My Favorite Sin

by Lina Langley

  My Favorite Sin

  LINA LANGLEY

  © 2017

  Lina Langley

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means whatsoever without express written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This book is intended for adults only. It contains explicit sexual scenes and is not suitable for children.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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  BLURB

  Alejandro Del Bosque has always known he wanted to be a priest, but when he gets his letter of acceptance to seminary school, he is anything but excited. Suddenly every doubt he’s ever had about his path in life comes to the surface and he’s no longer sure of anything at all.

  He could turn to Cyrus, his childhood best friend, to help him figure out. Cyrus Brand is self-assured and ambitious and Alejandro is almost sure Cyrus can help him figure out what he wants for the rest of his life—since Cyrus knows what he wants to do for the rest of his.

  He could turn to his mentor, Lawrence Faulkner. Almost twice his age, Lawrence wanted to be a priest before he settled down with his wife and became a university counselor. Now widowed, Alejandro is almost sure Lawrence is the perfect person to guide him through this difficult process—if he can avoid developing feelings for him.

  Or he could turn to his roommate, Montgomery Banks. The man might have no idea what he’s doing with his life, but at least he knows how to have fun and that might be exactly what has been missing from Alejandro’s life.

  He needs to make a decision. He needs to choose his favorite sin.

  Dear reader: In this story, you’ll be the one to make decisions which directly affect the outcome of Alejandro’s story. This is a romance and does not end in a cliffhanger. You must use the continue link to keep going, otherwise, the story won’t make any sense! Please don’t just scroll down.

  Warning: This story contains depictions of alcohol intake, religion and some power play. It also contains adult language & erotic scenes. It is intended for adults.

  Chapter One

  I don't know what I'm supposed to do.

  I'm sitting in my bedroom, looking at the acceptance letter from the seminary and I'm certain I should be excited.

  I'm not.

  I feel like I'm going to throw up. My entire life has been leading up to this moment and I have worked so hard for this. I'm a good student, a good member of the community. I'm doing everything the way I'm supposed to. I should be glad. I'm near the end of the road, close to being an ordained priest.

  I only need to go through seminary and it’s so close, I’m so close. This one is my top choice. Extremely prestigious, I'm certain it would take me exactly where I want to be. Or at least where I thought I wanted to be until I saw the 'congratulations!' at the top of the letter.

  I’ve spent so many years of my life gearing up to this moment, but I’m certain it’s not supposed to look like this. I think, if there are tears, they’re meant to be of joy, relief. I’m on the brink of crying because I’m afraid.

  They need a response in the next month or so. I tell myself I’ll do it tomorrow. I tuck the acceptance letter under my pillow. I take a few deep breaths, telling myself I’m simply too overwhelmed to be able to handle this right now. It doesn’t seem real yet and I don’t know when it’s going to sink in.

  I try to calm myself down by breathing in and out. It helps a little, but the moment I see the letter peeking out from behind my pillow, the harder it feels to rein the anxiety in. I need to get out of my bedroom, maybe go to the gym.

  I need to do some cardio. I always feel far more clearheaded after half an hour on the treadmill.

  I leave my bedroom, making a beeline for the door. I don’t realize how ridiculous I must look until I hear Montgomery laugh under his breath. My hands are fists at my sides. The last thing I want to do is get in a physical altercation with the person I live with. We’ve gotten close to it before, this wouldn’t be the first time.

  He has always deserved it.

  “Where could you be going in such a rush, choirboy?” he asks, his voice raspy. He’s standing in the kitchen, leaning back against the counters, his blue eyes shining. “Off to blow another priest?”

  “Fuck you,” I say, snarling at him. “You don’t know anything about me.”

  “I know everything about you,” he replies, looking me up and down. “Let me summarize my feelings for you in a manner even you can understand. Thanks, but no thanks.”

  I sigh. I don’t think I have the energy to deal with him. I rub the bridge of my nose and wave him away. “Whatever,” I say. “Go back to looking self-satisfied by yourself. It suits you.”

  He tuts. “You’re in a bad mood.”

  I shake my head. I don’t want to get into it right now. Montgomery has this ability to suck all the energy out of me, no matter how tired I already was. “Around you, always,” I reply. “I have to go.”

  I walk out of the apartment and slam the door behind me. It’s only when I’m standing in the hallway I realize I have left my workout gear in my bedroom. Fuck. I don’t want to be prideful, but I don’t know if I can deal with Montgomery laughing at me right now.

  Maybe I’ll just go for a walk instead. Maybe I’ll call Cyrus.

  Okay, he won’t understand, but he’ll make me laugh. Maybe that’s all I need. Or maybe I can see if Lawrence wants to meet up. He has always been so helpful, I’m sure he would help me with this too, if I asked. I don’t know if I want to tell him I’m having doubts, considering just how much he helped me with the application process.

  Fuck. I take a deep breath as I feel the cold wind on my cheeks. The air smells like the ocean and I can hear birds overhead. The beach is likely to be empty when the weather is like this, so I start to head that way.

