My Favorite Sin

by Lina Langley

  Connect with me on social media. You can visit & like my Facebook page, or if you’re interested in me rambling about the writing process—and why wouldn’t you be?—you can follow me on Twitter.

  Tell your friends about my book. If you love my books, please tell people about them! Whether you tell them on Goodreads, Twitter, your blog, or in real life, word of mouth is an amazing compliment and I appreciate it more than I can say.

  Host a book reading party. You can get together with your friends and discuss your favorite one of my books. Or your least favorite. Hey, I’m not picky.

  If you like this book, you might enjoy my other books:

  Bundles:

  Boy + Friend (Friends to Lovers M/M Bundle)

  Men at Work (Workplace M/M Bundles)

  Famously Gay (Celebrity M/M Bundle)

  Also available:

  A La Carte Friend

  Chasing the Sea

  Be Mine

  Gilded Silence

  Until We’re Home

  The Powerless (Free!)

  The Powerless: Part Two (Free!)

  The Powerless: Part Three

  Switch (Free!)

  Home for Christmas

  Promises of Eternity

  Rainbow Rebel

  Under The Rug

  And The World Begins With You

  Finding Home

  On The Beat

  Literary:

  Welcome To Crash

  Anthologies:

  Six Worlds

  About the author

  Lina Langley is a first-generation immigrant. She currently lives in sunny Florida and spends her time slashing hot strangers while getting coffee.

  Her past is haunted by spies, thieves, tyrants, and murderers. A resident of the world, she’s lived on three different continents. She first saw a radiator when she was twenty-two years old, and one time she followed a cat instead of going to a house party.

  She likes to read, watch TV, and play video games when she’s not developing them. The rest of her free time is spent recreating her own characters in The Sims and hoping that people don’t look at the back end of her games.

  You can email her: lina@linalangley.com

  I don’t know how long it takes for Cyrus to get to my place, but it feels like forever. I’m pacing around my apartment, messing around with the rosary beads I always keep around my wrist. I want to pray, but all my relationships feel tenuous right now, including my relationship with God.

  Cyrus knocks on my door, which is unlocked. I open it for him and wrap my arms around him before he’s even fully in my apartment. He hugs me back. “Hey,” he says, moving away from me. The concern is obvious in his face. “You okay? What happened?”

  I shake my head. “I’m leaving,” I say quietly.

  “You’re… leaving,” he repeats. “Oh. You mean you decided to go to seminary?”

  I nod. “Yes,” I say, getting out of his way. We both walk toward the living room. He’s clearly waiting for me to keep talking. I flop down on the sofa and sigh deeply.

  He sits down on the other side. “Good?”

  I glare at him, my cheeks red. “Isn’t it just?”

  He laughs. I think he’s not sitting next to me because I look jumpy right now, which wouldn’t surprise me. I completely understand if he doesn’t want to be around me right now. I don’t think I want to be around me right now. “I thought you’d feel happier about it,” he says. “I mean, you did say this is what you’ve always wanted to do.”

  I look away from him. “I kissed him,” I say quietly.

  “You kissed who? Jesus?”

  “What? No!” I say. “I kissed Lawrence.”

  His eyes widen. “Wait a second,” he says. “You kissed Lawrence?”

  “Yes,” I say. I tell him everything, how I went to pick up Montgomery, how I got put in the drunk tank myself, how Lawrence showed me a picture of his ex-boyfriend. By the time I’m done, Cyrus’ jaw is hanging open.

  “So,” I say, taking a deep breath. “I’m—I keep thinking about everything that happens. My head keeps spinning. Like, maybe I could have done something differently.”

  “I mean, yeah,” he says. “If you were going to have to stop talking to him for good, you might as well have had sex with him.”

  I glare at him. He smiles at me.

  “I’m sort of serious,” he says. “I mean, if you can’t ever see him again, it makes sense to me for you to go out, you know, with a bang. Not a whimper.”

