I sit, dazed, at a table near the back, watching the reactions of everyone who enters. I am baffled that no one seems to notice anything out of the ordinary. I’m waiting to discuss the Bible with Bryce. I regularly study God’s word with him. Thanks to my mother, who delivered lines from the Bible to us so often I can practically repeat the entire thing from memory, he is impressed by my knowledge of the divine word. I have continued going to the Servants of Jesus prayer group, basically for him and the cookies. I’ve somehow managed to forget the Bible he gave me, which is the entire point of our meeting. A wave of fear washes over me at the thought of disappointing Bryce. It is soon replaced by exhilaration when I realize this might mean we have to sit closer together and read from his Bible. My face must still be frozen in panic because as soon as Bryce sees me, he asks, “What’s going on? You look like you’re thinking about something serious. Everything OK?”

“Oh, yea. All good. I’m just bummed that I forgot my Bible.”

“No problem. I have an extra. I always carry two in case I come across someone in need of the Word. It’s a cold world out there these days.”

I know Bryce is one hundred percent serious, so I try my best not to smile at the goodness of his stunning humanity. Ideally, I want Bryce to be my Prince Charming, but I know if he ever finds out that I am just pretending to be a Christian, he probably won’t like me anymore. Christianity is his entire life.

Ever since my outburst at the first prayer group, Bryce seems intent on making sure my soul is saved.

“I was sad to hear the hurt in your voice and all the hardship you’ve been through. I can only imagine what that’s like,” he says. “But I really feel like God can be an anchor for you. A place of hope and stability.”

“Can he?” I ask, questioning Bryce for the first time, annoyed by all this religion talk, but trying to stay connected to him. “’Cause both my parents are Christians, but that didn’t stop them from drinking and drugging.” Bryce looks floored by my statement. I suddenly feel guilty for putting him on the spot. “I don’t mean to sound harsh—”

“No, it’s a good point,” he says, cutting me off. “It’s something I haven’t been able to quite work out myself. Why all this bad stuff still happens when God is omnipotent and all-knowing. It’s a paradox.”