Chapter 10 #2
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 her face 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.
No way was 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 a couple 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?”
“I didn’t realise you were a personal trainer.”
He lifted a shoulder. “I rowed for Kings and at uni.”
It took her a second to realise he meant the private school and not a royalty junket paid for by his high-profile father. “Of course you did,” she muttered.
“Did you say something?”
“What tips does the professional want to give me?” she asked in a louder voice.
“Hey, I don’t want to offend you.”
She really needed to rein in her snark. Remember? She couldn’t afford to tick off someone with Eric Churchill’s connections. “I’d appreciate the help,” she said sincerely.
“Okay, then.”
He was all business as he showed her how important it was to drive from her legs, to maintain core engagement, and when to finally pull the handle and breathe with the stroke. “You want a continuous, smooth motion. Have a go now.”
She did, and could see how his tips made a difference. “Thanks.”
He smiled again. “There. That didn’t hurt now, did it?”
“It didn’t. Until you said that last bit, which just sounded patronising.” Oops. Probably TMI.
He chuckled, and she was so surprised that she didn’t even mind that his eyes were fixed on her still. “What now?”
“You keep on surprising me,” he said.
She did? She guessed not in a good way.
“Not in a bad way,” he said, as if reading her thoughts. “It’s just that you’re pretty honest.”
“Are you more used to liars?” She internally winced. Oh, look whose filter had decided to have a vacay.
But his expression grew thoughtful, and he shrugged. “Maybe. I have to admit in my position it’s probably true that I have a lot of people who don’t like to tell me the truth.”
Oh. That was a surprisingly humble confession. Props to him for being honest. “Well, thank you.” She pushed her earphones back in and skipped back to the tracks she’d missed while Eric had been instructing her.
“You’re welcome.” He nodded to her phone. “What are you listening to?”
Heat shimmered over her skin. Would admitting she was listening to an old Christian praise song prove embarrassing? Probably. She shrugged. “It’s just a song.” With words about “letting go” that obviously weren’t ones she’d taken to heart just yet. “How about you?”
“I don’t mind me some old-school INXS.”
Huh. Another surprise. “They’re pretty good.”
“You know them? I thought you religious types only listened to religious music.”
She was suddenly very glad she hadn’t admitted to her music choice before. “It’s good to know Christians aren’t the only ones who can be accused of being judgemental.”
“Oh. Did I offend you?”
She pressed her lips together to avoid spouting yet more unfiltered comments. Like Don’t go putting this back on me.
Why did her calling him out suddenly get pushed back on her? It seemed like the longer this went on, the more the casual banter was getting a little sharp. Which surely wouldn’t end well for the person with less money in this scenario.
“Wait, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” That look in his eye suggested he was remorseful.
“I’m fine,” she said. “Well, have fun, then.”
“Um, before you get back into it, I am glad to have bumped into you. I thought that after the dinner at the bistro that I might’ve gotten off on the wrong foot with your friend.”
“Jordan?”
“Jordan, that’s right. Look, would it be okay if you and I had a coffee and discussed Dream Match a little more? I really am intrigued and would like to know more about it.”
She hesitated, conscious of Jordan’s warnings about this man and his motives. “Is this a coffee between you and me, or should I be inviting Jordan and my business team along too?”
“You have a business team?”
Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not a complete newbie.”
“I didn’t mean to suggest that you are. It’s just that I haven’t heard you mention anyone else until now.”
“Apart from Jordan,” she pointed out.
“Apart from Jordan, that’s right.” He nodded. “So, by all means invite him and anyone else along. The more the merrier.”
She studied him, still uncertain.
“Do you not trust me, EJ?”
Her cheeks flushed with heat. “I don’t know you well enough to know if I can trust you.”
“Well, there’s something you can do about that.”
“What’s that?”
He smiled. “You could get to know me by having a coffee with me. Or a drink. Or a meal. I’m not fussy.”
She doubted that. It was probably five-star all the way with him. She doubted he was a fan of the local coffee shop’s ten-dollar breakfast roll and coffee special she and Jordan enjoyed most weekends.
“Think about it?”
She swallowed, conscious others were looking at the two of them. Movement beyond his shoulder showed someone taking a photo. She winced.
“What?” he asked.
“Someone just took a photo of you.” And me, she added silently.
His nose wrinkled. “It’s part of the deal, unfortunately.” He straightened. “You’ve got my number. If you ever unblock me, you’ll see I’m not such a bad guy.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she murmured.
“Let me know when you’re free, and I’ll make it work.”
Her eyebrows shot up in surprise.
He smiled, his look one that could pass for genuine. “I’ll do whatever I can to finally have Ms. EJ Bennett spare me a moment.”
She forced herself to nod, then turned back to the rowing machine and resumed her workout.
She didn’t want to look flustered, even though everything that had just happened in the last twenty minutes was enough to turn her upside down.
How could he overlook her rudeness like that?
Should she take him up on his offer for a coffee?
It truly didn’t seem like a date or that he had nefarious intentions if he was happy enough for her to invite Jordan and the others along too.
Was it possible that she’d been so arrogant herself that she misinterpreted his interest as being in her instead of her app?
All of this did not sit very well with her previous experience. Nor did it sit with what Jordan had said. How could she reconcile these two very different sides of Eric Churchill?
She finished her workout, ignored those who were still watching her, and pulled out her phone, her finger hovering over the contacts list. Then, before she could second-guess herself yet again, pressed UNBLOCK. And watched as a stream of Eric’s former messages swamped her phone.
Then saw he’d written another one, just now. A one-word question.
“Coffee?”
She bit her lip. Then finally bit the bullet and typed back.
“Okay.”