Three days later, I meet Charlotte.
By accident.
While wearing a hoodie that says "I'm trying my best, please lower your expectations."
So that's fun.
I'm walking back from the grocery store with two bags and a single-life crisis brewing (how am I out of both oat milk and toilet paper?), when a girl with glitter in her hair and combat boots appears in front of me like a chaotic woodland sprite.
"You're Leila!" she says, pointing a pink acrylic nail at my chest.
I freeze. "Um. Yes? Who's asking?"
"I'm Charlotte," she grins. "Evan's sister. He told me all about you."
"Define all," I say suspiciously.
She waves me off. "Just the coffee incident, the laundry moment, your tragic dating app bio—"
"Wow, okay."
"Don't worry, he only talks about you like, constantly."
I blink.
"Oh my god, did he not tell you he has a big, embarrassing crush on you? Because now I feel bad."
I open my mouth.
Close it.
Then open it again. "Wait, he what?"
She shrugs. "You didn't know? Girl. He talks about you the way people talk about soup in winter. Warm. Comforting. Slightly life-saving."
I suddenly forget how to breathe.
Charlotte takes one of my grocery bags like we're best friends. "Anyway, I'm crashing at his place this weekend, and I told him I wanted to meet you. Because, y'know, if he's gonna fall for someone, I wanna make sure she's not a secret cultist or an NFT bro."
"Fair criteria," I manage.
She grins. "You're already better than his last situationship. That guy thought hummus was a personality trait."
We reach the building. She chatters all the way up the stairs while I'm quietly trying to reassemble my brain.
By the time we reach Evan's door, it swings open before she even knocks.
Evan stands there, in sweats and a mildly panicked expression.
"Hey," he says to me, then turns to Charlotte. "You didn't ambush her, did you?"
"She's fine. She didn't even run!"
He gives me a look. "You okay?"
"Define okay," I reply, stepping inside.
Charlotte plops onto the couch. "She's delightful, by the way. If you screw this up, I'm stealing her."
Evan groans and rubs his temples. "Please stop talking."
I watch them for a second—bickering, comfortable, messy. Real.
Then I smile.
"Actually," I say, setting the groceries down, "I kind of love this vibe."
Evan looks at me.
Soft. Hopeful.
And then I say it.
"Also… apparently, you have a crush on me?"
Charlotte squeals. Evan groans. I just grin.
Let the chaos begin.
---