Evan just really hates people.
What he really does like are books.
That’s probably why he works in a bookstore.
And has no friends.
Because he spends all day inside.
Reading.
Because he likes books.
His grandmother, however, thinks he has a problem.
“I just don’t understand it,” she says one day, talking loudly over The Voice and hearing loss. “You’re such a sweet boy. So many talents. You’d have girls all over you in an instant. So why are you so lonely?”
“I’m not lonely, Gran,” he argues, shaking his head. “And I don’t want girls all over me. I’m gay.”
She shakes her head, smiling at him. “I just wish you had someone to talk to.”
“I do,” Evan says. “You and Mum and Dad, and Liv.”
“You have no friends, Ev.” She touches his shoulder. “Family isn’t friends.”
Evan’s gran dies a week later, after a stroke.
The funeral home is packed for her funeral, mostly full of old Jewish women giving Evan sympathetic smiles and suffocating hugs and wiping their running makeup on tissues Evan provides. The service is long and dull. Evan doesn’t think his grandmother would have liked it at all.
Evan goes to his grandmother’s grave after the service with his parents and the old Jewish women who keep patting his back. The sweltering late July heat is not kind to him, sun bright in his eyes through his cheap sunglasses while he listens to his gran’s best friend talk about ice cream sundaes and 40% off sales at Costco.
Evan doesn’t like people. Or sunshine.
(Maybe he’s a vampire.)

It’s amazing, how life just seems to go on after someone dies, and even though Evan’s experienced it many times when his mother’s parents died, when various cousins and great-aunts and uncles have died, when family friends have died, he’s amazed by it each time.
He goes back to Lichfield two days later. It might have been just one if it hadn’t been for his mother.
“Oh, no, Evvy,” she says while pouring a brownie mix into a mixing bowl she’s preparing for the shiva they’re going to at 6:00, “you need some time off, sweetie. You can’t just jump back into work after something like this! I’m sure your boss will understand. Besides, the shiva might take a lot out of you, and I speak from experience.” Evan grimaces. He hadn’t really wanted to go to the shiva. It’s not that he hated his grandmother, it’s just that shivas aren’t really his thing, especially when they’re full of old people just there for the free cheese and wine. He’s more of a curl up in a ball and listen to bad pop music on full volume until he feels better type of guy.
“Evan, listen,” his mother says in a condescending tone that Evan hates, abandoning the brownie batter for a second and crouching next to him, making him feel like he’s five years old again, “your father’s going through a difficult time right now. What with your gran dying, and then your sister -” she glowers. “Your sister not being here, it would really mean a lot to him if you stayed for the shiva, you know?”
Evan fidgets with his hands, uncomfortable under his mum’s intense gaze. “I’ll think about it,” he says.
He decides to call his sister. Sure, she has a reputation of being hotheaded and unnecessarily rebellious, which might, in hindsight, have led to why she wasn’t at the funeral, but she’s his older sister, and younger siblings look up to the older ones. That’s just how things work.
“Evan,” she says, voice sounding weirdly like their mother’s despite how awfully those two get along. “What’s up?”
“I need -”
“You’re not going to try to convince me to come, are you? Because I’ve already talked to Mum and Dad about this. I’m not -”
“No,” Evan says, pinching the spot between his eyebrows - he suddenly has a migraine. Typical. “No, no, that’s not - that’s not what I’m calling about.”
“Are you okay?” Liv asks, sounding concerned. “You sound constipated, Ev.”
“Oh, thanks,” Evan says sarcastically. “I need advice.”
“Um,” Liv says. Evan sighs.
“I just - do you think I should go to the shiva? I know you wouldn’t,” he says, before she can say anything he already knows, “but if you were in my place, what would you do?”
“Um,” Liv says again eloquently. “I wouldn’t go. You’re antisocial, right?” Evan nods, even though he knows she can’t see. “Right. So don’t go. Shivas have people. People mean socializing, which you don’t like. Easy choice.”
“Would Gran have wanted me to go?” Evan says in a soft voice. Liv sighs, obviously annoyed by the sudden seriousness in tone.
