Page 11 of Robbin’ the Rich

“I’m not desperately waiting.”

“You checked the door four times during the second song.”

“That was crowd awareness.”

“You almost missed your cue staring at the Reapers table.”

I took a long drink of water instead of answering. Because unfortunately, he wasn’t wrong.

A few more derby girls had trickled in during the first set. I’d spotted Sonia near the bar at one point, arguing passionately with someone dressed as Beetlejuice. Zella had arrived too. She was dressed as a zombie Rapunzel with black flowers in her long blonde braid.

But still no Robin. Which shouldn’t have mattered. Except it did. Because somewhere along the line, Robbin Banks had quietly become the person I looked for in crowded rooms. Which was... not ideal.

Nate grinned knowingly beside me. “You should just talk to her.”

“I tried last time.”

“You flirted badly at her while she judged you silently.”

I tipped my head back against the brick wall and groaned. “I just want one real shot, man.”

Nate’s expression softened slightly then. Which was worse somehow.

“You like her.”

I stared at the water bottle in my hands. I did, way more than I probably should, considering our entire relationship consisted of my fawning and a few brief exchanges. I’d only ever seen a couple of her bouts. But there had been one time I saw her at the bookstore. I think she’d just been there getting coffee from Belle while I was there perusing the used sci-fi section.

I can’t help but cringe as I remember holding up a copy of Project Hail Mary and asking her if she’d read it. To which she responded that she wasn’t religious.

“Oh, it’s not about religion, it’s about a science teacher who⁠—”

“Then marketing really dropped the ball on the title huh?”

And then she turned and walked away.

That may have been our longest conversation, and while yes, it was cringy, there was just something about her. She didn’t care about what people thought about her. I could use a little more of that energy in my life.

A shout from inside interrupted us.

“Second set!”

Nate clapped my shoulder once. “Go get your hot derby girl, preacher boy.”

“She is not my girl.”

“She could ruin your life though.”

I smiled helplessly. “Yeah. Probably.”

We headed back inside, weaving through the packed crowd toward the stage.

My brain fully stopped functioning for a solid three seconds as I saw her standing near the bar.

Holy shit.

Robin wore black fishnets beneath a dangerously short skirt, dark lipstick, and a fitted black-and-white nun costume that looked specifically engineered to test the limits of my self-control.

Hot nun.