Chapter Twelve
“Hey, Emmy! Oh, wow, you look amazing!” Evan says as he walks across the street toward me.
“Yeah … except for the cast,” I reply. “But thanks! You look incredible as well. Is this new?” I realize that I’m flirting with him, without even meaning to.
He looks down at his black silk shirt that’s halfway open, exposing his tanned and muscular chest enticingly. “This ol’ thing? Yeah, I guess so. I figured I should dress up a little for tonight. We haven’t been to a concert in a long time,” he says.
“Dress up a little? You look amazing!” I reply, looking him up and down.
But there’s a strange look on his face. He’s not smiling like he usually does when I compliment him, nor is he keeping up this conversation.
Before I can ask him what’s wrong, Evan changes the subject. “There’s about a million people here. Shall we go inside? I’m afraid someone will bump into your arm on this sidewalk,” he says.
“Sure. But to be honest, someone might bump into me inside as well. I can’t imagine it’ll be less crowded—it’s a Harry Styles concert. Thanks for taking care of me and my arm, though.” I smile.
“You know I always do.” Evan puts his arm around me in a protective way, and we proceed toward the entrance of the venue, snaking through the metallic barriers they’ve installed just for tonight.
As it turns out, he was right about the crowds. No matter how careful we try to be, there are simply too many people, wandering aimlessly and chaotically every which way, not paying attention to anything. I can feel Evan’s fingers grip my shoulder as he tries to protect me. Luckily, my left arm is nestled between us and safe from bumps, but people are still charging into me from time to time as they simply don’t look where they’re going.
“Hey, watch it!” he calls out to a bunch of teenagers who almost run me down.
They don’t even notice and continue along, laughing and joking.
“It’s alright, Evan. I didn’t even feel it,” I reassure him.
“I just want you to be safe,” he tells me as he pulls me even closer. His strong arm wraps around me as my heart starts to beat faster. I swallow heavily, and I can feel myself growing warmer and warmer.
It must be from the heat of the crowd…
After a quick scan of our tickets, we finally make it inside. We have floor tickets, and I feel the excitement building now that we’re here. There are purple and pink lights flashing continuously, creating a surreal atmosphere, almost like a dream.
As the venue fills up with people, Evan and I are forced to stand closer and closer together.
“Wow, so many people, right?” I call out to him over the noise.
“What?? Oh, yeah! I mean, it’s Harry Styles, so…”
A group of girls find a tiny slice of space right behind us. They bump into me, sending me further into Evan’s arms. He holds me tight, and I can feel his pulse quicken, his heartbeat rising now.
“Hey! Stop that! Please don’t push into her!” he tells the girls. “She has a cast.”
“Sorry!” They start to giggle. I turn my head and watch in shock as all of them—probably six or seven girls no older than nineteen or twenty—are blatantly checking out Evan from head to toe, as if scanning some kind of meat at the supermarket. One of them says something to the others—I can’t make it out—and it’s obvious that she’s talking about Evan.
They all start laughing again before one of the girls runs a hand through her hair and addresses him. “Hey, so … Are you like … a fan of … Harry or something?”
“Sure,” he says, his arms still wrapped around me protecting me against the crowd.
“Bet! That slaps! We stan Harry! It’s so like … lit that we have that in common!” the girl says.
Evan doesn’t answer this time.
And I suddenly feel very old…
I put my own arm around his waist, hoping the girls will direct their attention elsewhere.
They don’t.
“So … do you have like an Insta or Snapchat? Because if so, you should definitely add me!” the girl tells him in an obvious attempt to hit on him.
My blood starts to boil.
I don’t understand how she feels so much at liberty to do this in my presence. It is more than obvious that Evan has his arms around me. And that he’s not interested in her.
How can she possibly act like that?
“Umm, Evan? Can we move a little? Over there? These lights are right in my eyes,” I tell him.
“Yes, of course. Let’s go to that side,” he says and takes my hand, leading me through the crowd that is now getting denser and denser.
To my relief, we’re far enough away from the group of girls now that I can’t hear them giggling anymore.
“Can you believe them?” I ask Evan as we settle into our new space near the stage and wait for the concert to start.
“Believe what?”
“Those girls! I mean, the way they were just throwing themselves at you. Right in front of me!”
