Page 12 of Scores Of The Heart

There’s nothing more to it than that.

CHAPTER 3

Cindy

Aged 18

“You know, I don’t think we’re supposed to be back here when the adults aren’t around,” Caitlin whispers behind me. We have a sermon tonight and then a small gathering afterwards for Pastor Dan’s sixtieth birthday.

“It’s fine. Mom said so,” I tell her.

We helped Mom bake all afternoon, and she instructed us to put the cake in the kitchen behind the church where there’s a small, basic kitchenette and some supplies in the big utility cupboard for times such as these.

The sermon starts in an hour. We live walking distance to the church, so we should have enough time to walk home, shower and come back again for tonight’s service.

I unlock the kitchen door from the key mom gave me. She’s on the committee, so I don’t know what Caitlin is worrying about.

We slide the cake onto the ancient wooden kitchen bench. Everything is old in this church, but most of it has been thoughtfully restored. And while the kitchen might be old, it certainly is sturdy.

We stand back to admire the cake for a moment. Mom has really gone to town with the gold icing and lettering. Not wanting to hang around, we leave the cake and I lock up again. I walk over to the swings, just next to the old parish.

“Don’t go far,” I call out to Cait, who runs ahead. I see the back entrance of the little office, which sits between the kitchen and the utility room, swinging open in the breeze.

Pastor Dan could be in there getting ready for the Sermon, though it’s not usually used all that much.

I walk over to see if he’s there, mainly because I don’t want to ruin the surprise if he goes into the utility room and sees the cake. I have a spare key on the set Mom gave me, so I can lock it if no one’s there. As I walk past the back of the utility to the door, I can see through the murky window two people in there, and as I listen carefully. I hear some weird noises I’ve never heard people in a church make before.

I step a little closer to the window, peering in to see what’s going on.

“Oh, that feels so good.” It’s a girl’s voice, and there’s a lot of grunting and groaning.

My eyes bug wide, and I make to leave, but as I do my foot gets caught and I stumble, lurching forward. Stopping my fall with my hand as it makes a loud bang next to the windowpane.

I’m right outside the damned window and don’t want to get caught snooping, even though that’s not what I’m doing.

It’s clear someone in there is doing something bad, and I need to get away. But at the same time, I stay very still, holding my breath.

“Did you hear something?” I hear a girl ask.

“No, babe. It’s nothing.” The guy assures her.

Then the groaning and grunting starts up again, along with the banging. I peer up, seeing the back end of the guy through the window. My cheeks flame when I see his bare ass moving back and forth with a red-head girl wrapped around him.

Holy shit, they’re having sex!

I swallow hard and duck down. I’m about to hightail it and run, hoping my foot is okay, when I hear her voice again. “Damon, oh God…”

I freeze. Is that Jessica Plath? It sounds a lot like her, and she has red hair. But it can’t be her… she’s not even old enough… There’s no way.

Her parents are respected members of the church. It’s absurd.

And wait! What? Damon!

I stick my head back up again, peering, my eyes growing wide with every second that passes, trying to see something more than a grotty window and two people going at it in the small utility cupboard adjoining the kitchen where we just were.

She can’t mean my Damon…. But how many Damon’s are there around here?

I hear the sounds of their tussle continue. The bench he has her sitting on — as he stands in front of her, giving it his all — is groaning in protest as they move together. The sounds of their skin slapping and her moans getting longer and deeper. He’s no better.

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