Page 34 of One-Star Romance

“You are a terrible liar.” Still, silence, as he gazed out over the water. “Robert. How many stars?”

“Fine. Three point five.”

She let out a disbelieving laugh. “Thank you for your generosity.”

“Three point five is good. Four is amazing. Five is one of my favorite books ever.”

“My God, you don’t have to have such rigid standards for everything.” She paused. “So, why only three point five?”

“I liked it. I thought the main character was compelling, and the setting was well researched.”

“Harder for people to assume I’m writing about them—or their best friend—if it’s historical fiction.”

He scratched at the back of his neck, making a noncommittal noise.

“What’s the complaint, then?”

“Nothing.” She glared at him until he relented. “It just seemed clear to me that, in Apartment 2F, even with its cynical, unforgiving bent, you were having more fun.”

She sat down onto the sun-stained slats then, her legs practically collapsing under her. “I can’t win. When I’m having fun, my writing isn’t serious. When my writing is serious, I’m not having enough fun.”

He sat down next to her. Insane to be confiding in him of all people, to be giving him the power to wound her more deeply than he already had. She turned off everything she knew of him outside this moment, outside this expression on his face like he wanted to keep listening, and went on, her voice small. “I just feel like I’ve lost my way. And all the rest of you are doing so well. I’ve gotten turned around while you guys have been happily hiking forward, and now I’m on the edge of the parking lot while Gabby is reaching the summit of the mountain. And you, you’re going to be a professor. You’re not even thirty!”

He shrugged, an uncomfortable expression on his face. “Well, assistant professor. And I’m a legacy. And it’s in Arizona, which is far too hot for me. And comparison is the thief of joy.”

“Or does comparison just get you off your ass so you stop wasting your life?”

“I’m not sure about that.”

“Me neither.” She shook her head and said softly, as the wind rushed through the pine boughs, “This book is the best thing I’ll ever do.”

“That’s not true.”

“I worked so hard. I don’t know how to dig any deeper. I have nothing more interesting than that to say.”

“Well, maybe not now.” He pushed himself to his feet. “Olympic gymnasts do their best work when they’re young. But maybe for writers, it goes the other way. Don’t you think? You live more life, get more perspective.”

“So…what? I’m just supposed to wait?” She stood up too, pacing again. “I’m impatient! I want…” Without realizing it, she’d paced very close to him. She turned, and he was right there, still only in his bathing suit, his shoulders glowing in the sun. “I want things now,” she finished, slightly out of breath.

He swallowed, his chest moving up and down. Slowly, softly, he said, “It’s not the best thing you’ll ever do.”

She stepped back. “Thank you for listening to me be a whiny little brat.”

“I think you’re allowed to whine about this. It’s a big deal.”

“Yeah.” She let out a bitter laugh. “I’ve been so distracted by this the whole weekend that I haven’t even gone into the water.” She held up her phone. “I just kept checking this godforsaken thing.”

Rob looked at her, his eyes gentler than she was used to seeing them. He reached out, indicating her phone. “May I?” Confused, she gave a half nod, and, carefully, he took her phone from her hand, as if to make sure that she couldn’t keep rereading her rejection email. He laid it down on the bleached slats of the dock, far from the edge. Then he moved toward her. For one strange moment, she thought, Is he going to kiss me? And, strangest of all, she wanted him to. He brought his arms up toward her, as if to pull her to him. Then he gave her a swift push off the dock.

She crashed into the water, still in her sundress, her shriek cut off as lake sloshed into her mouth. The cold shocked her system, and she came up sputtering. “What the hell!”

He’d folded his arms on the dock, his mouth quirking up slightly in amusement. “Now you’ve gone in.” She splashed as much water as she could in his general direction, spraying his legs. “Refreshing, thank you,” he said, then did a shallow dive in to join her. Excellent form. Was he good at everything except for being a kind person? (Well, besides in this particular moment.)

The wake from a motorboat some yards out rippled toward them, pushing her one way and then another. She could float, or she could swim against it. She’d been swimming so hard for such a long time.

He emerged beside her, droplets in his hair, rivulets streaming down his back, and she watched the passage of those rivulets as they slid down, down, until she caught herself and averted her eyes, focusing instead on the vast sky above.

“The water is nice. Thank you for the…encouragement.”

---