Page 39 of No One Else

“Of course you’d do some kind of hacker stuff to find out,” Charlotte says.

“Total Natalie move,” Samantha grins.

“Exhibit D,” I continue, taking their comments as high praise indeed, “is that Evan kissed me again on Saturday.”

“What?” Samantha yells, slamming her hands down on the table, causing more than a few people to look our way. “Why didn’t you start with that?”

Eden slouches down in her seat, covering the side of her face with her hand, like she’s uncomfortable with the attention on us now.

“I was leading up to it,” I defend myself. “And it’s not completely what you think.” I give them the specifics, including how I realized later he was about to say something when I was called away. “Do you think he was going to say something about her? Admit she isn’t real?”

“It’s possible,” Charlotte muses.

“Okay, okay, vote time,” Samantha declares, raising her hand. “I say she’s totally fake. Eden, what do you think? Is she real or fake?”

She straightens her glasses, suddenly appearing very authoritative. “I also say she’s fictional. All data presented corroborates with your original hypothesis. Of course, without conclusive evidence, I can’t make any definitive judgments, and no counterargument has been made, but I’d say the margin of error is slim that I’m wrong.”

Samantha shakes her head, staring at Eden like she’s got a third eye in the middle of her forehead. “Um, right. What about you Charlotte?”

Charlotte looks thoughtful, a puzzled frown on her face. “I just can’t get over Evan outright lying about this. Everything I know about him is that he’s a good guy. What does he stand to gain?”

“That’s a great question,” I murmur.

“Let’s go back to the scene of the crime,” Samantha says, really going with the legal analogy now. “When he told you about her. Was there a reason he said it? Something that could have prompted him to make her up?”

“I don’t think so. I mean, it was the first time we’d really talked since that night at Empire.” I close my eyes, trying to remember exactly what happened. “We’d been paired up for the project for Marketing and it was a little awkward. He apologized about it all and asked if we could start again.”

I open my eyes, those emotions from over a month ago coming back so clearly. “I couldn’t believe it, like he just wanted to sweep it all under the rug. I mean, he had said he loved me. That’s pretty serious. Right?” They all nod in unison. “But he said he was over it. That he even had a girlfriend now.”

“Maybe he was just trying to get things back to normal between you,” Eden pipes up.

My brow furrows. “How would making up Sarah do that?”

“You said he wanted to start again. Reset the balance. His confession from before could have been a weight against him. If he added in a new girlfriend, it would negate his feelings for you and put everything back at zero.”

“But why would he want to negate his feelings for me?” I ask in a small voice, suddenly embarrassed at this whole situation.

Charlotte reaches out to hold my hand, her grip comforting. “You didn’t see him after that night at Empire. He was frantic, so incredibly worried he’d messed up everything between the two of you. He probably didn’t want to lose you in the only capacity you’d ever been - as friends.”

Samantha nods. “If he had a girlfriend, that would mean he wasn’t in love with you anymore and you could stay friends.”

“But I thought he wanted to be more than friends.”

“Were you ready to be more than friends back then?” Charlotte asks kindly.

“Probably not,” I admit.

“I think the bigger question here is that assuming he really did make up Sarah and lied to you about it, can you trust him again?”

“I-” I can trust Evan, right? He’s the most trustworthy guy I know. But Charlotte’s right, he lied. Again, assuming I’m correct about this whole Sarah business. But even if he did lie, it was for a good reason - I think.

Samantha takes pity on my uncertainty, pushing her chair closer and takes my hands in hers, looking deep into my eyes. With the bangles up and down her arms and wild, curly hair loose around her shoulders, she reminds me of a gypsy about to tell my fortune, peering into my soul.

“Close your eyes and tell me what your gut says. Not anything based on logic or exhibits or even what your lady parts are saying.” I smile, doing as she says. “Focus on that internal gut feeling that tells you yes or no if you can trust him.”

I do my best to concentrate, tuning my senses inward, blocking out the general din coming from the other students around us. Can I trust Evan?

Yes.

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