THERE’S A SMALL STUDIO CLOSE TO THE CHAPEL that my boss owns. He lets any of the dancers use it as long as there aren’t any classes, and Wednesdays are usually pretty sparse, so I always head over while Quinten’s in school to make use of the space.
It’s nothing fancy, just plain wooden floors with smudged- up mirrors along the back wall and a pole installed right in front of them. I’ve got my phone blaring music through the Bluetooth speaker that Dalia lets me borrow, and my muscles ache from having been here for the past few hours. It’s a feeling I’ve come to love, and I wonder how I got through so many years without knowing that pole was where my soul feels most at home.
By the time I stop, my body is drenched in a thin layer of sweat, and my mind is calm for the first time since I met Father Cade in the grocery store and he threw my world off its axis.
Seeing him in Parker’s office was unexpected, and it sent my stomach flying into my throat, my heart dancing around like a schoolgirl with a crush.
A crush on a fucking priest. Leave it to me to finally have sexual attraction to a man who’s so off-limits, he’s a one- way ticket to hell.
I roll my eyes and groan as I make my way over to the stool and pick up my phone, glancing down at the screen. I rotate my neck, stretching the tight muscles, a satisfying pop rippling through me as I pull up my missed calls.
Louis Elementary.
Great.
Dread plops in my middle as I press play on the voicemail, Principal Lee’s voice coming over the line. It’s never a good thing when the school is calling me.
“Ms. Paquette, this is Principal Lee, As I’m sure you know, the Festival of Fools is coming up. We’d love for Quinten to be part of the play we’re putting on, but since most of the rehearsals will be taking place off campus, we need you to come in and sign a permission slip. Thank you.”
A breath of relief whooshes out of me.
I had braced myself for the worst with this call, knowing everyone at that school is just itching for a chance to throw Quinten out, but maybe I’ve been projecting or putting the feelings of a few on the shoulders of all, expecting everyone to be the same. Hope flickers in my chest. They’ve never asked to include him in something like this before.
My stomach drops at the thought of taking part in something I’ve actively campaigned against for years. Well, not the festival itself per say, just the ridiculous, outdated name.
It’s insulting.
But on the other hand, how could I tell Quinten no to being part of something with his peers? To being treated like any other kid?
My chest pulls tight.
I can’t. He’ll need to learn to navigate this world that won’t change for him, and I’d be doing him a disservice by keeping him from spreading his wings just because other people are stuck in their ways.
Grabbing a small towel, I wipe the sweat from my face and pack up my meager belongings before locking up and heading home for a quick shower.
It’s less than two hours later, and I’m walking down the halls of Louis Elementary, the unease in my stomach growing even as that tendril of hope has fully taken hold, wrapping around my nerves and making me imagine that maybe we’re on the tide of something new.
Still though, I hate coming here. My experience in school wasn’t the best time, having moved around so much it was impossible to make friends. And being back in halls that smell like rubber sneakers and arts and crafts shoots the feeling of loneliness to the forefront of my mind. It’s so weird that no matter how much time passes, a simple scent can bring emotions you’ve buried for years roaring back as though they never left in the first place.
There’s a gymnasium to the left of the entrance, filled with the high-pitched squeaks of shoes and loud shrieks of children. I walk past it, taking in the wide hallways that are lined in colorful art, displayed like Monet himself created the pieces.
When I round the corner, I stop short in my tracks, seeing Principal Lee shaking hands with Father Cade, her smile wide and teeth gleaming, her neck craned uncomfortably to look him in the eyes.
Why is he suddenly everywhere I am?
His stare immediately finds mine, and like a moth to a flame, I take an involuntary step closer.
He pulls away from the principal and moves toward me, his hands slipping in his pockets as he stops just inches away.
“Amaya, we meet again?” He grins. “God surely has me in His favor.”
I lift a brow, a quiet hum filling up my body. “Stalking me, Father?”
He chuckles, his gaze looking up and down the empty hallway of the school before he leans in and lowers his voice. “And what if I am?”
I shrug. “It’s probably a waste of your time. I don’t live an interesting life.”
“Non, ridicule.” His voice curls around the French like smoke. “You are the interest.”
Something about his tone makes my stomach clench tight, and there’s a niggling feeling, like if I don’t step away now, I never will. But the weight of his energy pressing into mine is so intense, it’s physically holding me captive.
“What will it take to see you in my church?”
I snort, shaking my head as a small smile plays on my face. “A miracle.”
His eyes scan the length of my body. And I swear to God it feels like he’s stripping off my clothes piece by agonizing piece. I swallow, hating how out of control he makes me feel.
He’s a stranger, Amaya.
“Then I’ll pray for a miracle.”
A sharp stab of heat strikes between my legs, and I curse myself for having such a visceral reaction to somebody who is so out of reach that he’s not even on the map.
After losing my virginity to Parker when he first came back around once my mom left and I dared to say no, my sexual desire has been at an all- time low. Nonexistent.
My body has never reacted so viscerally to someone else before.
“What are you doing here anyway?” I ask, finally forcing myself to take a step back.
He follows, keeping himself so close, frissons of electricity dance off my skin.
“I thought you already knew?” He smirks, leaning down until I’m engulfed in his shadow, his lips skimming across the shell of my ear. “I’m stalking you, petite pécheresse.” Goose bumps sprinkle down my spine.
“Miss Paquette,” a sharp voice rings from down the hall, followed by a click- clack of heels.
Father Cade backs up immediately, but I would swear on everything that his lips just brushed against the top of my head before he did.
“Au revoir, Miss Paquette.”
And then he’s gone, his long strides heading away from me and out of the building entirely.
My heart flutters, completely out of my control, and I fucking hate the way it feels.
I flip around and try like hell to clear my expression. “Principal Lee, I was just coming to see you.”
Her eyes flick past me to where Father Cade just was and then back again. “You should have called before coming in.”
Her coldness doesn’t detract from the light in my heart at Quinten being included, so I brush off the biting words and force a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry. I figured I’d drop by on my way to pick up Quin. It’s just a couple of permission slips, right?”
“That’s right.”
“Thanks for including Quin,” I say. “I can’t explain how much it means to— ”
“Every student can participate, Miss Paquette,” she cuts me off. “Normally the slips get sent home, but, well…I wasn’t sure they’d ever make it to you.”
Her subtle jab hits me right beneath the ribs as I follow her into the main office. It smells like reheated lasagna and stuffy air, and I crinkle my nose as we make our way to the front desk.
“Carla, make sure Miss Paquette signs the permission forms for Quinten to take part in the children’s play during the festival,” Principal Lee directs the school secretary.
I smile at Carla before giving my attention back to Principal Lee, who’s staring at me with her hip leaned against the desk and her arms crossed over her chest.
“I didn’t know you were still a practicing Catholic,” she says.
“I’m sorry?” It’s hardly her business what religion I am.
“Father Cade.” She nods toward the open door.
“Oh.” I tilt my head. “I didn’t realize you needed to be Catholic to talk to him. What was he doing here anyway?”
It’s not really my concern, but I ask anyway, the curiosity overwhelming my need to be polite.
“Father Cade’s been here all afternoon helping us get ready for the festival.” Her lips thin. “I figured you knew that already.”
“Why would I know that?”
Her attitude is tiring, and honestly, I don’t have the energy to keep entertaining her snide remarks and less than subtle innuendos about…whatever it is she’s trying to insinuate.
She blinks at me in confusion before tapping the papers Carla just placed on the desk and sliding them toward me.
“Because he’s the one who suggested Quinten be in the play.”
