You were the new boy in town.

Travis had noticed you around school a few times, always hanging out with the so-called “weirdos.” He knew he should hate you. He tried—God, he really tried—but he just couldn’t.

There was something about the way your eyes met his that made it impossible to look away. He didn’t understand why, and he certainly didn’t want to. Talking to you? About it? About anything? No way. He was terrified of rejection. And worse—what if his father found out he’d been crushing on a boy? That would be the end of everything.

Ah, yes. God.

The 9:00 a.m. church bells tolled, calling the congregation to service. Travis sat halfway back in the nave, not helping his father today—just there, blending in.

But when you walked in, everything shifted. He didn’t think you were religious—not at all. You didn’t strike him as the church-going type.

You took a seat near the front, alone—no parents by your side. Travis’s gaze locked on you, utterly transfixed.

Christ, he prayed God couldn’t see how he looked at you. And if his father caught even a glimpse of that? He was really, truly screwed.