Page 33 of Love Hate

Andy tugged my arm, urging me to sit back down and I dropped onto the bench next to him. I hadn’t intended to sit so closely, but our thighs were pressed against each other and when Andy made no move to shift away from me, I lifted my head and stared straight forward, not wanting to risk calling attention to it and making him pull away.

It was so strange to be so comfortable with all of this. I kept waiting to freak out about what was happening between us, but it never came. I was still confused, but I wasn’t scared. It just felt…right.

“Good evening,” Monsignor O’Shea said to the small crowd of people gathered in the room. “Tonight, I’d like to spend some time discussing the paths laid out before us by God.”

“Seriously,” Andy hissed.

“What’s wrong?” I whispered.

“Nothing,” Andy answered, shaking his head.

“Psalm 23:3 tells us He guides me along right paths, bringing honor to his name. You see, God will put things, and people, along the timelines of our lives. He guides you to them. Therefore, there are no wrong paths.”

It seemed as if the monsignor was staring directly at me, but when I turned to look at Andy, I could see that it wasn’t actually me that O’Shea was talking to. Because Andy had more anger in his gaze than I’d ever seen. And considering what I’d put him through in the past, that was really saying something.

“Am I missing something here?” I whispered.

“No.” The word was clipped and hoarse and let me know that, as usual, yes, I was definitely missing something. I just had no idea what.

The monsignor continued to drone on about God and paths and quotes about the best paths not being the easiest but being the most rewarding and the whole time Andy sat beside me rigid and clearly pissed off.

When the sermon ended I stood up but Andy stayed where he was.

“I need to talk to Monsignor O’Shea,” he said softly. “Can we catch up tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “I have practice until around eight, but I can come over after that.”

“Sounds good.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked him, not wanting to leave him when he was clearly distressed.

“I’m fine,” he lied as he got to his feet and pushed past me into the aisle.

“Okay,” I said, deciding not to push for the moment. “See you later, Princess.”

“Don’t do that,” he said quickly, looking back at me for a moment with wide eyes. “Not in here. Please.”

I watched him walk toward the monsignor, who was still standing at the front of the church and figured I’d better go like he asked.

As I headed out into the cool night air to head home, I realized for the first time that Andy actually liked it when I called him Princess. I’d started saying it in high school to get under his skin and apparently it worked.

Just not in the way I’d intended.

Now it had become almost like a pet name to him. And as I continued to think about it on my walk home I decided that I really liked that, too.

Chapter Eighteen

~Andy~

“Was that for my benefit?” I asked Monsignor O’Shea once everyone else had exited the church and we were standing alone at his pulpit.

“It was for everyone’s benefit, Mr. Simpson,” he said. “Do you really think I write sermons for individuals?” He gave me a soft smile. “Though I’m glad you were able to glean something from it.”

Holy hell.

Trevor had accused me of having an inferiority complex an hour earlier, and now here I was on the other side of the spectrum, assuming that O’Shea was using his platform to mess with me.

What was wrong with me?