"And in the Lord's name we pray," my father's voice echoed through the church, against the white walls and stained glass windows. "Amen."
"Amen," the crowd's voice boomed.
I clasped my hands tightly together, mouthing the words of the Our Father to God, knowing he was hearing me. I remained praying on my knees after most of the crowd left the church, making sure I said enough Our Fathers to wash away the sins that I had confessed to prior to service. It felt weird confessing my sins to my father, but he assured me that he had heard much worse from Erika and other people I go to school with. I wonder what Harry would confess to.
I stood to my feet, knees red and sore from kneeling so long. Harry was standing at the end of the pew that I was kneeling at, eyeing my knees whilst biting his lip hard. I was not quite sure what about my knees made his lip so itchy.
"Chartreuse," my father called to me from the back of the church, his hands clasped behind his back, posture strong and straight. "Come here, child."
"Yes, papa."
I hustle to the end of the pew, sneaking past Harry. He smelled strongly of smoke as I passed by him. I simply could not hold eye contact with him; I could not look into those green orbs. I rush to my father's side, my heels clicking across the tiled floor. "Chartreuse, you have finished your prayers already. Is there something else you needed to confess to the Lord?"
"No, papa," I assured. "I have prayed the Our Father twelve times."
"Good girl. The Lord has forgiven you."
"Thank you, papa."
My father looked up from my eyes and glanced behind me at Harry, his eyes squinting into glaring slits. He seemed to examine him closely. I was far too timid to look behind me and what Harry was doing exactly that made my father glare. Perhaps it was the fact that he was wearing his leather jacket during service, or maybe something else. "Harold Styles," my father greeted.
"Hello, Father," his voice greeted warmly when honey from behind me. I hadn't noticed that he was standing as close behind me as he was until I heard his voice and felt his hot breath against the back of my exposed neck. "Hello, Chartreuse."
"Hello, Harry," I greeted timidly, still looking down at the ground.
"Harold, I hear that your parent's will be joining me and my wife this weekend at the Hanabakanoque retreat grounds for the couples cleansing."
"Yes," his voice hummed like sweet honey dripping down my spine. I squirmed, pressing my finger lightly against the breast button on my blouse. "They are very excited to be cleansed, and to get to know you and your wife a bit better, Father."
"And what will become of you and your sister? Will you be joining us on a cleanse weekend soon?"
"Was not really planning on it, Father."
"Well I would suggest that you should, considering what you confess to me."
I felt my cheeks heat, knowing my father was not supposed to talk about these things, but also knowing that I desperately wanted to know what Harry was guilty of. "I will cleanse myself when I am ready to start anew, Father."
"Yes, I suppose it is when you are ready. Anyway, I must get back to the altar boys to prepare for the afternoon service. Excuse me."
I silently begged that my father hadn't left me alone with Harry, but there was a warm part of me that was glad that he had. I attempted to walk away, towards the exit of the church, but I felt his warm hand wrap easily around my bicep. My feet stopped moving and a loud gasp left my lips.
"So, True, will you be coming to my party?" his voice dripped.
"No, Harry, I will not be. Sorry."
"Yes, you have to."
"And why is that?" I dared to ask with a bit of sass. I got the sass that came out every now and then from my mother. I was hoping he would say something along the lines of "Because I need someone to make out with at the party and I want it to be you"
But alas, the words that left his supple pink lips were, "Because you need to be Erika's designated driver. And you wouldn't want her driving home drunk again, would you?"
"Right, of course."
"That's what I thought," he said with a smirk. "See you on Saturday night, True." As he walked past me towards the exit, he grabbed a cup-full of my behind over my plaid pleated skirt and gave it a passionate and rough squeeze, his fingers dangerously close to where I wanted them to be.
Before I had a chance to realize what had happened, he was gone and out the church exit.
Going to bed that night was very hard, all I could think about was Harry's green orbs, his raspy honey voice, and his warm touch. I dreamt of him that night. I dreamt of him kissing me with those supple, plump, raw, petal-like lips. I dreamt of his fingers travelling lower down my body until they reached my navel, circling it slowly. His fingers dripped like honey down my body as he kissed my cheek passionately. I awoke in the midst of the dream with my favourite white pillow tightly between my legs. I had a tingly feeling beneath my Spongebob Squarepants pajamas.
I remembered something that Erika had mentioned to me that one of the men she slept with did to her and I questioned how I could replicate a similar feeling without any man present. I closed my eyes and slid my hands beneath my pajama pants, past Spongebob's face and past Sandy Cheeks. I breathed deeply and imagined whatever I felt necessary. I rose and once I felt myself fall for the first time, I hissed loudly. So much made sense now. But why was I picturing both Harry and Erika?