  I roll my eyes, but I can’t help but smile. “For the record, you suck.”

  He tuts. “I’m just trying to help you here,” he says. “And I would have been able to help you with the most sensible option if you had reached out to me on time. Now…”

  He trails off and I close my eyes. My head is throbbing.

  “What happened after you kissed him?” he asks, his voice quiet.

  I try to swallow down the knot in my throat. “I, uh, ran out of his car,” I say, my cheeks hot. “I think he wanted me to stay and talk, but there was no way that I could do it. I needed to get away from him as soon as possible.

  He sighs. “Oh, honey,” he says.

  I rub the bridge of my nose, my eyes welling up with tears. “There is nothing I can do,” I say. “I mean, there’s nothing I can do to fix this, is there?”

  He takes a second to think about this. For a second, I think that he might want to crack another joke, but then he looks into my eyes and shakes his head, very subtly, very slowly. “No, babe,” he says. “Not that I can think of.”

  “And I can’t see him again,” I say. “Because that’s just going to make things bad. Like before I leave, that’s just going to make things worse.”

  Cyrus nods. “I mean, technically, you’re not really his student after next week, right?”

  I nod. “Well, I was never his student,” I say. “He was just my counselor for a while during my first year and that never changed.”

  “But it could have?”

  I nod. “I mean, normally, it does,” I say. “I don’t know how it works for performance students, but we got a new counselor every semester.”

  “We didn’t get counselors,” Cyrus says with a snicker. “We were lucky we got facilities in the first place. So wait. You requested to stay with him after your first semester?”

  I nod. “Yeah,” I say. “He was the only counselor on staff who seemed to think my faith was importance. Everyone else was pushing me toward a private practice career.”

  “Which you could still… right, point taken,” he says when he sees me glaring at him. “Okay. So just to get this straight, you want to make sure everything is okay between you, you know, before you move?”

  I nod. “I mean, yes, I would rather do that,” I say. “But if I can’t, then I guess I have to learn how to be okay with that.”

  He narrows his eyes. “What happened? After you kissed him,” he says. “You just told me you kissed him, but you never said what happened after that.”

  “I just ran away from him,” I say. “He said he wanted to talk, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t talk to him.”

  He scooches toward me and grabs my hand. “It’s going to be okay,” he says. “Whatever happens, I promise you that it’s going to be okay.”

  I lick my lips. “How can you be sure of that?”

  “Because,” he says, smiling at me. “I’m going to be here and I’m going to give you enough alcohol and ice cream to make you sick.”

  I smile at him and shake my head. “Thanks,” I say. “I appreciate you being here.”

  “Of course,” he replies, squeezing my hand again. “I mean, babe, you know that’s what friends

  are for.”

  CONTINUE

  Cyrus is fucking around on his phone. I stand up and walk over to my bedroom and grab my laptop, which is sitting precariously on my dresser. I grab it, pop it open and sit on my bed. “Cyrus?”

  “What is it, babe?”

  �
��Come in here a second, boo,” I say. I don’t know why, but it feels weird to do this in the living room. I want to be sitting on my bed, just like I was when I first got the news. When he walks into my bedroom, I’m glaring at the screen. It’s bright and I feel like it’s going to give me a headache.

  He sits down next to me, his arm touching mine. “Oh, honey,” he says, putting his hand on my shoulder. “Are you sure about this?”

  I shrug. “No,” I say. “But are you sure about California?”

  He shakes his head. “Not at all,” he replies. “But it might work out, and I would be an idiot not to think about going there.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “And seminary is the same. Right?”

  I’m looking at him. He scoffs. “I don’t know,” he says. “I’ve no fucking clue. You’re asking me about seminary?”

  I laugh and shake my head. “But this is good, right? This is what I want to do.”

  He raises his eyebrows. “Exactly,” he says. He puts his hand on mine, which is on my computer. “But if you’re only doing this because you’re afraid of, well, anything, you shouldn’t do it. You can’t run away from your destiny.”

