Heat blazes across my face, but I shake my head in denial and slight guilt. He only laughs, and as he lowers the shield, he says, “Keep it up. I don’t mind. I’ll flex for you, baby girl.”
I slap my hands on his waist with a little more force than necessary as the nickname echoes around my brain. If he ends up giving me a “good girl” at some point, all resolve and restraint I’m clinging to may snap.
Yeah, I’m the girl who likes those types of nicknames and preens under praise. I personally do not feel infantilized or turned off by it like my twin.
Stone faces forward, chuckling to himself as he revs the bike and takes off. I wrap my arms tightly around him, willing them to stay put instead of exploring. He’s not going as fast as before, and within moments, he takes to driving with one hand and places his other on top of my hands. When his pinky finger intertwines with mine, I once more wonder how in the world I’m supposed to pretend all of this did not happen come tomorrow morning.
The rest of the ride isn’t long enough.
We arrive at the small, backwoods country church within a matter of minutes, and I already miss being pressed up against him, the wind caressing my neck, and the feeling of absolute freedom as we took the backroads.
Once we’re parked and have our helmets off, Stone plays with my hair. “How was it?”
“Exhilarating,” I breathe. “I should learn to drive it and get my own.”
“Mm,” Stone hums as he fingers my bangs. “I can totally see you in a black leather suit riding a pink bike. I support this new endeavor of yours.”
“Stone!” I lightly tap his arm as he chuckles. “We are at church.”Not going to mention me copping a feel back there though…
“Seems so,” he says, all humor suddenly falling away.
I drop my arm to my side. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“About what?”
“Your change of demeanor just now.”
He ruffles the top of my head, messing up whatever fixing he had done. “It’s nothing, Little Lion. Let’s go in, shall we?”
I nod, dropping the subject, and follow him into the little brick church.
The inside is as small as the outside. There is a rectangular foyer area with enough space for two elderly gentlemen to greet us.
“Stone! It’s good to see you again.” The balding gentleman shakes his hand and looks over at me. “Who’s the pretty little lady with you?”
“My girlfriend, Lucy Spence.” Stone’s tone is flat even though he’s smiling, and I suddenly feel out of place. Like I don’t belong at his side bearing such a title. If I could shrink, I would.
I shake the older man’s hand as he introduces himself as Ronnie, stating he used to hold Stone as a baby in the nursery. He then begins to go on a memory trail regarding hunting trips with Stone’s father. Stone stiffens at my side, his hand finding mine. He lacesour fingers together, clenching tightly as if my hand’s the rail he’s gripping onto for safety and stability.
Maybe he’s not upset with me?
Gah, Lucy. Who cares? Quit overthinking things. This is fake. Just because we kissed and touched doesn’t mean I’m his girlfriend. He said he doesn’t commit right to your face. And that’s why nothing more will happen regardless of your deadly mental imaginations in the depths of sleep.
“Well, Mr. Ronnie. It was good to see you. We better go find our seats.” Stone drags me behind him as he bolts from the foyer and into the small sanctuary.
The walls are bare with stained glass windows for lighting. Wooden pews with beige cushions line either side of the sand-colored carpeted floor. The space is homey and comforting, or it would be comforting if I actually wanted to be here.
Wanting to be in church and needing to be in church are two diametrically opposed concepts within my mind.
Stone stops mid-way to the front of the room and whispers in my ear. “Mom would have us sit up front with her, but I’d much prefer it here. What do you want?”
I nod my head towards the back, and a slow smile creeps onto his face. He turns on his heel and then drags me towards the back. Once we sit in the last row tucked in the corner like two teenage lovers trying to hide the fact we’d like to hold hands during the service, he finally breathes deeply.
“Stone, what’s going on? You’ve walled yourself up since I mentioned we were at church.” I continue to grip his hand even when he flexes his fingers like he might pull away. “I’m not trying to helpyou, okay? You can feel however you want to feel. I just want to know.”
He pegs me with a sharp stare, then giving in, he gestures around the building. “This. Being back here. I haven’t been back to this church since two summers ago when I was home from college.”
“Why does it bother you? Isn’t it your home church?”
