Page 10 of One-Star Romance

ROB: Settlers of Catan

NATALIE: Ew, no.

ROB: Excuse me. That’s a great game.

NATALIE: I think she means more like “everyone takes a quiz on how well they know me, and the prize is a penis hat”

ROB: I assume you’ll win the hat, and I assume you’ll wear it to the wedding.

NATALIE: But of course.

He’d proven remarkably difficult to stalk online. No social media, no old embarrassing YouTube videos. A few articles in academic journals that she’d have to subscribe to read, which felt like a bridge too far.

She’d spotted him ten minutes earlier, loping in, shoulders slightly hunched, in a button-down shirt and dark pants, face furrowed in concentration, a man with a task. (He would be a man who completed his tasks. She could not imagine him missing a deadline or being willing to disappoint. She admired that kind of follow-through in a person, she thought with a little shiver.) Her efforts to catch his eye had proven futile so far. But they had the whole weekend.

Earlier in the week, as she and Gabby were getting their nails done, Natalie had very casually asked, “So, Rob. What’s his deal? Is he single?”

“As far as I know. You trying to get sloppy with him on the dance floor?”

“I only met him once, but I have a hard time picturing him getting sloppy in public.”

Gabby raised an eyebrow.

“But, yes, I wouldn’t be opposed to getting sloppy with him,” Natalie went on.

“Okay. Not my type, but I could see it.”

“A brooding academic might make a nice change from brooding artists.”

“I don’t know if ‘brooding’ is right,” Gabby said. “We’ve only hung out a couple times, so I’ve yet to break through the ice with him. But he struck me as less moody, more serious. Maybe a little shy.”

“I can work with shy and serious. At least for a weekend.”

“Okay, just fair warning from what I’ve heard from Angus: Rob isn’t really a for-a-weekend kind of guy. He is on a track. I’m surprised he doesn’t yet have some impressive academic wife-to-be.”

“Sure, but what guy doesn’t like the occasional no-strings fling?”

Gabby shook her head. “Well, good luck to you. I’m just saying, don’t be surprised if he makes you discuss your futures as a prereq to falling into bed.”

Now, as Rob finished giving the groomsmen their marching orders and sent them on their way, Natalie crossed the room to his side. Her heart pulsed in a strange sped-up rhythm. Was she nervous? Natalie knew she wasn’t for all markets, but she’d generally done okay with men. The trick was in identifying the types that would be interested in her, avoiding frat boys and football stars who wanted blond bombshells. She could not imagine Rob going after blond bombshells.

He was staring out at the room, over to where Angus and Gabby were greeting an endless stream of aunts and uncles, seemingly oblivious to her approach, so she threw her shoulders back and leaned over to him. “What wild surprise do we think Angus has in store for us tonight?”

He did not startle or turn to her, which made her think that maybe he had seen her approach after all. Only a slight downward curl of his lip indicated that he’d even heard her. After an excruciating beat of silence, he finally spoke. “What do you mean?”

“Just…the last time we were together, he pulled a proposal out of his back pocket. I wouldn’t be shocked if, tonight, he announces that we’ll all be hopping on a plane to Vegas so that he and Gabby can get married by an Elvis impersonator.”

“Angus hates Vegas,” Rob said, continuing to stare straight ahead.

Well, this was destabilizing. Was he distracted? She scrambled to regain her footing. “Really? He seems like the up-for-anything type.”

“He thinks casinos take advantage of people. But if he must partake, he would obviously go to Atlantic City, because he is loyal to his home state.” Rob’s voice was growing strained. God, he still wouldn’t look at her. She felt like someone had promised her dessert, then hit her in the face with a pie.

What had changed? Had Rob also thought more about their previous meeting over the years and decided that she’d been a tease or had talked too much without managing to be interesting? Maybe Gabby had been wrong, and he was dating someone after all, and he found Nat SO attractive that he couldn’t even look at her, or he’d do something he’d regret. (No, she couldn’t flatter herself that much.) He could be overwhelmed by his best man duties. She understood that—thinking about her to-do list for the next day sent a chill down her spine. Still, this was no way to deal with stress. This strange unpleasantness, whatever the cause, made the idea of getting sloppy together on the dance floor seem extremely unlikely.

He cleared his throat and said stiffly, “Excuse me, I think I am needed at the meatball bar.” And then that asshole walked away.

6

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