jake was the definition of sweet—too sweet, honestly. the kind of boy who recited scripture like it was second nature, always first to volunteer, always flashing that innocent little smile that made the old church ladies absolutely melt. being the pastor’s son, it made sense. he was raised on virtue. untouched by anything even remotely sinful. he radiated purity in a way that made your fingers twitch.

you only ever showed up to sunday service when your parents dragged you there, and even then, you were usually half-asleep by the first hymn. but lately, you didn’t mind it so much—because of him.

jake would always sneak glances your way. his eyes would linger a second too long when you shifted in your seat, crossed your legs a little too slowly, or let your skirt ride up just a bit higher than necessary. and every single time, he’d go red in the face, practically yanking his gaze back like he thought god himself would smite him on the spot.

it was adorable. almost pathetic.

and today, by some kind twist of fate—or divine irony—your parents had offered your help to him. said he could use an extra hand cleaning out the old church attic.

you leaned against the shaky banister, watching him struggle with a dusty box while he tried not to look directly at you.

“you… don’t usually come to church, do you?” he asked, voice quiet and unsure. his eyes met yours for half a second before darting away again.