Page 79 of The Dating Game

Again he shakes his head, this time blinking rapidly. “I’m fine. I just.” He drops my chin and runs his hand through his hair. “Well. I guess I’m surprised that you’re so worried about me, that’s all.”

“Surprised?” I echo. “Of course I’m worried about you! Why does that surprise you?”

“I dunno…” Again, he rakes a hand through his hair. His other hand drops from its position holding the tissue, but I force myself not to mother hen him by insisting he put it back. I want to hear what he has to say. Why would Will think I wouldn’t worry about him?

Unless he knows about the bet? My blood runs cold at the thought.

But no. Surely not. He wouldn’t have agreed to date me if he did.

Besides, thereisno bet anymore.

“Will,” I press with increased urgency. “Why does it surprise you that I’m so worried about you?”

“I don’t know. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just we haven’t been dating all that long.”

I can tell this isn’t the real answer because he doesn’t look at me when he says it. I want to insist he tell the truth, but my mother hen instincts can only be forced down for so long. I have to tend to that wound. I grab the tissues from his hand and go back around to look.

The bleeding actually seems to have stopped. Or at least slowed. Gosh, what I wouldn’t give for a giant band-aid and a tube of Neosporin.

“The bleeding is slowing down,” I say, my voice a little dull. I still feel this sense of cold dread that I can’t shake. And it’s not only becausewe’re stuck in a room after some crazy earthquake. No, it was the look on Will’s face as he said he was surprised that I was so worried about him.

I should have told him about the bet by now.

There’s no excuse for not having done so.

And now he might already know. But if he knows, why hasn’t he said anything?

“Brooke,” Will says my name softly, pulling me out of the trainwreck of my thoughts. A second later he turns to face me, covering my hands with his. I freeze, focusing on the connection point and letting it chase away some of my fears. “I’m sorry I said that,” he says. “Of course you’d be worried about me. You’re one of the kindest people I know. It’s in your nature to care for others.”

I want to tell him that what I feel for him isn’t anything remotely close to what I feel for anyone else—it’s so much more. But how can I say something like that to him with my past offenses hanging between us?

Gosh. That stupid, stupid bet!

“I’m also sorry,” he goes on earnestly, “that I pushed you in here and kissed you. We agreed not to kiss anymore on this trip, and I just totally lost my head.” He squeezes my hands. “Not only are we stuck in here now as a result, but I also feel like I let you down. I always want our relationship to be God-honoring and kissing you when we’re supposed to be chaperoning a mission trip doesn’t exactly fit that bill.”

“Not like I was complaining,” I point out with a sheepish shrug. Definitely not complaining. Though away from the heat of the moment I know he’s right: we should never have been in here kissing in the first place. “But I appreciate you saying that, Will.” I drag in a breath then admit, “I’ve never been in a relationship where the guy took so much ownership of our physical relationship.”Even though this is the second time this week he’s done so, the value of that didn’t really hit me until this moment. “It’s sort of always been my responsibility to say no or to stop things from going too far. And even that wasn’t always very well received.”

I look away, feeling slightly embarrassed. Van wasn’t the only guy who tried to push things too far with me over the years. Nor was he the only one to accuse me of being a tease. “And it’s not that I don’t get that it’s hard for guys or whatever,” I rush on, not wanting him to think I see myself as some sort of victim or that I’m naive or maybe even a tease, “I do get that. But even so…I don’t know. Sometimes it’s hard for women too, you know?”

There’s a long beat of silence during which I plead with God to send another earthquake to end my mortification, but then Will drops my hands and lifts one of his to cup my cheek.

“Brooke, staying true to God’s command to stay pure until marriage is a couple’s shared responsibility. Don’t ever second guess that. I would never expect for you alone to be responsible for making us stop.” His thumb traces across my cheek. “Don’t get me wrong,” he adds ruefully, “you are extremely tempting, but I am fully committed to honoring you and in turn honoring God with our relationship.”

His words rob me of speech. The moment feels so intimate and secure, like the two of us are more than just a couple—we're a partnership, a team.

Unexpected tears line my eyes. He is so amazing…what if he breaks up with me when I tell him about the bet?

“Brooke, honey, did I say something wrong?”

I shake my head vigorously. “No,” I eke out. “You said everything right. Thank you.” I reach over and smooth my hands over his broad shoulders. “Seriously, thank you,” I repeat. Behind Will a bookknocked loose from the quake crashes to the floor, startling me. I practically catapult into his arms from the surprise.

“Sorry!” I squeak when I realize it was only a book. I go to step back but he wraps his arms around me, holding me tightly in place.

“Can I just hold you?” he asks.

“Yes,” I murmur into his chest. So he does. We stand there in the wreckage, arms wrapped around each other, soaking in the comfort of another person’s presence. Will starts to hum a familiar worship song and I join in. We move from song to song, lifting our voices to Jesus like Paul and Silas in the prison cell. With each note we sing my anxiety over our situation lessens. The songs are like a prayer, a declaration of faith and hope. God is with us in this storm.

We’re in the middle of our fourth song when the sound of voices from by the window makes us both pause.

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