I glared at David. “I don’t know, asshole. Check.”
He didn’t move an inch.
“Oh, my God…” Logan sounded awake, alert, and amused for the first time in years. “Is that a guy? Yara, do you have a guy in your room?”
I unmuted and quickly confirmed. “It’s no one.”
David snorted once again, loud enough for her to hear.
“Uh, I think maybe I should leave you to it,” Logan offered, and I could practically hear the gossip travelling through the grapevine. The news would begin with our sisters and slowly spread to the most distant relatives, where a twice-removed cousin’s partner would form an opinion to be discussed at the next family gathering.
“No.” I quickly tried to think of something that would reel her back in. Something interesting enough to make her forget. “I can talk. Let’s talk. How’s grad school? Is that other TA still taking credit for your work?”
Her adventures as a TA were low-hanging fruit. An easy trigger to steer her into a rant.
“Not falling for that.” I could hear the smile in her voice. “You know you’ve just made the agenda, right?”
“Lo, come on,” I pleaded.
“See you next week,” she sang. “Love you!”
As soon as she hung up, I turned to David and promised, “You’re dead.”
He gave me a warm smile that was so gentle I had to do a double-take to remember what we were.
“You can thank me later,” he said.
“Excuse me?”
“You wanted off that call but were too afraid to speak up for yourself.” He tilted his head. “Which is strange for you. I’ve never known you not to stand your ground.”
I frowned, unsettled by the observation and ammunition I’d just given him. “You don’t know me well enough to know what’s strange for me.”
David shook his head and leaned closer. My breath caught in my throat. Seriously, how did he smell so much like himself after being engulfed with my scent?
“I disagree. I think we both know one another better than most people in our lives.” His voice was almost too low for me to hear. “I’m going to find a word for us. Not strangers, acquaintances, or friends. There’s something more, and I’m going to find it.”
His promise rang in my ears. The words weren’t warm, and they were far from uncaring. And yet, David looked at me as ifIwere the mystery. I stared back, just as desperate to solve our puzzle.
2
The dares started sophomore year,when David and I finally accepted that our lives would continue to overlap, whether we liked it or not. We’d grown up in the same small town, New Harbor. Back then, our classes were barely larger than fifteen students. Teachers sat us next to each other because our last names were Every and Evans.
David had been a loner back then, a quiet, socially awkward kid who built model airplanes and drew comics. Once we’d gotten to high school, he finally had his growth spurt. His voice dropped at least five octaves, and he learned how to talk to people without abruptly leaving the conversation. David earned a spot on the varsity football team, which drew the attention of everyone who loved that sort of thing.
In high school, it was very apparent that David loved getting a rise out of anyone. He had made it his personal mission to find all the wrong buttons to press. My responses to his egging were some of his favorites. I become his go-to. David gravitated toward me without assigned seating. We bickered enough to convince our friends and every other person in our town that we’d repressed some burning desirefor one another. Both of us applying and being the only people in our graduating class to go to Westbrooke University didn’t help the matter.
After we moved away from home, we’d become the only source of normalcy for one another. Bumping into each other wasn’t easy on a large campus like Westbrooke. And yet, we did it with ease. It didn’t mean we liked one another. It meant we’d gotten so used to each other’s mess that we couldn’t untangle ourselves, even if we tried.
Haven was the first person to see the truth: there wasn’t any untapped love between David and me.
During our freshman year, she warned me not to engage when she noticed how heated I got in his presence. But I couldn’t stand around knowing how far he’d take his contrary, nonsensical opinion without providing pushback.
“Sure, nihilism has its place in society,” I ranted to Haven in our kitchen. It might be too early for a philosophical debate, but David’s response to my very well-thought-out discussion post had me seething.
After my call with my sister, he’d spent another forty minutes waiting for his clothes to dry. While I had been typing away on my laptop, he’d been typing away on his phone. It wasn’t until after he left that I realized he’d crafted a lengthy response to my post on hope in a capitalistic society. His response was three times the required length. He’d picked apart every bit of my argument without so much as an attempt to see my side of things.
“But we’re doomed if we think nothing matters,” I continued.
