“Why won’t this work?” she mutters, tapping sharply at the trackpad. “The background just…won’t layer right. And now the whole thing looks blurry.”
I shift in my seat, fidgeting with my hands in my lap. Something in me itches to help, but I hesitate. Maybe she doesn’t want a stranger jumping in. Maybe I’ll just embarrass her.
Another groan escapes her, this one louder, frustration echoing in the mostly empty room. A couple of heads turn before quickly going back to their own conversations.
I lean forward slightly, curiosity winning. From here, I can see enough of her screen to know exactly what’s wrong. Image resolution. Too low. Easy fix.
My fingers tap against my knee. I can help. I should help.
Finally, I set my hands down with a sigh. “Um…sorry, I don’t mean to eavesdrop,” I say, leaning a little toward her with a tentative smile. “But I couldn’t help noticing your screen. It looks like your image resolution might be too low—that’s probably why it’s coming out blurry.”
She looks up, startled. “Wait…you know how to work this program?”
I nod, my nerves fading a little. “Yeah. I actually do graphic design for a living.” My voice softens, but I gesture toward her laptop. “Do you mind if I take a look?”
Relief flashes across her face so quickly it almost makes me laugh. “Please. Be my guest.”
Within seconds I’m beside her, adjusting image ratiosand shifting the layout. She watches, eyes widening. “How are you doing that so fast?”
I grin, clicking through layers. “I spend way too much time with Canva. And caffeine helps.”
Gray’s voice cuts in from behind me. “You’re amazing.”
I glance over my shoulder, surprised to see him there.
“She just saved me two hours of stress,” the woman says. “Greg should hire her.”
Gray smirks, crossing his arms. “I may have to put in a good word.”
I feel my cheeks flush, but I don’t look away. There’s a softness in his gaze that lingers just a second too long before he clears his throat and looks back at the stage.
“You fit in here more than you realize,” he says quietly.
I raise a brow. “Because I can fix a blurry file?”
He shakes his head, eyes locked on mine. “Because you show up with your whole heart. That matters more.”
I look down, trying to hide my smile. “Thanks for inviting me.”
“Thanks for coming.”
Just then, a voice calls from the stage.
“Hey Gray, you still doing that sketch with the youth team Sunday?” It’s a guy with messy hair, thick glasses framing kind eyes, flipping through a script.
Gray laughs, glancing back. “Yes sir!” Then he leans toward me. “That’s Micah. Youth pastor. Good guy.”
I glance toward the stage as Micah jokes with the crew on stage. He’s clearly respected but doesn’t take himself too seriously. Plus, he’s apparently good with kids. Harper would eat that dynamic alive.
I make a mental note.
Gray stands, stretching slightly. “We’re grabbing lunch after this, want to come with?”
I blink, surprised. “With all of you?”
He grins, nodding toward the group. “Yeah. It’s kind of a post-rehearsal thing, nothing glamorous. Mostly good food and a lot of inside jokes.”
I glance around at the stage where some are still packing up instruments, others are huddled around the tech booth laughing about something. They fit together like puzzle pieces, each one knowing exactly where they belong.
