I'm Not Like Them

Chapter 8

By the time dessert was offered, Avery and Chelsea were still giggling over his stories, but Evan hardly tasted the sweetness on his tongue. For him, the evening wasn’t about food, or friendship, or even playing the charming professor.

It was about Rania Isolde Veyra. And the fact that she had already become the question he needed to answer.

By the time the plates were cleared and the last of their laughter faded, the restaurant had thinned out, leaving only the hum of low conversation and the clink of cutlery in distant corners. Avery and Chelsea leaned back in their chairs, content and full, their cheeks flushed from too much soda and too much giddy talk.

Evan signaled for the bill with a polite nod to the server. His tone was easy, almost careless, but his eyes flickered toward Rania again, searching for a crack in her composure.

She gave him nothing. Not a glance. Not a word. Only silence—a silence that seemed to grow heavier the longer it lasted.

When they finally left, the Nevada evening air greeted them—cool, touched with desert dusk. The sky burned in streaks of amber and violet, but Evan’s focus wasn’t on the horizon. It was on the way Rania walked just ahead of him, her stride calm, decisive, as though determined not to give him the satisfaction of proximity.

The girls slid into the backseat of his car once more, giggling and whispering. Rania hesitated at the passenger’s side. For a heartbeat, Evan wondered if she’d defy them all and walk home instead. But then, with a clipped exhale, she opened the door and slipped inside.

The click of her seatbelt was louder than it should’ve been.

Evan started the engine. His smile—polite, patient—barely moved as he pulled out onto the road. But inwardly, the silence between them was intoxicating. He liked the way she folded into herself, arms crossed, chin tilted toward the window. She was present, yet distant. Near enough to touch, yet untouchable.

And that paradox dug into him like a hook.

Avery leaned forward, her chin perched on the backrest between the two front seats. “You know, Evan, you talk like you’ve been one of us forever. No stiff professor vibe at all.”

Chelsea laughed, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Seriously. You blend in too well. It’s almost suspicious.”

Evan grinned, the wheel steady beneath his hands. “Suspicious? What, that I can survive soda-fueled gossip without running for cover?”

Both girls laughed. Avery shook her head. “No, suspicious because it feels like we’ve known you for ages. Like you’re the fourth in our trio.”

“That so?” Evan tilted his head, a mock-seriousness in his voice. “Guess I should start demanding roommate privileges then.”

“Try it,” Chelsea shot back, smirking. “But you’ll be on dish duty forever.”

The laughter bubbled again, spilling freely, and for a moment it felt like a circle of old friends crammed into one small car.

Only Rania stayed untouched by it. Her arms folded against her chest, her gaze fixed out the window. Yet when the car tilted slightly in a turn, the dim glow of the streetlights slid across Evan’s chest, catching the faint gleam of silver at his collar.

Her eyes narrowed, almost without meaning to. A pendant—round, detailed, unmistakable—hung from a fine chain. A crescent moon cradling a tree, its branches and roots intricately woven, the edges patterned like ancient knots. It stirred something in her memory, a familiarity that unsettled. She studied it in silence. Not him—just the necklace.

But when Evan felt her eyes linger, a flicker of heat curled through him. He thought she was watching him, tracing him in that guarded, silent way. He didn’t look down at the pendant. He didn’t need to. In his mind, her attention belonged to him alone.

By the time they pulled into the apartment lot, Avery and Chelsea were still laughing, still brimming with leftover energy. They tumbled out with their thanks, their voices carrying across the night air. Rania slipped out quieter, her silence trailing her like a shadow.

The four of them walked together toward the building entrance, the neon sign buzzing faintly above the glass doors. Inside, the lobby smelled faintly of polish and old carpet.

Chelsea pressed the button for the elevator, yawning as they waited. “No way I’m climbing three flights tonight. Not after all that food.”

Avery groaned in agreement. “We’d never make it past the second floor.” The doors slid open with a mechanical sigh, and they stepped inside, shoulder to shoulder. Avery and Chelsea filled the cramped space with easy chatter, their reflections fractured in the mirrored wall.

Evan stood at one side, hands in his pockets, smile soft and unbothered. Beside him, Rania kept her distance, her gaze fixed forward, though the faintest crease shadowed her brow.

The pendant swayed faintly as the elevator ascended, catching light with each gentle shift. Rania’s eyes flicked to it once more before she forced herself away, her silence deeper than before.

To Evan, the silence was not rejection—it was presence. The kind of presence that pressed close even in distance, that made the walls of the elevator feel too small, too charged.

The bell chimed. The doors opened.

They stepped out together onto the third floor, two apartments separated by a single stretch of hallway. Avery and Chelsea said their cheerful goodnights, fumbling for keys, while Evan’s eyes followed Rania one last time.

Her steps were measured, unhurried, but the weight of her quiet lingered like a thread between them. And to him, that thread was stronger than any word.