Evan gives me a serious look. Framed by the purple and pink lights of the stage, it almost looks like he’s in a movie scene. “They were way too young, but even if they weren’t, is that a problem, Emmy?”
“It’s—well, it’s just that … I mean … It’s not a problem, per se! It’s just that—well, how did she know that we’re not a couple? Huh? We literally had our arms around each other! How did she know that you’re available?”
He shrugs and looks around into the crowd and toward the empty stage. His indifference bothers me as I want to continue talking about this topic.
“Evan, come on! Why aren’t you more upset about this? You don’t think that was super weird? How come we’re not on the same page? We’re always on the same page.”
He turns his face back toward me and gives me a look of utter incredulity. “Upset? Emmy, what is there to be upset about? A girl made a pass at me. So, what? I’m a single guy at a concert. What seems to be the issue here?”
“The issue here is that—” I stop myself before I can continue this sentence, unsure of what I should even say.
Suddenly, a thundering drum roll fills the auditorium.
The lights change to sparkling gold, and Harry Styles himself makes an appearance in the middle of the stage. The singer looks fantastic—he’s wearing a pink and lavender jumpsuit covered entirely in sequins.
The crowd goes insane—the screaming becomes almost unbearable for a few moments. It’s so loud in here, it’s almost impossible to even hear the music.
In spite of the noise, the only thing I can hear are Evan’s words, still ringing in my mind.
“I’m a single guy at a concert. What seems to be the issue here?”
A single guy at a concert…
He’s right. Technically, both Evan and I are single, and we came to this concert as friends. And because I wanted to see Harry Styles, of course.
But, the way he said that sentence made me feel so … excluded from his life.
So alone.
So … left out.
Next to me, Evan’s eyes are glued to the stage, and he appears to be enjoying the music.
“I’m … I’m going to get something to drink!!” I call out to him over the immense noise.
“What?? Oh, yeah, okay! I’ll come with you!” he replies, yelling in my ear.
We move away through the crowd and head toward the bar on the right. It’s a little quieter here, and we still have a good view of the stage, thanks to our great tickets.
“Oh, goodness, what madness! I knew he was loved. But this is insane!” Evan grins looking at the frenzied fans.
“Yeah. I could say the same about you!” I reply.
“What?”
“Never mind. Two lemonades, please!” I order.
The woman behind the bar—a redhead with her arms covered in tattoos that reminds me a little of Carol, minus the tattoos, of course—smiles and cannot stop staring at Evan.
I groan and roll my eyes.
“Emmy, are you alright?” he asks me.
“I’m fine.” I can hear myself saying the words and I hate it.
Because I’m not fine.
I’m jealous.
And I hate that I’m jealous, because it means my friends might be right…
“Seriously? You don’t look ‘fine.’” He puts air quotes around the word and laughs.
“I don’t know. I guess when I came here tonight, I expected Harry Styles to be the star of the show but, to my surprise, it’s you, Evan.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“The woman behind the bar. The girls in the crowd. All these women just can’t stop staring at you! It makes me…”
“It makes you what? I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”
“Look, this conversation is far too serious for this occasion. We came here to have some fun, didn’t we?” I take a sip of my lemonade but it’s much too sour.
Or maybe I am.
“I don’t know anymore. Why don’t you tell me, Emmy? Why did we come here tonight?” he asks me.
I stare up at him, my turn to be confused. “To see Harry Styles?”
“No. That’s not what I mean. Why did you ask me to go to this concert with you?” he insists.
“Because Larisa gave me these two tickets. She was supposed to go with Gianluca, but they couldn’t anymore. She gave them to me instead and I thought that I’d ask you,” I explain. “We love going to concerts together, right? We’ve been to a million of them since we were children.”
His face grows a little darker now. “I see. So, this was just another concert that we were meant to see as best friends?”
“Yes.”
“One of many?”
“Yes.”
“Alright, then. Fine.” He gulps down half his lemonade and spills some on his chin.
I reach out with my left hand and wipe it off. The sweet and sticky liquid comes clean off his soft skin.
He looks into my eyes for a moment but quickly diverts his gaze. “Let’s go back to our spot. There’s still a lot of the concert left.”
This time, he walks ahead of me, not even waiting for me to answer.
