I Got Together with My Crush's Rival

I was halfway through cutting a bruised pear over the kitchen sink when Noah asked me to date his rival. "Not date-date," he said. "Just make him think you're interested." My knife stopped against the cutting board. Noah leaned on the opposite counter, his hair still damp from the shower and his grin already asking me to agree. Through the apartment window, rain blurred the lights along Bellwether University's central quad. "Which rival?" I asked, although I knew. "Evan Cole." Of course. Evan had the kind of easy confidence that made people assume he was having a good time even when he was carrying a box of unsold campaign posters through a storm. He was on the student activities board with Noah, and both of them had been trying to get Lila Hart to say yes to the Founders' Ball since the invitations went up. Noah had been trying hardest. "You want me to flirt with Evan so he stops asking Lila?" "I want you to give him a reason to back off. He's been making it obvious all month." Noah shrugged. "If he's seeing someone, he won't keep circling her." "And then Lila will pick you?" "Maybe." He lifted one shoulder. "At least she'll get a chance to see me without him standing there." I set the knife down. I'd known Noah since sophomore year, when we'd both shown up to the same off-campus apartment with boxes and a lease neither of us had read carefully. We had separate bedrooms, a shared kitchen, and the sort of friendship that made people ask if we were together. Noah always laughed when they did. I always laughed too. I had learned to make a joke out of wanting him. "So you want me to be a human traffic cone," I said. "You're not a traffic cone. You're charming." "That's a very specific compliment." "I'm serious, Claire." His smile softened into something more vulnerable. "You could do this. Evan likes you. He's always looking for an excuse to talk to you." I thought of Evan carrying posters in the rain and offering me his umbrella without making a production of it. Then I thought of Noah telling me, two weeks earlier, that Lila had the kind of smile that made a room seem less crowded. "What if he actually likes me?" I asked. "Then you let him down gently once things settle. It wouldn't have to get serious." The bluntness of it stung, though Noah didn't seem to notice. He reached for a pear slice from the board. I slapped his hand away. "You said it was a favor," I said. "Is it not?" I could have told him the truth then. That I had wanted him for years. That every time he talked about Lila, I took the hit quietly and told myself friendship was better than losing him. That asking me to help him win another woman by using a third person was the sort of thing he could only ask because he trusted me not to want anything for myself. Instead, I looked at the rain and said, "Fine." Noah's whole face brightened. "Really?" "One coffee. That's all I'm promising." "That's all I need." He reached across the counter and squeezed my shoulder. His hand was warm. I hated how much I wanted it to stay there. "You're the best, Claire." The next afternoon, I found Evan outside the campus radio station, where I'd been dropping off a box of old event flyers for the archive. He wore a faded green jacket and had a paper cup in each hand. When he saw me, he lifted one in greeting. "Coffee?" he asked. "I bought two by accident." "Did you?" "I bought one and then panicked when the barista asked if I wanted room for cream. So now I have two coffees and no plan." His grin made the lie I had rehearsed feel clumsy. "That sounds serious." "Could use help." He held out the cup. "You want to walk with me?" I took it. "Actually, I was wondering if you'd want to get coffee sometime." Evan glanced down at the cup in my hand, then back at me. "We are currently holding coffee." "Somewhere with chairs, then." His smile turned careful, as if he wanted to make sure he hadn't misunderstood. "You mean a date?" I remembered Noah's bright, hopeful face in the kitchen. I remembered the way he'd said Evan likes you, as though my feelings were simply another lever he could pull. "I mean I'd like to get to know you better," I said. Evan didn't answer immediately. His gaze stayed on my face, not my mouth or my clothes, and I felt the full weight of the choice I'd made. "Okay," he said. "I'd like that." We picked Friday. He asked if I had a preference, and I named the little diner near the river because it was the first place I thought of. We talked about classes until the wind came up and blew a stack of flyers out of the station's open door. Evan chased them down the walkway. I chased after him. He caught the last one against a brick wall, triumphant, and handed it to me with a mock bow. "Your date has a strong opening," he said. I laughed, and for half a second I forgot this was meant to be a plan. Then my phone buzzed. Noah: Did he say yes? I watched Evan fold his empty cup and drop it in the recycling bin. He was humming something under his breath, a tune I didn't recognize. I typed back: Friday. Noah: Perfect. Thank you. I slid my phone into my pocket. The first lie had been small enough to fit on a screen.