“Everyone like Ash?” He flopped onto the couch and pushed back his bangs, one eyebrow arched.
I raised my shoulder. “No. Well, maybe. I haven’t asked.”
Another non-tech conversation topic I could file away for Wednesday.
My brother exhaled sharply through his nose. Was he laughing at me or the sci-fi movie? He swiped his phone, texting Kat. Lots of paragraphs and gifs on both ends. He heart-reacted to something, and a second later, a cheeky selfie of her in a pajama-esque camisole lit up their chat. Victor smiled and grazed hisknuckle across his lips.
I frowned at the TV. Love was a feature, a subplot maybe. How had he fallen so quickly? Was it her unique look? Was he projecting something? They’d gone from first date to wanting to move in together within a few whirlwind weeks.
I understood needs and curiosity. In a video game, there was nothing wrong with hooking up with the hot tentacle alien to see if they had a funny or genuinely sensual love scene. But the player usually had to build up to it. Be friends. Flirt. Tickle the tentacles and avenge their fallen families.
Presumably, real love took work too. Opportunity. Chemistry. And in some cases, strategy.
Not that I thought Kat or Victor intended to ‘play’ each other in a bad way. They seemed equally obsessed with each other even before the spider incident. Presumably, they’d studied movie scripts for years, so they knew how to flirt and reveal character. That may have expedited things.
I mentally plotted a dialogue tree for Wednesday’s gathering to maximize my chance for success. All I needed to do was find that spark of common interest. If I could befriend the inhabitants of Craft Cove with a relatively silent protagonist, surely, I could have a decent chat with Ash.
The next day, we were too busy to strike up a meaningful workplace conversation, but I had faith it’d be different at the bar. I flicked the edge of the hidden taser in my pocket as Victor and I walked up to the front. The broad-shouldered bouncer, who looked like he could’ve been a football player or a thug, eyed my brother’s unique hair and said, “IDs, please.”
I looked over my shoulder. Thankfully, no one else was around, so I handed it to him.
He fanned our IDs, then studied me and my baseball cap for a good couple of seconds.
My fingers twitched, and I exchanged a terse glance with my brother. Did this guy recognize me? Or worse, did he know my old classmates? Idoubted any of those guys would be here, but there was a narrow chance this buff guy had an interest in robotics.
“Go ahead,” the guy boomed, waving us on.
“Thanks.” I snatched our IDs, then marched inside.
Victor patted my back, helping me through the crowd. “I doubt he recognized you.”
“Right.” I tugged my cap. “Let’s find someone who will.”
The only thing I could pick out amid the loud crowd was an even louder shirt.
“Sal,” I said, heading for him.
Victor’s long strides easily kept up. “Who’s Sal?”
“Ash’s friend.” Not mine. Not yet. My brain could only handle one attempted bond at a time. Same with my heart, which fluttered the closer we got to him.
Sal spotted us halfway there and did a double-take, then pulled at his button-down as if to fan himself. It was warm here. Lots of people.
I slid into a slot beside him at the bar. “Hello.”
He scanned me and my brother with wide eyes, his neck craning to fully take him in, then cracked out a chuckle. “Well, hello. Who’s this strapping lad?”
“Her brother, Victor.” He squinted, which was close enough to a smile for now.
“I can see the resemblance.” Sal furrowed his brow at me. “You brought your brother?”
Victor’s gaze bore into the side of my face, then slid to the exit. Well, I certainly wasn’t going to learn how to socialize better from him.
I crossed my arms. “He works at the mall. Ash said everyone came here.”
Sal shrugged. “Uh, kinda.”
“Where is she?” I peered over his shoulder, desperate to get this over with.
