Page 7 of Love Hate

And that was the last day I went to see that doctor.

Also the day I decided for sure that the priesthood was where I belonged.

Those things were definitely not related.

I blew out a sigh and slammed my book shut, dumping it into my backpack as I stood up. This wasn’t going to work. I couldn’t focus and as usual, it was Trevor’s fault.

****

“You knew, didn’t you?” I asked, dropping my bag onto the floor and glaring at my sister, who was lying on the sofa, watching television as if she hadn’t just ruined my life.

“I may have heard a rumor,” she admitted. “But you were the one who wanted to become a priest and attend a Catholic college.”

“There are tons of Catholic colleges,” I reminded her. “You purposely led me here. How could you do this to me?”

“Oh, get off your high horse,” she snapped, rolling her eyes as she sat up and glared at me. “Would you have really chosen a different school if you knew Trevor was coming here?”

“Yes!” I said, throwing my hands up in frustration. “Yes, Caitlyn. I would have. Why would I willingly put myself through another three years of this?”

“Because you’re obsessed with him,” she insisted. “You two need to work out whatever the hell is broken between you or you’re never going to be able to move on.”

“I’m not having this conversation with you again,” I said firmly, grabbing my bag and storming toward my room. I reached the door and stopped, turning around to look at her again. “When I show up here tomorrow, bloody and bruised, just know that it’s your fault.”

“Oh fuck you, Andy!” she yelled. “Don’t put that shit on me. If you’d just, for once, actually speak to him, you could probably work all of this out. So don’t put your pussification on me.”

“My what?” I couldn’t hold back the laugh that bubbled out of my chest.

“You heard me,” she said, her anger deflating as quickly as it had begun. “I know you don’t want to stand up to him. And I’m not telling you to hit back. I’m just saying…talk to him. Use your mouth, form words, and figure out how to get past this animosity. If you’re really going to be a priest, you should probably learn how to defuse conflict.”

“I am really going to be a priest,” I reminded her.

“Whatever.” She dropped back onto the couch and turned the volume up.

I shook my head and turned to walk into my bedroom, not quite slamming the door behind myself before launching myself onto my bed and burying my face into my pillow to let out a deep, guttural scream.

I fucking hated it when she was right.

Chapter Four

~Trevor~

This was either going to be the best idea I’d ever had or the worst, but I wouldn’t know until I tried.

“Monsignor O’Shea, thank you so much for agreeing to see me today,” I said as I shook the man’s hand over his desk.

“Of course,” he answered kindly, motioning for me to sit in the chair across from him. “How can I help our star quarterback today?”

“Well, I’m not sure if you’ve heard, but I’m struggling a little with my Lit class.”

“I have actually,” he said. “As you know, we aren’t able to offer you a transfer out of the class.”

“No, I know,” I agreed. “I was actually hoping that I might be able to get a tutor. Someone to help me understand the reading a little better.”

I had to play this carefully. I didn’t want him to be suspicious of why I was asking for a specific person or wonder why I hadn’t just gone to them on my own to ask for help.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” he said. “Of course, you’re free to seek help from classmates.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said, forcing myself to look relieved. “I was hoping to ask Andy Simpson, actually. But I’m not sure of his schedule and don’t want to impose on him.”