Dirty Saint: A Secret Baby Sports Romance

by Vesper Vaughn

  “Delilah?”

  I stop dead in my tracks and whip around, blushing.

  But the blush on my face is instantly turned into a blazing inferno when I see who’s standing there.

  It’s Saint. In all his glory.

  His enormous, lengthy, full-bodied glory.

  “Oh my word!” I yelp, throwing my hands over my eyes too late. I turn around for double the coverage. “I just needed to use the bathroom. I thought everyone had gone home.”

  “I was up in the stands studying plays. I like to have some alone time after practice before I shower.” I can hear him grinning at me. “But now that I’m not alone, I’m certainly not bothered. Feel like joining me in the shower?”

  I turn around again, determinedly looking only at his eyes. “I shouldn’t be in here. I’ll see you at practice tomorrow morning. And Saint, I need a huge favor.”

  “I like the sound of this. A little quid pro quo.” He rubs his hands together. “Hit me.”

  “Please don’t tell anyone I was in here. I could lose my position and end up in front of the honor board.”

  Saint considers my words for a minute. “Fair enough. I won’t mention it. But you owe me.”

  I exhale, still staring anywhere but below Saint’s waistline. I’m feeling warm between my legs and I’m already berating myself for the sin of how I’m feeling. “What?”

  He wiggles his eyebrows. “You’ve seen mine. Now I want to see yours.”

  I shoot him a look that could melt solid steel beams. “Goodbye, Saint.”

  “Bye, Delilah!”

  My cheeks burn all the way back to my dorm room, and the feeling between my legs refuses to go away.

  I’ve never felt this way before. All I know is that it’s deeply, deeply wrong.

  ***

  “How was practice? Did you get to see Saint naked in the shower?” Romy asks me on the way to chapel later that night.

  I can’t stop myself from blushing. “No naked jerk quarterback, no.”

  Romy sighs and holds her arms out, spinning. “It’s such a gorgeous night. I hate that I’m wrapped up in these hideous clothes and now I’m going to be stuck inside for the next two hours in that stuffy chapel.”

  “I really don’t understand why you even bother staying here. You should just transfer,” I snap at her.

  “Whoa, calm down, Esther. What’s up your butt?”

  “Sorry. I’m just stressed with all the commitments I have right now, that’s it. I shouldn’t take it out on you.” We reach the chapel doors and we both stop talking, inclining our heads toward Pastor Blevins.

  “Evening, Sisters,” he says.

  We nod in return and make our way to the left side of the chapel where all the women sit. I find myself scanning the rows for Saint. I feel a surge of guilt as I do this, realizing that the very last thing I should be doing is thinking about a guy while in the house of God.

  I take a seat and zip open my Bible cover, flipping to the chapter that’s up on the board. Fullerton may have a state-of-the-art football stadium, but they still rely on the plastic letter and felt boards on either side of the pulpit to communicate the Word of God. No projectors or fancy digital screens here. We don’t even use electricity during night service. Candles light up the sanctuary.

  The stained glass behind the pulpit depicts the dawn of time and the temptation of Eve. I stare at the colored scene, with the serpent wrapped around the tree of life, a shiny red apple of knowledge dangling just out of reach of Eve’s fingertips. For the first time in my life, I wonder why it is that Eve gets the bad reputation and not Adam. He ate from the apple as well.

  I’m so enthralled with my own thoughts I miss everyone kneeling down for the opening prayer. Romy tugs on my sweater and I put my Bible aside to rest my knees on the padded kneelers. I remember spending hours in vacation Bible school practicing how to set the kneelers down in complete and utter silence. My dad taught that class, and he used to rap us on the knuckles with a ruler if we let the kneeler fall with even the gentlest thud.

  Pastor Blevins is halfway through the opening prayer and I realize I haven’t been paying attention at all. What is wrong with me tonight? I shake my head and try to listen to the Pastor’s words. But all I can see in front of me is Saint’s face.

  Okay, not only his face. I’m also thinking about the thing below his waist that looks like it should have his own zip code.