  I need some space. I need time. I need… fuck, I don’t even know what I need. The beach is only a few minutes away. I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket and sigh. I take it out and see Cyrus’ face on the screen, smiling at me from this very same beach. We took that picture together three, maybe four years ago now, but Cyrus has hardly changed. If anything, he’s gotten goofier. I’ve often wondered how that’s possible.

  I smile a little as I pick up. “Hey. I was just thinking about calling you.”

  “And yet you didn’t, which only goes to prove I’m the better friend.”

  “It’s not a competition,” I say, shaking my head. I can hear the wind roaring next to me, the waves picking up.

  “It’s all a competition,” he replies. “Where are you? It sounds loud.”

  “The Dread Point,” I reply.

  “God, that beach is so depressing,” he says. “Why do you even go there?”

  “Because it’s a five-minute walk away from my house and not packed with tourists all the time?”

  “Yes, because it’s the worst,” he says. “Even tourists know they should avoid it.

  I laugh. “Fair enough,” I say. “So are you just calling to sa
y how much you love me or…?”

  “A lot,” he replies. “But no. I’m calling because I have news.”

  “Oh, news,” I say. “That sounds ominous.”

  He sighs. “It’s just… a change. I need to talk to you. Do you think we can meet up for food in a little while?”

  “Sure,” I say. “That sounds good.”

  I’m about to tell him I have news too, but he hangs up before I can say anything. Probably best, considering I don’t want to spoil his news with my newly found quarter life crisis.

  I find one of the benches and sit down. I’m watching the waves roll in, the sky gray. I should get out of here before it gets too windy to walk home safely.

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. I don’t want to go back to Montgomery. I could probably avoid him, but I don’t know if I can avoid that letter. I close my eyes when I feel rain on my skin. Shit, I should really get home. My phone buzzes in my pocket. I take it out to see a sudden severe weather alert and sigh.

  I send Lawrence a text telling him that we need to meet soon, then stuff my phone back in my pocket and start running home.

  When I get to my apartment, I’m soaked through. My clothes are sticking to my skin and it feels like even my bones are cold. I tell myself that going out was a bad idea, then sigh when the key sticks in the lock.

  The door opens by itself. Montgomery to the fucking rescue.

  He’s smirking at me, looking smug… and dry. The bastard.

  “You look hot,” he says, wrinkling his nose.

  I stick my middle finger out at him as I push past him. He laughs, throwing his head back. If he wasn’t Montgomery, maybe I wouldn’t find his laughter so annoying. But he is, which means I hate his musical, baritone laugh, the way he throws his head back just enough so that his blond curls touch his shoulders.

  “Do you want a towel?”

  “Yes,” I say as I walk into my room.

  “I was going to get you one!”

  “As if,” I mumble to myself as I close the door behind me. My room might be dry, but it’s cold here. It’s also tidy, which means that the only bit of mess—the letter under my pillow—instantly grabs my attention.

  I swallow, my throat dry. Maybe I need to confront this. Or maybe I can go into the living room and shout at Montgomery for being a dick. I’m sure that would make me feel better.

  Maybe I’ll call Cyrus.

  Or maybe I should tell Lawrence I need to talk to him.

  On the other hand, Montgomery is being a huge asshole…

  Chapter two

  I decide to call Cyrus. He’s always been there for me. I know the only reason he didn’t ask me if I’ve heard from the seminary is because he doesn’t want to put pressure on me, but he’s been as anxious as I have.

  I take a deep breath as the phone rings. He sounds like he’s laughing when he picks up. “Couldn’t stay away from me, huh?”

  “I never can,” I reply, laughing with him.

  “Are you still at the beach?”

  “No,” I say. “Have you seen the weather?”

  I hear him shuffling. He’s probably in his garage, which is soundproof—and even if it wasn’t, Cyrus is the definition of aloof—working on a new song and not noticing the sky coming down on us like it was the end of time. I hear the rain on the phone. “Shit, man,” he says. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t die from the storm.”

  “Thanks,” I say. “I’m glad I didn’t die too.”

  “You sound super glad. Give me a second,” he replies. I can hear him moving away from the window. “What’s going on, Alex?”

  I lick my lips. I just need to tell him. Everything will be fine after I get it off my chest. “I, uh, got a letter.”

  He waits. He’s always so good at just waiting. It gets on my nerves.

  “So they accepted me,” I say.

  “Congratu—”

  “Honestly, Cyrus, I’m freaking out,” I reply. “I can’t move. I can’t be a priest! I’m gay!”

  There is a brief silence over the phone and then he giggles. It soon becomes full on laughter, which makes my cheeks red. I don’t want to laugh with him, but I can’t seem to help myself. I bite my lower lip, because I don’t want to be a part of this.

  “This isn’t funny,” I protest.

  “Nah, it’s funny,” he replies after settling down. “Is this when I say I told you so or is it too soon?”

