Dirty Saint: A Secret Baby Sports Romance (6 page)

I step behind her, leaning down to breathe in her ear. She almost drops the water bottle again.

“Did you get my Bible verse message the other day?”

She’s not washing the bottle anymore. Her breathing is heavy and labored. “Please. Just leave me alone.”

“Alright,” I reply, stepping away from her. “I’ve gotta shower anyway. See you tomorrow.
Delilah
.” I almost think she’s going to go on ignoring me when I hear her voice one more time.

“Goodbye.
Francis.
”

There’s even a glint in her eye as she says it.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

ESTHER

It takes me the better part of an hour to wash the water bottles, empty out the cooler, scrub
that
, sterilize the footballs and line them all up perfectly.

I’m just happy I’m not in charge of laundering uniforms. I’d be here all night.

I finish rinsing out the cooler when I realize the sound of the water is making me need to pee.

Urgently.

I flip the cooler upside down on the drying rack and rush out of the storage room, my hands dripping wet. I wipe them on my skirt and look desperately up and down the hallway. I see the doors for the coach’s office, the assistant coach’s office, and the locker room.

There’s no woman’s bathroom in here. And why would there be?

Football’s tagline might as well be “no girls allowed.” Unless they’re in skimpy uniforms on the sidelines, of course. But I’m seriously about to lose control of my bladder.

I don’t have a choice. It’s either wet myself or go in the locker room.

Coach’s words echo through my head.
Don’t go in the locker rooms
.

Right. But he means while there are players in there. Practice is long over. Everyone is gone.

I can sneak in, pee, and then run back out again. No problem.

Then why is my heart racing?

Probably because I’ve never done something like this before. Go into someplace forbidden and break explicit rules. I take a deep breath and walk confidently toward the locker room entrance. I glance into Coach’s office and see that it’s dark. He’s obviously gone home for the day.

I pause with my hand on the metal handle. My heart is in my throat. I pull open the door and step inside. I realize that I’m squinting my eyes half-shut as if I’m about to walk into a room filled with entirely naked men.

But the place is empty. I breathe a sigh of relief and step around the low, wooden benches. It smells horrible in here: like sweat and - well. It smells like
guy
. That’s the only way I can describe it. The air is slightly humid from the showers, and I wonder if anyone’s ever thought to open the windows in here. I step onto a bench near the wall and reach up to push open the clerestory panes near the ceiling.

Fresh autumn air pours into the room.

That is so much better. I hop from bench to bench opening all of the windows, enjoying the breeze on my face.

Satisfied, I wander over to a stall. It’s clean, thankfully. I lock the door and take care of business.

Just as I’m cleaning myself up, I hear the door to the locker room open.

My stomach plummets through my feet. My hand is frozen on the flush handle. I have no idea what to do now.

I hear footsteps; someone is wearing flip flops. They make a shuffling sound on the shiny concrete floors. I hear the
swoosh
of a shower curtain and the squeaky handle of the tap being turned. The steamy rush of water from the showerhead tells me I can get out of here without being seen.

I flush the toilet and open the stall door. I really, really want to wash my hands. I pause, listening. I hear splashing water sounds that indicate whoever’s in here is safely ensconced behind a shower curtain.

I pump soap into my palms and rinse them hurriedly, drying my hands on my skirt and quietly inching my way to the door.

“Delilah?”

I stop dead in my tracks and whip around, blushing.

But the blush on my face is instantly turned into a blazing inferno when I see who’s standing there.

It’s Saint. In all his glory.

His enormous, lengthy, full-bodied
glory.

“Oh my word!” I yelp, throwing my hands over my eyes too late. I turn around for double the coverage. “I just needed to use the bathroom. I thought everyone had gone home.”

“I was up in the stands studying plays. I like to have some alone time after practice before I shower.” I can
hear
him grinning at me. “But now that I’m not alone, I’m certainly not bothered. Feel like joining me in the shower?”

I turn around again, determinedly looking only at his eyes. “I shouldn’t be in here. I’ll see you at practice tomorrow morning. And Saint, I need a huge favor.”

