#nerve tells me that donut breakfasts are in fact a church thing

[deadgirlwalking91]

thou shalt not chapter two: he broke bread with @a-dose-of-comatose

Luckily for Lute, she didn’t have to make too much small talk—most of the parishioners were happy to grab a donut, mingle for about half an hour and then leave to get on with the rest of their days.

Which was fine by her until the last person walked out the door and she realised that, once again, she was all alone with Father Adam.

“Fuck,” he sighed from somewhere behind her. Lute couldn’t see him, but she could picture him with his hands clasped together over the top of his unruly mop of hair, head tilted towards the ceiling. She hated how vivid a mental image it painted for her, but what she hated even more was how attractive he probably looked while doing it. “Susan.”

“Susan,” Lute echoed simply.