Without Sin

Chapter 2-1

Chapter 2

Jacob expects to see Avery the next morning at mass. He sits in the middle of the pew, squeezed between Mike on his right and some kid from his English class on his left, and he keeps turning around to look back at the sacristy while the organist plays dreary tunes. The door to the sacristy is slightly ajar, but Jacob doesn’t see Avery back there. It doesn’t occur to him that today’s schedule may be different from last night’s until the altar boy leads the procession down the aisle, that Bible-like book in his hands held high, and it isn’t Avery.

Something deflates inside his chest like a balloon, and he doesn’t realize how much he’s been hoping to see that boy again until he’s not there. He wants to ask Mike why Avery isn’t on the altar but that would be a little obvious now, wouldn’t it? Just a tad. Besides, Mike doesn’t know—he’s just an usher, and only when his name comes up on the schedule. He doesn’t even know Avery, not personally.

During mass Jacob kicks the back of the pew in front of him, restless and bored. When the upperclassman turns around and tells him to stop it or he’ll break Jacob’s leg, Jacob whispers, “I’ll kick your ass.”

So much for St. Thomas Aquinas helping him grow up a little.

He’s sad that it’s only the second day of classes and already he’s falling into the same old s**t that got him thrown out of public school in the first place.

When everyone stands for communion, Mike says, “Maybe you should stay here. You aren’t Catholic.” Like Jacob doesn’t know this.

But he doesn’t want to be the only one in his pew, and yesterday he discovered the wine wasn’t grape juice like in the churches back home, but was real, honest-to-God wine, and he wants another sip. Yesterday he almost dropped the goblet when he drank from it, shocked to find it contained alcohol, and a heady red wine at that. He gulped it down and the swallow he took was gone before he knew it, though the taste lingered in the back of his throat all day long, the same way the memory of Avery’s eyes lingered in the back of his mind.

Today he’s going to drink deep and savor the wine. He’s only sixteen and it’s the first real drink he’s ever had. So he tells Mike to shut up and folds his hands as if in prayer as he follows the boy from his English class up to the altar. He thinks about skipping the bread part—it’s a thin, round wafer that sticks to his tongue like plastic and he doesn’t like it all that much—but he thinks maybe someone will say something if he just jumps ahead to the wine, so he stays in place. When he gets the goblet he takes a quick sip to make sure it’s still wine and it is, so he takes another sip. He’d drink the whole cup but the server takes it away. He’s an upperclassman who frowns at Jacob like he’s done something wrong, but Jacob simply grins and falls back into step with the other sophomores.

Jacob’s head is down as he walks back to his pew, so he sees the loafer-clad foot when it juts out into the side aisle to trip him up. He’s wondering where Avery is and if he’ll ever see the altar boy again. He’s wishing the boy would serve every day just so he can stare at the altar—Avery has grown cuter the more Jacob thinks of the boy, so by now Avery is almost an Adonis in his mind. Jacob thinks if he ever sees Avery again, he’ll swoon. Then the foot sticks out and Jacob stops an instant before he can step on it. He looks up, thinking it’s that kid he got pissy with earlier, and finds himself staring into those catty eyes that haunted his dreams last night.

“Avery,” he whispers, before he realizes he shouldn’t say the boy’s name. But Avery smiles and Jacob can’t help but smile back. Was he thinking Adonis? Because that Greek god has nothing on this boy.

“Don’t trip,” Avery says. His voice is scales lower than Jacob imagined it would be. Then he laughs—it’s a deep, throaty sound that makes Jacob ache in places he only just discovered the last few years. This time it’s Avery who winks at Jacob, and there’s that wicked gleam in his eyes Jacob saw the day before, that little something hinting this boy isn’t as placid as everyone might think he is. “You’re new here.”

Jacob’s about to tell Avery his name when Mike pushes against him, and Avery pulls his foot in as Jacob stumbles up the aisle. “Keep moving,” Mike whispers with another shove.

If Mike touches him again, Jacob’s going to kick his ass, regardless of the fact that they have to share a room together for the rest of the school year.

But Mike’s not the only one pushing now, and Jacob glares at everyone who looks his way as he slides back into his pew. When the kid in his English class starts to ask him something, Jacob tells him to shut the hell up. The shocked expression on his face is enough to make Jacob feel better, but just a little. He wants to be sitting with Avery.

Several rows in front of him, Avery turns around and smiles with that hint of something more that makes Jacob want to pin him down until he confesses all the sordid thoughts going on inside his head. Jacob thinks he’d like those thoughts. There’s something in Avery’s eyes that suggests those thoughts mirror Jacob’s own.

It’s been a while since he’s fooled around with a boy and he’s never had a boyfriend, not like just one guy who only hung out with him and only kissed him, so his stomach flutters now and he can’t pay attention to the rest of the service; he keeps looking over at Avery. He wonders if that whole foot thing can be considered flirting. He hopes so.