“I like the sound of this. A little quid pro quo.” He rubs his hands together. “Hit me.”

“Please don’t tell anyone I was in here. I could lose my position and end up in front of the honor board.”

Saint considers my words for a minute. “Fair enough. I won’t mention it. But you owe me.”

I exhale, still staring anywhere but below Saint’s waistline. I’m feeling warm between my legs and I’m already berating myself for the sin of how I’m feeling. “What?”

He wiggles his eyebrows. “You’ve seen mine. Now I want to see yours.”

I shoot him a look that could melt solid steel beams. “Goodbye, Saint.”

“Bye, Delilah!”

My cheeks burn all the way back to my dorm room, and the feeling between my legs refuses to go away.

I’ve never felt this way before. All I know is that it’s deeply, deeply wrong.

***

“How was practice? Did you get to see Saint naked in the shower?” Romy asks me on the way to chapel later that night.

I can’t stop myself from blushing. “No naked jerk quarterback, no.”

Romy sighs and holds her arms out, spinning. “It’s such a gorgeous night. I hate that I’m wrapped up in these hideous clothes and now I’m going to be stuck inside for the next two hours in that stuffy chapel.”

“I really don’t understand why you even bother staying here. You should just transfer,” I snap at her.

“Whoa, calm down, Esther. What’s up your butt?”

“Sorry. I’m just stressed with all the commitments I have right now, that’s it. I shouldn’t take it out on you.” We reach the chapel doors and we both stop talking, inclining our heads toward Pastor Blevins.

“Evening, Sisters,” he says.

We nod in return and make our way to the left side of the chapel where all the women sit. I find myself scanning the rows for Saint. I feel a surge of guilt as I do this, realizing that the very last thing I should be doing is thinking about a guy while in the house of God.

I take a seat and zip open my Bible cover, flipping to the chapter that’s up on the board. Fullerton may have a state-of-the-art football stadium, but they still rely on the plastic letter and felt boards on either side of the pulpit to communicate the Word of God. No projectors or fancy digital screens here. We don’t even use electricity during night service. Candles light up the sanctuary.

The stained glass behind the pulpit depicts the dawn of time and the temptation of Eve. I stare at the colored scene, with the serpent wrapped around the tree of life, a shiny red apple of knowledge dangling just out of reach of Eve’s fingertips. For the first time in my life, I wonder why it is that Eve gets the bad reputation and not Adam. He ate from the apple as well.

I’m so enthralled with my own thoughts I miss everyone kneeling down for the opening prayer. Romy tugs on my sweater and I put my Bible aside to rest my knees on the padded kneelers. I remember spending hours in vacation Bible school practicing how to set the kneelers down in complete and utter silence. My dad taught that class, and he used to rap us on the knuckles with a ruler if we let the kneeler fall with even the gentlest thud.

Pastor Blevins is halfway through the opening prayer and I realize I haven’t been paying attention at all. What is wrong with me tonight? I shake my head and try to listen to the Pastor’s words. But all I can see in front of me is Saint’s face.

Okay, not only his face. I’m also thinking about the thing below his waist that looks like it should have his own zip code.

I’m definitely not in a church mindset tonight, to say the least.

I feel the heat of his body as he stood behind me at the sink. Then I’m
really
thinking the exact opposite of chaste thoughts. I open my eyes and lift my head imperceptibly. I remember being a kid and looking around the dinner table during prayer just for the thrill of it. One day it had occurred to me that if anyone caught me, they couldn’t say anything, because that would mean admitting that they were praying with eyes open too.

I glance around at the boys’ section and see the back of Saint’s head, his dark hair shining in the candlelight. Butterflies fill my stomach and I find myself willing Saint to turn around.

Pastor Blevins finishes his prayer with an
amen
and we all stand up to greet our neighbors. I don’t know the point of this. We always sit in the same places, so I’m just saying hello to the same people over and over again each week.

We take a seat and Pastor Blevins opens his Bible. “Second Samuel eleven today. We’ll be speaking about temptation. What is temptation?”

