Now that I realize I wasted weeks pursuing Nathalie Abbot, I’m sort of liberated. I don’t have to worship her from afar anymore—especially since she obviously never thinks about me.
We’re stuck at the university in a freak October blizzard but I just want to go home and sit by the fire.
I’m past pleasantries, infuriated at myself for transforming an ordinary woman into a goddess. I want to take out my foul mood on her, but I’m really furious at myself for blindly wasting a semester pursuing a dream.
She’s standing in the parking lot trying to call the automobile association to boost her car’s dead battery.
“I can’t get a signal on my cell phone,” she shouts above the wind, “what about you?”
“I didn’t try,” I shout. “We’d better get inside.”
Once inside, she opens her office door and says, “Why don’t you come in and try phoning from here? Maybe you’ll be able to get a signal.”
I’m resentful now, and actually turn my back on her while I punch in the dealership’s number. My phone is dead too.
I throw it at the wall and watch it splinter into plastic parts and a printed circuit. I don’t care about anything now, least of all the impression I’m making on her.
I feel frustrated, claustrophobic, and just want to go home.
“Was that a new I-phone?” she asks.
“Yeah—it has a great touch screen,” I growl, “You should try it.”
I figure she doesn’t touch much—this princess.
She shrugs and flicks on the light switch but her room stays dark. “Oh no—the electricity is out.”
“It’s probably out all over the area—hence no cell tower signals,” I mutter, and resist the urge to add, Duh!
I could hate this girl, and may just end up doing that.
I’m expecting to see a haughty look or an angry flush creeping up her neck, but her eyes are soft and vulnerable.
“I guess we’re really stuck, huh?”
Her voice wavers and she looks frightened.
I notice the temperature has dropped in the hallway and figure there’s no heat as well.
“I have some candles in my office,” she whispers, “at least we’ll have some light.”
Who the hell has candles in their office? I answer my own question by realizing she’s into yoga and probably uses them for meditating.
“Well, we might as well light those candles and settle in for a long winter’s night,” I sigh.
“It’s kind of an adventure,” she says half-hopingly.
“If we don’t freeze to death,” I grumble, staring out the window at the gathering darkness outside.
“At least we won’t starve to death,” she laughs. “I went shopping this morning at the market and have several shopping bags of food in the trunk of my car.”
“Really?”
“Ivy and Aline were going to come over tonight for wine and cheese at my apartment—but it looks like we’re going to have the party here.”
“A moveable feast,” I say sarcastically.
There’s an old saying—be careful what you wish—it applies to me.
A few short hours ago I dragged myself out of a warm bed to drive to work to be close to Nathalie.
But now that I finally see she’s not interested in me, I could drag her out and dump her in the snow for all she means to me now—and if she annoys me, that just may happen!