Well, here we go. I take my headphones off.
His smile is small and sad. “Hi Eve.”
“Hi.” I might as well get this out of the way. “I’m guessing you’ve what they’re saying about me.”
He doesn’t answer for a second. “Yeah,” he answers.
“Then … why are you talking to me?”
“Obviously, it’s not true.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Eve,” he says, taking my hand. “I’ve known you for two years now. I know what kind of person you are. You’re smart. You’re rational. You told me you’re not dating Noah. So why would you sleep with him?” His brow creases. “Why are you shaking your head?”
“I didn’t sleep with him,” I confirm. “Except … didn’t you hear other stuff?”
He sighs. “John told me you used Noah to make me jealous. Which is ridiculous.”
“It’s true.”
He recoils. “What?”
“Noah and I were friends,” I say. At least, I thought so. “But … we also knew that we would make our respective … crushes … jealous. Ew. I know that sounds so juvenile and crazy … but it’s true.”
Oliver doesn’t wrench his hand from mine, though he looks out to the car park. “When you say it like that,” he begins, “it isn’t a big deal. You never pretended to date. All you did was hang out and capitalise on people’s jealousy. That’s not a crime.”
“It’s not a big deal?” I repeat. “But it’s insane.”
He laughs. “Not to me. People do crazy stuff for love and romance all the time. You should see what my parents did before they got divorced. Ruby internet stalked a guy she liked so much that she found out where their parents work.”
“I can’t believe you’re trying to rationalise this.”
“I’m not justifying what my parents or Ruby or you did. But in your case, Eve, I don’t care that much.”
“Why?”
“I know you’re not psycho. You’re the most level-headed person I know.”
I scoff, thinking of how I spoke at lunchtime. “Have you seen me lose my temper?”
“Even when you lose your temper, your arguments are usually true and coherent.”
I shake my head. “That’s not an answer. Tell me. Why don’t you care about all of this?”
Oliver’s eyes run over my face. “Maybe I like you too much.” He squeezes my hand.
My stomach fills with butterflies, but I force myself to study Oliver, to turn this conversation over in my mind. I squeeze his hand.
“I like you too. But you knew that.”
“Not until recently.”
“How long?”
He knows what I’m asking and his lips quirk. “Longer than you.”
“I doubt it. I was good at pretending.”
