7/10

Natalie looked up, for a moment, at Edgar. They locked eyes. His eyes seemed as if to absorb her; the intensity was almost frightening.

She wanted so much for men to like her. And, of course, within this self-consciousness, was the belief that Edgar didn’t find her attractive, and that was her paramount, if pathetic, concern.

Is my hair greasy? Was this shirt the wrong choice? Is my lipstick ok?

What was Edgar thinking?

She settled on the thing she always settled on:

I’m not a pretty girl.

And when Natalie thought of this insecurity, she knew it was stupid. She was too old to be envious of women who were beautiful. But it wound her up, like a tightly ticking clock.

She was probably a solid 7/10.

She didn’t know what to make of Edgar’s interest. Why was he with a 7/10? He could have any girl. Why her?

Edgar may have been oblivious of her fear, but he did know. Deep down, he knew, too.

This wasn’t going to go anywhere.