you can't run forever
2797 Words
*TEMPTED*
*Chapter 3: “You Can’t Run Forever”*
The engine was still running when Oliver shoved the passenger door open.
“Take me home,” he said, not looking at her.
Britt’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel. “Liv, we need to talk about what happened.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” His voice was clipped, final. He got out and slammed the door before she could answer.
She watched him walk up the rectory steps without looking back.
_You can’t run forever, Brittany._
The man’s words echoed in her skull. And now Oliver was running too.
Britt sat there for a full minute, engine idling, debating whether to chase after him or drive to the nearest gas station and buy every pack of Sour Patch Kids they had. Sour Patch Kids won. Emotional damage was cheaper than therapy.
---
*The next morning, Da Capo High felt different.*
News had spread like wildfire about the trouble in town. It was a small town, so it wasn’t hard for news to spread. In St. Marlow, a new stop sign was considered breaking news.
Britt walked in alone. Oliver wasn’t at his locker. He wasn’t in first period.
She found him in the cafeteria, sitting with a group of guys she didn’t know yet, staring at his tray like it held the answers. Or like the mashed potatoes had personally offended him.
Students paused as Amy entered the cafeteria with Britt, and across the room, Oliver looked up from his food. For half a second their eyes locked. Britt winked and smiled at him, just to see if he’d react.
Oliver looked away fast, nearly spilling his milk. Smooth, priest-in-training. Real smooth.
“Oh, God,” Oliver thought.
One of the guys with Oliver leaned over. “You okay? You’ve been staring at the new girl all week.”
Oliver shoved a forkful of food in his mouth to avoid answering. Classic avoidance technique. Britt gave him a 6/10 for effort.
Later, she overheard the same guy telling Oliver, “I heard she’s bad news, known for causing trouble everywhere. You should stay away from her. Amy’s already made a mistake being friends with her.”
“God loves everyone, remember?” Oliver muttered back.
“I know. You’re really taking this whole priesthood thing seriously, aren’t you?”
“I am. I really want Father to be proud of me.”
“He’s already proud of you, Oliver. Just don’t push yourself too much.”
Britt heard every word. She didn’t let it show. Instead she focused on not laughing at the guy’s face when he said “priesthood thing.” Dude said it like it was a subscription service. “Yeah, I got the Priesthood Plus package. Comes with free guilt.”
She still didn’t know his name.
---
*After school, she cornered him.*
Oliver was busy being righteous and selfless as he wiped the boards and returned books to the empty classroom. Britt followed him in and shut the door with a soft click.
“Hi, Oliver.”
Startled, Oliver turned around sharply and saw Britt standing there.
“What do you want, Brittany?” he asked, going back to stacking books like if he kept moving, she’d go away. Buddy, I followed you to hell and back. Books won’t save you.
“I think you’ve been avoiding me, Oliver,” Britt said, advancing toward him until she was standing so close he could feel her breath. He turned and saw her standing so close. He closed his eyes.
“C-Can you not… stand so close?” he stuttered.
“What’s wrong? Can’t handle a little closeness?”
Oliver struggled to keep his breathing in control as his hand reached for the cross hanging around his neck, hands gripping it tightly as he recited the Lord’s Prayer under his breath.
Britt leaned in and whispered into his ear, “You’re like Sin.”
“What are you doing, Oliver?” she asked, voice quiet now.
“Go away, Satan,” he cried out in a strangled voice.
“Satan? You think I’m the devil?” she asked with a chuckle, though there was no humor in it. It was hollow. Hurt. “Clearly enjoying the way she made him uncomfortable and flustered.”
“I-I,” he stuttered over and over again.
Britt finally pulled away from him as he gasped and took in big gulps of air. She simply giggled and walked away. The only sound left echoing down the hallway was the faint sound of her clicking heels.
Oliver stayed there for a long time after, hands still gripping the cross, eyes shut tight. If his heart rate was a stock, it would’ve crashed the market.
Britt, meanwhile, was already halfway to the parking lot thinking, _Note to self: teasing religious boys is 90% fun, 10% guilt. Still worth it._
---
*Back at Brittany’s home that night*
She laid on her bed, the song “Rodeo” booming loudly out of her speakers as she sang along word-for-word. Badly. Her mom had learned to pretend she couldn’t hear.
“Dinner’s ready!” her mother called out from downstairs.
“Be there in a minute,” she answered back.
She got up, still bobbing her head to the same song, while walking down the stairs to the dining table. The meal was pasta and sauce.
“Hmm, smells delicious,” Britt said, and was about to sit down when the doorbell rang.
“Britt, go check who’s at the door,” her mom said.
Britt grumbled and got up to check who was at the door. As she opened the door, a boy about three years older than Britt was standing there holding a pie. She didn’t recognize him.
