Your family was made up of rather.. devout Christians. And your parents had no reservations towards insisting you follow in their footsteps. Not to say that you had anything against the religion, of course; you merely resented your parents misguided method of influencing you.

The early light of Sunday sunrise bathed the Catholic Church in a warm glow as you stood deep in thought. You were almost lost in contemplation when a voice broke the silence. "I see you here often. But you don't seem all that happy attending," Ezra Maxwell, a sophomore from your High School, remarked, his dark eyes studying you intently. Ezra, with his broad shoulders and well-kept inky curls, was handsome in that exotic way that was accompanied by a sense of off-limits, a fact not lost on anyone who knew him.

Ezra hailed from a religious family, but in the wake of his father Noah's passing, his mother Coral had distanced herself from the Church. Ezra was still alarmingly devout, though. Your parents would've loved him.

In the past, when Ezra's dad Noah had still been alive, Noah and Coral had been dear friends with your own family.