#nonibanoni

Three New Messages from Christoffer Schistad:

William

C’mon

 We’re dating best friends, this is the dream

William Magnusson:

You and Eva are dating now?

One New Message from Christoffer Schistad:

We will be when you talk your girl into a double date

The last time Eva went on a double date, she spent the night sitting across from Ingrid and Jonas while a guy she barely knew—and liked even less—groped her knee beneath a fast food restaurant table. She can’t remember his name.

(Unsurprising. She didn’t care who she dated back then, as long as she had someone to distract her from just how in love she was with her best friend’s boyfriend.)

Eva wishes she knew Chris back then, sometimes—a guy who might have been able to distract her out of ever dating Jonas at all. But then she remembers everything she learned about herself by breaking up with Jonas, just how much of a fuckboy Chris was when they first met, and just how unevenly matched they would have been at the time.

Sitting cross-legged on her bed as Noora applies a fresh coat of red lipstick, Eva fingers her recently curled hair. “It’s weird, isn’t it?” she says, filling the easy quiet that had settled between them.

Capping her lipstick, Noora turns away from her reflection. “Hm?”

The mirror catches Eva’s wrinkled brow and Noora’s straight blonde locks. “Could you have ever imagined going on this double date at the beginning of first year? You with William, me with Penetrator Chris?” 

It’s hard to say Penetrator Chris without laughing. She should maybe just start calling him Chris, if he’s really going to be her boyfriend. Which is seeming more and more likely by the day. The more days he doesn’t give up, the more she wonders if he might actually mean it when he calls her his girlfriend.

“No.” Noora flops down beside her on the bed, crossing her legs against its edge. “Never.”

It’s strange to remember who they were back then, to think about how much they’ve both changed. Noora had seemed untouchably independent to her when they first became friends. Eva used to feel the exact opposite.

“You said you’d never even touch William,” Eva remembers, teases. “How did that go for you?”

An innocent shrug. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

From the way her bright lips curve, though, Eva can see that Noora is completely aware of the reputation she and William have earned for ridiculously constant public displays of affection. They’re always touching or kissing or staring at each other so intensely that they might as well be. They may not hook up against walls at parties, but they're always sneaking away to free bedrooms or closets or, occasionally, William’s car. 

(Eva winces just thinking about that last one—the last time she attempted car sex, she bumped into the horn at least three times, banged her head against the ceiling at least three more, and almost flashed a couple who happened to be strolling nearby. Chris spent the rest of the night teasing her for it.)

“Of course not.” Legs still crossed, Eva falls back against her bed, glances at her phone’s clock, and segues: “There’s no way they’re getting here on time.” They still have five minutes, but she’s guessing it will be at least another five after that, between William’s hair and Chris’s vanity.

Noora tilts her head. “I can’t remember the last time William had to pick me up for date. He’s always just there, lately.”

That would be because Noora and William are essentially living together, alternating between each other’s flats, although neither of them will admit it. She and Chris have a bet going on how long it will take for them to cave and officially move into Noora’s together. 

She placed considerably less faith in William’s willpower than Chris did, mostly because Eskild recently informed her that he’s practicing the Power of Positive Thinking about this and setting an Intention that they’ll all be living together within a month. Eva doesn’t know what exactly differentiates a lowercase intention from an uppercase one, but she trusts Eskild’s power of determination.

Eva doesn’t say any of this, only raises both eyebrows. “I wonder why.”

Noora swats her shoulder with the closest pillow.

Five minutes later, the doorbell still hasn’t rung, but they do hear a knock on Eva's bedroom window.

She and Noora look at each other before rising to the their feet. Chris’s face grins from the other side of the glass; William’s keeps a bit more distance.

“Some people,” Eva says, once she pulls it open, “knock on the front door.”

Chris shrugs, widens his grin, and says, “When have I ever used your front door?”

She and Noora eye the way he’s leaning into her room, half waiting for him to come tumbling down to their feet. “You’re using it tonight. Noora and I aren’t climbing out a window in dresses.”

(Noora isn’t actually wearing a dress, but Eva figures she won’t mind if she uses her name for solidarity purposes.)

“Fine,” Chris concedes with a long sigh. Drama queen. “But first…” he pulls a bouquet of irises out from behind his back. “Your favorite flowers.”

They’re beautiful; they’ll look beautiful next to all the other bouquets Chris has bought for her over the past week, ever since declaring that he’ll bring one every day until he guesses her favorite. He gives her an expectant look now as Eva strokes the purple petals. “Very pretty,” she says, “but still not my favorites.”

Chris’s grin doesn’t falter. “Tomorrow then.”

“I could give you a hint, you know.”

“And ruin the fun?”

A moment later, Chris shuffles slightly to the side so William can reveal a bouquet of red roses.

“So cliché,” Noora says, even as she accepts and inhales them with a slow smile.

“But you love them anyway,” William says. His lips curve to match hers.

Eva and Chris match eye rolls.

“Front door, bro,” Chris interrupts their best friends’ soulful gazing, clapping a hand on his back. “We’ve got places to go, movies to catch.”     

“William,” Chris says, once they’ve started down the front porch steps. “was just telling me about the last time he rang Eva’s doorbell.”

William curls his fingers through Noora’s, and shoots his friend a warning glance.

It goes unheeded. “And sweet Anne Marit thought he was her boyfriend, when he was actually there to…”

William’s head slumps back. Chris stops talking.

The girls catch each other’s eyes, each other’s humor. “You mean when William came to Eva’s to pick up Vilde almost two years ago?” Noora prompts, slanting a smile or a challenge up at her boyfriend.

