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“To be honest, I only enjoy things when I’m good at them,” she admits, chewing on a thumbnail.
“I get that.” I think about it for a moment. “When I feel competitive, I’m the same. When there’s no stakes, then I think I can enjoy it without being good at it.”
“Trivia is very competitive,” she says seriously. “But you don’t think I’m shallow and insecure for only liking things I’m good at?”
“No.” I raise my eyebrows, confused. “Why would you even ask that?”
She shrugs. “Something my ex used to say when I didn’t enjoy the things he dragged me to because I wasn’t good at them. Well, most of the time it wasn’t even stuff I wanted to be good at.”
“What an idiot,” I grumble. I’m hit with an expected wave of jealousy at the idea of her with another man. On a rational level, I know that’s stupid, because he’s her ex, and also because I’m not with her.
But you want to be.
“Yes, he was kind of an idiot,” she says quietly, not meeting my eyes.
“Is he someone from around here?”
“No, thank God. That was when I was still in LA.”
“Do you miss him?”
“Absolutely not,” she says. “I’m glad it ended. The breakup was the change I needed, and it brought me here.”
“Hmm.” I tuck that piece of information away. “I might have to send him a thank-you card then.”
She laughs, and my insides tighten at the sight of her face lighting up. I really like making her laugh.
“I wouldn’t go that far. He cheated on me after all.”
“He what?” My mouth hangs open in disbelief, but she just nods. “He cheated on you?” I repeat like an idiot.
“Yes. With the girl I thought was my best friend at the time.”
“What an ass. Who in their right mind would cheat on you? You’re like, perfect.”
Her cheeks turn a light shade of pink at that, and she waves me off. “I mean, would it be okay if it was someone else?”
“No. It’s never okay. I’m just surprised, that’s all.”
She gives me a long look, her eyes boring into mine like she’s trying to catch me in a lie. “You’ve never cheated?”
“Of course not,” I say, offended she’d even ask that, but not surprised. People around here have this notion that I’m a notorious player. Completely unjustified, if I might say so myself. “Think what you want of me, but I’d never cheat.”
“I believe you,” she says, her face earnest. “How do you feel about another episode of Bake Off, or do you want to head out?”
“I’m definitely down for another episode.” I heave myself up from where I’ve been sitting on the rug and throw myself back on the couch. In no way do I want to head out.
“Perfect,” she says, practically bouncing with excitement before she plops onto the couch next to me, her knees almost touching mine. I resist the urge to put my arm around her, to touch her in any way, although my body is screaming at me to do so. I don’t know why I feel like a horny teenager, but I haven’t been with anyone in a while, so that might be it.
“Can I ask you a question?” Remembering our earlier conversation, I turn to Robin.
“You’re already asking one,” she points out, a bratty smile on her face.
“Haha.” I nudge her gently with my elbow. “Does it bother you when I call you cute?”
She looks surprised at the question, and I’m not quite sure either why that part of our earlier conversation suddenly popped in my head again. “No, I don’t mind. Unless it’s meant to belittle me.”
“I’d never belittle you,” I say, hoping she knows that. Then with a smirk, I add, “Although you are so cute and little.”