“Does it matter?” Liv says, sounding bored. “She’s dead.”
Evan swallows. “Yep, thanks. I guess.” He pauses. “Love you.” Nothing. He checks his phone - just as he expected, she’s hung up already. He sighs.
“Well,” Evan says to himself, taking a deep breath and putting his hands on his hips. “That was about as helpful as I thought it would be.”
“Evan,” his mother calls from the kitchen, “Aunt Eviva says she’s looking forward to seeing you at the shiva. What should I tell her?”
Evan stretches, hearing his elbows crack, and makes a quick decision.
“Tell her I’m coming. And,” he says, lying through his teeth, “tell her I’m looking forward to seeing her as well.”

The shiva is held in Evan’s parents’ sunroom, most of the furniture occupied by the same Jewish grandmothers he saw at the service, except now holding large glasses of white wine and loudly eating slices of bread. And they all want to say hi to Evan again.
“Evan,” a woman whose name is either Judy or Gladys says to him, balancing a glass of white wine in one hand and hugging him with the other. “Evan, darling, are you all right?”
“Um,” Evan grunts, extremely uncomfortable with the entire situation from the too-intimate hug to the red-painted nails digging into his back.
“Oh, it’s just, I know how close you and Eliana were, and oh dear, you must miss her so much, Evan,” the woman says, pulling back. Evan takes a deep breath in relief. “It must be so hard -”
Evan, desperate at this point, raises his eyebrows at someone over the woman’s shoulder, waving.
“Sorry - I see someone I know, I should go say hi,” he lies blatantly. “Good talk.”
Running a hand through his hair, Evan ducks into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him and taking a deep breath.
“See,” he whispers to himself, “I knew this was a bad idea.”
Looking around the empty room, he catches a glimpse of his face in the mirror. He’s got a bit of a sunburn from the visit to his gran’s grave and dark rings around his eyes from the lumpy mattress of the sofa couch and its tendency to keep him up until two in the morning. The dark suit he put on for the shiva is a bit rumpled from the old woman’s enthusiasm earlier, as well as being a little large on his lanky frame.
Evan groans, sliding down the wall. He knows he should probably go back into the crowd and socialise; his mother is bound to notice he’s missing at some point, or his father is going to want to introduce him to some distant relative. He pushes himself off the floor, splashing cold water on his face and drying it with a guest towel, preparing himself.
Predictably, almost as soon as he steps outside, Judy or Gladys grabs his arm. “Evan, honey, I was just looking for you! There’s a group of women who want to meet you!”
Evan allows her to drag him across the room by his arm to a group of other old women who all look like different variations of Judy... her name is probably Judy.
“I’m Gladys, Evan,” Judy says to him, smiling, “do you remember me?” Evan shakes his head, smiling apologetically. “I remember holding you in my arms when you were this big.” She indicates to her knee to show how tall he used to be. Evan gives her a fake smile. “And this is Sandy, and this is Rachel, and this is Esther.” Evan waves. He can’t help but be shocked that his grandmother was friends with these people.
“Evan,” Sandy says, shaking his hand with a clammy wrinkled one. “How are you? How’s everything?” Evan nods, about to answer, but she’s not done. “What’s your job? Do you like it?”
“Do you have a girlfriend?” Esther says, leaning in. “Ooh, I’m sure you do, you’re gorgeous.” She winks at him. Evan feels more than slightly uncomfortable.
“Um, I work at a bookstore,” Evan answers, “which is nice, I like to read.”
“Smart too,” says Esther. “He definitely has a secret admirer, am I right, girls?” They all hum in agreement. Evan fidgets, feeling fairly suffocated in the ever-shrinking circle
“Um, no, actually,” Evan says in a quiet voice. “I... don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Speak up a little,” Rachel says, adjusting her hearing aid. “Hard of hearing.” She cackles.
“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Evan says, louder this time. The women look shocked.
“Oh, but I bet you have girls falling at your feet,” Esther says, grinning, revealing pearly white teeth which Evan suspects are probably dentures.
“No,” Evan says through his teeth, “not really.” All the girls I know know I’m gay, he wants to add. He doesn’t.
