Page 29 of The Dating Game

“You’ll see,” he says.

As we continue our drive I can’t help but notice that his part of the car looks spotless. The dashboard isn’t even dusty. That’s odd. I set my water bottle in the mercifully clean cup holder then cross my arms over my chest and try to make myself smaller so the trash can’t get me.

“That is a huge water bottle,” Will comments, glancing at the bottle I just set in the center console.

“Oh, yeah, well, I drink a lot of water.” I pick it up and take a demonstrative sip.

“Keep chugging, never give up, you’re almost there,” he reads off the side.

“It’s a motivational water bottle,” I explain.

“So I gathered.” His lips twitch with amusement. “Cute.”

“Drinking water isn’t cute,” I inform him. “It’s literal life. Without water we’d all be dead.”

“True.” He’s still laughing at me.

“How much water do you drink everyday?” I ask. “Because you know most people don’t drink nearly enough.”

He shrugs, unconcerned. “I drink enough.”

“So you drink 125 ounces per day?” I ask.

“125 ounces per day!” he exclaims. “What am I a camel?”

“Camels actually typically only drink water once a week,” I reply. “Their bodies are built to conserve liquid.”

“Why do you know so much about camels?”

“I don’t knowsomuch about camels,” I retort. “That was one fact. And anyway, don’t you read the plaques at the zoo? They’re very informative.”

“Can’t say that I do,” he says, then slides a teasing glance my way. “Then again, I can’t remember the last time I went to the zoo.”

“Well that’s depressing. The zoo is so fun.”

“If you say so.” He flashes me yet another grin.

“I do.” I settle in my seat, pleasantly surprised at the playful banter we’re exchanging. Maybe last night was a fluke in the Will Barrett continuum. “Maybe I’ll take you there sometime and show you just how fun it can be,” I add with a burst of optimism.

A shadow crosses over Will’s features and his hands tighten on the steering wheel. Did I say something wrong?

“The zoo is for kids,” he says tightly. Well, okay then. Guess we’re not doing playful banter anymore. I look out the window pretending to be extremely interested in the scenery so he can’t see my hurt.

We drive in silence for a few miles. I hate silence. It’s so oppressive. I’m simply going to have to try and start another conversation and hope he doesn’t go all grumpy on me again.

“So what did you do this morning?” I ask, then mentally facepalm. Duh. He’s the worship director at Grace Canyon. He went to church and led worship.

Obviously he was in his Dr. Jekyll mode at the time, and has since become Hyde.

“Church,” he says and for a second he looks almost sheepish, but then he shakes his head and asks, “How about you?”

“Church as well.” Where I sat next to Caroline and Sydney and had to endure Sydney’s near constant hissing in my ear as she demanded to hear more details about my date with Will.

“Where do you go?” Will asks.

“A small church downtown called Hope Rock.”

“Oh yeah, I know the worship director there—Janie Summers.”

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