Unexpected meeting

“What are you doing here?” I blurted out, still reeling from Jake’s abrupt breakup.

Evans finally looked at me, pulling out a cigarette from his jacket pocket. "Do you have a lighter?" he asked, ignoring my question entirely.

I blinked. "You don't even smoke."

He shrugged, lighting the cigarette with a gold lighter I didn’t know he had. “Guess there’s a first time for everything.”

I wasn’t sure if he was being sarcastic or genuine. With Evans, it was always hard to tell.

We stood there in an awkward silence, the smoke from his cigarette curling lazily in the cool night air. I didn’t know why he was here, and frankly, I didn’t care. My mind was still spinning from Jake’s words—how things were ‘fine,’ how he wasn’t the right one for me. How it was over.'

I exhaled, my breath visible in the crisp air. "Why are you really here, Evans?"

He glanced at me, and for the first time, his usual arrogant smirk was gone. Instead, there was something quieter in his eyes. “I saw you walk out of the bar. You looked like you needed a cigarette... or something stronger.”

I scoffed, "Yeah, well, I don't think you can help unless you have a bottle of scotch hidden in that jacket."

Evans chuckled, flicking the ash from his cigarette. “Rough night?”

“Understatement of the year,” I muttered, leaning back against the wall next to him. I wanted to be angry, to keep my walls up like I always did around him, but right now, I just didn’t have the energy.

"Jake?" he asked, and I shot him a surprised look.

“How do you know—"

“Everyone knows,” Evans cut in. “You two are kind of the bar’s unofficial couple. Or… were.”

I winced at that, feeling the fresh sting of reality sinking in. “Yeah, well, not anymore.”

Evans nodded as if he understood, though I doubted he really did.

"Wait, you visit this bar too, Evans?” I asked again, trying to divert the conversation away from my failed relationship.

Evans shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. "Sometimes," he replied casually, his eyes flickering towards the door as if expecting someone.

"It's a gay bar !"

Evans just chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Yeah, I know."

"Wait are you...?" I fumbled. I had no idea Evans was also gay. I never kept track of his love life.

Evans raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing on his lips. "Does it matter?"

I didn’t say anything for a moment; I just let the quiet settle over us. Then I found myself laughing, not because anything was funny but because the whole situation felt absurd. The combination of my breakup and Evans's presence, smoking as if he were in a black-and-white film, was simply too much.

Evans raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“I don’t know,” I said between chuckles. “It’s just... weird. You and me, standing here. You asking me for a lighter. It's just sure. I mean, hate each other."

“I wouldn’t say hate,” Evans replied, smirking a little. “More like… healthy disdain.”

“Right.” I snorted. “Healthy disdain.”

He grinned, but it wasn’t the usual cocky smile I was used to. It was softer, almost teasing.

For a moment, I forgot why we were out here and why my heart felt like it had been kicked around like a football on a bad day. Instead. I didn’t know if it was the breakup messing with my head, but for the first time, standing next to Evans didn’t feel like standing next to an enemy. It felt… different.

I took a deep breath, staring at the cigarette in his hand. “So, you got a backup one of those, or what?”

Evans chuckled, reaching into his pocket to pull out another cigarette. He handed it to me. I took it, not really caring if this wasn’t my thing. Tonight, everything felt upside down anyway. We smoked in silence for a while.

“You know,” he said, flicking his cigarette into the gutter with a practiced flick of his wrist. “I gotta admit, seeing you like this, all brooding and mysterious with the neon lights behind you—it almost suits you.”

I rolled my eyes, exhaling a stream of smoke. “Yeah? Well, don’t get used to it. Cigarettes and I aren’t exactly lifelong pals.”

Evans chuckled, crossing his arms. “Pity. It adds to your whole ‘gritty footballer with a chip on his shoulder’ aesthetic. You might be a cliché, but at least you’d look good doing it.”

“Oh, right, because you’re all about aesthetics,” I shot back, a grin tugging at the corner of my mouth despite myself. “Remind me, Evans—was your trust fund bundled with a degree in fashion critique, or do you just get off on telling people what they’re doing wrong?”

He grinned, his eyes glinting under the streetlight. “You wound me, Camron. I was only offering my expert opinion.”

I scoffed, stubbing out the cigarette against the brick wall. “Thanks for the free consultation. Let me guess, I’m not your type.”

Evans didn’t miss a beat. “Not even close.”

“Good to know. I wouldn’t want to give you the wrong idea.”

“I’m not into charity cases.”

“Charity case? You think pretty highly of yourself, don’t you?”

Evans chuckled. "I just know what I want," he replied, his voice low and confident.

The air between us had shifted.

“Anyway,” I said, shoving my hands into my jacket pockets, feeling the chill start to seep into my bones. “Thanks for the smoke. Not that I needed saving or anything.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Evans replied.You looked like you were having a night, and I happened to be standing here.”

“Right.” I gave him a half-hearted salute. “Well, thanks. See you around, I guess.”

Evans just nodded. “Yeah. Later.”