Against my better judgement

Chapter 14: holy ground

The church has become her second home. She often goes there straight after work, helps with small tasks. She takes a shine to the flower displays, always re-adjusting their arrangements, determined to have them match the image in her mind. She is, without a doubt, a believer. A little flippant with some of the religion's teachings, she can admit that, but that doesn't make her any less valid in her mind. Her sexual expression and potty mouth don't make her any less of a Christian. Whenever she finds herself in times of crisis, it's God she turns to, a small prayer in her mind in her time of need. She's needed Him a lot recently. Though it's not Christ she seeks on these visits, its Miles. She rarely sees him outside the church these days. He's in his element on Holy Ground, but she can't help but think it wouldn't hurt to take a step outside every now and then. Whenever she brings it up, she gets the same answer.

            "The church is my life, you know that." Each time she hears it it's a little less charming, a little more stern.

She knows she's not asking too much. She's always there after work, no matter how long the days are, ready to help the church for his benefit. It's not too much to ask for him to extend the same care to her. To take her out once in a while. Although their only date was tarnished by Flip's surprise appearance—she's grateful at least that he doesn't bring that up—she's eager for another. The only times she has him to herself is when he walks her home after church. It's those times she uses to her advantage, leaning on his arm, steps slow to soak up every second of his company. But it doesn't matter how hard she hints, how hard she flirts, he never comes past her porch. He can never seem to back up the charm that's laced into his voice.

            "I better say goodnight," he excuses, "it's getting late."

Her shoulders sag with disappointment every time she hears the words. The first few nights he'd been reluctant to properly kiss her, settling for a gentle brush of his lips across her cheek as he offered his goodbye. She knows in her mind it's not all about that sort of thing, she can't help but wish things would speed up. She knows it won't be like it was with Flip. If anything, things with him were a little bit too fast. After all, Miles is a man of the church. But she can't help herself from wondering what exactly is holding him back. The only time they'd really kissed, he'd pulled away so fast she'd barely even had time to feel his lips against her own. She'd never had that before. In fact, she often had a problem getting men to stop kissing her.

            This... this was new.

Her mind wonders whether he's getting bored of her, whether he's ventured into their relation and decided it's too late to make a U-turn. If it was anyone else, she'd have it out with them. Stare them dead in the eye and ask them what the hell their problem was. Did he want to date her or not? She didn't have time to waste. Except this time, she does. She has patience with Miles, because all in all, she wants to make it work. Wants him to make it work. She's so wrapped up in the idea of him, of what they could be together, that she's willing to put aside her normal feistiness. He fills the Flip-shaped gap in her heart. Though the fit's a little wrong in places, she'll take it.

            That's what she tells herself as she carries herself to church that Saturday.

Maybe she just needs to try a little harder, catch his attention. Remind him that she's here, she's interested, and it's down to him to keep it that way. Her hair is curled neatly around her face, a thin coat of mascara on her already long lashes, gloss glazing her plump lips. The frill of her skirt sits just above her knee, not afraid to bare leg now the early February weather is a touch warmer. Her long coat mainly conceals her as she pushes through the doors, spots Miles instantly in the church aisle as he converses with his father. She offers him a quick wave, not wanting to distract him while he engages in what looks like an important conversation with the Pastor. She goes about her normal routine: sheds herself of her coat and gets to organising the hymn books, picking them up off the floor where the unruly children of the Saturday service have left them. She piles them up onto her knees as she crouches, and although she tries not to listen, she can't help but hear the conversation between Miles and his father heat up.