But before I can overthink anything, a group of girls nearby giggles loudly, pulling my attention. They’re huddled around the dessert table, one sipping apple cider, another scrolling through her phone with sparkly pink nails.
One of them leans in, voice just loud enough to carry. “I’m telling you, Gray only dates girls who can quote Scripture and sing in harmony.”
They all laugh, glancing over at where Gray is talking with a group of guys, that easy smile on his face, his hands tucked into his back pockets like he’s never been unsure of anything.
My stomach twists.
Because that? That is so not me.
I don’t know Scripture by heart. I get lost flipping through the Old Testament. And the only harmony I’ve ever mastered is humming off-key in the car. I’ve never been in a Bible study, never sung into a mic, never belonged in that kind of world.
The laughter from the girls floats on the breeze, but I hear it like it’s directed at me. Like they know I don’t fit here. Not with them. Not with him.
I turn to Olivia, forcing a lightness I don’t feel. “You wanna go grab something to eat?”
She nods, standing up and brushing the dust off her jeans. I follow her, head held high, pretending I didn’t hear what I just heard.
But as I walk away, I can’t help but wonder.
Is that true?
Would he only date someone who fits that perfect image?
The kind of girl who grew up in church—Sunday school ribbons, vacation Bible school crafts, youth group lock-ins. The kind of girl who can quote Scripture without even blinking, who sings harmonies effortlessly during worship, who never once thought about sneaking into a party or questioning if God was really there.
The kind of girl who doesn’t have to wrestle with her past, who doesn’t carry mistakes like shadows that creep in at night. The kind of girl who looks put-together and polished, faith on display like a pressed dress and a polished smile.
I picture her—whoever she is—and I shrink in comparison. Because I’m not that girl. I never have been.
I want to believe the answer is no. That Gray wouldn’tbox love into that mold, wouldn’t only want someone who checks all the “perfect Christian” boxes.
But that tiny seed of doubt is already planted.
And it’s starting to grow, winding its way around every part of me that wonders if I’ll ever be enough.
I take the cup of apple cider Olivia hands me and follow her through the maze of picnic tables and lawn chairs, the hum of laughter and conversation swirling around us. She stops at the dessert table, already eyeing a plate of brownies.
“You good?” she asks, one eyebrow raised as she shoves a napkin into her purse.
“Yeah, I just…” I glance around, searching for an exit. “I think I need some space. You okay here?”
Olivia waves me off, already reaching for a cookie. “I’ll survive. There’s plenty of snacks to keep me busy.”
I slip away from the main crowd. My feet take me toward the edge of the picnic area where the trees grow thicker, stretching up like a canopy above. The noise dulls to a soft hum, and I sink down onto the grass beneath the shade, letting the coolness seep into my legs.
I take a sip of apple cider, warm and sweet, but I barely taste it.
Gray only dates girls who can quote Scripture and sing in harmony.
The words echo in my mind, looping around my thoughts until I feel them like pinpricks. I know I shouldn’t let it get to me—gossip and whispers from girls who probably don’t even know him like I do. Butstill...
I tug at a blade of grass, running it through my fingers until it snaps. Quote Scripture and sing in harmony.
I can’t do either.
Not well, anyway. I think back to every church service I’ve attended, I’m just starting to figure this out.
What if I’m not enough?
