“Saw Pierre and Felix chatting with you. Everything okay?” Evan asks.
“They were just checking in about the viral stuff.”
Evan raises his brow. “You’re still alive, so that’s good, no?”
“Yeah. They were surprisingly cool about it.” Evan doesn’t look convinced. “Probably helped that Collette told them there was no way in hell she would ever date me. That sealed the deal.”
The beers arrive, and we both reach for them at the same time. I take a long pull and let it settle.
“You sound upset about that,” Evan says.
“Hearing a woman say she would never ever date you is an ego killer.”
“Are you saying you want to date Collette St. Pierre?”
“No,” I answer too quickly, and we both know it. “I don’t want to date anyone.”
“You just fuck.” He says it flat and factual, like he’s reading a weather report.
“Like you can talk. This mysterious Russian thing you’ve got going on gets just as many women, if not more than me.”
“True.” He chuckles darkly. I flip him off. “I’m also not as loud.”
“I’m not loud,”I counter, but it’s a weak argument.
“You are the loudest person I know.” He takes a sip. “In every way.”
I peel the label off my beer bottle, working at it with my thumbnail. The city glitters below us, and I can hear traffic and sirens and all the noise that cities make at night that’s supposed to make you feel alive, but sometimes just makes you feel small.
“There was a girl,” I say. “Back home in Maine.”
Evan doesn’t react, doesn’t lean in, just waits. That’s the thing about Evan, he never rushes you. He just creates this space, and you fill it whether you mean to or not.
“I grew up in this small town, where everyone knew everyone. My friends have been the same ones since kindergarten. Her name was Caitlin. We started dating junioryear of high school.” I take another pull of beer. “When I was eighteen, I thought I was going to marry her. I know how that sounds …”
“It doesn’t sound like anything.” He nods for me to continue.
“She followed me to college. I thought that meant something, that she picked me. Turns out she picked a football player, the starting quarterback for our college team.” I almost laugh because at this distance it’s almost funny.Almost.“Two months into college, one of my teammates told me they saw them together at a frat party. She told me I wasn’t good enough anymore, that she wanted more.”
Evan is quiet. The bartender clinks glasses somewhere behind us.
“She married him, you know. They have kids together. But I heard they got divorced a few years back. He cheated on her with her best friend.” I finish the beer. “Small towns don’t forget anything.”
“Collette is not Caitlin,” Evan says.
“I know that.” The irritation flares up before I can stop it because I do know that. Collette is nothing like Caitlin. Caitlin was sweet and careful and never said what she meant. Collette will tell you exactly what she thinks while looking you dead in the eye and daring you to argue. They’re not even the same species.
“Then what is the problem?” Evan pushes.
“There’s no problem because I’m not interested in her. We’re just friends.”
Evan raises a brow at me. One single brow. The Russian brow of disbelief that has ended more of my bullshit arguments than I can count.
“I mean it.Do I like her as a friend, as a colleague, of course. But do I see more? No. Never.”
“If you say so.” He takes a slow sip of his beer, those dark eyes watching me over the rim.
“What? No. Hey, don’t do that.”