Page 30 of The Preacher's Pet

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Carry on.”

So, with my fizzy, happy stomach, and my voice-free head urging me on, I do. As I sing, I notice a few heads turn my way, then his does, too. The Preacher looks at me with intense focus. He’s still singing, but his voice has gotten softer, and he watches me as we finish the last round of the chorus together.

The bar erupts into applause, and he claps too, lifting his hands in my direction, and the whole time he does, he’s looking at me.

I’ve never felt so special and free in my life. I feel as if I could fly right now.

He sings a couple more songs—though I don’t recognize those ones—and then he’s done. I expect him to leave the bar, but he doesn’t. He rests his guitar in a corner and walks over to our table.

When he reaches us, he bends down, takes my hand, and places a kiss on the back of it.

Camile is watching our interaction with all her usual sunny demeanor gone.

“That was amazing,” I gush. I stand so he can hear me better, pushing my hair back behind my ears. “You’re incredible. I knew that song. The first one you did. Do you sing a lot by them? I’d love to hear you play more.”

I realize I sound crazy with how fast I’m talking, but I want to laugh, and run, and dance. I want to be free, and in this moment, I feel it.

Another singer has gotten onto the stage, and Camile taps my arm. “I’m going to the bar. Just a Coke this time?”

“No, the same, please,” I say.

She hesitates, clearly unsure. “Um, we have to be up tomorrow for class.”

“Just one more,” I cajole. “We’ve hardly had any.”

Two drinks is nothing, right?

She nods at me. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

She shoots Malachi a narrowed-eyed look, then weaves her way through a few people to the bar.

“You were so good,” I tell him again. Then I do something crazy. I do the most impulsive thing I’ve ever done in my entire life, and I don’t know why.

I lean forward and, like that boy did to me all those years ago, I press my lips against Malachi’s, just for a brief moment. “Thank you for making me happy,” I whisper when I pull back.

He’s staring at me, and I worry he hated it, but his face isn’t angry. It’s dark, though, with something I don’t understand.

“Fuck, Ophelia,” he growls and moves in closer.

Before I’ve even comprehended what’s happening, his hand grazes my cheek, and his fingers lace into my hair. Then his mouth is on mine again, buthe’skissingmethis time, intense and hungry. His tongue flicks at my lips, and I instinctively part them for him.

The rest of the room has fallen away. This is nothing like the terrible first kiss I’d shared with that boy from my otherexistence. It brings to life something inside me that I thought must be broken, a flickering of heat between my thighs, and my nipples tighten against the fabric of the dress. It’s like I’ve fallen into a whirlpool, but it isn’t frightening. It’s exhilarating and exciting, and I’ve never had someone make me feel so good before. My heart is racing, and I’m sure his kisses have stolen my breath. I don’t even have time to worry if I’m kissing him right; it’s not as though I’ve had any practice. But from the way his body is pressed up against mine, and his hands hold me just right, I don’t think I’m doing it wrong.

“Ophelia?”

Camile’s voice from beside us brings me back to reality with a crash. I break away from Malachi, both of us breathing heavily, and staring at each other as though we’re unsure what just happened.

I’m flustered and waiting for the voice in my head to tell me I’ll burn in a river of fire forever for my sin, but it remains silent. The alcohol seems to have done a good job of shutting it down—for the moment, at least.

I turn to find Camile isn’t holding the drinks she’d promised. “What happened to the vodka and Cokes?” I ask.

She folds her arms across her chest disapprovingly. “I think you’ve had enough.”

“You can come and have a drink with me,” Malachi says, ignoring Camile. “Maybe we can sing some more. I’ve got this place we use to hang out. I think you’d like it.”

I’m still a little giggly from the booze, plus kissing Malachi has left me lightheaded and breathless. All I know is I want to keep feeing like this. I don’t want to wake up tomorrow morning, still an outcast and battling the voice in my head, telling me I’ll never be normal. I want to live a regular life, and regular people meet boys in bars.

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