You sit across from her now, in the campus dining hall, watch her pray, not following suit; one word to Him and He will probably damn you to Hell right here and now. Not that you don't belong there, you certainly do, but you don't need to betray her right to her face. You don't need to be absent to her face.

You watch her, hide her wide blue eyes behind soft skin and long lashes. Those eyes that always look at you with nothing but joy and trust. Only because she doesn't know that just hours ago you had a pair of smiling dark green eyes watching your face as he slowly wrapped his firm hand around you, your own eyes rolling back and squeezing shut at the overwhelming pleasure.

Finally, finally, finally. A hard muscled body against you, a similar hardness pressing into your hip. Waiting for this since you were fifteen. Waiting for this since you saw him walk back from the shower at the start of the semester--nothing but boxers and little droplets on his stomach.

You watch her, twitch her tiny pink lips as she silently recites the prayer that she's said before each meal for nineteen years. You've recited it with her for the past year, and maybe it's the only thing you have in common--religion. And maybe that's gone, too.

Using the Lord's birthday as an excuse, wish him a merry one before winter break. You pause, and he smiles like he's always known, skims his fingers up your forearm, you slowly shut the door. And there are perfectly imperfect lips against yours, slightly chapped and chewed on and a strong dark taste that makes you think of sweating on the farm last summer. His soft stubble scrapes against yours. It's more than you imagined. Better.

You watch her. Your chest swells and throbs with pain, pain in the number of sins you committed in less than an hour, pain in the way you betrayed her, pain in the way she doesn't even know she's lost innocence. Your throat closes and your head gets dizzy, and you might puke or die of suffocation. But, all the same, remembering the touches and the voices and there's a ripple of warmth in the pit of your stomach and you want to go back to his room.

She whispers "Amen," and you want to cry.