“It is not fine,” said Lorna. “Chloe, you’re disqualified. Poor form.”
“Very poor form,” said Elaine. “Poor Rob.”
Chloe had to slink back to the picnic area, cheeks burning, while everyone fussed over Rob. She heard Lorna declare him man of the match, and Elaine asked him to sign the rounders batfor her. John didn’t say anything; he stood apart from the crowd, his gaze following Chloe as she went to sit down. Richard trotted over to commiserate with her for being disqualified.
“That was super-aggressive behavior, Chloe,” said Salma, who’d been watching from the picnic blanket. “It’s only a friendly game.”
Great. Now everyone thought she was a grade-A psycho. She nuzzled into Richard with a groan, grateful that he, at least, was not judging her.
The fielders went in to bat, and Chloe watched the game play on without her. When it finally ended and everyone came back over to the rugs, Rob reached for her hand. “It was an accident,” he said loudly, making a point of showing everyone he didn’t blame her, but now he just looked like a henpecked boyfriend.
Richard started squeaking as soon as Rob sat down, then bared his teeth and let out a low, steady growl. “Oh,” said Rob, cocking his head at the dog, not sure what to do. Richard growled again and then barked loudly. John ran over to put his dog on a lead.
“Sorry, I don’t know what’s got into him. He never barks,” said John, holding Richard by the collar. “You must really smell of your cat or something.”
“We should go,” Chloe said, jumping up.
“No, we’ll go,” John said. His eyes connected with Chloe’s, some new distrust there, and it was like heknew. He couldn’t know. Could he?
She wanted to persuade him to stay, but that felt dangerous, in more ways than one. Before she could move, John was already walking away, pulling Richard with him, talking to him like he was an errant child: “What’s got into you, buddy?”
“I’m so sorry,” Rob said quietly. He looked devastated. “Animals don’t tend to like me.”
“We’re animals, we like you,” said Harriet with a giggle. As people turned their attention back to sandwiches and lemonade, Chloe felt one step removed from the conversation. She couldn’t tune in to what people were talking about, her mind awash with too many competing thoughts.
“Are you okay?” Rob asked, reaching for her hand. “You seem distracted.”
“Yes.” She tried to shake off the unsettled feeling. “You said you grew up in Ireland, didn’t you? Did you ever go to the National Gallery of Ireland?”
“Yes. I loved the prehistoric exhibit. You could try on all these shields and helmets. My brothers and I got in trouble because we started fighting.” He gave a vague, untroubled smile and reached for her hand. “Why do you ask?”
Chloe shook her head. “I just wondered.”
Chloe studied his face. He looked sincere. Earnest. Like someone recalling a real memory. And maybe hewas, in the way he’d been programmed to. But how could she take an interest in a life that didn’t exist? How could she ask about his past, knowing it was just a patchwork of algorithms and borrowed details? Then again, hadn’t she spent her whole life caring deeply about people who weren’t real? Fictional heroes. The imaginary lives of book characters whom she felt more connected to than some of the people she knew in real life. How was Rob’s backstory any different from theirs?
As Rob held her hand, fingers sliding neatly between hers, she glanced up and spotted John across the field. He was running with Richard bounding beside him, stick in hand, laughing as the dog leaped to catch it. The two of them moved in a kindof chaotic, pure, unguarded joy. As Chloe watched them, something caught in her chest. Then she looked back at Rob, who was still beside her, steady, attentive, drawing quiet circles against her palm. It dawned on her that if this were a book, it would not be science fiction, it would be a love story. And the worst kind of love story at that—a love triangle.
18
“I’m sorry for playing toocompetitively, I embarrassed you,” Rob said, as they walked back through town toward college.
“It’s fine,” she said, linking her arm through his. She didn’t want to talk about it anymore. As they reached the Bodleian, Chloe checked her phone and saw she had a missed call from her parents.
“Do you mind if I just call my parents back?” she asked Rob.
“Of course not,” said Rob. “Why don’t I go ahead to the room, leave you to it. Physical exertion always takes it out of me, so I’m running a little…” He paused, blinked, stumbled slightly, then said, “Beep beep boop boop.”
“Rob?” she said, clutching his arm in alarm. “What’s happening? Are you okay?”
Rob’s face dissolved into a grin, then he started laughing. “Sorry, Chloe. You enjoy humor, and I could not resist.”
“That’s not funny. Don’t do that again,” she said, relief washing over her. She couldn’t handle him short-circuiting in public.
His face fell. “Was it a bit funny? I am trying to work on my sense of humor.”
“It was a bit funny,” she acknowledged, reaching for his hand, “but please don’t do it again.” He gave her a guilty, goofy smile and kissed her on the cheek, then she waved him off. She paused for a moment, watching him walk away, those broad shoulders narrowing into a trim waist, his perfect backside. She sighed, then dialed her parents’ number.
“Hi, Chloe, how’s the reunion?” asked her father.
