“How was lunch with lover boy?” Cameron called over the partition as Evan logged back into his computer. Only the tops of his Christmas tree head bopper were visible from Evan’s side of the cube, the tiny stars ducking in and out of Evan’s view each time Cameron bounced in time with music he listened to, against company regulations. “Have you finally made a move?”

Evan fumbled with his headset, his chair creaking as he shifted his weight. “Shut up,” he hissed, glancing around to make sure no one overheard.

“Come on. Everyone knows you’re gone on him.”

The utter matter-of-factness in Cameron’s voice told Evan the words were painfully true. Evan sighed. Good thing he had given up any remaining shred of pride in high school. It was simply impossible to hide when you were his size, whether you wanted to or not.

Cameron continued to twist his unintentional knife into Evan’s side. “Except him.”

“I’m not that obvious,” Evan protested while he reopened his call log.

“Please.” Cameron threw a crumpled ball of paper into Evan’s cube, hitting him on the head with blind, if unerring, accuracy. “Two points!”

“You don’t even know you hit me.” Evan batted the missile into his trash, wishing Cameron would get to work and leave him alone.

“How can I not, a yeti like you.” Cameron dropped his teasing tone. “I’m just saying, as much as I enjoy watching you stumble around your love life, if you don’t make a move soon, somebody else will.”

Evan froze, stunned by Cameron’s offhand comment. His breath caught, his chest tightening as if crushed by a heavy weight. So much for his brave determination earlier. Could he handle being friends with Gavriil while he dated someone else? Evan paled at the thought, his lunch turning into an indigestible lump in his stomach. “What do you care?”

“I don’t really.” The tiny treetops popped back into view, too cheerful for the sense of doom washing over Evan. “But having you over there all mopey and depressed would totally suck for me. I took one of those online quizzes that put me in the highest percentile of empathy. I can’t handle the negative vibes.”

Thankfully, Evan’s screen flashed with an incoming notification, and he accepted the call with both relief and the last, muttered word. “I’ll give you some negative vibes.”

The afternoon stayed busy, and Evan appreciated not having time to overthink. It was only later at home, after walking Archie, a quick dinner of leftover takeout, and a halfhearted cleanup, that he sat on his couch and, to the accompanying sound of the Jeopardy! theme, dropped his head into his hands. Ever sensitive to Evan’s moods, Archie jumped up beside him and kept watch while Evan allowed himself to fully experience what he could only call panic.

This was huge. This was disastrous. This changed everything.