  I’m definitely not in a church mindset tonight, to say the least.

  I feel the heat of his body as he stood behind me at the sink. Then I’m really thinking the exact opposite of chaste thoughts. I open my eyes and lift my head imperceptibly. I remember being a kid and looking around the dinner table during prayer just for the thrill of it. One day it had occurred to me that if anyone caught me, they couldn’t say anything, because that would mean admitting that they were praying with eyes open too.

  I glance around at the boys’ section and see the back of Saint’s head, his dark hair shining in the candlelight. Butterflies fill my stomach and I find myself willing Saint to turn around.

  Pastor Blevins finishes his prayer with an amen and we all stand up to greet our neighbors. I don’t know the point of this. We always sit in the same places, so I’m just saying hello to the same people over and over again each week.

  We take a seat and Pastor Blevins opens his Bible. “Second Samuel eleven today. We’ll be speaking about temptation. What is temptation?”

  I feel a shiver go down my back. I usually like when the sermon matches up with my own life, but tonight it feels like a scolding from God Himself. Now I can’t seem to tear myself away from the Pastor’s words, each one falling like a lashing on my own back. He goes through the story of David seeing Bathsheba bathing on the roof. He has sex with her. She ends up pregnant.

  Pastor Blevins pins the blame on Bathsheba. In actuality, David was the one who couldn’t control himself, but of course that’s not the moral of the story, is it?

  That familiar prickling of awakening takes over my body once again. Why is it that the woman, who was just cleaning her body, is at fault?

  Women are to remain pure and abiding, Esther. My father’s voice fills the blasphemous spaces between my ears.

  I feel eyes on me and I look to my right. Saint is looking back at me and flashes me a smile. Suddenly, my mouth is dry and I’m having trouble swallowing. I give him a slight shake of my head, attempting a scolding look. I’m not sure it works, but he does turn back around.

  After Saint looks at me, not a word of the sermon penetrates my brain.

  I wonder if Romy can hear my pounding heart.

  ***

  The chapel clears out, the men and women finally allowed to mix with one another in farewells. As a part of my duties as the junior honors college president, I have to stay behind to blow out the candles and replace them with fresh ones. I wait until everyone has left, including Pastor Blevins, to leave my seat.

  I go into the back storage room to gather fresh candles. It’s faster this way; I blow out a candle and replace the short ones. My hand is on the brass handle of the old cedar cabinet when I hear footsteps.

  My heart skips a beat.

  “Hello?” I call out. I thought everyone had left.

  “Hello yourself.”

  I swallow. It’s Saint. He appears in the doorway, that same arrogant smile on his lips.

  “You’re not supposed to be back here,” I say to him.

  He laughs. “I think I’m allowed pretty much wherever I want to be on this campus, Delilah.”

  I roll my eyes. “Stop calling me that.” I turn back to the cabinet, secretly pleased that he’s given me a nickname.

  “Interesting sermon tonight, don’t you think?” Saint steps into the room and leans against the worn wooden table.

  “Mm,” I reply, my head inside of the cabinet. But I’ve entirely forgotten what I’m meant to be doing. I can’t think with Saint this close to me.

  “Temptation is a
bitch, isn’t it?”

  I whip around.

  “Don’t curse in here,” I whisper.

  He laughs. “You think God cares about cursing? Of all the things He has to deal with? Give me a break, Delilah.”

  I don’t have a response to this. “It’s against the Honor Code. I could turn you in for that.”

  Saint cocks his head to the side. “I don’t think you’re a snitch.”

  “You want to keep testing that theory?” I shoot back.

  “I like this version of Delilah,” he says, standing up “I like you with a little bit of fire.”

  I pull the top of my buttoned cardigan closer to my chest. My cheeks are on fire as Saint steps closer to me.

  “We can’t. Not here,” I whisper. “This place is sacred.”

  Saint smirks at me. “We can’t do what? I’m not doing anything.” He inches closer to me and my heart races. “Did you want to do something? With me?”

  “I need to set the candles out for the evening service,” I say, my voice cracking. I turn my back to him and look once more into the old cedar cupboard. I pull out a dozen white taper candles and drop half of them on the floor.

