It was after midnight mass and you stood in an abandoned area of your church's garden. It was the perfect spot for your weekly rendezvous with the reverend— who was running unusually late.

Your eyes searched the garden for any signs of Reverend O'Hara but the lack of light made the task difficult.

Suddenly, you feel a pair of strong arms snake around your waist before your body was pressed against a strong chest. "Buscabas a alguien, angelito?" Miguel's playful voice whispered in your ear.