Chris wraps an arm around Eva’s waist like it belongs there—she has to remind herself that she still hasn’t decided whether she agrees. “No,” he drags the word out, possibly for suspense’s sake, probably so he can find other words to follow it. “When he saw you for the first time, standing on this very lawn, and went, Wow, damn.”

Eva isn’t entirely sure how much that helps, but still relaxes against Chris enough to whisper, “Nice save,” in his ear.

He shrugs against her shoulder, which she takes to mean, I try.

Eva doubts she and Noora are supposed to see him mouth sorry bro over her head, or that he particularly means it, judging from his smirk.

William just shakes his head. “You forgot the part where you interrogated me about Eva afterwards.”

“Interrogated?” Eva pulls far enough away to raise an eyebrow at Chris.

He remains unfazed. “I wanted to inspire you with my superior stalking skills,” he says. “You were a horrible stalker. Never showing up at my house in the middle of the night.”

Noora’s eyebrows don’t arch, but her voice does when she asks, “What did you tell him?” 

“Nothing. Invasion of privacy.”

As if flashing back to fall of 2015, Chris dons a look of mild, retroactive offense. “I’m your best friend!”

They haven’t even started the drive to the movie theater yet, but Eva already kind of feels like they should have popcorn.       

They’re early enough for the movie—some artsy, foreign film that Noora and William were already planning to see tonight—that the conversation from the car continues into their back row seats.

Said conversation seems to be a game of ‘who can tell the most embarrassing story about the other,’ waged between Chris and William.

“Give it up,” Chris says through a laugh, slinging an arm around Eva’s shoulders approximately ten seconds after they sit down. “I’m an open book. Ashamed of nothing.”

Sitting between William and Eva, Noora squints and tags in for her boyfriend. “Really? Not even the time you asked me for a foursome?”

She’s already told Eva this story, but they still share an amused smile over the slight slip of Chris’s grin as he reaches for his soda. One long sip of coke, and he recovers his smugness, “Obviously a joke. Like I’d ever touch William’s girl.”

“He wouldn’t,” William puts in. “Too good a friend.”

For once, Chris's bravado looks a bit forced. Eva wonders if he and William think she minds the reminder that random threesomes were once a regular weekend night for him.

Noora has already turned back to William. “I wasn’t your girl yet.”

“No,” he agrees into her temple. “But I liked you.”

Then they’re kissing, and Eva is looking at Chris, licking her lips, searching for the right words. “You know I’m the last person who’s going to judge you for sleeping around over a year ago, right?“

Chris’s tongue darts against his own lips, before he darts his mouth against hers. He lingers there, then eases back, just a bit, to murmur, “That’s my girl.”

She eases back a bit more to raise an eyebrow at him. “Not your girl yet.”

It takes her a second to realize why Chris looks so damn pleased. “Yet,” he repeats.

The theater’s dimming lights and opening trailers save her from having to reply with anything but an eye roll.

“That movie was shit,” Chris declares after a large bite of his hamburger.

Sitting on the opposite side of their restaurant booth, William says nothing, just plays with the ends of Noora’s hair as she protests, “It was not shit. What about the cinematography?”

Another bite of hamburger, another swallow, and then: “Didn’t make up for the fact that the movie was complete shit.“

“In your opinion,” Noora says, gathering a forkful of pasta and vegetables.

Eva could point out here that Noora and William had disappeared half way through the film to ‘get popcorn,’ only to return empty-handed many scenes later. But, given that she and Chris spent those many scenes with his hands up her shirt and her tongue in his mouth, she’s not sure she has much room to mock.

Chris has no such compunctions.

Noora averts her eyes and her blush for a handful of seconds, but William just reaches for a fry. “The popcorn machine malfunctioned.”

Chris guffaws. Eva laughs, the echo of soda bubbly and sweet in her mouth. “William,” she says a few moments later, “tell another story about Chris.”

His lips twitch in consideration.

Chris whispers traitor against her earlobe, but looks at his friend in grinning anticipation. “Pick a good one.”

 Noora and William branch off together at the end of the night to head back towards her flat, leaving Eva and Chris alone by her front door.

“They’re definitely moving in together within the next month,” Eva says over her shoulder as she turns her key.

“Nah.” Chris is just behind her, close enough that her chin almost brushes his shoulder when she turns. “Two months. I’m winning this bet.” (His eyes dance. They didn’t bet money.)

Even once she steps inside a few seconds later, Chris lingers on her front porch, smirking. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

Eva snorts. “Since when do you need an invitation?”

He’s still smirking, still standing there. “Maybe I want one.”

Rolling her eyes, Eva reaches a hand out, and says, “Come in, Chris.”

She tugs him inside, so he can tug her face against his.

 “Admit it,” Chris says later, naked and sprawled out beside her in bed. “That was a good date.”

Eva nestles her cheek into her pillow. “Maybe.”

“Such a damn good date,” Chris continues, drawling his fingers along the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips, “that you want us to go on another. Only us.”

Eva pretends consideration. “Maybe,” she taunts again, pressing her lips to his. She blinks when he pulls away.

He holds himself a few inches from her, eyebrows raised and lips curled wide. “Maybe?”

Eva reaches for him again, feels him moving back another inch, and finally says, “It was a damn good date.”

He lets her kiss him then, dragging her in for another, before prodding, “And?”

Her lips are touching his when she murmurs, “And I want to go on another. With you.”

Then his mouth is on hers, his fingers are combing through her hair, and her arms are curling around his neck.

(It’s actually the best date she’s gone on in recent memory, but he doesn’t need to hear that yet.)

“One week.” William wraps an arm around Noora’s waist, pulling her against him.

“No,” she says, her muscles loose and her hair splayed across William’s toned chest. “Eva will make him wait at least two before she admits they’re together.”