Page 59 of The Pact

Fuck, those lips are even softer than I remembered them.

What was meant as a short greeting kiss, soon becomes something deeper and consuming as my tongue enters her mouth and I take a step forward, pushing her inside the apartment.

I wasn’t planning to jump her like this, but this girl makes me completely lose my self-control. There’s something about her I can’t resist.

“Kelley,” she says, breaking the kiss and pushing against my leather clad chest.

I can’t help but feel rejected. I’ve been looking forward to seeing her and I was hoping for a warmer welcome.

“We aren’t alone.”

She blushes adorably and my disappointment fades away as quickly as it had come.

When she ushers me into the tiny living room, I immediately bristle again.

“Hey Kels.”

Lynda is standing next to the couch and the sight of her makes my fucking blood boil.

She’s just taken off her bonnet and she’s unbuttoning the floral shirt that was closed all the way up to her chin.

Stuff like that makes me think about those western movies set in the eighteenth century.

Lynda drops her shirt on the couch to reveal a red tank top and when she slips out of her wide floor length skirt, I see that she was wearing super short jean cut-offs underneath.

“Have you started wearing that shit too?” I say probably more harshly than intended. I see Ausra flinch at my tone and take a deep breath.

Lynda begins undoing the tight braids her black hair was arranged into. “Trust me, not by choice. My father put his foot down that if I don’t go along with it and I don’t help asking for donations for the new church they’re building in town, he won’t pay for college.”

I shake my head. “Is he serious? You got into NYU, that’s something he should be fucking proud of and encourage. Especially since he can afford to pay for it.”

Lynda lowers her gaze. “Oh, no. NYU is out of the question. Our leader decided that women aren’t able to reach any kind of enlightenment if they aren’t under the supervision of a kin male who’s responsible for keeping them accountable.”

Ausra looks as horrified as I am, which makes me like her even more.

“So if you can’t go to NYU, why are you doing what your father says?”

Lynda sighs. “They’re building an educational center for women and the younger children in the new church compound. Eventually it’ll cater to every educational need for the whole community. From kindergarten to high school. They’re also trying to get accredited as a community college. They’ve already hired a few teachers. They’re planning to offer just basic courses for now, and then if after two years a woman fulfills her educational and spiritual credits, under our leader’s discretion, she might be able to enroll at Bridgeport.”

I clench my fists, starting to feel angrier with every word Lynda says. “And do you believe that bullshit? They went from being just a little intense, trying to push their beliefs a little too much to full blown weird. They’re escalating things, Lynda, and I don’t fucking like what I see. Remember? At school you could still dress relatively normal.”

She tries to object. “Well I had to smuggle makeup and short skirts into my backpack and change before classes, but it wasn’t too bad.”

I agree with her. “Yeah. You’re right. But now you’re dressed like that girl. The preacher’s daughter. Remember her? And I’ve seen more women dressed the same way around town. Lynda, they’re going from weird church to full blown cult. How can you not see it?”

Ausra levels a hard look at me and for a second, I think she’s going to say that I’m overreacting.

“Kelley is right, Lynda. If you wanted to dress that way by choice, it would be one thing, but—”

“What do you know, Ausra?” she snaps. “You live alone. You can do whatever the fuck you want. It isn’t like I have any other choice. The church’s leader has decided that women have three options after high school. Further education through the approved channels, marriage or mission.”

Ausra asks the same question I have on the tip of my tongue. “Marriage or mission?”

Lynda nods. “Yeah. You either marry someone approved by the church’s new leadership council or agree to go on a mission to help open more branches of the church in designated locations.”

“That sounds bad,” Ausra muses.

“What other choice do I have? I have no money. If my parents cut me off, I’d have nowhere to go.”

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