Evan honestly didn't know what to make of Jared's foot nudging his leg. Was that some kind of unspoken message? And if so, what was Jared trying to say? Evan didn't believe for one second that Jared was trying to say he liked Evan. Nothing more than friends, anyway.
Why would he? How could he? Evan knew how damaged he was. There was no doubt, no denial. He was anxious and twitchy, and his meds only did so much to keep that under control. He couldn't express himself, sometimes he couldn't even articulate the most basic sentences. He'd tried to kill himself, and then he'd fabricated an entire friendship with someone who had killed himself. He was selfish and damaged and he didn't think anyone would ever look past that or be even remotely interested in the real Evan, the one who stammered and avoided eye contact and tried to curl into a ball where no one could see him.
But the fact was, Evan liked Jared. He wondered what it would be like if they were more than just friends. What would it be like to kiss Jared? How would it feel? How would it taste? How would it make him feel, deep down? He could already feel the butterfly of longing, of desire, fluttering in his heart, and in his belly. But he knew he didn't have the courage to act on it.
He listened instead to what Jared was saying, about the drinking. It made sense, he supposed. Evan looked down into the glass he held. What would happen if he chugged it? If he drank it all in one go? Would it make his head spin and his stomach flip? Would it give him the courage to kiss Jared?
His eyes flickered, traveling from staring at the drink to looking at Jared. "It feels...nice," he said finally, answering the question Jared asked him. He didn't feel anxious, and he realised with a kind of odd awareness that he didn't feel small. He felt...alive. And that made the decision for him. He blinked rapidly a few times as he lifted the glass to his lips. He didn't chug the entirety of it, but he gulped a good bit down all at once.