Page 20 of The Game She Hates

“Again, I’m sorry. You seem like someone who prefers to keep a low profile. I can’t imagine what it was like dealing with all those people.”

“Don’t sweat it, unless you’re bailing on our Sunday plans. It’s all part of the job, and I figured sooner or later I’d be caught at Randy’s during the lunch rush,” I chuckle, trying to downplay the chaos. I don’t want her feeling guilty—it was my decision to be seen. “But seriously, why didn’t you just say you weren’t up for their engagement party? It was on such short notice. Anyone would’ve understood.”

She pauses. “I couldn’t. I’m not known for saying no to things.”

“Pfft, you say no to me all the time. In fact, you love saying no. It’s like declining invitations is your favorite thing to do.”

“I mean, Kate and Duke are my friends from church. I feel so guilty I lied to them. I try not to lie. I’m a Christian.”

“I guess it wasn’t your finest Christian moment. But don’t beat yourself up; technically, you didn’t lie since you and I have plans on Sunday.”

She shifts gears abruptly. “Are you a believer?”

“What does that have to do with our plans?”

“I stopped dating guys who don’t share the same values as me a long time ago,” she says curtly.

“Who said anything about a date? I told you I just need a friend, and I know you could be a good one.” I, on the other hand, have no problem bending the truth as long as I’m not harming anyone and it helps me get to know her.

“I still don’t understand your intentions with me, Zane. I know you’re trying to hit on me, and the fact that you keep denying it makes you sus.”

“Me? Suspicious? Never. If you don’t want to rope me into your lie, then let’s plan something for Sunday. Now, I need your number to coordinate.”

I hear her growl in frustration, but she relents and gives me her number before bidding me goodbye.

Now that I have her number, I can bother her anytime.

I may have to thank Kate and Duke after all.

16

Pearl Davis

I slump back in my chair as my last client and his mom exit my office. Another successful session. It always warms my heart when foster parents are proactive about therapy. It not only helps the kids process their emotions but also strengthens the bond between them and their guardians.

It’s a known fact that children in foster care who actively seek mental and emotional support, with the help of the system or their caregivers, are more likely to find a forever home.

I love my calling.

Sometimes, it’s hard to believe that this is my job. A Christian therapist once saved me when I was just thirteen years old, angry at the world for never knowing my parents.

When Beatrice first suggested therapy, I was ready to put up a fight. No one had ever asked me how I felt in all the homes I had been shuffled through. But Beatrice and Fynn were different. They never had children, yet they cared for me more than I ever imagined parents could. Without them, I might have aged out of the system and ended up on the streets, maybe with a child of my own. That’s what happened to many of my childhood friends who didn’t get the blessing I did—to be paired with a God-fearing couple who helped me untangle the mess of my young emotions with a professional therapist.

I continued seeing the same therapist regularly even in my early twenties. While I knew I had found complete healing when Jesus entered my heart, navigating early adulthood was a challenge, especially with Beatrice and Fynn no longer reachable as they had been called to serve the Lord in Cambodia. Our contact was limited to sporadic emails updating me on their missionary work. My therapist became the only other person who truly knew me and whom I could confide in—before I met Robyn. Most of our sessions in college revolved around my relationship struggles with guys.

I’ve always been the type of person who genuinely enjoys getting to know people, which has often landed me in unexpected relationships with a lot of guys. Unfortunately, those relationships never seemed to last. Either I compromised my values to date unbelievers, or I fell for guys who pretended to share my faith in Jesus only to reveal their true intentions later on—that was Clay, two years ago.

My past experiences have taught me all I need to know about guys like Zane. I believe God has someone special for me; He’s promised me a family, and even at twenty-eight and single, I still hold onto that hope. In the meantime, I just need to get better at dodging the wrong guys.

It doesn’t help that I have a tendency to fall for someone in a heartbeat, and making plans with Zane this Sunday feels like the wrong move for a girl like me.

I glance at my watch. It’s time to go home. Robyn and I have a girl’s night planned every Friday.

I tidy up my desk and organize the files, making sure the file on top is the one for my first appointment on Monday. My organizational skills are always at play. Everything has its place, and I thrive on systems and routines.

I turn off the lights and adjust the thermostat to a slightly chillier setting. It’s not the warmest March, but there’s no need to crank up the heat and risk a high utility bill.

Robyn and I are treating ourselves to our favorite dishes at Fiesta Grill. I got my usual enchiladas with two sides of rice and black beans, topped with my favorite toppings. Robyn, on the other hand, switches it up between quesadillas, tostadas, and chalupas. Today she went for the chalupa with the same sides as mine, but her toppings are a bit spicier than mine. I prefer to keep it on the milder side.

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