A slow fall

Chapter 30 - Caleb

    I couldn't stop thinking about it, replaying it in my head as I got ready for church.

I had a good night, though things always seemed better when Lucas was there. When I woke up, far too early once again, I'd let myself pretend that everything was okay, that waking up beside Lucas with our bodies touching was normal.

I let myself lie there and bask in his warmth and comfort for longer than I should've. Then reality hit me like a slap to the face in the form of a text. I assured my mother I would make it home on time for us to attend church together, before changing, as quickly and quietly as possible, and heading to the bus stop.

I was just glad she didn't insist on picking me up. 

Shane was still asleep somewhere in Lucas' house and I'd let him be. He'd drive us to Lucas' and it would be a while before he was sober enough to drive again. He was also not a morning person at all. I felt sorry for the others having to deal with that side of him.

I sent Lucas a message like last time, then spent the thirty minute bus journey thinking about last night. About what had happened after we'd gone upstairs, once we'd decided the crowd was too much and we only wanted to be in each other's company.

I wasn't sure how I felt about everything, about what he'd said to me—a shared secret in the dark. It made my insides flutter, but with nerves or excitement I wasn't sure.

It's funny how something as simple as a few words can have your world crashing down.

"You're so beautiful."

A compliment. A whisper of something more than friendship, but something less than confession. I replied with: "Oh." A confused and surprised word slipped from my lips as my eyes sought his, intent to understand what thoughts existed in his mind.

He didn't say more, didn't expand on the randomness of the statement or explain what brought it, only smiled sheepishly at me as I stood there, swamped in his clothes, and ushered me into his bed.

I was too tired to really care, too drunk to bother with unexplainables, and settled in beneath his sheets. 

I didn't think as I moved closer towards his body; I told myself I was cold and that's why I clung to his warmth. 

I needed to stop thinking about it. I was going to church. I was going home. I couldn't have these thoughts—such feelings, such confusion—when I was there. 

I felt nauseous as the bus neared my stop.

It would be fine. Everything was fine. I swallowed through the lump in my throat.

I was a sinner. A walking spurn on God and all he stood for. I understood why my parents didn't love me like my brothers. I had these thoughts, I was going home to tell them lies; I was performing sin after sin then looking them in the eyes and saying I'd changed.

I needed the help they so graciously offered me. I did. I'm sure I did.

That's why they offered it. Because they loved me. They loved me, they loved me, they—

They were waiting in the hall when I entered. Church was starting in half an hour so I wasn't late, but being on time was also being late.

I hadn't even shut the door before my parents spoke. 

"Where have you been?" Dad asked in frustration at the same time mom said "You need to hurry up dear." 

I nodded in acknowledgement, foregoing a shower and quickly changing into more suitable clothes. I was ready and downstairs in no more than ten minutes. By that time though my parents were already waiting for me in the car.