Temptation [A Young Writer's Prize Submission]

The Date. Part Three

CHAPTER SIX

For at whatever point you judge another, you are condemning yourself, because you who pass judgement do the same things.

Romans 2:1

“Mercy!” Cain called after me, shaking his head in frustration, then apologised to the couple he’d almost knocked over in his pursuit. “Mercy, where are you going?”

His footsteps sounded loud against the concrete floor of the garage, where I was trying to get into his car.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m going home!” I retorted, struggling with the handle.

He folded his arms and stared at me. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that. Do you know how to drive that thing?”

I glared at him. “It should be pretty simple to work out, right? After all, you managed to figure it out.”

Instead of rushing at me and trying to wrestle me away from the car as I expected, Cain simply stood there. He shifted his weight onto one leg and stared at me with an amused expression on his face.

“I’d be more convinced by that… if you could actually open the door.”

“You do it then,” I challenged him. He shrugged a shoulder, ambled to my side and then opened the car door for me.

I stared at him. “How the hell did you do that?”

“It’s easy if you know how,” Cain answered, tapping the side of the door. “Feel free to leave.”

His tone was so plain, so calm: I instinctively hesitated at the door. “What about you?”

“What about me?” he shrugged. “You didn’t seem to care too much about me when you were trying to run away.”

“Cain, that’s not what this was about,” I protested.

“Seemed that way to me,” he sounded cold; I saw the hurt in his eyes. I’d succeeded in actually hurting him. Instantly, I felt terrible.

“I do care about you,” I insisted, running my hands through my hair. I couldn’t meet his eyes again, couldn’t bear the pain I’d inflicted there. “I just don’t want to prove it that way.”

“What way?” he was being deliberately oblivious.

I forced myself to make the word audible. “Sex: Cain, I don’t want to make this about sex.”

“Mercy,” Cain sighed, “how long have we been friends?”

I kept my eyes on the floor. “Eight years.”

“When has our relationship ever been based on sex?” Cain asked, rocking on his heels.

I sensed he wanted to take a step closer, but he was deliberately keeping his distance, proving his point. I didn’t like that distance, so I was the one to make the move. Forgetting the open car door behind me, I stepped into his personal space.

“It hasn’t,” I answered truthfully.

“Then why do you assume that anything’s going to change?” Cain still didn’t move, but his body trembled. I found the courage to place my hand on his arm, running it down till his fingers caught mine.

“Everything changes,” I murmured. “One day you might decide you don’t want me anymore… and then…” I knew what I was talking about. My placement with the Isaac family was the product of rejection from the last family.