I feel a shiver go down my back. I usually like when the sermon matches up with my own life, but tonight it feels like a scolding from God Himself. Now I can’t seem to tear myself away from the Pastor’s words, each one falling like a lashing on my own back. He goes through the story of David seeing Bathsheba bathing on the roof. He has sex with her. She ends up pregnant.

Pastor Blevins pins the blame on Bathsheba. In actuality, David was the one who couldn’t control himself, but of course that’s not the moral of the story, is it?

That familiar prickling of awakening takes over my body once again. Why is it that the woman, who was just cleaning her body, is at fault?

Women are to remain pure and abiding, Esther.
My father’s voice fills the blasphemous spaces between my ears.

I feel eyes on me and I look to my right. Saint is looking back at me and flashes me a smile. Suddenly, my mouth is dry and I’m having trouble swallowing. I give him a slight shake of my head, attempting a scolding look. I’m not sure it works, but he does turn back around.

After Saint looks at me, not a word of the sermon penetrates my brain.

I wonder if Romy can hear my pounding heart.

***

The chapel clears out, the men and women finally allowed to mix with one another in farewells. As a part of my duties as the junior honors college president, I have to stay behind to blow out the candles and replace them with fresh ones. I wait until everyone has left, including Pastor Blevins, to leave my seat.

I go into the back storage room to gather fresh candles. It’s faster this way; I blow out a candle and replace the short ones. My hand is on the brass handle of the old cedar cabinet when I hear footsteps.

My heart skips a beat.

“Hello?” I call out. I thought everyone had left.

“Hello yourself.”

I swallow. It’s Saint. He appears in the doorway, that same arrogant smile on his lips.

“You’re not supposed to be back here,” I say to him.

He laughs. “I think I’m allowed pretty much wherever I want to be on this campus, Delilah.”

I roll my eyes. “Stop calling me that.” I turn back to the cabinet, secretly pleased that he’s given me a nickname.

“Interesting sermon tonight, don’t you think?” Saint steps into the room and leans against the worn wooden table.

“Mm,” I reply, my head inside of the cabinet. But I’ve entirely forgotten what I’m meant to be doing. I can’t think with Saint this close to me.

“Temptation is a bitch, isn’t it?”

I whip around.

“Don’t curse in here,” I whisper.

He laughs. “You think God cares about cursing? Of all the things He has to deal with? Give me a break, Delilah.”

I don’t have a response to this. “It’s against the Honor Code. I could turn you in for that.”

Saint cocks his head to the side. “I don’t think you’re a snitch.”

“You want to keep testing that theory?” I shoot back.

“I like this version of Delilah,” he says, standing up “I like you with a little bit of fire.”

I pull the top of my buttoned cardigan closer to my chest. My cheeks are on fire as Saint steps closer to me.

“We can’t. Not here,” I whisper. “This place is sacred.”

Saint smirks at me. “We can’t do
what
? I’m not doing anything.” He inches closer to me and my heart races. “Did you want to do something? With me?”

“I need to set the candles out for the evening service,” I say, my voice cracking. I turn my back to him and look once more into the old cedar cupboard. I pull out a dozen white taper candles and drop half of them on the floor.

“Do I make you nervous or something?” Saint growls from behind me.

I bend down to pick up the candlesticks and feel Saint’s eyes burning through the fabric of my floor-length skirt. I stand up quickly and hold the candles close to my chest. “I really have to go replace these.”

Saint reaches his hands over to my chest and I freeze. “Let me carry those for you.”

I’m speechless as he gathers them into his hands, his fingertips brushing against the soft fabric of my cardigan. I close my eyes, my breathing slow and deep. I try not to think about what he wants to do with those hands.

God is watching us.

Saint’s eyes are on fire as he stares at me. “I can help you blow out the candles.”

I gulp and nod. “It’ll be faster that way.”

He takes a free hand and brushes a strand of hair off my cheek. My skin burns where his fingertips touch me. He grins and walks out of the room.

My legs feel like rubber as I follow him into the sanctuary. I take the opposite side of the sanctuary, starting as far away from him as I can. I don’t trust myself right now. We each blow out a candle at a time.