She keeps going. “Okay, but tell me honestly, as an outsider, what are your thoughts on intelligence?”
The guy just keeps talking like he doesn’t understand that she’s insulting him.
I decide to step in and save her from this tool.
“Hey, Evangeline. I need to ask you something about the footage from the game tonight.”
She looks over at me and smirks, and my heart does a stupid flip.
“Yeah, for sure,” she says, then looks back at the guy. “Nice meeting you. Enjoy your beer.”
We both turn to walk away, and I place my hand on the small of her back and feel her silky skin beneath my fingers.
“Thanks for that. I could barely hang on.” She tilts her head toward me.
“Yeah, I could tell he was pretty hammered. Do you need a drink?” I move my hand from her back and walk over to the fridge.
“Sure, but I think I’ll just have a water this round. Is there any in there?”
I bend down to look and see a few bottles hiding behind a case of beer. “Yep.”
I hand one to her, then grab another beer for myself.
“Thanks,” she says, not making eye contact. “It seems like half the campus is here tonight.”
I don’t want to let her walk away from me, so I take her elbow and lead her to an empty corner of the kitchen.
“Feels like it tonight,” I say, leaning against the counter. I cross my arms, trying to look steady despite my pulse racing. “I was gonna come say hi to you tonight.”
She raises an eyebrow, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Were you? Because it looked like you wereoccupied. That girl seemed very interested in getting your attention.”
So, she was watching me.
“You can call me Eva, by the way. That’s what my friends call me,” she says, then takes a sip of water.
“Are we friends, Eva?” I smile.
“You know we are. I would say two people who talk just about every day are friends.”
“Then how come we never hang out aside from on the sideline at games and the world’s most boring English Lit lecture?”
“Gah! Seriously, Professor Jenkins could suck the life out ofThe Great Gatsby; he deserves an award.”
“I only passed because you’d kept me awake.”
“You only passed because I’d created the study guide for you.”
“It was impressive. I liked the color-coded annotations.”
She points a finger at me. “And you still asked me what symbolism meant ten minutes before the exam.”
“I was making conversation.”
“You were panicking.”
“Athletes don’t panic. We strategically worry.”
Her laugh fills the space between us, warm and familiar, and it hits me the same way it does whenever I’m around her. Like home.
