#vincethany

But it’s not like that in reality. What happens now, after that first kiss? Does something come next? Do we move on like nothing happened? Do we stumble in some kind of primordial tango to a hotel to go all the way or do we hold hands like elementary schoolers giving out valentines?

But you just smile at me. A cute, boyish smile, not the sort of sneer you sometimes give behind Sister Claudia’s back. 

“That haunted house must have gotten to you more than you let on,” you say. “You’re still trembling.” 

“Don’t tease me, Vincent,” I reply, matching your innocent smile with a knowing one of my own. “You’re the one who jumped at least once in every room.” 

You lean in, letting your eyes dart over my features like you’re memorizing them. I could kiss you again, right now. We’re so close already, I can smell the tobacco and paper. 

But then you pull back and give an innocent shrug, like you had just gotten caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

“In my defense, I had been planning on shooting for a fireworks backdrop, but…” you trail off to pointedly cock an eyebrow. “... I got the feeling that you didn’t want to wait.” 

“Oh, I waited plenty,” I say. “Trust me, there have been lots of opportunities for me to kiss you, but…” 

“But confession would have been awkward?” 

Both of us laugh at that one.

“Well, in the hopes of getting a second date, I should probably let you know that nothing like that will be necessary. In fact, I think God would be pretty relieved to see me get out of the church more often.” 

You start walking away from the mansion, gesturing for me to join you.

“Asking me out on a second date in the middle of the first one?” I ask. “Isn’t that a bit premature?” 

“I don’t like to let opportunities pass me by, that’s all.”

Something in the way you speak makes me pause. Opportunity. I guess our relationship could be considered an ‘opportunity’, but it feels strange. Cheap. Like we’re walking through a used car lot instead of an amusement park. 

“Hey.” 

Your hand on my back draws me back to reality. 

“Thought I lost you there,” you say.  

I shake my head, and you take a moment to slip your arm from my back to around my shoulder. It’s a cheesy move, and judging from the eyeroll you give yourself, that fact isn’t lost on you, either. 

I smile as I take a moment of my own to lean in and give you a kiss on the cheek. PDA might be a bit awkward for the both of us, but I enjoy it. I think you do too, since you have a trace of pink on your face when I pull back.

“So, where to next?” I ask.

You adjust your glasses, looking deep in thought. Then, “I think we should hit the roller coaster.” 

Your words hang in the air for a minute, and I can feel a pit forming in my stomach when I notice the edges of your mouth twitching. 

“Vincent…” I narrow my eyes. “Really, I asked you not to tease me, you know.”

I’m rewarded with your laughter, and I watch as you shake your head.

“It was like the blood completely drained out of your face! Did your life flash in front of your eyes there for a moment?” 

I don’t dignify you with an answer, instead crossing my arms and looking away with a pout. But you pull me back in, pressing your lips against my hair to muffle your last giggles. 

“Oh come on,” you speak against my skin. “I know for a fact that if you didn’t enjoy being teased, you wouldn’t be here.”

And that makes all the blood come rushing right back to my face. 

However, not all Walks of Shame happen in college dormitories. Take, for instance, this particular event occurring shortly before dawn. Now, many walks of shame take place a bit later in the morning, but in this instance discretion is truly the name of the game.

You see, this observed Walk of Shame is taking place inside of a church.

Now, this particular church does have some lodgers. Some stay just for the weekends, sequestering themselves in prayer, while others call it their only home- ah! There she is, right there. If you look closely, you’ll see one of the doors opening, and our churchmouse makes her appearance. To her credit, she looks a great deal more put-together than many of the college Walkers. Indeed, one could almost be fooled into thinking that she simply stayed up too late studying, perhaps if she weren’t exiting from a priest’s bedroom. With her cowboy boots in one hand and her steps muffled by socks, she looks almost confident in her ability to make it to her room at the end of the hall without being seen. 

Ah, no, one of the floorboards beneath her creaks and she practically doubles over in a cringe. If someone were to see her now, there would be no doubt that she had been performing rather unholy rites over the course of the night. She doesn’t seem to have the skill of subtlety that many of these church members have, and it’s a survival tactic she will have to pick up sooner rather than later. This situation could be seen as good practice for her, a situation with rather low stakes.

Or, that’s how it might have been, had she not been thrown to the wolves. Or “Wolf”, as it were. 

Claudia Wolf, the natural predator of this churchmouse, just so happens to step into the hallway, perhaps on her way to show her devotion to the rising sun. She’s near the far end of the hall, though, so perhaps luck will shine upon our– oh, look, Claudia has caught our churchmouse in her stare, powerful enough to freeze any lesser being. 

Yes, our churchmouse has frozen as expected. Without the protection of her beau, she is completely vulnerable to the priestess’ wrath. 

“Bethany,” she calls the churchmouse by name. “I’m surprised to see you up and about so early. Have you perhaps risen to begin preparations for the equinox next week?” 

The churchmouse seems stunned. Claudia Wolf used a lot of big words so early in the morning, and they appear to have thrown our hero for a loop. She finds herself unable to tell a lie in the face of her adversary, instead croaking out a horse: “No.” 

“I see,” Claudia continues. “Are you then perhaps looking for something?” 

The priestess doesn’t know how close she hit to home, for even now the churchmouse’s eyes are darting about, looking for an exit.

“Yes!” the churchmouse blurts out, giving an eager nod. “Yes, Sister Claudia, I am looking for something.” 

“If I can offer any assistance, you have but to ask,” says Claudia.

Excellent! She has cemented a purpose in her being out in the hallway so early. But she will have to come up with a reason. Will she be able to do it? 

“Ah…” 

Perhaps not.

“No, no,” she follows up weakly. “No, thank you, Sister Claudia. I’m fine.” 

The ridges where the priestess’ eyebrows should be shift a touch. Just enough of a touch to alert our churchmouse of impending danger.

But the door behind her opens, and she is steadied by a hand on her shoulder. 

“You forgot this, Bethany.” 

And it’s our churchmouse’s beau to the rescue! He’s handing her a book she must have left in his room during their time of… ahem. Study. 

“Thank you, Father Vincent,” says our churchmouse. It’s clear from the way that she’s looking at him that she is completely enamored with this priest. If you were to peer into her eyes, you could note how they shine with all the radiance of Cupid’s affliction. 

“Vincent?” Claudia’s expression seems rather surprised. “I wasn’t aware you were the one hosting morning prayer.” 

“I wasn’t planning on it,” says Vincent, giving a shrug that looks almost bored. “It was just hard to go back to sleep… I’m sure you know how thin these walls are.”

The churchmouse squeaks out a barely-audible apology, and Claudia shakes her head. 

“Do what you will, Vincent.” 

“I will,” he replies. “And you’d better hurry, or you’ll miss that sunrise of yours.” 

The two clergy members shoot a few more barbs at one another, but our churchmouse has already let her posture relax. She has survived this encounter with Claudia Wolf! Though her survival likely came from her predator’s inexperience with debauchery, our churchmouse doesn’t know that and she is mentally celebrating her victory.

A gentle push from Vincent’s fingertips signal to our churchmouse that it’s time to make her escape. She gives the both of them a nod, though by this point Claudia is thoroughly rattled by her rival and is paying her no mind. 

Our little churchmouse’s victory is sealed and sweet. As she quickly makes her way to the safety of her lodgings, she affords herself a glance over her shoulder.