“May I help you?” Britt said.
“Yeah, my mom decided to bake this pie and asked me to give it to our new neighbours. Howdy,” the boy said.
"I'm Josh," he added. "I live two blocks away."
Britt stared at him, then at the pie, then back at him. “You live near here? Great. So you’ll be here to witness when I throw this away.”
Josh blinked, caught off guard. “Uh… okay?”
Britt poked her finger into the pie and said, "Damn, rock! Was this pie baked with cement? They must really hate me," she said and dropped it on the table.
Josh blinked. “Uh… my mom uses a lot of whole wheat?”
"Love, we don't have to be nice just trying to be nice," her mom said from the kitchen.
"Britt, we don't owe them our kindness," Britt retorted and started eating her pasta.
“This is really good, mom. I appreciate it,” she said.
"Thank you," Britt adds.
Her mom sighed. “You’re impossible.”
“Only to people who bring cement pies,” Britt replied, mouth full. “Also, tell Josh I said thanks. And maybe invest in baking powder.”
Josh stood there for another awkward 5 seconds before nodding and leaving. Britt closed the door and turned to her mom. “Rate that interaction 1-10?”
“Zero for diplomacy. Ten for entertainment,” her mom said.
_After dinner_
Britt goes back upstairs and collapsed on the bed with a contemplative smile. Then suddenly remembers, "Uh, I haven't done my nightly skincare routine."
"Uh, I haven't," she said, got up and went into the bathroom where her skincare products were, all lined up in front of the sink and mirror. She starts with a gentle exfoliating scrub, cleanser, toner and a dab of face cream.
"All done," she said and puts on a night facial mask, a bonnet and went back to bed, drifts off into a deep sleep.
She looked ridiculous. She knew it. She didn’t care. If the world was ending tomorrow, she was going to face it with hydrated skin.
But even in sleep, she couldn’t outrun it.
_You can’t run forever, Brittany._
The voice was back.
Britt woke up at 2:13 AM with her heart pounding and her face mask slightly stuck to the pillow. Sexy.
---
*Tuesday morning was a disaster before it started.*
Britt walked into school with sunglasses on, despite it being 7:45 AM and overcast. It was a mood. A very “don’t talk to me unless you have coffee and bail money” mood.
Amy met her at her locker. “You look like you fought a raccoon and lost.”
“Emotionally, I did,” Britt said. “Also, Oliver’s still avoiding me.”
Amy winced. “Yeah. His friend cornered him yesterday and gave him the whole ‘don’t associate with sinners’ lecture. Oliver looked like he wanted to crawl into a hymnal.”
Britt snorted. “Hymnal. That’s new. I’m adding that to my insults list.”
In first period, Oliver sat two rows ahead. He didn’t turn around once. Britt spent the entire class drawing little devil horns on his doodle of a cross in her notebook. Art was her coping mechanism.
Second period was worse. Oliver’s friend made a point of sitting next to him and talking loudly about “keeping good company.” Britt responded by dropping her pen, bending down, and yelling “OH MY GOD IS THAT A SNAKE?” just to watch the guy jump.
It wasn’t a snake. It was her hair tie.
Worth it.
Lunch was the real event.
Britt walked in with Amy, and immediately the cafeteria noise dipped like someone turned down the volume. Oliver saw her. His eyes met hers for half a second before he looked down.
Britt winked.
Amy leaned over. “You’re evil.”
“Thank you,” Britt said. “I take that as a compliment.”
Oliver’s friend group was giving her the stink eye. The guy from yesterday stood up. “Brittany, leave him alone.”
Britt held up her hands. “Whoa, relax. I’m just checking on his health. Unlike some people, I care about my classmates.”
“You’re harassing him,” the guy said.
Britt turned to Amy. “Am I harassing him?”
Amy considered it. “You’re definitely bothering him.”
“See? Bothering, not harassing. There’s a difference.”
Oliver finally looked up. “Britt, please.”
His voice was quiet. Tired.
Britt saw it and immediately felt like trash. She grabbed her tray and left.
“Jokes over,” she muttered to Amy. “He looks like he hasn’t slept in days.”
Amy nodded. “Maybe give him a break?”
Britt sighed. “Yeah. Maybe.”
She didn’t. Not really. But she didn’t corner him again that day. Progress.
---
*After school, she waited.*
Oliver was busy being righteous and selfless as he wiped the boards and returned books to the empty classroom. Britt followed him in and shut the door with a soft click.
“Hi, Oliver.”
Startled, Oliver turned around sharply and saw Britt standing there.
“What do you want, Brittany?” he asked, going back to stacking books like if he kept moving, she’d go away.
