And as the call soon ended—with him praying aloud for her, and her promising to read the first few chapters of Matthew again—he felt a sense of peace.
He might not have the money or the connections that her new friends did, but he had something better. He had history with her, something he could always point back to, always remind her of. And more importantly, he had Jesus. And so did she.
Jordan was so good to remind her that God held her future in His hands. It was tricky when the world blared the need for immediate solutions, quick fixes, what was easy and accessible and cheap, rather than remember it was the things that were built to last that cost more and took time but were ultimately valued more highly.
Jordan had been right to remind her about why she had started Dream Match. It was important to remember the reasons for starting it, especially when others seemed to suggest she was wrong for even daring to want to walk a different way.
It was funny how in this world people were encouraged to be different, to own their own truth, to follow their heart and explore and exploit their identity so that what felt good trumped all else. But as soon as someone pointed to ancient truths or mentioned faith or pointed to a Bible, well whoa Nelly, thosepeople got excluded and cancelled faster than ex-Olympian James Magnussen could swim a lap of the pool.
And while she didn’t want to offend Gwen or Eric, neither did she want to deny who she was or what Dream Match was about. Jordan was right. The app had been birthed in a prayer, a vow to God that she’d do whatever He wanted for His kingdom. That very night she’d dreamed a bizarre dream, but it had changed her whole life.
She’d had a new focus for studying Society and Culture. Had a focus for her final year 12 major design project for Design and Technology, a prototype for Dream Match that had seen her score in the top percentile of the entire state for her higher school certificate. That prototype had accompanied her to university, where she’d applied what she’d learned and seen similar questions raised about its excluding of others, when really, she’d argued, apps like Tinder excluded people like her.
Further study in psychology and business had seen her graduate with an MBA, ready to take on the world. Which was where she was now. Taking on the world. And not wanting to let the world take on too much of her.
“Lord,” she prayed, “help me do what You want. Not just what I think. And not what others think, either.”
And that meant Gwen. Eric. And maybe even Jordan.
She spent the weekend resting and recovering, and yes, enjoying Jordan’s company when he dropped by with flowers, hot chocolate, and soup on Saturday. They watched movies, ignored emails, and talked, and she felt closer to him than she had in ages. There was something just so comfortable about being with someone who knew her so well, who she didn’t have to try to impress, so she could have chocolate smudges on herface and know that didn’t change how he felt about her. His encouragement had even seen her get some Bible reading done on Sunday morning, when she’d been unable to get to church or return home for a special Mother’s Day lunch, not wanting to spread her germs. She had spent time with her family on a long overdue video call, which helped her feel the love, and promised she’d call back home when she could. Mum had appreciated the online gift voucher EJ had emailed.
By the time Tuesday came, she was feeling much better, enough that—now that she’d tackled her missed calls and emails—she felt strong enough to revisit the gym. And while she wasn’t quite up to doing another spin class, she figured she needed to actually visit the gym to make her membership worthwhile.
She walked inside, the gym chosen because it had been recommended by Gwen as a place just as helpful for building business connections as it was for building fitness and muscles. Not that she ever wanted to look like a bodybuilder. But improving her core strength was important. The last time she’d visited home, she’d noticed that Mum had the beginnings of what looked like a dowager’s hump, her shoulder slump the result of genetics and a lifetime of stooping. Nowaywas EJ going to see that happen to herself, not if she could do something about it. So she pushed her shoulders back and made use of the gym’s exercise machines.
Back in her university days, she used to be a bit of a gym junkie, enjoying the release of stress via machines and classes that forced her to work hard. The endorphins released through exercise helped her mental health, so it seemed a good thing to do again. Especially now when so many pressures remained.
Praying helped, as did reading the Bible, and spending time with Jordan helped recalibrate her soul too. But her competitiveness enjoyed the feeling of pushing herself, beating the clock, adding extra weights, working harder. She spied acouple of free rowing machines, so she claimed the nearest one, put in her earphones, found music, then soon found the rhythm. In, out. Shoulders back, pushing faster, harder, until the fans began to whirr.
Ten minutes and several songs slid by, and she paused for a sip of water. She was glad the sudden onslaught of exercise hadn’t made her dizzy, as had happened before. She placed her water bottle back, skipped the next song, and resumed her movement. In. Out.
A tap came on her shoulder and she jumped. Then glanced up. Blinked again. “Eric?”
He smiled, and for once it neither held smirk nor crocodile vibes. “I didn’t think you were a gym junkie.”
“I’m not.”
“And yet here you are.”
“And here you are.”
His gaze flicked down her gym ensemble, and she was very glad she wore long leggings with a teal T-shirt, unlike some of the women here who seemed to think a crop top that looked more like a sports bra was suitable for working out in public.
“I would’ve thought someone like you would have his own gym.”
“I do—”
Huh. No surprises there.
“—but I don’t have all the equipment I like, which is why I sometimes come here.”
That probably accounted for the carved muscles in his arms that business shirts hid but the T-shirt he wore now did little to conceal.
She nodded and returned her attention to the apparatus, getting back into the movements again. But this time feeling a little self-conscious, knowing he was watching her.
She glanced across, raised her eyebrows. “Yes?”
He had the grace to look a little shamefaced. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable, but can I offer some advice?”
