Page 58 of The Dating Game

“Yeah,” she says thoughtfully, “maybe so.” She pauses then asks, “How do you know all that stuff anyway?”

“What stuff?” I ask.

“You know, that stuff about Song of Solomon being a poem and Christ’s love for his church. That stuff.”

“Oh.” I consider the question, then reply, “I guess I just like to read the Bible.”

“You do?” Carmen is skeptical. “You don’t find it a little bit…boring?”

“Boring?” I echo, struck by the word choice. It’s the same word Grant used to describe me. The word that seems to be haunting me, like a persistent whisper determined to poke holes in my self-confidence. “I guess I could see why some people might think so, but I find the juxtaposition of the familiarity of it all and the fresh new ways God speaks to me each time exciting.” My words fade out as longing tugs at my heart. It’s been a while since I’ve sat down to soak in His word, I realize. My once daily habit has been dwindling of late. Discomfort squeezes my chest at the thought of why I’ve allowed that to happen.

“I never really thought the Bible could be exciting,” Carmen muses, and I decide to table my self-reflections for later, when I’m alone.

“Well, maybe you should give it another try. Find me on the YouVersion app,” I add with a burst of inspiration, “we can be friends.”

“Oh yeah! Okay!” Carmen enthuses, already pulling out her phone. Technically she’s not supposed to have it until free time later this evening, but I decide to let it slide. I’ll be more diligent about confiscating phones for the day tomorrow.

“Is that a phone I see?” Will’s baritone voice breaks into our little bubble and we both whip around, Carmen looking panicked.

“Oh, Will. Whoops.” Carmen gives an uneasy laugh. “A phone? Me? I don’t know…I mean, I was just texting my mom.”

“Go,” Will says, offering her mercy. “But don’t let me see that out again before 7pm or I’ll have to take it for the week.”

“Right. Of course. Won’t happen again,” Carmen agrees hastily. “Okay, bye.” Without another word she hightails it toward the church.

“Wow,” I say, self-consciously tightening the band around my ponytail and fiddling with the hem of my shirt. How much of my conversation with Carmen did he overhear? What if he’s about to reprimand me for giving crap advice? I mean, sure I prayed beforehand, but mostly I felt like I was just winging it. “Who knew Will Barrett had such a Mr. Feeney side to him,” I tease.

“Mr. Feeney?” Will questions. “The principal fromBoy Meets World?”

I nod. “Are you not happy about the comparison?” I pretend to study him. “If it helps, it was only in reference to the way you came out of no where and laid down the law just now. It had nothing to do with your hair or wardrobe. Neither one resembles Mr. Feeney in the slightest.”

Will throws his head back with his answering laugh. “How gracious of you to say so,” he says.

“Well, we are on a mission trip.” I shrug. “Grace is sort of a requirement.”

“True.” He looks down at me, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Grace and, it would seem, a healthy dose of compassion and wisdom.”

“You heard our conversation.” I slide my hands across the fabric of my shorts, uncomfortable under his perceptive scrutiny.

“I did.” He nods. “Some of it anyway.” His eyes drift to my left ear. “Everything from your butt earlobe on.”

I gasp, covering the offending ear with my hand. “Don’t look at it, don’t you dare look at it.”

Will chuckles, encircling my wrist with his thumb and forefinger in a way that makes me feel delicate and cherished. I’m so wrapped up in the feel of his thumb pressed against the pulsing area of my inner wrist, that he meets zero resistance, managing to reveal my squished earlobe within a few milliseconds.

I hold my breath as he takes it in in all its glory.

“It’s been like that since birth,” I rush out to fill the ensuing silence. “It’s weird, I know.”

“I like it,” he declares. “It’s cute.”

“Nah,” I dismiss this despite the flurry in my stomach, “you’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

His eyes flash to mine. “I most definitely am not just saying it,” he informs me in a low, serious voice. His hand drops my wrist; his fingers moving instead to my ear, lightly tracing the curve of it until his thumb rests against the squashed lobe. Sparks ricochet through my body at his touch, and my heart pounds so wildly in my chest I’m certain it’s trying to escape so that it too can be held in the palm of his hand.

Time slows as we stand there, frozen in this moment of intimacy, but then Will clears his throat and steps back. My skin burns where his touch just was.

“So,” he clears his throat a second time, “when you’re not dancing or singing karaoke, you’re reading your Bible, huh?”

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