I head home feeling like a dog. In all honesty, I probably didn't need to see Layne right at this moment. She deserved the space to process. Space to heal. Space from me, until I learned to stop hurting her. But also--

I want to see Layne, dammit!

I want her in my arms. I want to kiss her. Hold her. Tell her to forgive me. I want her so badly... And yet I don't know how to hold on to her.

I'm victim of a fitful sleep and when I finally wake, it's well past my alarm going off. My house is empty, as usual, and I make the executive decision.

No school for me.

I get up and dressed, going for a run to work off the stress in my body. I run without direction, my sneakers soaking through with dew and puddles. "Fuck!" I misstep, my entire body following the mistake of my one clumsy foot. I jump up, the temperature hitting me now that I'm not moving.

"Are you alright, sister?" I turn to the sound of the voice, belonging to a white man older than my father.

"Fine," I smile.

"Here come inside," he motions to the building behind him. I read the sign. BLESSED MERCY BAPIST CHURCH. "You have to be cold."

I start to say no, but something in me says yes. It's been a while since I've been actually welcomed into a church anyway.

"I'm Matthew," he tells me as I follow him into the church. "Nancy," he calls to an older woman, short and impossibly thin. "Can you get our guest-- uh---"

"Kaylie," I offer. 

"Yes, Kaylie," he smiles, "Can you get her some dry clothes? She took a pretty big tumble outside."

"Of course, Pastor," she turns, heading deeper into the church. I follow her down to the basement, which seems to contain several offices. "Shouldn't you be in school, Kaylie?"

"Technically," I respond more sarcastically than I should, "I mean yes ma'am."

Nancy smiles at me anyway. The basement is dark, aside from flood lights keeping it just above creep level. We stop at a storage closet and she disappears inside. "Here you go. These should fit." She gets me some dry clothes in the form of a baggy grey sweat suit.

"The bathrooms at the end of the hall way here."

"Thank you," I follow her directions, stripping out of my soaked joggers and t-shirt. When I exit the bathroom, Nancy is gone, leaving curiosity to get the best of me. I probably shouldn't but I start peering into some of the offices. For the most part they all look the same, similar to Dr. Harvey's office at school if I'm being honest. 

The last office I check is actually occupied, a sole lamp illuminating the small space. Inside, a woman is listening to what I assume is a podcast of some sort. Something about her is familiar, but I don't know what. That is, until I see those emerald eyes peering back at me. I instantly remember her.

"Sorry," I try to duck out but she sees me.

"No," she calls, "Come in."

Because I've been trained to obey the sound of an adult's voice, I lean back into her office, stepping inside.

"You work in that dinner right?" she clearly remembers me too, "I can see your name on your nametag--- Its letters isn't it?"

"KJ," I remind her, "And you're the grown woman who came onto me."

"I am. But my friends call me Gwen," she chuckles, "And I'm not apologizing for it. Do they just let anyone leave school nowadays?"

"Deepens on if you're willing to skip," I counter, "They just let anyone into ministry, nowadays?"

"Deepens on if you're willing to repent enough," she smirks. Touche.

"Hungry?" she stands up, "It's about time for lunch." I follow her out of her office and back upstairs via a different route than I took down. We're deposited in a small cafeteria. At the front is a spread of chips, salsa, lettuce and all the other fixings for a taco bar.

Nancy from earlier smiles, "Glad you found you're way up here," she smiles at me, "Help yourself."

Gwen grabs two plates, handing me one. As I follow her through the line, we make small talk. I learn that she's a grad student, attending seminar online. She's STL born and raised, and was homeless for a moment after her parents found out she was gay. Once we have our plates, we take a seat at the back of the room. Other church staff soon fill in, getting their own fix of Tex Mex.

"How's that girlfriend of yours?" she turns the attention back to me.

I laugh dryly, "We could be great if I'd only stop fucking up." I cover my mouth, "I shouldn't be cursing in church, right?"

She laughs, "This your first girlfriend?"

I nod, "Something like that. But since we've gotten together this other girl has been trying to ruin things for us."

"You have feelings for her too?" she inquires.

I shake my head, "Not anymore. But my girlfriend doesn't believe me."

She nods before asking, "You ever read Genesis 39?"

"She asked me the same thing," I smile at the thought of her, then frown.

"You remember how that story ends?" she asks. I shake my head. "After Joseph turns down Potiphar's wife, she has him thrown in prison. Even though he didn't do anything, he's left there for years."

"That doesn't make me feel better," I reply. I question, and for not the first time, what the actual fuck is my religion.

