“I can make it.” I sit up only to be pulled back down and wrapped in his arms.
“You stay put. I’ll make it,” he murmurs like he’s still half asleep.
I watch him get out of bed, wearing only boxers, his hair a mess, broad, muscular shoulders on full display. He’s agedsowell.
He comes back a few minutes later and hands me a mug. I sit up in bed with it and he sits beside me. Both of us sipping on it even though it’s steaming hot. I just want him to say something about last night first.
Finally, he clears his throat. “Did you sleep okay?”
“Yeah, did you?”
“Oh yeah.” He laughs, following it with another sip.
I feel a blush creep up my neck and settle on my cheeks but I still ask, “Remember the very first time we did that?”
His playful eyes meet mine. “Of course I do.” He chuckles. “I’m glad I never sold that truck.”
I shake my head. “I can’t believe you still have it.”
“Memories, baby.” He kisses my cheek.
“We were tipsy on vodka.”
“It was tequila.”
“Whatever, same thing.” I shrug and he laughs.
* * *
Jesse left a little bit ago, but I’ll see him at church in a few hours. While I’m doing my hair and makeup, feelings of guilt begin creeping in about last night.
I’m not sure if it was the right thing to do. I love him and he loves me but from a moral and biblical standpoint, we acted on a moment of lust and weakness. I know Jesse and his ex-girlfriend broke up over his stance on intimacy prior to marriage so I just feel bad that we compromised that.
He seemed fine this morning. He was great, a gentleman as always, but I’m anxious about how he’ll feel as time passes. I hope he’s not upset with me or himself. There’s no way to goback and change it now.
Walking into church, I feel sorta dirty and fake as I make my way up the pews. Jesse turns and sees me over his shoulder, then stands and lets me in. Glancing down the row to the rest of his family, I smile and wave as I sit down beside him.
His arm lifts around my shoulders and rests there. I turn to look at him, and he smiles with a “hey.” As if we hadn’t just spent the entire night together.
The entire duration of the opening worship songs, my body is running hot. The reality of everything settles in. It’s a lot.
“Good morning, church,” Pastor Charlie speaks, his voice warm and welcoming. “Today, we’re going to talk about something that applies to all of us, no matter our age or stage of life. If you’ll turn to First Thessalonians, we’re going to read chapter four, verses three and four.”
Jesse flips through his Bible for us and puts his arm back around me once he finds it. I shift in my seat and get comfortable beside him. Glancing over the passage briefly, my pulse quickens.
Pastor Charlie starts to read, ‘It is God’s will that you should be sanctified: that you should avoid sexual immorality; that each of you should learn to control your own body in a way that is holy and honorable.’”
Without moving my head, I look to Jesse’s face, seeing him take a hard swallow. You have got to be kidding me. What are the oddsthisis the lesson today? Of all days. I take in a deep breath, telling myself this is for a reason, this is the answer to why I feel the way I do. This is God speaking directly to us. Telling us that last night was a mistake.
“This passage reminds us that God designed intimacy to bea beautiful and sacred gift, one meant to be cherished within the covenant of marriage. While the world encourages us to follow our feelings, God calls us to follow His path that often requires setting boundaries, even when it’s difficult. Being a Christian was never promised to be easy, and this is one of those challenges that truly tests our faith. Anyone who thinks living as a Christian is simple has likely never tried to walk this path.”
Pastor Charlie’s words hang heavy and thick in the air around me. The silence of the congregation is louder in my head than anyone else’s, I’m sure. I feel like I have a spotlight on me. It doesn’t get any more personal than this. I feel called out, and if I could go back, I would tell myself to keep the towel on.
I stare at my shoes to avoid the possibility of eye contact with the pastor. The knot in my stomach tightens, reminding me it’s still there. Jesse shifts beside me. I feel his hand on my shoulder, softly scratching my skin. I force myself to look to him; his jaw is tight and there’s a shadow of guilt in his expression.
“Now, some of you might be sitting here feeling convicted. Maybe you’ve stumbled. Let me be the one to remind you that God’s grace is bigger than our mistakes. When we confess our sins, He will forgive us. But we’re also called to repent, to realign our hearts with Him, and turn away from sin,” pastor Charlie preaches.
A woman somewhere lets out a steady “amen” and I can’t take it anymore. The heat rushing through my body is unbearable. My throat is closing, I can’t even breathe. I stand abruptly, Jesse’s hand brushing mine as I move, but I don’t say a word. Without looking at him, I slip past his legs and quietly makemy way out.
