Kevin gets a text through when he checks on his phone at lunch (it’s been charging in Sadaka’s office - he’d tried to leave it to charge in the staffroom, but had ended up almost in tears at the prospect of leaving it unattended, until Sadaka proved why she was one of Kevin’s best friends and took it off to plug it in under her desk without so much as batting an eyelid). It’s from Connor, declaring that he’s found an emergency electrician who will come round as soon as possible (because apparently ‘emergency’ for this particular trader means cutting the wait time down to a week instead of two). Kevin texts him back a few rows of heart-eye emojis and then grins at Sadaka.
“Are you electric woes almost over?” she asks him as she takes in his expression, pushing a coffee she’s just made towards him as he takes a seat at her desk.
“Mmhmm,” Kevin says, taking a sip from the cup. The coffee is delicious. “It’s almost a shame, really.”
“What do you mean?” Sadaka asks, frowning at him with the same level of bewilderment as if he had just told her that he thought that Genghis Khan was a bit misunderstood. “You must have had such a boring night without electricity. What did you do, just sit there and stare at each other?”
“Well, yeah, kind of,” Kevin admits, and Sadaka’s eyebrows shoot up, and she gives a little disbelieving laugh. “But it was fun! Honestly. It was like,” he continues, determined to prove his point that it’s a good thing and he’s not barking up the wrong tree, “so, you know how Connor collects all these scented candles, right? Like, oh my God, the other day in IKEA he spent so much money on them, but actually they came in handy because we lit them all and the apartment smelt amazing and then we ordered takeout. And it was delicious. And we ate all the ice cream in the freezer, and we just sat and chatted a while, and everything was just so mellow and calm and nice.” When he finishes, he looks up at Sadaka again triumphantly, waiting for her to give him a nod of understanding. Instead, he finds her just staring at him, a puzzling expression on her face. “What?”
“You and Connor are close, eh?” she says, and Kevin thinks that’s the stupidest question he’s ever heard.
“Well, yeah, duh,” he replies, a little laugh escaping. “I mean, it’s not like we live together or anything.” He rolls his eyes, waiting for her to realise her stupidity.
Instead, Sadaka leans back in her chair. “You like each other?”
“He’s one of my best friends.” Kevin still doesn’t understand his point.
“Oh, best friends,” she replies, and a smirk appears on her face. “Is that what they’re calling it now?”
Kevin’s not sure he likes where this is going. “Calling what?”
“It sounds to me, Kevin,” she says, and she turns away from him to start organising a stack of papers that Kevin knows have been sat on her desk for months, “like you went on a date.”
There’s no other description for the sound Kevin makes than spluttering. “It was not a date,” he tells her adamantly as it’s her turn to smile triumphantly. “It wasn’t! It was just two guys, y’know, being guys, sharing a takeout -”
“Having a candlelit dinner because they are not gay,” Sadaka interrupts, and her expression is gleeful. “Did you split a bottle of wine too?”
“No,” Kevin says, dragging the word out, and then looks down at his lap to hide the fact that his cheeks are turning pink. “Connor drank most of it.”
“Oh, fantastic,” Sadaka says, and she’s grinning. “That was so a date. How was that not a date?”
“Look, two guys can share a candlelit dinner and talk about their feelings and not be sleeping together, just so you know,” he says, tone defensive, and Sadaka’s smile softens.
“Maybe I misread the situation,” she amends, but there’s a glint in her eye that doesn’t quite match up to her tone.
Kevin makes a harrumphing noise. “Maybe you did,” he says moodily, and he folds his arms across his chest like his third graders do when they’re sulking, trying desperately not to think about how there might be some truth in her words. He doesn’t need to think about that.
Sadaka passes him a cookie by way of offering an armistice, and Kevin takes it, a smile creeping back to his face. “All I would say,” Sadaka says lightly, “is maybe you should evaluate your friendship.”
“There’s nothing to evaluate,” Kevin tells her through a mouthful of biscuit. “He’s my best friend. I’d do anything for him.”
Sadaka gives him a look that he can’t quite read, her lips pursed around words she’s obviously choosing not to share, one eyebrow slightly raised, hands together on her lap. Kevin doesn’t know what it is she wants to suggest, but he doesn’t like it one bit.
“Oh shut up,” he says in response to her expression, and then turns to his phone to see that Connor has sent him two kissy face emojis in reply.
