She caught one of his clandestine glances and held his gaze.
“Do you have something you want to say?” Her face dared him to reveal his true thoughts.
Bryan pursed his lips. “No. Can’t think of anything.”
She stopped and stared him down. “Don’t be a coward and just say what you’re thinking.”
Bryan kept walking. Cassie lunged after him. The neighborhood around them now inspired little confidence, as mostly closed stores or abandoned buildings surrounded them. No people were out, which was either a good thing or bad thing depending on your perspective. Bryan kept his pace brisk.
Cassie seemed to ignore the uncertainty of their environment. “I see the way you look at me. You think I’m just another hypocrite Christian who says one thing, then goes off and does completely the opposite.”
He stopped and faced her. “What do you want from me, Cassie? What you decide to do is none of my business. I’m not your conscience. I’m not your judge. I’m just your guitarist.” Bryan started walking again.
She followed him, remaining on his periphery. “If it’s none of your business, then why are you walking me home? I have a bassist. He’s not walking me home. I have a keyboardist; he’s not walking me home, either. But you are. Why is that?”
“I don’t know, Cassie. Why do you think I am?” Bryan asked, pressing forward, even as he pondered the answer to his own question.
“I think you’re here to gawk at the ‘good’, Christian girl. I think you’re just waiting to catch me in a moment of hypocrisy so you can smile smugly and tell all of your friends how big a fraud us Christians are.”
Bryan exhaled, exasperated. “Cassie, I grew up in the church. I have plenty of examples of hypocrisy. The worship leader in my church growing up ran off with one of his choir members. Both of them were married. Every week, somewhere, some Pastor or prominent Christian gets busted dipping his hand into the offering plate or screwing a church member. Your indiscretions are a drop in the ocean.”
Bryan turned, prepared to march on. But Cassie was not finished with her unprompted confession. “Do you want to know what the worse part about me is?” Bryan sighed and stood in place. “It’s not the fact I keep a bottle of Jack Daniels in my room or what I did to that man back in the club.
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