The Missionary Read Free

“I need to hit the gym,” he said. He’d already worked out that day, but it was a good enough excuse. And he’d go again, just so it wasn’t a lie.
    “Oh come on. It’s not like you’re gonna get any less buff if you skip one workout,” she teased.
    Or, at least, her tone was teasing. Her eyes were clearly appreciative though, and Stone found himself reaching behind his head to scratch his shoulder in such a way as to flex his arm. It was stupid, he knew, but he couldn’t help it.  
    “I really should just go home,” he said, telling himself as much as her.
    “You never hang out with us,” Wren said, pretending to pout. “Don’t you like milkshakes?”
    He tried not to laugh. “No, I like milkshakes just fine.”
    “Then come have a milkshake with us.”
    He glanced at the now-empty sanctuary, where Jimmy was stacking chairs and rearranging them for the prayer meeting on Wednesday. Nick was gathering his notes and chatting to his wife in low tones, then leaving with Amy holding onto his elbow. The foyer was mostly empty too, as most of the students had either gone home or out with their various groups of friends. A cluster of six cars sat idling with their headlights on. Waiting for Wren, obviously.  
    “Fine, I’ll come,” he said. “But I’ve gotta help Jimmy first.”  
    “Yay!” Wren stood up, clapping her hands. “I’ll help, that way we can go sooner.”
    With three people, the work went quickly. Stone couldn’t help watching Wren stack the chairs, couldn’t help admiring her curves. He also noticed Jimmy ogling her rather openly, and that put a damper on his emotions. Jimmy was better for Wren. He was nearer her age. He was like her, too, from her world.  
    Stone resolved to step back and let Jimmy have his shot, and even adjusted his pattern in stacking chairs so Jimmy and Wren would end up next to each other. Except, Wren never even seemed to see Jimmy. Every time she looked up from the line of chairs, her gaze locked on Stone.  
    And this didn’t escape Jimmy’s notice. He waved at Stone halfheartedly, then cast one last wistful glance at Wren, who waved cheerfully—cheerfully, but platonically. When the last chairs were stacked and the remainder rearranged in the requisite semicircle, Wren shut off the lights, leaving them in the middle of the sanctuary, bathed in darkness lightened only by moonglow from the windows.  
    Wren slipped her hand around his. “Come on. Let’s go get milkshakes.”
    Stone let her pull him out into the parking lot, and they each got into their own cars. At the diner, he retreated by sitting back in the booth and listening. Wren would draw him into conversations every once in a while, but since he was several spots away from her—intentionally—it wasn’t hard to keep his hands busy with shredding napkins and sipping his black coffee.  
    It was well past midnight when the group broke up. Stone pretended not to watch Wren discussing something with her best friend Emily and glancing at him every so often. He paid for his coffee and milkshake at the register, surreptitiously adding Wren’s to his tab, then waved to her as he pushed through the two sets of doors.  
    It had been heaven to spend so much time near her, listening to her talk and watching her laugh. It had been heaven, yet also an exquisite form of torture, and he was suddenly exhausted. He was about to start the engine of his ’83 Monte Carlo SS, which he’d been restoring himself over the last year. The tranny needed replacing, and the exhaust manifold left something to be desired, but it was a work in progress, and one of the few hobbies he enjoyed.  
    And then the passenger door opened and Wren slid in, shutting the door. “You don’t mind giving me a ride home, do you?”  
    Stone was flustered. His ride was his sanctuary, the one place he could be himself. He twisted slightly to face her. “Um. What about your car?”
    “Emily wanted to stay for a while,” Wren said with