The concert rolls on, song after song, some of which I recognize and can sing along to, some of which I don’t. The fans are almost rabid now as the concert comes to a close, not wanting it to end. It feels like such an ephemeral moment, having an elusive figure on the stage, so close and yet so far.
Next to me, Evan sways lightly from side to side as one last song plays. The atmosphere is surreal, as tens of thousands of people sing along all around me, their voices united and magnified. I know this song,“Late Night Talking,” very well, and listen to it all the time. But as Harry Styles sings about not being a fan of change, yet still wanting to follow his lover to any place … it’s never had much significance to me until this very moment, it seems.
I look toward Evan and see him watching the stage intently, almost as if he’s trying to avoid looking at me. The song goes on, as do the thousands of voices around us, until the lines are seared into my brain.
But before I have a chance to realize it, the concert is over, and we find ourselves back on the sidewalk, waiting for an Uber. All around us, rivers of people are pouring out of the venue and heading down the street.
“Wow, that was amazing, wasn’t it? I had such high hopes, and it truly was one of the … Evan, is everything alright? You’re so quiet.”
“Yes, I’m fine. Let’s get you home.” He tries to smile, but it’s much colder than usual.
“Come on, tell me. What’s wrong? Is it all these girls that keep hitting on you?” I try to make a joke, but he’s not having it.
He sighs deeply and runs a hand across his face. “Emmy … why are you doing this?”
“Why am I doing what?”
“Why are you sending me all these mixed signals?”
“Me? Mixed signals? Are you sure you haven’t got the wrong person?” I laugh.
“Please, don’t do that. I’m being serious. And yes, you’re sending me mixed signals. Look, you invited me to this concert, saying it’s nothing but us being friends as always—”
“And I meant that! We’ve been to a million concerts together!” I tell him.
“Yes, I know. But then, even though this is supposed to be nothing but a friendly thing, you acted incredibly jealous when a woman barely looked at me. Do you get what I’m saying?”
“I wasn’t … No, hold on. I didn’t act jealous. I think you’re getting this all mixed up,” I try to defend myself.
“Really? When that girl asked me for my Instagram, you almost flew off the handle. Afterward, when I told you that there was nothing wrong with that because I’m single, you sulked for half an hour. After which, you gave dirty looks to the bartender who served us lemonade.” He accurately sums up my behavior tonight.
But I’m much too embarrassed to admit that he’s right, because these feelings are way too new and much too complicated.
So instead, I try to defend my ridiculous behavior.
“Wow, I have to say … you have a wild imagination. I was only offended by those girls because … because they were young and … yeah. Too young for you, Evan, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“That’s not really for you to decide. Even if you are my best friend,” he says simply and quietly.
“Well, then, she was definitely not your type! And don’t you dare tell me otherwise, Evan Davis! I know you better than anyone else, and I know she wasn’t your type!”
I hear the words coming out of my mouth, but can hardly believe what I’m saying.
I’m acting ridiculous, but I don’t even really understand why.
This whole conversation feels like an out-of-body experience.
“Still, that doesn’t mean you have to become defensive, or tell me who I should date,” he replies, looking more tired than ever.
“But we were supposed to spend tonight together! I didn’t invite you here so that you could flirt with other girls,” I tell him, unable to mask the hurt in my voice.
Because the truth is, I can’t stand seeing you flirt with other women…
“And I didn’t. But that’s the problem. You say that you don’t want us to be together and that you don’t want to honor the marriage pact. At the same time, you also don’t want me to even look at other women—you become jealous and territorial. So, what am I supposed to do, Emmy? Because you’ve already decided that you don’t want me, but suddenly you don’t want me to be with other women. Right?”
“No, of course not. Don’t be silly. I … I want you to be happy,” I say.
“As long as it’s not with someone else,” he adds.
“Evan, where is this coming from?”
“From the fact that you won’t admit to anything. You refuse to admit that you do have feelings for me, that you are indeed jealous, and that you might even want to honor the marriage pact. You’re just scared.”
“Please don’t tell me how I feel,” I reply, getting more and more frustrated with the conversation.
“Then please don’t tell me how to act.”
The conversation ends on that note, and I feel a sense of melancholy washing over me. Evan refuses to join me in the Uber and I take the ride home, alone, with my own thoughts, feeling more morose than ever.