“What a plot twist, hm?” Sandy says, taking a bite of the slice of bread and cheese she’s been gnawing on.
“Just leave it to us, Evan,” Rachel says in a loud voice, grasping his arm. “We’ll get you a sweetheart like that.” She snaps her frail fingers. Evan feels like screaming.
“Oh, no,” Evan says quickly, “that’s really okay.” He’s regretting leaving the bathroom.
“It’s no problem,” Esther says, dragging out the ‘o’.
“Um, I -”
“Evan. C’mon, I want to introduce you to someone.” Evan looks up - it’s his dad, standing there with a glass of wine in one hand and a crumpled tissue in the other.
Once they’re a safe distance away from the gaggle of women, Evan’s father turns to look at him.
“Those women weren’t giving you any trouble, were they?” Evan shakes his head.
“No. I mean, not really. You didn’t have to -”
“You looked uncomfortable, so I stepped in. That’s all.” His dad shrugs.
“I mean... thanks.” Evan scratches the back of his neck.
“To be honest,” his dad says, “your grandmother hated those women.”
Evan can’t help but laugh. “Really?”
“Despised them. She was forced to see them every Friday for bridge--you know how she was about bridge--but she couldn’t stand them. Always said they gossiped too much.” Evan tried, unsuccessfully, to picture his grandmother--a woman whose every sentence was about who was dating who, and who was having marital problems--disliking people because of their gossiping.
“They were trying to set me up,” Evan tells his father, scratching the back of his neck. Evan’s dad chuckles.
“They’re old women, Evan, and you’re a good-looking young man. Of course they were. Don’t worry,” he says, “they can’t do a thing about your love life.”
The next day at shiva, Evan finds himself wishing his father was correct.
“Evan,” Rachel says, dragging him over to the gaggle of women. “I have someone who’s just been dying to meet you, if you know what I mean.” She winks, which is more than slightly disturbing.
“Listen, Rachel, I told you--”
“Don’t worry, don’t worry! It was no trouble at all.”
“That’s really not what I mean.” Rachel is still dragging him by the arm. It’s gotten to be painful by the time they reach the other women.
“Evan, this is my granddaughter. Claire.” Claire grins and waves a hand.
“Hi!” Evan is nearly blinded by her cheerfulness. That, and her incredibly straight, white teeth.
“She lives in America. Now isn’t that just something?” Evan doesn’t say anything, and there’s a painful thirty seconds where no one says anything.
“You wanna show me around, Evan?” Claire asks. Evan is very, very uncomfortable with everything that’s happening right now.
“Around the house, or around the country?” Evan says, only half-joking. He doesn’t know what weird antics Americans get into.
Claire just giggles. “You’re hilarious. The house, thanks!” She grabs his hand. Evan startles.
“Erm, okay, just...follow me upstairs, I suppose.” This was supposed to be a shiva, Evan thinks broodily, and it’s turned into a matchmaking session.
Pulling Claire into a spare room, Evan looked around, trying to find the right words for what he was feeling. He didn’t want to do anything that could offend her, but he didn’t want to lead Claire on, either.
“Listen, I, um--”
“Dude, I have zero interest in you,” Claire interrupted. “I have a crush on someone I work with. Works right before my shift. Always late. Blonde and super cute.”
“But--”
“I only took Grandma’s offer to get her to shut up. No offense, man, but you’re not really my type.”
“You’re not, either,” Evan says. Claire quirks an eyebrow. “My type, I mean. You’re not... my type.”
“I’m not British enough for you?” Claire asks, laughing.
“Um, no. You see, I--the thing is--I’m gay.” Claire stops laughing.
“Oh, okay. Cool.” There’s an awkward silence.
“That’s it?”
“Well, what are you expecting? I still love you, you’re still the same person you were before, blah blah blah?” Claire snarks.
“That’s what my family was like,” Evan mutters. Claire breathes out.
“Wow, what a load of horseshit.” Evan nods. “Wait, does my grandma know you’re gay? And she still tried to set us up?”
“Erm, no,” Evan says. “No, she doesn’t know.” Pause. “At least, I don’t think she does.”