  “Do I make you nervous or something?” Saint growls from behind me.

  I bend down to pick up the candlesticks and feel Saint’s eyes burning through the fabric of my floor-length skirt. I stand up quickly and hold the candles close to my chest. “I really have to go replace these.”

  Saint reaches his hands over to my chest and I freeze. “Let me carry those for you.”

  I’m speechless as he gathers them into his hands, his fingertips brushing against the soft fabric of my cardigan. I close my eyes, my breathing slow and deep. I try not to think about what he wants to do with those hands.

  God is watching us.

  Saint’s eyes are on fire as he stares at me. “I can help you blow out the candles.”

  I gulp and nod. “It’ll be faster that way.”

  He takes a free hand and brushes a strand of hair off my cheek. My skin burns where his fingertips touch me. He grins and walks out of the room.

  My legs feel like rubber as I follow him into the sanctuary. I take the opposite side of the sanctuary, starting as far away from him as I can. I don’t trust myself right now. We each blow out a candle at a time.

  “Replace the short ones,” I call out. My voice is loud in this empty room.

  I glance over at Eve about to grab the apple. I return my focus to the candles. With each flame extinguished, I realize that we’ll be in pitch dark soon enough.

  And then I realize my fatal mistake. We’re working our way towards each other.

  We’ll meet in the middle.

  In the dark.

  I hurry as fast as I can to finish my side, hoping to beat Saint. But he had the head start.

  We meet at the last two candles. Saint’s face is serious for once. “It’ll be pretty dark in here when we’re done.”

  I nod. “Yeah. I don’t have my phone, so we’ll have to stumble our way out.”

  Saint bites his lip and hands me a candle. “Yours needs to be replaced.”

  I feel like someone else is inhabiting my body right now. I can’t be trusted. My hands shake as I blow out my candle and swap it out. Saint’s candle is the only one burning.

  He leans over it, closer and closer to my face. Our lips are seconds from meeting when the doors to the chapel break open.

  I jump back from Saint and he does the same.

  “Pastor Blevins,” I say breathlessly. “Saint was just helping me with, uh, the candles.”

  Pastor Blevins has his thin hands wrapped around a Bible. He looks suspicious but doesn’t say anything. “Very well, then. You can leave the last one. I’ll take care of it.”

  Saint motions to the candles still in his arms. “I’ll just put these back and Sister Esther can go ahead back to her dorm.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Pastor Blevins intones. “Saint, stay a bit after. I think we need to have a talk.”

  Saint nods and smiles amiably. “Happy to. Goodnight, Sister.”

  “Goodnight,” I say. Saint leaves to return the candles and I try to shuffle my way past Pastor Blevins. He grabs my arm.

  “Sister Esther, I think you might need to go over the notes for tonight’s sermon in your prayer time tonight.”

  His words sting like acid against my skin. “I will do that, Pastor. Thank you.”

  I pull away from him, feeling an emotion I haven’t let myself feel since I was a young child.

  Anger.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  SAINT

  Pastor Blevins keeps me for half an hour, the two of us sitting in a nearly-dark sanctuary. He tells me how women are temptations, not to be trusted. That I shouldn’t find myself in a room alone with anyone other than my intended wife.

  Right.

  Okay.

  I tell him everything he wants to hear. I put on my best face of contrition and he seems satisfied.

  Good.

  The next morning, I’m up before dawn. Rick is snoring loudly and I know I could probably set off a bomb and he wouldn’t so much as roll over. I pull on athletic shorts and a t-shirt and slide into my favorite pair of running shoes. Dew covers the green grass, and a brisk wind shakes the drying, red leaves on the trees.

  It’s still pitch dark. This is how I like to run. Not on a burning field with the whole team. Just me and my thoughts.

  This morning they’re of Esther. How I’d nearly kissed her the night before. The feeling of her breasts underneath her plain sweater. The way she trembled when I barely grazed her there. The way she was willing to kiss me in the middle of the fucking sanctuary.

