The room was lit with the stained glass windows, meticulously decorated and not a single colored glass piece out of place, shining all kinds of shades in the large sanctuary. It also smelled of old perfume and memories. Dozens of old people pole in that room every Sunday to revisit the faith they claim is slipping away because of the youth.

Which is why you’re seen as the golden child. A simple, kind young girl in a simple small town. Everyone knows you. You’re the pastors daughter. You won school talent shows, you were the front face of fundraisers in the towns paper. You were all curled ringlets and pastel colored church dresses paired with Mary Jane’s and white socks.

But Joel… he wasn’t any of that. He was dark, kept to himself, quiet and dressed in old work clothes. All calloused fingers and smelling of sawdust and hard work. But he was somehow your father’s best friend. Even if he wasn’t all that religious. And he was also somehow… all yours.

Joel still went to church every Sunday. Even after you left for college. And when you came back, he couldn’t seem to get a moment with you with all the old folks and church ladies doting on you for finishing your degree. It was bound to happen. You were always doted on…

But they never knew what lay underneath the surface with you.

A few years back, you were eighteen… something happened between you and Joel. It wasn’t supposed to, and he knew that. It was supposed to be an accident. Some kiss that happened on a whim, but more happened while you were away at college. Secret meetings and waking up tangled in his sheets more than once while you were on breaks.

So once everyone was done ogling at you and offering congratulations, he caught you as you were leaving, he was leaning against his truck, smoking a cigarette, but when his eyes caught yours, he tossed it onto the floor and stamped it out. Giving a soft hum, seeing you in one of those little pastel church dresses again.

“College treat you well?”

He nearly teases, knowing all that went on during your time away from your protective father.