More Than Rivals

Chapter 6: Just Friends

By the following Monday, something had changed.

I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was.

Maybe it was the way Toby had started saving me a seat in the library.

Maybe it was the fact that I no longer rolled my eyes every time I saw his name light up on my phone.

Or maybe it was the fact that, somewhere between the puddle, the arguments, the study sessions, and that rainy walk back to my dorm, Toby Hayes had somehow become my friend.

A real friend.

Which was inconvenient.

Very inconvenient.

I was sitting outside the lecture hall, scrolling through my notes, when someone dropped into the seat beside me.

"Morning."

I didn't look up.

"You're late."

"I know."

"You said you'd be here ten minutes ago."

"I know."

I finally looked at him.

"You keep saying that."

He smiled.

"Because you're very observant."

"You're very annoying."

"And yet you keep sitting beside me."

I closed my notebook.

"You sat beside me."

"Details."

I shook my head, trying not to smile.

He noticed anyway.

His smile widened.

"There it is."

"What?"

"That smile."

"I wasn't smiling."

"You were."

"I wasn't."

"You absolutely were."

I turned away from him.

"Class is starting."

"You're avoiding the subject."

"Good."

He laughed quietly.

For some reason, sitting beside him didn't feel strange anymore.

A few weeks ago, I would've rather sat through an entire lecture standing than voluntarily sit next to Toby Hayes.

Now, I was starting to get used to him.

That thought should have worried me.

Instead, it felt strangely nice.

After class, we walked toward the student center together.

"So," Toby said, "what are you doing tonight?"

"Studying."

"That's tragic."

"It's called being responsible."

"There's a party tonight."

"No."

"You don't even know where it is."

"I don't need to."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to go."

He sighed dramatically.

"You really know how to ruin a man's evening."

"I'm sure you'll survive."

He looked at me.

"Come with me."

I stopped walking.

"Why?"

He shrugged.

"Because it'll be fun."

"You and I have very different definitions of fun."

"Probably."

I narrowed my eyes.

"Are you actually asking me to go to a party?"

"Yes."

"With you?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

He stared at me for a second.

Then smiled.

"Because you're my friend."

The word caught me off guard.

Friend.

I wasn't sure why.

Maybe because I hadn't expected Toby to say it so casually.

I looked away.

"Fine."

His eyebrows lifted.

"Fine?"

"Don't make me change my mind."

He grinned.

"Seven thirty."

"I didn't say I'd stay long."

"Seven thirty."

"I'll leave whenever I want."

"Seven thirty."

I sighed.

"You're impossible."

"And you're coming to the party."

He walked away before I could respond.

I watched him go.

Then smiled.

Again.

I was beginning to hate how often that happened around him.

---

That evening, I stood in front of my mirror for longer than I wanted to admit.

It wasn't a date.

It was a party.

With a friend.

That was all.

So why had I changed my outfit three times?

I finally settled on a simple black dress and boots.

Nothing dramatic.

Nothing that said I had spent forty minutes deciding what to wear.

Perfect.

When I arrived at the party, music was already shaking the walls.

Students crowded the house, laughing and shouting over the music.

I spotted Toby almost immediately.

He was standing with a group of guys near the kitchen.

One of them noticed me first.

He leaned toward Toby and said something.

Toby turned.

His eyes found mine.

And for a second, he just stared.

Then he smiled.

He walked over.

"You came."

"You invited me."

"I wasn't sure you'd actually come."

"I almost didn't."

"I'm glad you did."

I smiled.

"Hi."

"Hi."

There was an awkward pause.

Which was unusual for Toby.

"You look..." He stopped.

I raised an eyebrow.

"I look what?"

"Nice."

I laughed.

"Nice?"

He nodded.

"Very nice."

"That's the best you have?"

"I had something better, but I forgot it."

"Sure."

He smiled.

"Come on."

He led me toward the kitchen.

His friends were still there.

One of them looked at me, then at Toby.

Then back at me.

He smirked.

"So this is Zikora."

I frowned.

"This is...?"

"Toby talks about you."

I looked at Toby.

He immediately shook his head.

"I don't."

"You do."

"I really don't."

His friend laughed.

"Bro, you literally—"

Toby shoved a hand over his mouth.

I laughed.

"Okay, what exactly does he say?"

"Nothing important."

"That's what I thought."

His friend grinned.

"She's got you nervous."

"I'm not nervous."

"You look nervous."

"I don't."

I looked between them.

"This is entertaining."

Toby pointed at me.

"Don't encourage him."

"Too late."

He laughed.

And for the rest of the evening, I stayed by his side.

We talked.

We laughed.

He introduced me to people.

At some point, we ended up outside on the back porch because the music had become unbearable.

The night air was cool.

I leaned against the railing.

"You know," I said, "you're different here."

He looked at me.

"Different how?"

"Less annoying."

He smiled.

"That's disappointing."

"I said less. Not completely."

"Fair."

We stood quietly for a moment.

Then he looked at me.

"I like this."

"What?"

"This."

He gestured between us.

"Us being friends."

I smiled.

"Me too."

He looked away.

"Good."

Neither of us said anything after that.

But neither of us moved either.

---

Later that night, after Toby had walked me back to my dorm, he returned to the party.

His friends were still there.

The moment he walked into the kitchen, one of them raised an eyebrow.

"There he is."

Toby grabbed a bottle of water.

"What?"

"Where were you?"

"Walking Zikora back."

His friend laughed.

"Of course you were."

Toby frowned.

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing."

"It doesn't sound like nothing."

His friend leaned against the counter.

"You really like her, don't you?"

Toby rolled his eyes.

"She's my friend."

"Sure."

"She is."

His friend smiled.

"Then don't forget something."

Toby looked at him.

"What?"

The smile disappeared.

"The bet."

Toby went still.

For a moment, the noise around them seemed quieter.

Then he looked away.

"I haven't forgotten."

"Good."

Toby tightened his grip around the bottle.

"Why wouldn't I?"

His friend shrugged.

"Because you're spending every day with her. Walking her to her dorm. Taking her out. Studying together."

"She's my friend."

"You said that already."

"Because it's true."

His friend stared at him.

"Toby, you agreed to this. Don't start making it complicated."

Toby didn't answer.

He looked toward the doorway.

Zikora was gone.

He could still picture her standing there earlier, laughing at something he'd said.

He could still hear her voice.

Still remember the way she'd looked at him before saying she liked being his friend.

He swallowed.

The bet suddenly didn't feel funny anymore.

"Relax," his friend said. "It's just a game."

Toby nodded.

"Yeah."

Just a game.

That's what it was supposed to be.

He'd known the rules from the beginning.

So why did the thought of winning suddenly feel wrong?

Toby looked down at his phone.

A message from Zikora appeared.

Made it back. Thanks for tonight.

He smiled before he could stop himself.

His friend noticed.

"See?"

Toby looked up.

"See what?"

"You're in trouble."

Toby shook his head.

"No."

He typed a reply.

Anytime. Goodnight, Z.

He stared at the message after sending it.

Then quietly whispered to himself,

"She's just my friend."

But for the first time, he wasn't completely sure he believed it.