved him in his side, making him laugh.

I had gotten back into the habit of going back to church every Sunday, once Jocelyn was out of the picture. I was an adult now, I told myself, and I needed to do the right thing. I turned back to Catholicism, even though I must have broken every single rule there was to break. But it was my childhood, and it helped me become the person I was today.

Luke wasn't exactly the most religious person; he was Christian, but he wasn't too fond of going to church. He found it a waste of time, but he went with me anyway. I think deep down, he does enjoy it, though. Even if he doesn't understand the readings or the talk that the priest gives, he thanks and speaks with God silently.

Luke and I took a seat down in the very back, earning stares from a couple people. We lived in an area where everyone knew most everything about everyone. They knew Luke and Jocelyn had been together, and now her daughter was his new girlfriend. And his ex is now in the Asylum.

Oh, the thoughts they must have about us.

I tried my hardest to ignore their judging gazes, and Luke helped once he put one arm around me, rubbing circles into my shoulder.

Service started normally, but Luke kept fidgeting beside me, and I shot him a concerned look.

Are you alright? I mouthed.  He nodded, and tried his best to stop moving.

Right in the middle of the homily, or the part where everyone is sitting down while the priest speaks, I felt Luke scoot closer to me, placing one of his hands on my thigh. I usually wouldn't have thought much about the gesture, but he started moving his hand up, making my dress inch up.

My eyes popped out of my head, and I put my hand on top of his.

"What do you think you're doing?" I whispered harshly, my face heating up.

He groaned next to me, leaning in so that he looked like he was resting his head on my shoulder, but he was kissing my neck, biting softly. "I'm bored," he said, as if that was an excuse.

I sat up straighter, trying to keep my breathing under control.

Not now Camille. Don't you dare think of his lips. Or his hands, or they way he can pound into you like-

"Fucking damn it, Luke!" I moaned, my stomach clenching in want right in the middle of church.

"I want you so bad right now, Angel," he mumbled against my skin.

I closed my eyes as he continued his torment, praying to God that I don't go to hell for this.

Then, the priest finished his homily, inviting everyone to stand up. I shot up out of the seat, ignoring Luke's obnoxious attempt to hold in his laughter.

I KNOW IM LATE DONT KILL ME. It isn't great either and I apologize. This is just a little continuation of the story. There will be a couple more like this but I think they will be updated every 3-5 days, depending on how much school decides to torture me :)