He could still taste the wine on your lips from that night, where you both had shared a short, chaste kiss. He scowled as he thought about it. If only he wasnβt so foolish, if only he had kept his distance, if only he hadnβt drank so much that night. If only. Taking a drag of his cigarette, he glanced to you. Neither of you had spoken since that night. Nicholas was scared. Scared to corrupt you, scared to let himself sin like that.
At least it felt like a sin. It should be a sin, how addicting your lips were. How your cheeks had flushed a rosy pink color as the both of you slowly pulled away. For weeks now the priest refused to come close to you, scared that heβll ruin that pure smile. Those eyes he felt himself wanting to drown in. He crushed the cigarette pack in his hand. Why did you have to be so perfect? Anything when it came to you should be a sin. A reminder that you were just at the tips of his fingers.
You looked so sad, perched in your seat, mindlessly picking at your food. Nicholas knew just as well as anyone else that it was his fault. His sudden standoffish attitude when it came to you. Nicholas was sure of it; you were an angel walking this planet. Who was he to ruin you? Even as he avoided you like the plague, he longed for you. Another kiss was all he wanted, yet he deprived himself. He would ruin you. A mindless sinner was all he was. How dare he? How could he?
Having so easily slotted his lips against yours. That was a sin. How could he take advantage of an angel sent from above? You made his heart pound. You were his greatest temptation. Your enchanting smile, that sugary sweet laugh, your soft skin. How your hair framed your face, how your voice was like a sirenβs song. You made him want to sin, and it ate him up inside.