Noah moved toward me, his movements sleek and lithe, like a circling tiger. I moved back, but I wasn’t fast enough. He grabbed me around the waist and pulled me down into the water. I was reminded of the time I’d pushed him into the bathtub, and he’d pulled me in on top of him. Only now, Noah was the one on top, and it awakened something deep and primal in me.
I liked being surrounded and dominated by him. And I really liked it when he pushed my wet hair out of my face, grabbed my wrists and pressed them down into the shallow water. His mouth hovered above mine. I’d never wanted anything more than for him to kiss me again.
“Kiss me,” I begged, unable to hold back the plea.
His grin was devilish as he gave a tut. “That wouldn’t be very chaste. Nuns aren’t supposed to want to be kissed,” he chided.
“I’m not a nun yet,” I said, exasperated as I took charge, pressing my lips to his. He reacted instantly, licking into my mouth with wild abandon.
This time there was a terrifying eroticism to our kiss. His taste etched itself onto my brain, cigarettes and mint, as our wet bodies strained against one another. I ran one of my hands across his shoulder and up to his neck, and I slid my other under the hem of his T-shirt to stroke his stomach. A tremble shuddered through him like he was starved for my touch.
A needy whimper escaped me, and he broke the kiss. Our chests rose and fell with our laboured breathing and anxiety took hold. If this was how good it felt only to kiss him, then how would it feel to give myself over to him completely?
The atmosphere shifted. Noah stared at me intensely for a long time before his expression grew detached. I wondered what thought process had caused him to switch so quickly. Reaching out, I stroked his cheek. “Where have you gone?”
He drew away, and my heart sank. “I should get you home,” he said, not meeting my gaze. He sounded almost … guilty? But why? It wasn’t like I hadn’t wanted him to kiss me.
I followed him back to where we’d left our shoes and socks. All my clothes were wet, as were Noah’s, but I was too preoccupied with my emotions to notice the discomfort. I could tell that he wanted me, but something was holding him back, and I yearned to know what it was. I suspected it was the same reason he said no when I asked him to have sex with me.
But then why kiss me at all? Why ask me to come away with him? It didn’t make sense.
The detachment in him as we drove back to the house broke my heart. I asked him to stop at the top of the town because I couldn’t take sitting on the back of his bike a moment longer. He was tearing me apart inside, and I had no idea why he’d become so suddenly withdrawn.
“I’ll walk home. I need to stretch my legs,” I said, climbing off the bike, and he nodded, his expression blank.
He didn’t look back once as he took off, leaving only the roar of the engine in my ears. It matched the roaring of my heart. After today, I was far from finding enlightenment. In fact, my reaction to Noah’s kiss, and his subsequent withdrawal, made me feel more lost than ever.
21.
When Noah disappeared out of sight, I walked in the direction of the church. There was no mass going so the pews sat empty, and the silence was deafening. I went to the side of the altar and lit a candle for Dad. It was something I did every time I came here, but today I felt like I was lighting it more for myself than for him.
With how I felt right now, I wasn’t sure there were enough candles or prayers in the world to help me.
I placed the candle in an empty holder and went to kneel by a pew. I bent my head, put my hands together and silently recited the Hail Mary. I was halfway through the prayer when I heard voices. The organ came to life and sweet, angelic music filled the church. The choir was practicing upstairs, the familiar Latin of Veni Creator Spiritus a balm to my tortured soul.
Veni, creator spiritus,
Mentes tuorum visita
Imple superna gratia
Quae tu creasti pectora
I translated the hymn as I listened, hoping it might bring some clarity.
Come, Holy Spirit, Creator blest,
And in our souls take up Thy rest
Come with Thy grace and heavenly aid
To fill the hearts which thou hast made.
Even without the religious aspect, the sentiment in the hymn was beautiful. I wished for my heart to be filled with grace, instead of the emotional, chaotic desires Noah brought out in me. I wished for certainty, but it continued to evade. I looked at the paintings adorning the walls, and the intricate, pretty colours of the stained-glass windows. Each picture told a story. I always tried to find the meaning in them, but my mind was too loud to concentrate. Mary stared down at me with her benevolent eyes, but if she knew the sinful thoughts in my head, I doubted she’d be so charitable.