  I look at him. “And what is my destiny?”

  “I don’t know,” he says. “Shouldn’t you get to decide that?”

  “I should,” I say. “I have. My destiny is seminary.”

  He swallows. “Sure,” he says. “If you say so.”

  “I say so,” I reply, a little more curtly than I expected to.

  Cyrus watches me, but says nothing. I look up at him and he flashes me a smile. “It’s okay,” he says. “I’m here for you.”

  I shake my head as I look at the screen, but there’s a smile on my face now. I think my hands might be trembling on the laptop’s keyboard.

  This is what I need to do. I know it’s what I need to do. I type in my password and my computer takes a second or two to log me in. It’s enough time to make me think that it might not be a good idea, that I might be better off staying here.

  I look at Cyrus. I put my head on the back of his hand and take a deep breath, his skin soft on my face. “Hey,” he says quietly. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

  I take a deep breath and sit up straight. I look at Cyrus and then nod at him. I go on the seminary’s website, the green and blue logo prominent everywhere I go. There’s no way I can escape this now. I log into the site and click on the admissions button.

  This is it. All I have to do is put in a deposit and I’m in. I sigh as I look at what they need from me.

  I take a deep breath in and then a deep breath out. I haven’t realized this until now, but Cyrus is breathing in and out with me, to the point where it’s actually a little disturbing.

  “I’m going to do this.”

  Cyrus puts his arm around me. “I know,” he says. “You got this, baby.”

  He lets me go and smiles at me. I take another deep breath as I finish inputting my credit card security number and the website starts to celebrate, little graphic streamers appearing out of nowhere.

  Congratulations, Alejandro Del Bosque! We look forward to seeing you in September for orientation.

  There’s more after that, but I don’t read any of it. I slam my laptop shut, put it on my bed and stare at the wall.

  Cyrus turns to look at me. “Congratulations, babe,” he says. “We should celebrate.”

  I nod, but I avoid looking at him. I don’t think I’m in the mood for celebrating.

  CONTINUE

  I didn’t expect the celebration to start the very night that I’ve accepted the position at seminary, but Cyrus went out to buy beer immediately and Montgomery came home with whisky and coke. I don’t know if Cyrus texted Montgomery about it, but they’ve been plying me with alcohol and food all night long, which is making me forget that I made a fool of myself and that I want Lawrence more than I want to go to seminary.

  No, I tell myself. I want to fuck Lawrence more than I want to go seminary. I don’t want him more than that, because I can’t want him more than that. It would just make things weird between us if I got to do that.

  Montgomery isn’t talking to me, not really. I need to clear the air with him, and I really need everything to be okay with us. I’m drunk enough to sit between him and Cyrus. It makes Cyrus laugh, but Montgomery rolls his eyes.

  “Can we talk?” I ask him. Cyrus holds my hand while I talk to Montgomery, which I appreciate.

  “Sure,” he says. “You’re already talking.”

  “I should have stayed with you.”

  “Is the guilt thing a Catholic thing?” Montgomery asks. He’s addressing Cyrus. “I’m pretty sure I already forgave him.

  Cyrus nods. “Yup,” he says. “It totally is.”

  “Should have taken care of you, too,” I say, more to myself than to either of them.

  “Not your responsibility, choirboy,” he says, looking me up and down. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look… pale.”

  I nod. “Yeah,” I say. “I’m totally okay. I’m totally fine.”

  Suddenly, a brilliant idea occurs to me. I stand up, a smile on my face. “In fact,” I say. “I’m so okay that I’m going to call Lawrence and clear the air right now. I don’t want things to be awkward between us.”

  Cyrus watches me. “That is such a bad idea—”

  Montgomery scowls. “You should really wait until you sober up—”

  “No,” I say. “This is what I have to do. I want to make things okay. I need to stop running away from my problems and face this head on. I’m going to call him.”

