Page 46 of My (Not So) Perfect Plan

It seems like Evan is popping up all over the place recently, and when I least expect it. I thought we had reached a good place, if by good one meant basically no interaction and me almost hyperventilating every time he tutored me or everytime he helped me break down my gala tent after football games. Admittedly, it’s only happened twice now and I’m wondering if it will happen a third.

Tamara talks my mother into giving me a night off on Thursday night. I know it’s not exactly in the plan, but I feel exhausted and scatterbrained. I figure it’s because I’ve been keeping myself so busy so I don’t have to think.

Thinking leads to feeling depressed, like I gave up on something beautiful and good, even if I know it’s not true. We make plans to meet up at Chuy’s, this little Asian eatery that has the best sushi I’ve ever had and then go see a movie. Since it’s not a girl’s night, Raven is going to pick me up. I get ready for it by applying a light layer of makeup and a sparkly shirt with a boat neck collar to go with my knee length skater skirt and strappy sandals. I’m not trying to impress anyone, but wow do I feel the need to look pretty right now, even if it’s only my friends that think so.

Raven whistles when he picks me up. “Trying to get someone’s number at the Asian restaurant?” he asks.

I laugh it off and thank him for the compliments before climbing into his car. It’s an older BMW, but with the way he babies it, you’d think it was just off the assembly line.

When we pull into the parking lot, Tamara isn’t there yet, so we sit in the car and wait.

A huge black truck pulls into the spot next to us and to my surprise Tamara jumps down, holding a milkshake. She walks up to the front of the car and waits for us, one hand on her stomach. I slide out, wondering what the heck is going on, but freeze in between Raven’s car and the one beside me. Evan comes around the side of the truck, no crutch in sight. He limpsover to Tamara and leans forward to whisper something in her ear. She smiles up at him and nods her head.

My heart stutters to a stop and I feel like I can’t breathe. Wasn’t she the one saying just the other day that I shouldn’t give up on him? What was he doing here? Didn’t he have his own friends? Why couldn’t he go aim that smile at one of his groupies instead of sucking one of my best friends into the Evan vortex too?

“Claire?” Raven asks, holding out a hand to me. I take it, knowing he’s offering it purely as a matter of emotional support, but when I look back up, I catch the tail end of Evan’s glance. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s pissed at seeing Raven hold my hand. So weird.

The four of us walk into the restaurant in the most uncomfortable non-date couples date ever.

“Claire, you can’t bring outside drinks into a restaurant,” Raven stage-whispers to her.

“Oh, right.” The milkshake is half full, but she tosses it into the hostess’ trashcan like it’s no big deal. “It tasted a little off anyway.” And that explains why she just tossed it when normally, she would have a conniption about wasting chocolate.

We sit down to eat. The restaurant isn’t crowded, but there’s more people than I want to witness the debacle this is going to become. Suddenly Tamara groans and clutches her stomach. She leans over the table, her face hidden by curls.

“Oh, man. I don’t feel so hot,” she mumbles. We all express our concerns and I’m wondering if we should call it a night, but she promises us not to. She groans again.

Evan turns to her, and touches her arm. I want to slap his hand, which makes me such a jerk because my best friend is sick and in pain and I’m being petty and small.

“Let me take you home,” he says, preparing to get up out of the booth.

“Actually, I think it would be better if I took her,” Raven says. Evan and I turn to him, surprised.

“Tamara has IBS, I’m used to dealing with her when she’s like this,” Raven shrugs. Tamara groans again and shoves him on the shoulder.

“Not cool, dude, revealing all my secrets,” she moans. “Ugh. Raven, take me home.”

I start rising to my feet along with Raven, but Tamara pins me in place with a glare. “Don’t even think about it. You hardly ever get out, much less get dressed up. You are not wasting that pretty outfit on me. I’ll feel so guilty if I ruin everyone’s evening. Keep this guy entertained for me, please?” she pouts.

I have a sneaking suspicion that Tamara is trying to con me, but I figure there are too many moving parts to have pulled this off and she’s hardly a mastermind.

Evan looks torn about leaving or staying as well. He looks over at me, a question in his eyes and I shrug. If it will make Tamara feel better, I’m willing to take one for the team and it’s not like I can leave without looking like I’m a coward. Raven gives me a grim, apologetic smile and then escorts Tamara out with a hand at the small of her back, his face turning towards her in concern as they weave through the tables and out the door.

Evan slides back into the booth and suddenly I feel like there’s no air in this restaurant. Somehow Evan Carmichael and I were spending an evening together. Again.

“So…. You and Tamara, huh?” I ask.

“So, you and Raven, huh?” Evan asks, throwing the question back at me. I want to pry, but it’s obviously notwelcome. We fall silent while we peruse the menus and put in our orders.

“Tamara told me the theme for the gala this year is A Night In Venice. Pretty cool. Your idea?” Evan asks as soon as the waitress leaves. My eyes stop studying the trickles water droplets are making on the outside of my glass and rise to meet his. Are we going to be friendly now? I suck in a breath because I had forgotten how intense his eyes can be.

“Yeah. All of the décor is going to be themed around Venice. You know, masked ball, water, excessive glitz, and ornate glam.”

He asks me a bunch of questions about the décor and I’m surprised by his interest, but more than happy to supply details of what I envision.

“The only thing not in the budget is the photo booth I was hoping to do. We’re going with a really generic arch instead,” I frown.

“Instead of what?”

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