My Boyfriend Satan

The Church

I sat in the back of the light-flooded church beside my devoted family. Not exactly a great way to start this story. I, Aubrey Conners, am not one that goes to church all that often. I prefer sitting in my room secretly reading dirty fanfiction. Now that makes me sound like a perv. I'm not by the way, I just like dirty fanfiction. Ok you probably are reading this like wtf is she on about but just read on please. My best friend, Milo never has to go to church, the lucky *sware word*. It's sooooo unfair! Now that makes me sound like a dirty-minded moany teenager (which I kind of am). I suppose that's about the only thing that milo has better off than me, however. He comes from possibly the most talked about family in our school. It drives him crazy, being the pretentious, nerdy brother of a head cheerleader, a prefect and the girl that every boy wants to be with. His sisters (and just about everyone else) are always saying he's the runt of the family. As a joke. But it's not funny. And I feel sorry for him. Perhaps that's why I befriended him, though we're not that different. He's possibly being disowned because of his chosen career choice (his parents want him to be an accountant but he's had his heart set on being a writer since he first discovered books, which was long before the rest of us) and my parents are just about to do the same as they don't approve of my pastel goth appearance. I don't see anything wrong with it and my friends all just go along with it. My parents just see it as another stupid phase along with my many others, but this one really appeals to me. So by know you probably know more about milo than me and I'm off the storyline so I had better get back to it.

Right, I was in the church sulking and refusing to say any of the prayers as a rebellion against my parents who are frikkin God-worshippers. Scowling, I raised my head, looking for anything interesting to amuse me for about an hour as the priest droned on in his Irish accent about the pope and war and some parish fundraiser, and discovered a face unusual to me. In our village, I know about everyone, especially those who go to church. No one new comes to church, people leave but apart from the odd human who thinks that they've had a spiritual re-awakening, no one new comes. But this face wasn't that of someone newly called to the Roman Catholic Church, he was practically laughing. Smirking as if seeing an old enemy publicly ridicule himself. And let's just say that to him, that's probably what it was.

He had olive skin, a sharp contrast from the villagers typical pale demeanour. We don't get much sun here, you see, and most girls want a spray tan. Not me though. I would look like a bloody Oompa Loompa, having orange skin and my newly dyed green hair. I actually quite like this green in my hair. Gives me an edge, if you know what I mean.

Back to this guy. Olive skin, thick chestnut locks falling from his head in unruly curls, sharp sea blue eyes that crinkled where you could see him laughing. An unreal aura drew me to him and I found myself staring obviously at this boy. Actually he could have been a man. His skin was dotted with stubble so cleanly shaved it would have been impossible to see if he weren't in the sunlight. I told myself to stop staring at this person and find some other source of entertainment when he caught my gaze.

If you have ever been staring at someone and they glance up and immediately see you and you want to look them back and depending on who it is smile or grimace menacingly but all you actually end up doing is looking at the floor, blushing, pretending you don't exist, then you will understand how I felt then. Hot blood rushed to my face (hopefully covered by the tremendous amount of makeup I applied that morning) and I bit my lip. When I finally had the courage to look back up again, he was still staring. He seemed deep in thought. What about me could make a nearly fully grown man think? Flustered, I quickly shot him a small smile which he returned. Sexily. God, was he sexy. No! No! Nooooo... I will not have creepy thoughts about men. Definitely, absolutely not. Nope. Not at all. Eeeuuurrrgh. And he wasn't even that nice looking. He seemed a bit demented.

Once church had ended, I rushed to the girls toilet, adamant that he would not see me or speak to me. I opened the paint-chipped wooden door and immediately went to the mirror to check my makeup, out of habit. At school, my face can get seriously messed up, especially after gym (what with all the sweating), and I'm always self conscious in case anyone laughs at me like they do with everyone else. Today, however, my ivory skin, heavy eyeliner and lilac lips were much the same as I left the house in. I looked down to wash my hands (again, out of habit. Our school is disgusting) and saw a business card beside the sink. I hadn't noticed it before. It was white, with cursive print declaring- Hill's Wills. It had a telephone number on it. It seemed a perfectly ordinary card, until I turned it over. On the back, someone had handwritten a note- Call the number. Everything will be explained. Hope to meet you soon, Aubrey. From Terb.

How did this person know my name? What would be explained? And, most importantly, what kind of a name is Terb? Well, there was only one way to find out- call the number. I had to. And I had to go alone. This was purely about me. No one else would get involved. I was going to call the number that night and get told whatever it was and not tell anyone, because if my parents found out that I was calling up mysterious numbers then they would probably never let me see daylight again. Just that second, my phone bleeped. Milo wanted to know what I was up to this weekend. And of course, I told him everything.

Thanks for reading! I'm just new and this is my first chapter of my first story, so you can tell me what you thought if you want. Thank you!!!