Page 23 of Friends with Benefits

“Sal is giving me until the end of the week to figure something out, but unless we rob a bank or one of us wins the lottery…”

Theo lets the sentence trail off as he scrolls through the rental agreement on his phone. Evie can almost hear him thinking, just two words bouncing around in his skull in aloop.Fix this, fix this, fix this.It’s Theo’s best worst quality, his desire to be a fixer. Because some things can’t be fixed—not her ankle, not her diagnosis, and not the bullshit terms of this lease.

“What are we going to do?” Evie asks.

We.

In moments like these, she’s here to remind him not to be so in his head, that they can problem-solve together. He fixates on the lease, his expression unreadable at first, but a moment later it relaxes into his signature smirk—and just as she can hear his brain working, she can alsoseethe moment a solution clicks into place.

“There’s a way that we can qualify to renew my lease.”

She arches a single eyebrow. “Without committing a felony?”

“It’s a… let’s call it a loophole. A brilliant one, actually.”

“I’m listening.”

When Theo looks up, she resists the urge to inform him that he still has a bit of ice cream on his face, the purple ube in his dimple adding a touch of levity to this moment. A rogue curl falls in front of eyes that meet hers and Evie is starting to believe thatloopholeis a generous descriptor for whatever he’s about to suggest. It’s going to be a felony. A misdemeanor at minimum. Theo pushes his hair out of his eyes and flashes her an ube dimple grin, and Evie braces herself, wondering what it says about her that she would rob a bank for him, if he asked.

She opens her mouth to say this.

To assure Theo that she’d do anything for him, if he asked.

She doesn’t. Thankfully. Because his brilliant loophole solution? It’s the one thing—theonlything—that she’ll never,everdo.

“Marry me, Evelyn.”

6

Theo braces for the impact of those three words that tumbled out of his mouth like a revelation. He watches as her face expresses an entire spectrum of emotion in real time, morphing from wide eyes to furrowed forehead lines, her lips pursed together until she can no longer contain the laughter that escapes in the form of a snort-cackle that makes him so anxious. Not to take back the proposal, but to clarify it. He can’t. At least, not while Evelyn continues to snort-cackle (snackle?). She plucks a napkin from the dispenser between them and leans forward to wipe his cheek. Purple ice cream streaks the napkin.

“I’m sorry,” she snackle-cries. “For a second, I thought you were serious.”

“Hear me out,” Theo says.

Evelyn crumples the napkin. “You’re serious?”

In the beat of silence that follows, Theo considers leaning into the joke that Evelyn so badly wants this to be. It’s not too late to laugh off his very serious proposal like he’s still theten-year-old kid who wrinkled his nose any time an adult in their lives referred to Evelyn as his girlfriend.

But.

It’s a solution.

“I am.”

“Theodore.”

He holds his phone out to show Evelyn the paragraph that inspired him. “We can combine our income to meet the minimum salary threshold if we’re married.”

“Seriously?” she asks, and he watches her read and reread that single paragraph until her tiny forehead vein protrudes. “So our financial status is sufficient, so long as we change our relationship status? That’s bullshit.No. Noway.”

“Ouch,” Theo mutters, clutching his heart. “Don’t let me downtooeasy.”

Evelyn kicks his shin, then winces. “Sorry,” she whispers, caressing the toe that just smashed into his leg. “It’s a loaded question.”

His eyes meet hers. “I know.”

They were twelve when Naomi left her daughters to “find herself.” Just kids when Evelyn fell apart in his arms at the end of the recital her mother had missed. Over the years, Theo has listened to Evelyn wax poetic about how marriage—the institution—benefits men more than women. She’d recite studies and statistics about how many people exist in unhappy marriages because the patriarchy sells a false narrative, a fantasy—and the reality, to quote teen Evelyn,fucking blows.

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