  Cyrus and Montgomery exchange a look. “Such a bad idea,” Cyrus says. “You really shouldn’t call him right now.”

  “Fuck you, you can’t tell me what to do,” I reply, leaning down to get in his face. My eyes are watering when I look at him. “You don’t know what this is like. You could get anyone you want.”

  “Really?” Cyrus says, raising his eyebrows. “I don’t know if that’s true.”

  “Hot musician with huge following,” I say as I point at him. Then I point at Montgomery. “Hot bartender with motorcycle. Both of you, you probably find it sooo easy.”

  “Alex,” Cyrus says, obviously trying to stop the smile. “You’re really drunk. Why don’t you sleep it off?”

  “He’s right, choirboy,” Montgomery says. “Let’s get you to bed.”

  He stands up and grabs my hand to pull me toward my bedroom, but I have managed to make my body a sturdy and unmovable trunk. Montgomery can’t move me, but when Cyrus grabs me by the waist, there’s very little I can do. My body gives in as they both push me toward my bedroom. They finally manage to push me back toward my bed, though I’m not entirely sure how. “This is not cool,” I say.

  “You’ll thank me tomorrow,” Cyrus says, then flashes me my phone and grins. “Stay in there.”

  “You heard the man,” Montgomery says. “We’ll come and kick your ass otherwise.”

  I stick my tongue out at them, but then they close my bedroom door, and I know it’s pointless to try and fight them. There’s no way I can do anything but stay here, by my door, and stew.

  They might not be willing to help me, but that doesn’t mean they can stop me. I need to talk to Lawrence and I’m going to do it whether they want me to or not.

  CONTINUE

  I wait a while, mostly so I can make sure that the two of them are engaged in a lively conversation before I even step foot outside my window. I’ve never found my window difficult to pry open until now, when it feels like it keeps slipping away from me, but I finally manage to open it enough to know I can fit through it.

  The night air is cool, but it’s summer and it doesn’t get cold here at night, so I’m not worried about being exposed to the elements. I don’t have a phone, which probably means I’m going to have to walk all the way across the bridge. It’s a decent forty-five minutes away, at least, but it’ll give me time to think about what I’m going to say to him.

&nb
sp; I get up on the window ledge and jump onto the thin green strip outside my window. The apartment complex is very persnickety about the fake grass here so I’m sure I’m going to get an earful later. It doesn’t matter, though, because it provides a soft landing place for me when I fall on my ass. I snicker and get my ear close to the window to make sure they haven’t heard me.

  It doesn’t look like they have, so I get up and start walking. It’s a nice night and the walk doesn’t seem like it takes that long. It’s scenic, too, with blinking lights all around the bridge.

  I’m surprised when I get to his place, because it seems like I’ve managed to retain his address in my memory far better than I thought I had. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to find it in between all the dirt roads, but his house is very unique and it’s hard to miss.

  I smile as I walk up to his door. It suddenly occurs to me that he might have guests or not be at home, but I figure I can just wait until he comes back—or until his guests go away. I knock on the door and put my head on it, suddenly aware of just how tired I am.

  When he doesn’t answer immediately, I realize that this might not have been the brightest idea I’ve ever had, especially because there are no footsteps coming my way. Shit, I’m such an idiot. I should have listened to Cyrus, or at least attempted to call Lawrence before I came.

  I’m too tired to go back home and this place is weird and scary in the dark, so I sit down on the swinging chair in Lawrence’s porch and tell myself I only need to wait for him. I close my eyes for a minute, but then open them straightaway when I hear the door being opened.

  Lawrence looks like he was in bed, with his hair all disheveled and his clothes all wrinkles. He’s wearing a light short-sleeved shirt that shows off his arms and checkered pajama pants. “Alejandro,” he says, obviously trying not to sound too surprised. "Are you okay?”

  I nod. “I’m okay,” I say. “I needed to… fuck, sorry, I should have called, but Cyrus took away my phone and now—”