  I’m guessing it wasn’t the first time Pastor Blevins cock-blocked somebody.

  Asshole.

  I run over the hills, the sun finally waking up behind the Blue Ridge Mountains. Fog fills the air and I speed up my running. My heart is threatening to pound out of my ribcage. This is the feeling I want. I want to feel like I can’t breathe. It’s the only thing that will get her out of my mind.

  An hour later, the sun high in the sky, I shower and get changed. I roll into the dining hall, load up a tray with food, and Rick waves me over. “Did you even sleep last night?” he asks me through a mouth of cereal.

  I shrug. “A few hours. I needed to run.”

  “You’re a machine, man. You’re making me look terrible.”

  I dig into my eggs, bacon, pancakes, and muffin-covered tray. “What’s up with you? I feel like we barely see each other.”

  Rick grins. “Romy and I have been getting in some quality time.”

  A girl walks past our table, her hair in a low bun. She’s holding a pile of neon blue flyers; she tapes one on the pillar next to Rick.

  “What’s that?” I ask Rick, nodding toward the paper.

  He reaches behind him and rips it off. I hear the girl scoff indignantly as she comes back to tape up a new flyer.

  “Parents’ day,” he says.

  My stomach suddenly feels like lead. I put down my fork. “I forgot about that. Fuck,” I mutter.

  Rick looks around. “Lower your voice, man. What’s wrong with you?”

  I sigh and push my tray away. “Let’s just say you’re getting a lot more action than I am right now, and it’s sort of got me keyed up.” I rub my eyes with my hands. “And you know I’m not too excited about parents’ day, for obvious reasons.”

  “Man, your parents gave you everything you ever needed as a kid. I don’t know what your problem is. Football lessons from the time you were four. All the gear you ever wanted. Money to go to out of state competitions. Summer football camps. Most guys would kill for that kind of support.”

  “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” I spit at him, picking up my tray.

  “Saint! Hey, man! Come back!”

  But I ignore him, dumping my barely-eaten breakfast into the trash, knowing I’ll regret it during running drills in
about an hour. But I don’t care. This day is already a bust.

  ***

  Coach blows his shrieking whistle. That’s good. I feel like I’m about to drop dead of hunger and exhaustion. I shouldn’t have pushed myself so hard this morning.

  “Everybody bring it in!”

  We all tear off our helmets, sweating in spite of the sixty-degree day.

  “Alright, pretty good practice,” Coach says. His eyes skim me as he says it. “Saint, you stay behind. I’ll see the rest of you knuckleheads this afternoon.”

  “Sorry I wasn’t myself today, Coach,” I say.

  He waves his hand. “I can’t expect my star player to be a machine. It’s fine. We all have off days.”

  “Where’s the water girl?” I ask, trying to sound nonchalant.

  Coach shrugs. “Emailed me this morning. Said she has some sort of stomach virus.” We walk toward his office, my shoes crunching the grass. “I’ve got good news for you, but let’s wait until we’re alone.”

  A few minutes later, I’m sitting in Coach’s office. He looks like the cat who swallowed the canary. “I have some great news, son.” He puffs out his chest, holding onto the announcement tightly. “The biggest sports network in the country wants to do an interview this afternoon.”

  “Really?”

  Coach nods exuberantly. “Yep. You have permission to skip out on practice. I spoke with the Dean and he says we can get it set up in his office. You up for that?”

  “Of course I’m up for it.” I did an interview last year, but it was with the whole team. “Wow. Did they say what the interview is about?”

  He shrugs. “I think it’ll just be about you, our record season so far, stuff like that. You’ll be great. The camera loves you.”

  I stand up and shake his hand. “Sounds great.”

  But an interview is the furthest thing from my mind right now. I run to the locker rooms. “Where’s Rick?”

  “Shower,” someone yells.

  I rip open the curtain and Rick yelps. “Hey, man! What are you doing?”

  “Where’s Romy’s room?”

  “Sorry about this morning-“

  “Forget it. Can you tell me where Romy’s room is? Number of windows from the ground, how many windows over?”