Author's Note: I recently came to the conclusion that I always write from the female perspective, so while I was originally going to write this from the female perspective, I decided to switch it up and go with the male perspective. Tell me what you think.

Jesus Christ was tempted by the Devil before He was crucified. He was offered the sustenance that could save His life, His freedom, the entirety of the Earthly kingdom if only He would drop to His knees and worship the Devil. Somehow, He never gave in.

Father Robert tells me that Jesus wasn’t perfect. He had plenty of emotions that He didn’t always know how to control. Jesus was human, too. Father Robert wants us to strive to be like Him – holy, loving, forgiving, close to God.

I’ve been tempted before. Like when my football friends were passing a bong around in my freshman year, their eyes bloodshot and their laughs ringing loudly in my ears.

“You gotta try this, man,” they all said in their disembodied states. But I quietly refused.

I don’t know how she does it, but she doesn’t even say anything and she tempts me.

Her parents, asleep on the couch. Her sister, blindly chatting with her friends on the internet. She, just standing there, her hair falling around her face, smiling at me as I stand there in her doorway. Everything is just tempting me.

Before I realize what I’m saying, the words, “You haven’t shown me your bedroom yet, babe,” come spilling from my mouth. She gives me a look. I know she knows what’s running through my head, but she doesn’t quite know what to make of it. She leads me upstairs anyway.

Of all the places to sit in her room – her swiveling desk chair, her window seat, her butterfly reading chair – she chooses to sit on the edge of her unmade bed. She doesn’t even know she’s doing it, but she is.

“It’s a nice color,” I say, jamming my hands into my pockets. She nods appreciatively. She’s just smiling at me with her whole body. Her hands are smiling; her kicking legs are smiling; her shiny hair is smiling; her huge, brown eyes are smiling.

Her name barely escapes my lips and I’m on top of her, my lips sunk into hers, and then mumbling curses into her elegant neck. I can feel the rapid rise and fall of her chest beneath me. She doesn’t even know she’s doing it, but she is.

I stop kissing her for a moment to look at her, propping myself up on my elbows. Her body is still smiling, but it’s a different kind of smile. She knows it. She’s figured it out.

“Goddamn you,” I mutter, capturing her mouth with mine again. Her kisses move from my lips to my neck. Everything she does tempts me. But she knows it now. She’s doing it on purpose now. I hate her and I love her for it.

“Damn you, baby,” I say. My hand slides down her face, her neck, along the chain of her necklace. “My God, I just want to . . .”

I stop as my fingers fumble over the crucifix, cold against her warm chest. The moonlight glares in from the window and crosses over it, allowing the silver to catch the light and shine bright enough to blind me. She stops, and her huge brown eyes are cloudy. She knows what just ran through my head.

“I know. I want to. I want you to,” she says. She runs her hands along my chest as she says it. “But we can’t.”

My heart is trembling. I curse my own moment of hesitation. Desperation creeping into my voice, I say, “Take me. Do what you want with me. Please. Just take me.” All the time, the crucifix is reflecting the moonlight into my eyes, blinding me.

“I can’t,” she repeats.

Part of me wants to be angry at her, but I know it’s not her fault that she’s beautiful. I can’t be angry at her for doing things she doesn’t mean to do. I roll off of her, feeling like an important part of me is missing, and she sits up. The crucifix falls below the folds of her shirt, a place I’m forbidden to go tonight.

“I want to take you. I just can’t. I’m sorry.”

I sigh. I know she’s right. It’s not her fault.

“Will you wait for me?”

I nod.

Lying in bed alone, I remember our goodnight kiss. Pulling her close to me, so close that all of her feminine curves melted into my masculine lines, her parents still asleep on the couch, her sister still blindly chatting with her friends on the internet. Even now, her kisses are still burning on my neck. I Want You (She’s So Heavy) by the Beatles comes to mind. I think I’ll burn her a CD with that song on it. It can be our theme song.

Jesus Christ was tempted by the Devil before He was crucified. He was offered the sustenance that could save His life, His freedom, the entirety of the Earthly kingdom, if only He would drop to His knees and worship the Devil.

Tonight, I think I can attest to the fact that Jesus had it easy.