I Got Together with My Crush's Rival

Chapter 2: The First Date

I nearly canceled on Friday.

I stood in front of my bedroom mirror with one earring in and the other in my hand, listening to Noah move around the kitchen. He was whistling. It was the same tune Evan had hummed outside the radio station, and the coincidence made my stomach tighten.

When I came out, Noah looked up from the table. He had two laptops open and a half-finished presentation on the screen.

"You're going?" he asked.

"I said I would."

"You look great."

"Thanks."

He glanced toward the clock. "Evan's lucky."

The words had no edge to them. Noah meant it as encouragement. Somehow that made them worse.

I pulled on my coat. "Don't wait up."

"I won't." He returned to his slides. "And don't let him talk you into anything expensive. He has a board stipend. It goes straight to his head."

I almost asked if Noah wanted advice on how to impress Lila. Instead, I shut the door behind me.

The diner sat on the edge of Bellwether's old mill district, where the campus buildings gave way to converted warehouses and narrow streets. Evan was already there, seated in a booth beneath a window. He'd ordered fries for the table but hadn't touched them.

"I wasn't sure if you'd like these," he said. "I got them anyway, which is either generous or presumptuous."

"Both can be true."

"Good. I like to be efficient."

He stood when I took off my coat. I noticed the gesture. Then I noticed that he didn't try to pull my chair out or make a joke about it. It was just a small courtesy, offered without expectation.

The first twenty minutes went easily. Evan asked about my design seminar and remembered I was planning to apply for a summer placement at the Bellwether Arts Center. He told me he was finishing a degree in public policy and deciding whether he wanted to work for the city or hide in a library forever.

"How did you end up on the activities board?" I asked.

"My older sister was a resident adviser. She said college is more bearable if you help make one good thing happen for somebody else."

"That's either wise or an excellent way to get free pizza."

"It's both. I have learned to respect the pizza."

I tried to keep my questions light. There was a list in my head, courtesy of Noah: ask about Lila, figure out whether Evan was serious about her, give him a reason to think he had a chance with me instead. The list began to feel less like a plan and more like a script I didn't want to read.

Evan's phone lit on the table. He glanced at it and turned it face down.

"Board problem?" I asked.

"Nothing urgent."

"Shouldn't you check?"

"I can check after dinner." He looked at me over his glass. "I agreed to be here."

I felt the smallest, sharpest twist of guilt.

At the end of dinner, we walked along the river path. The wind had died down. The water reflected the streetlamps in broken gold lines. Evan told me about the first time he tried to organize a campus event, a winter coat drive that had ended with a burst pipe and a hundred soggy cardboard boxes.

"Did you save the coats?" I asked.

"We saved the coats. We did not save the room. I still have a photo of the facilities manager looking at me like I'd personally offended water."

I laughed. The sound came more naturally than it had all evening.

Evan glanced over. "I was hoping you'd laugh at that."

"Why?"

"Because I've told that story to three people this week and no one else got the facilities manager part."

We reached the footbridge. I stopped to look at the water, and he stopped beside me. There was room between us. He didn't close it.

"Can I ask you something?" he said.

"Sure."

"Why me?"

I stared at the river. The honest answer was that Noah had put my name in Evan's path like a roadblock. The less honest answer was that I had agreed because I thought it might bring Noah closer to me.

I settled on, "You seemed interesting."

"That's what you say to everyone you ask out?"

"I don't ask people out very often."

His expression softened. "Neither do I, apparently."

We walked back to campus. When we reached the entrance to the quad, Evan asked if he could see me again. I should have said no. Instead I heard myself answer, "I'd like that."

He didn't kiss me. He asked if he could text me when he got home, and when I said yes, he thanked me for the evening and went in the opposite direction.

Noah was still awake when I returned. He had the presentation closed and a bowl of cereal in front of him.

"How'd it go?" he asked.

"Good."

"Good like he took the bait, or good like you had fun?"

I paused with one hand on the back of the chair.

"Both, I guess."

Noah smiled. "See? This is going to work."

The phone in my pocket buzzed. Evan: I had a nice time. Hope you got back okay.

Noah leaned forward. "What did he say?"

"Nothing."

"Claire."

I pulled out the phone, then put it away before he could see the screen. "He asked if I got home."

"That's sweet."

"It is."

Noah took a spoonful of cereal. "You should keep it casual. Don't make promises."

I looked at him. "You said this wouldn't get serious."

"It doesn't have to."

There was no cruelty in his voice. Only certainty. He still thought he was asking for a small favor, not borrowing a piece of my life.

"I'll figure it out," I said.

That night, I replied to Evan. I told him I had gotten home, then thanked him for dinner.

He wrote back: Want to see the world's least impressive winter coat drive photo sometime?

I smiled at my screen before I could stop myself.

Then I turned it facedown.