"Not everything in the bible is supposed to make you feel good," she laughs, "Actually read it and a lot of stuff makes you feel terrible. Anyway--- Joseph ends up getting out and becoming the pharaoh's right hand man. People ask-- Why did God let him go to prison? But if you're asking that, you're pulling focus away from how God got him out of prison."

"Why are you telling me this?" I want her to cut to the chase.

"I don't know," she shrugs, "But let me know if you figure it out."

***

Gwen takes me home after lunch and I get dressed again, trading the sweats for jeans and long sleeve. I don't imagine that she wants to see me, but I habitually drive past her apartment anyway. Shit!

I slam on my breaks and swerve to avoid slamming into a blue Accord heading my way.

Fuck!

I get out to check on the driver and sees that its Layne. Of course

"What the fuck, Kaylie Jane!" She exits as well charging toward me, "So what? Are you trying to kill me?"

"Of course I'm not trying to kill you!" I shout back, "Why would I do that? What would I get from that?"

"Why do you do anything you do!?" She pushes me again and again until my back is against my truck, "Why are you on my street anyway? Why can't you ever just leave me alone?"

"I told you!" She goes to push me again but I grab her wrists, stopping the attack, "I love you, now stop being a bitch and talk to me dammit."

She stops, calming down, "Did you just call me a bitch?"

"Yes." I place my hands on her shoulders, moving her backwards, "I did. But I also said that I love you. I can't stress enough how much I love you."

She looks up and into my eyes, "How are you doing this?"

"What?"

"You keep making me forgive you," she allows me to move her hands to around my neck, where I drape them lightly, "You cheated on me. And you weren't even bold enough to tell me."

I rest my hands gently on her waist, "She kissed me. But you're right I should've told you."

A car goes by and I pull her closer, shielding her from the onslaught of water thrown at us.

She pulls away from my soaked body, dry as a whistle, "I suppose I should invite you inside now?"

"Assuming you steal have a stash of my clothes, yes."

We park our respective cars properly and then I follow Layne inside her apartment, where she allows me to change into a pair of joggers and a t-shirt, both mine and stolen.

I exit the bathroom and find Layne in the living room, perched on the couch, obviously waiting for me.

"So..." I take a seat at the opposite end, "Talking?"

"You really have me so fucked up right now, Kaylie Jane," she starts, "But I really want to forgive you. I really want to keep loving you. But I don't know how I can keep giving you my heart when you keep doing the dumbest shit with it."

"Layne," I try to defend myself, "I need you to know that I didn't kiss Wren. She kissed me."

"But you let her!" she argues, "And you have yet to say, once, that you didn't like it."

"Of course I liked it," falls from my mouth, "But only because I was thinking about you."

"Two days, Kaylie Jane. It took two days for her to get you alone, and all to herself. I could end up being suspended for weeks. You know why I'm worried right?" she says.

"It was one time," I say.

"One time is too many times, KJ," she crosses her arms, "I want to love you... But you're making it really hard."

We're both silent for about five minutes. There's nothing I can say to undo anything I've done to her. Right now is preventative care. I need to stop hurting her, instead of apologizing for it.

I finally clear my throat and speak, "Can I have one more chance? I just need one more."

"KJ---"

"Layne I promise. If I fuck one more thing up I'll leave you alone. We'll graduate, we'll go to college, and we'll never speak again. I promise."

She exhales, "Fine. Fight over."

"Yes!" I cross the distance between us and kiss her, pinning her against the couch. She's surprised, but kisses me back just as eagerly, before pushing me away.

"This is your last chance," she says, breathing heavy, "I'm so serious."

"I'm serious too," I reply, "I love you so much it hurts."

"I love you too, baby," she kisses my forehead, "But it shouldn't hurt. Our love has to stop hurting each other okay?"

"Okay," I nod.

"Swear?"

"I swear it."

We lay there for what seems like forever, my head resting on her chest, her fingers twirling their way through my braids. I leisurely skim my fingers across her arm, treating ever scar like the rung on a ladder, climbing my way up.

I look up at her and she exhales, "I can't stand you."

"Can't stand to be without me," I reply. She rolls her eyes and I move to kiss her. I could kiss her for years. I want to be able to kiss her the rest of my life.

"Stop kissing me like that," she pushes me away after awhile, "It's almost time for school. And you're making me want things that'll definitely make us late."

I glance at the clock and see that it's almost time for NCT, "Were you going to school today?"

"Only if I get to ride with you," she smiles and I sit up, "Of course."

As we head back to my truck, I put my arm around her and she leans into me.

"Do you think me hitting Wren counts as violence against women if I'm a female too?"

"Does it count as violence against women if she's Satan?" I reply. Layne bursts out laughing, "I shouldn't find that so funny."