“Sounds delicious,” Brynna deadpanned.
She tucked her legs underneath her and sunk into the butter-soft leather of the old couch, immediately liking the private vibe, enjoying the enveloping warmth of the place. She was comfortable enough to forget that Evan had dragged her there in an effort to force her secrets out of her and that she was about to down a horrible-sounding coffee drink rather than a mind-numbing shot.
When he came back with their drinks—two behemoth mugs oozing whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles—Brynna was in a relaxed state. Even more so when she took her first sip.
“This sounded disgusting when you described it, but it is incredible.”
“There really isn’t any eye of newt in it. That was a joke.”
She nudged him gently. “Dork.”
“So.” Evan got comfortable, situating himself so he was facing Brynna full on. “Spill it.”
The nervous twitter that the comfort of the room had stamped out was back, full force. The sweet, chocolate liquid turned to acid, burning in her stomach. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Are you bipolar?”
Brynna pulled back, stunned. “No.”
“Then there is something going on with you. Are you doing drugs? Do I have to go all public service announcement on your ass?”
She wrinkled her nose. “No, of course not. On both counts. I’m fine, Ev, seriously.”
“Nope. You were all fun, bubbly Bryn and then, kapow! You’re terrified of your own shadow, and you’ve worn the same hoodie and jeans to school three days in a row.”
She looked down at the jeans in question. “You noticed that?”
“Everyone noticed. Darcy was going to host an intervention.”
“There is—”
Evan put a hand on her shoulder. “Spare me. If you’re going to say that there isn’t anything wrong, then it’s been nice knowing you.”
Brynna gaped. “Seriously? If I don’t spill some stupid secrets to you, you’re going to stop being my friend?”
But Brynna’s indignant act dropped the second she saw the look on Evan’s face. It was sad. Kind.
“I want to help you, B. I care about you. If something is bothering you, it’s bothering me too.”
A hint of a lump started to form in her throat. “Does everyone else feel this way too?”
“Lauren and Darcy? No, they couldn’t give a crap. Teddy, I don’t know about. So come on, B, what’s going on with you?”
Brynna put down her mug and studied a blue ink stain on the leg of her jeans. Part of her wanted to tell Evan everything, to let someone shoulder a tiny bit of her burden, even if it was only for the duration of a car ride and a cup of cocoa-malt-banana-coffee. But the other part—the louder part—rallied for her to drop her coffee and run, or to make up something, some lie that would appease Evan so she could keep his friendship—and her secret.
Internally, Erica, the dare, that night would follow Brynna forever. She would never be able to dismiss what had happened, would never be able to overcome her grief and her guilt. If she hadn’t dared—then prodded, then pulled—Erica into the water, Erica would still be alive. If she had gone back in the water again, maybe she could have saved her best friend.
Erica was the pretty one, the fun one, the smart one. Brynna was just the girl who survived.
“Okay, look. I’ll tell you a secret first, and then you’ll know that we’re bound together forever and you can tell me yours.”
Brynna nodded, glad just to have a few more minutes while Evan looked away, worrying his bottom lip. Finally, he sucked in a dramatic breath and focused his eyes on her.
“No one else knows this, B, okay?”
“Okay, just between us.”
He closed his eyes for a long beat and then blurted, “I hate corduroy.”
Brynna gaped. “Seriously? That’s your enormous, earth-shattering secret? That you hate fabrics?”
He held up a finger. “One. I hate one fabric.”
Brynna rolled her eyes but found herself smiling.
“It’s serious!” Evan smirked behind his coffee mug and took a long sip. “Okay, also—”
“If you’re going to tell me you hate seersucker too, I’m going to beat you with this coffee mug.”
“I don’t know what seersucker even means. My secret is that I hate corduroy. I hate the shoosh-shoosh sound it makes when people walk. Also, I’m gay.”
He kept his focus on her, and Brynna could nearly see the cogs working in his head behind his bright, wide eyes. He was sitting up ramrod straight and holding his breath.
“Okay,” Brynna said.
He let out a chocolaty, banana-scented whoosh of air. “Okay? That’s your response?”
Brynna blinked innocently. “Who am I to judge what kind of fabric a guy likes?” She grinned. “Honestly, I kind of had an idea.”
Evan shrugged, his cheeks going pink.