Lessons in Sin

CHAPTER 11

TINSLEY

The touch from his thumb lingered.

It tingled along my lip as I wiped down my legs and scrubbed the floor. In the residence hall, the phantom sensation persisted as I showered and changed into jeans. In the dining hall, I caught myself touching my mouth and thinking about his damn thumb as I grabbed my dinner to go.

During my jaunts back and forth through the campus, I didn’t see Father Magnus. I looked for him. Not because I wanted to see him. But I was thinking about him.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the tender way he held my face and stroked my lip. For so many years, I’d fantasized about receiving affection like that—a caress, a longing look, an adoring kiss. I wanted to experience it so badly I could taste it.

But all I’d ever encountered was frantic fondling, sloppy kisses, and some interrupted blow jobs.

It wasn’t healthy to mull over the way a priest’s touch felt. It meant nothing to him, and if I didn’t stop obsessing about it, I would turn into just another lusty member of his boarding school fan club.

It wasn’t that I thought I was better than those girls, but I had a sense of self-respect. At least, I did until I pissed myself.

How could I ever look at him again? The humiliation was more than I could bear. But I didn’t have to worry about that until tomorrow. For now, I focused on the food in my bag and the path leading me to the trees.

Overhead, the silhouette of a large falcon circled the property. I felt its eyes on me, following me into the grove.

I found Jaden and Willow where I’d left them, and a feeling of weightlessness fell over me. They’d eaten more of the bread and lifted their curious noses at my approach.

“Hey, there.” I opened my bag and removed the tiny dipping bowl I’d stolen from the dining hall.

I also had several bottles of water, an assortment of fruit, vegetables, and nuts, and the remnants of my destroyed uniform. The heavy material should keep them warm in the coming weeks.

Storing the unopened bottles near the rear of their hollow, I set out the food and bowl of water and murmured to them as they ate.

They were the sweetest bundle of babies. Like teeny curious monkeys with wiggly noses and the cutest little hands. I could play with them all night and intended to do exactly that until the sound of footsteps encroached on my sanctuary.

I twisted, putting my back to the opossum hollow, and squinted up at the intruder.

Daisy stood a few paces away with a hand anchored on her cocked hip.

Fucking great. The last thing I needed was the resident tattletale turning me in for sneaking food to wild animals.

What would Father Magnus do with orphaned opossums?

It was safe to assume he wouldn’t love them and talk to them and tuck them in at night.

Angling her neck, Daisy leaned around me and directed her gaze at the wriggling babies. Then she scrunched up her nose.

She’d ditched her school uniform in exchange for rocker boots and black leggings. A loose-fitting tee and oversized, distressed cardigan draped her toned body beneath a cropped leather jacket, which was decorated with metal studs and patches. A rock-chic hat topped off the edgy, layered look.

I felt a pinch of envy for her badass style. But that didn’t mean I trusted her.

Why had she followed me? I hadn’t exactly been sociable since my arrival.

“Are you hard up for friends?” I asked.

“Because of my face?” Her disfigured lips formed a flat line.

“No, because you’re the big sister on our floor. That makes you the official snitch.” Her eyes hardened, and no amount of deformity could diminish her ferocity. If I put her to the test, I imagined she would kick my bony ass. But I didn’t want to fight the girl. I just wanted her to go away and leave my opossums alone.

“We’re neighbors. My room is right next to yours.” I gave her a tight smile. “I’m Tinsley.”

“I know who you are. Everyone knows.”

“Okay. Look, Daisy, I…” I stared up at her, searching for words that weren’t steeped in sarcasm and brutal honesty.

How did I tell someone to leave me alone without sounding like a cunt?

“Just spit it out,” she said. “Whatever you’re going to ask about my face, just ask it.”

“Um… No, thanks.”

“What? Why not?”

“Well, I’m not interested in your face, if I’m being honest.”

She huffed, incredulous. “You’re interested in something because you got all quiet and uncomfortable with your words. And you’re staring at my face, which I find quite insulting.”

“I’m staring at you because I’m trying to determine if you’re going to tell anyone about them.” I motioned at the opossums.

“I’m not interested in your diseased rodents, if I’m being honest.”

“You’re actually being a bitch. And they’re marsupials, not rodents.”