  I exhale and sit down on my bed. “I mean, it is too soon, but you did tell me and I deserve everything that comes my way,” I reply. I grab the letter and read the congratulatory words over and over again. “I feel like such an ungrateful, lazy shit. I wanted this so much and now it’s in front of me. All I can think about is how much I would hate being a priest.”

  I can hear him pacing. “You’d be helping people,” he says. He’s echoing my words back to me, ones I’ve said to him a million times. “Materially, too. You’d be sacrificing your life for the well-being of others.”

  “I’d have to stop having sex,” I say.

  “You already don’t have sex,” he replies with a snicker.

  I shake my head and lie down. “Right,” I say. “But I have the possibility of having sex. Doesn’t that matter? Isn’t that why God made reproductive organs?”

  “You’re asking me,” Cyrus says, a hint of annoyance creeping into his voice.

  I swallow again. “I don’t know,” I say. “I just thought I was called to this. Now that I see it in black and white, I feel like the only thing I’ve been called to is getting into a fist-fight with Montgomery.”

  “My OTP,” Cyrus says dreamily.

  I chuckle. “I’m serious,” I reply. “I want to kick his teeth in whenever I see him.”

  “True love,” he says.

  “Cyrus—”

  “I’m just trying to take your mind off it, Al,” he says. “But I wouldn’t worry about it too much. You just have cold feet. This is a big commitment, so just think about it. If you hate it still in a few weeks, then don’t go.”

  I blink. “Wait,” I say. “I can just… not go?”

  “You’re an adult,” he replies. “Unfortunately.”

  I laugh and lie back on my bed. I was right, this has made me feel a lot better. Talking to Cyrus always makes me feel like everything is going to be okay. “Thanks, boo,” I say. “So are you going to tell me your exciting news or what?”

  CONTINUE

  Chapter two

  I take my phone out of my pocket and look at the last text message I sent Lawrence. He doesn’t like texts, he prefers emails, but he also prefers phone calls and I bet he still has a tome of the yellow pages hidden somewhere in his office. I think I might have seen it, but I’m not sure. The entire room is so filled with books, it makes it hard to discern what’s a scholarly book and what’s a sky-high pile of legal pads.

  He hasn’t replied yet. I take off my shirt and throw it on the carpet, suddenly remembering how uncomfortable I am. Then I press down on his number.

  He answers after only a couple of rings. “Hello?”

  “Hey,” I say, my voice thin. Fuck, I really don’t want to sound like I’m going to cry. “It’s, uh, me.”

  “Alejandro,” he says. I love the way he says my name. Other than my parents and my siblings, I don’t think there’s anyone in the world who doesn’t call me Alex. I prefer it that way, really, since people seem to enjoy butchering it. Not Lawrence. He pronounces every syllable perfectly, as if my name was a regular part of his vocabulary. “What a pleasant surprise.”

  I smile and shake my head. My skin is still exposed and wet, but the anxiety of talking to him along with all the pacing I’m doing is helping offset the shivering. “So you didn’t check your texts?”

  “My phone is a tool, not a toddler,” he says, a playful edge to his voice. “Fortunately, it won’t die without my attention.”

  I laugh. “Of course,” I say. “Do you have a minute?”

  “Right now?”

  He
sounds confused. We almost always meet in person, since he prefers that, but I don’t know if I can wait until he has an appointment slot available.

  I swallow. “I mean, if that’s okay,” I say. “I can make an appointment but—”

  “No,” he says. “No. Just bear with me for a moment.”

  “Sure,” I say. While I wait for him, I take my pajama pants out of my dresser and starts to undo the zipper of my jeans. This denim is going to chafe if I keep it on for too long, especially with all the pacing I’m doing on the phone. I’m halfway through taking my jeans off when I hear Lawrence coming back to the phone. “Okay,” he says. “I’ve cancelled my next appointment. I would tell you to come down here, but with the weather, it’s probably best if you stay home.”

  “Yes,” I say. The weather, sure. Also, I don’t want to look at his face when I tell him this. He has been instrumental in making this happen and I know he’s going to think I’m being ungrateful. “I wanted to tell you I got a letter from St. Joseph’s.”

  “Good news, I expect,” Lawrence said.

  “Yes,” I reply. “They accepted me into next year’s program.”

  I don’t say anything else. At this point, I’m not sure what else I can even say.

  “Then we must celebrate,” Lawrence replies after a little while. “That is, if you’re in a celebratory mood?”

  I groan. My pants are halfway down my legs and trying to shuffle out of them isn’t working, because they’re wet, but I also don’t want to leave the phone during such an important conversation, not even for a second. “I, uh…”

  “It’s okay,” he says. “Take your time.”

  I don’t, but I take the opportunity to get properly undressed. It takes me a little while to roll the wet jeans off my legs. It even stings a little, but it takes my mind off the awkward phone call. I put my pajama pants on and take a deep breath as I grab my phone again. “Thank you for the congratulations,” I say, trying to ignore how dry my mouth is. “I’m, I don’t know, pleased with my efforts, I guess. But I’m also worried.”