I Shouldn't Love You, but I Want To

"Sucks you got hurt man," Evan said, not wanting an awkward silence.

"Tell me about it." Alex groaned.

"I broke my leg once," Evan muttered, offhandedly.

"You didn't play football now did you?" Alex grumbled, determined not to have an enjoyable conversation.

"No...." Evan muttered.

"It's my life." Alex finished and went silent.

Evan nodded slowly. He didn't realize it. but his mind was drifting back to the night he'd broken his leg. The night the football team had beaten him to a bloody pulp and watched their captain take his innocence in the dark locker room.

"What's the matter?" Alex nudged Evan, he needed to know what he was thinking about.

"Nothing," Evan muttered lowly. No way he was telling Alex what had happened at Sana Vista.

Alex knew something was wrong. But what was he to expect? There was no way Evan was going to open up to him.

Evan simply nodded and kept walking.

They arrived at Alex's house and he let Evan inside, gesturing for him to place his book's on the table.

Evan sat Alex's books down, letting his own bag slide momentarily down his shoulder.

"You gonna stick around or what?" Alex asked, trying to act like he didn't care as he rummaged through the fridge.

"Only if you want me to," Evan said.

"Whatever you want." Alex said, cursing himself for not being able to tell Evan to leave.

Evan nodded, nose buried in his Italian book as always.

Alex just continued looking for something to eat. He glanced out the corner of his ear at Evan, seeing if he would leave or not. He would never admit it but he wanted Evan to stay.

"Se solo lui sapeva" Evan whispered.

(Trasnslation: If only he knew.)

"How the hell do you learn that shit?" Alex asked incredulously.

"Been learning since I was little," Evan replied. "My grandmother is part Italian."

Alex nodded, finally sighing and closing the refridgerator when he found nothing to eat.

"I could cook something if you like," Evan offered.

"You can cook too? The only thing I'm good at is football." Alex frowned, plopping down on the couch.
"S'alright, you don't gotta make anything. Have a seat." He gestured to the cushion beside him. His jock act quickly fading.

Evan sat down and nodded, book still in his hands. "My grandmother taught me to cook," he explained.