“If she does, I’ll kill her,” Claire mutters. Evan’s breath catches. “Oh, jeez, sorry. This is your grandma’s shiva, right? Eek, sorry, that was super dumb of me.”
“No, no, it’s... it’s cool. I just... realised something.” Evan sits down on the bed. Claire plops down next to him.
“What? Tell me. We’re best friends now.” Evan laughs.
“It’s just...” Evan pauses and takes a breath before continuing. “My gran was always breathing down my neck, trying to get me to talk to people and make friends. I’m not exactly what you would call a social person. I don’t particularly--and you shouldn’t take offense to this--I don’t particularly like talking to people.”
“Yeah, I could tell,” Claire remarks. “I saw you with my grandma and I was like, holy heck, this guy hates people. That, or you just hate your grandma’s friends, which I can totally relate to.”
Evan winces. “Is it really that obvious?”
Claire smirks. “Oh, you sweet summer child.” Evan laughs. I’ve now laughed more in a minute than I have in a week, he realises. “Continue with your revelation. Please.”
“Right,” Evan says. “Right. Well, Gran was always telling me to get out, make more friends. She wanted me to have more of a social life, I guess. And, um...” Evan blushes. “I guess in a way, she succeeded. I know we just met, but for the first time in--in a while, I’m actually kinda enjoying talking to someone.”
Claire blinks twice. “Wow,” she says. “Wow.”
“Sorry,” Evan says, turning bright red and regretting all his life decisions. “Sorry, was that too much?”
“No, it’s just...” Claire blinks again. “Wow, you’re so cheesy.” Evan fiddles with the hem of
his shirt. “Are you sure you’re gay?”
Evan looks up at her and looks her straight in the eye. “Yes.”
“Okay, okay.” Claire hums a few notes to a song, then slides Evan’s phone out of his pocket. Evan stares at her.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m putting my number in your phone.” She swipes right, and the phone goes to Evan’s homescreen and an exceedingly nerdy The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe background. “No password? What about thieves, Evan?” She drags out the ‘e’ in thieves, waggling her fingers at him.
“You’re ridiculous,” Evan says bluntly. Claire just shrugs and clicks on the messaging app, opening a new message and punching in what Evan assumes is her number. A few seconds later, Claire’s own phone, encased in an impractical but, Evan has to admit, adorable panda phone case, vibrates obnoxiously. Evan reaches for his phone, but Claire holds it out of reach.
“Wait, just one more thing.” Evan sighs and waits. “Okay, here. You’ve got my number now and I’ve got yours.”
“Huh,” Evan says. I had no idea making friends was this simple.
“What’re we gonna tell my grandma?” Claire asks, after a few minutes of silence.
“What?” Evan asks, startled.
“Rachel, my grandma. What are we going to tell her?” When Evan doesn’t answer, she continues. “I mean, it’s no biggie for you, really, but if I tell her I’m interested, then I won’t hear the end of you for months.”
“So just tell her there wasn’t any chemistry between us. It would be true,” Evan says.
“Yeah,” Claire says dismally. “She’ll be so disappointed, though.”
“Better than having to pretend to date, though,” Evan points out. Claire giggles.
“Yeah. True, that.”

Sun streams in through the half-closed blinds in Evan’s Litchfield flat, hitting a formerly-sleeping Evan straight in the eyes. He groans loudly, stretching his limbs under the sheets.
Making various noises of discomfort, Evan heaves himself up to a standing position, wavers for a second, then steadies himself out and walks to the bathroom across the hall. He can vaguely hear his flatmate still snoring in the room next to his.
Evan stares in the mirror as he brushes his teeth vigorously, taking note of his messy dark brown hair and his red-rimmed grey eyes. I need to correct my sleep schedule, he thinks, just like anyone under the age of thirty and over the age of twelve will. He rinses his mouth with a dixie cup and spits the excess water back into the sink.
His phone, resting on the top of the toilet, begins to buzz. Leaning over, Evan squints at the caller ID. If it's Liv, he's going to scream. Instead, it reads Claire. Smiling, Evan picks up the phone.
“Hi, Claire. How are you?