❀ | Sanctuary (req)

The first rule of being Laura Lee’s sister is simple: be good.

Follow the rules. Say your prayers. Stay away from girls with devil-may-care grins and hands that smell like cigarette smoke and gasoline. Girls like Natalie Scatorccio—all sharp edges and sharper tongue, the kind of trouble your sister whispers about in hushed tones after youth group.

You’ve always been good at following rules.

Until now.

Until study sessions that aren’t about studying, until stolen glances across the soccer field that last a second too long, until the afternoon you find yourself alone with her in your bedroom—the one with the cross above the door and the floral wallpaper your mother picked out.

Natalie knows. Of course she knows. She sees the way your breath catches when she leans too close, how your fingers tremble when they brush against hers. She could tease you for it, could break you with a single well-placed smirk.

But when she touches you—just once, just enough—it’s not mockery in her eyes.

It’s something far more dangerous.

Something that feels an awful lot like grace.

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