Page 31 of One-Star Romance

The television was old-school, with a VCR and DVD player. “Hm, no Netflix or anything,” Angus said, so Rob got up and looked at the movie collection in the TV console, frowning. “What are you seeing there, buddy?” Angus turned to her and Gabby. “Rob here is a bit of a film buff.”

Of course he was. “What’s wrong? Not enough Jean-Luc Godard in the lake house collection?” Natalie asked. “Or are you more of a Tarantino guy?”

“I’m a good movie guy,” Rob said. “I’m just trying to decide.” He held up two options: The Portal Makers and Cruel Intentions.

“Yes!” Gabby yelled, bouncing up to grab both options out of his hand with the most energy that Natalie had seen from her on this trip. She’d been taking the “relaxation” part of this relaxing weekend away seriously, lounging up a storm, even neglecting the watercolor supplies she’d brought in hopes of taking some time to “get back to her art.” Now she looked back and forth. “Oh, I’m so torn. I have this memory of Tyler Yeo being the world’s best and cutest actor in Portal Makers and am worried that seeing it again would ruin that.”

“Cruel Intentions it is, then,” Rob said.

“You want to watch Cruel Intentions?” Natalie asked Rob. “Are you aware of what it is?”

“I want to rewatch Cruel Intentions. It’s a great film. Does exactly what it sets out to do.”

And that was how Natalie ended up watching a teen sex movie inches away from her mortal enemy.

Competing voices clamored in her mind. Part of her devotedly watched Ryan Phillippe woo a virginal Reese Witherspoon. But another part of her kept shouting about Rob’s proximity: Aren’t you bothered? And then there was the part that she’d barely been able to turn off all weekend. The part that kept intruding even when she was nodding along with conversation or watching Sarah Michelle Gellar teach Selma Blair how to kiss. The part waiting on something potentially life-changing. Like a song stuck in her head, it ran on a loop: Is there something in your inbox? The delay is good, right? It means that hope is still alive! She wished she could skip time forward just to know. Intellectually, she told herself to prepare for rejection. But her heart couldn’t quite believe that rejection would come. Things HAD to work out. After all she’d poured into this book, all she’d given up?

Somewhere in the midst of all this mind clamor, the movie ended, and it was still raining, and they made spaghetti for dinner, cracking open a bottle of wine to share, pulling on cozy sweaters as the temperature dropped.

During Natalie’s second glass of wine, the lightbulb above the kitchen table burned out with a faint pop. “I’ve got it,” Rob said, and hunted around the cabin for a new bulb. When he found it, they all cleared their sauce-stained plates, and he climbed onto the table. He stretched his arms up to unscrew the fixture, the sleeves of his shirt falling, revealing a hint of shoulder, a small spray of freckles. He caught his bottom lip between his teeth in concentration. Natalie had never noticed before quite how full that bottom lip was.

A beep emanated from Rob’s pocket, startling Natalie.

“What was that?” she asked.

“A notification.”

“You’ve got service?”

“I didn’t until now. There must be a patch of it up here,” he said. Still standing on the table, he took his phone out and pressed a button, his face unreadable.

“Oh damn,” Gabby said. “I kind of liked being off the grid. It was very calming.”

“Mm, yes, so zen,” Natalie said. At the prospect of checking her email again, her heart started beating so fast she thought she might faint.

“Well, tell us,” Angus said, “what’s the news from the outside world? Has there been an apocalypse without us knowing?”

“Not seeing anything about the apocalypse.” Rob shoved his phone back in his pocket.

“But something happened,” Angus said. “I know that forehead wrinkle. Spit it out.”

“I got the job at Arizona. Assistant professor.”

“Buddy! Yes!” Angus said, throwing his arms up in the air as Gabby clapped her hands. “This calls for champagne!”

“No,” Rob said. “That bottle is to celebrate your new job.”

“Pshaw, that’s old news at this point! I insist.” Angus practically ran to the fridge, pulling out a cold bottle.

“Angus,” Rob said sternly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Not listening,” Angus said, banging open the cabinets in search of fresh glasses.

“Congratulations,” Natalie said to Rob through gritted teeth, and he gave her a stiff nod. Casually, as he climbed down to the floor, Natalie climbed up onto the table. “Just going to make sure I didn’t miss anything important real quick,” she said in response to Gabby’s questioning glance. “And then I’m ready to celebrate!” Sure enough, her phone began to buzz. It took maybe five seconds for her email to load, though it felt like years, and during this interminable wait, Natalie strove to appear like the lake to the others, lovely and calm on the surface, even if all sorts of murky flotsam tangled underneath.

Her agent’s name appeared, twice. Natalie couldn’t catch her breath. She clicked the first email. A forwarded rejection: So sorry to say this…Then the second, a paragraph of praise followed by Unfortunately…

She swallowed hard. She would not cry, as much as she wanted to throw herself down and wail right here on the dinner table. She zeroed in on a message from Iman, sent as a follow-up to this second rejection.

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