“I think you’ve been avoiding me, Oliver,” Britt said, advancing toward him until she was standing so close he could feel her breath. He turned and saw her standing so close. He closed his eyes.
“C-Can you not… stand so close?” he stuttered.
“What’s wrong? Can’t handle a little closeness?”
Oliver struggled to keep his breathing in control as his hand reached for the cross hanging around his neck, hands gripping it tightly as he recited the Lord’s Prayer under his breath.
She leaned in and whispered into his ear, “You’re like Sin.”
“What are you doing, Oliver?” she asked, voice quiet now.
“Go away, Satan,” he cried out in a strangled voice.
“Satan? You think I’m the devil?” she asked with a chuckle, though there was no humor in it. It was hollow. Hurt. “Clearly enjoying the way she made him uncomfortable and flustered.”
“I-I,” he stuttered over and over again.
Britt finally pulled away from him as he gasped and took in big gulps of air. She simply giggled and walked away. The only sound left echoing down the hallway was the faint sound of her clicking heels.
Oliver stayed there for a long time after, hands still gripping the cross, eyes shut tight.
When he finally opened his eyes, his hands were shaking.
He hated how much she got to him.
He hated how much he liked it.
---
*Back at Brittany’s home that night*
She laid on her bed, the song “Rodeo” booming loudly out of her speakers as she sang along word-for-word. Still badly. Her neighbor had texted “pls stop” three times. She ignored him.
“Dinner’s ready!” her mother called out from downstairs.
“Be there in a minute,” she answered back.
She got up, still bobbing her head to the same song, while walking down the stairs to the dining table. The meal was pasta and sauce.
“Hmm, smells delicious,” Britt said, and was about to sit down when the doorbell rang.
“Britt, go check who’s at the door,” her mom said.
Britt grumbled and got up to check who was at the door. As she opened the door, Josh was standing there again, holding a Tupperware this time.
“May I help you?” Britt said.
“Yeah, mom made cookies. She said the pie was a lost cause,” Josh said, deadpan.
Britt stared. “Your mom learns fast. Respect.”
She took the cookies. “Tell her I’ll consider eating these. No promises.”
Josh nodded. “She said to tell you hi. Mom thinks you’re funny.”
Britt grinned. “Tell her I said thanks. And that I’m a national treasure.”
She closed the door, tossing a cookie to her mom.
"Love, we don't have to be nice just trying to be nice," her mom said from the kitchen.
"Britt, we don't owe them our kindness," Britt retorted and started eating her pasta.
"This is really good, mom. I appreciate it," she said.
"Thank you," Britt adds.
Her mom ruffled her hair. “You’re a menace. But you’re my menace.”
Britt grinned. “Damn right.”
_After dinner_
Britt goes back upstairs and collapsed on the bed with a contemplative smile. Then suddenly remembers, "Uh, I haven't done my nightly skincare routine."
"Uh, I haven't," she said, got up and went into the bathroom where her skincare products were, all lined up in front of the sink and mirror. She starts with a gentle exfoliating scrub, cleanser, toner and a dab of face cream.
"All done," she said and puts on a night facial mask, a bonnet and went back to bed, drifts off into a deep sleep.
She dreamed of Oliver’s face. Of the way he looked at her like she was both a problem and a prayer.
She woke up at 4 AM with her mask half on her forehead and a text from an unknown number.
*Unknown:*
_Meet me at the old mill. Midnight. Come alone._
Britt stared at the screen.
Of course.
But even in sleep, she couldn’t outrun it.
_You can’t run forever, Brittany._
The voice was back.
She deleted the text, turned off her phone, and tried to sleep.
She didn’t.
---
*Wednesday morning at 6:00pm
Britt decides not to go to school, because she has a lot of things in her mind to solve.
she was in the kitchen, eating cereal dry because she was too lazy to get milk, when her mom walked in.
“You look tired,” her mom said.
“Thanks. You look like you raised a problem child.”
Her mom smiled. “I did. And I’m proud of you.”
Britt blinked. “That was… unexpectedly nice.”
“I have my moments,” her mom said. “Look, whatever’s going on at school, you don’t have to handle it alone. Okay?”
Britt nodded. She didn’t say anything.
She couldn’t.
Because at midnight, she had to meet him.
And she couldn’t tell her mom.
She spent the rest of the day pretending everything was normal. She watched bad reality TV. She argued with her mom about whether pineapple belonged on pizza. It didn’t. She lost. She ordered pizza anyway.
At 11:30 PM, she slipped out the back door.
The old mill was 15 minutes away.
The road was dark. The air was cold.
Britt parked and got out.
He was waiting.
---
*[End of Chapter 3]*
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TO BE CONTINUED
- Writer
