My heart flip-flops. Why isn’t he getting the memo? I’ve done my best to give not-interested vibes. I rub my forehead. But I feltlike I was supposed to agree to this coffee meetup for some reason. And IHOP is a group thing. I should be making friends, not avoiding them because of one guy. Plus, watching Mr. Fancy Pants dig into IHOP pancakes like a commoner could be hilarious. I smile to myself—Yikes, he’ll misunderstand that. “Okay,” I nearly whisper.
“May I have your number? I’ll text you details.”
Before I know it, I’m cradling a brand-new iPhone in a Flooders orange case. “I used to go on daddy-daughter dates there as a kid. I’d always get a funny face pancake.” Great, I’m babbling. And oversharing. I eye him as I return the phone, the proximity of his hand warming me in a way I don’t appreciate. “Friends,” I say.
“Alright.” Those eyes remain on mine as he stretches his leg to pocket his phone.
“Oops. I forgot we have plans on the floor tonight. Old Disney movies. Maybe another time.” Unable to pull my gaze from his, I stand up blind, coffee in one hand and quick wave from the other.
Shoot, a chair leg trips me. I somehow keep from spilling the coffee as I right myself, arms wide, facing away to avoid Levi’s reaction. A scoff from the table over. Managing to avoid collision twice, I reach the exit. Ahh, the cookie. I beeline back to the table.
His eyes shine with awe and amusement as he holds it up. “Simone Biles wants her landing back.”
I barely contain a laugh, thank him, and rush out.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Two dayslater I discover a foreign object on my desk—a brownie encased in clear wrapping and a pristine bow. I kick off my flats and grab for the thrilling present. Inside the attached envelope is a note on thick white card stock with an embossed border and monogram. My thumb brushes over the indent of “LCW” at the bottom. Of course it’s Levi’s. His style even extends to paper products. I rub my forehead, trying to read the boy cursive objectively.
Kit,
Movie night on Flooders tonight at 8.
Hope to see you there, friend. Bring anyone along.
—Levi
I bite my lip. It’s Sunday, but Praise and Prayer is canceled for Labor Day weekend. Open Dorms hours on weekends are the only allowance for students to hang out on floors with the opposite sex. Rules to spare at this conservative Christian school. I haven’t been to Flooders yet. Open Dorms on Sundays are only till ten, so we’d have a reason to bail right after the movie.
I make the mistake of showing the note to Sophie, who half-drags Mia and me out of our building at quarter to eight. Doubt drags at my feet as we cross the field. I should turn back. What am I doing walking to the lions’ den? My feet stop mid-field as my mind spins, but Sophie tugs me forward, deciding for me.
Stepping onto the third floor of Albert Hall, I’m hit with the smell of burnt popcorn and faintly sweaty boy. The A/C is cranked up, and goosebumps line my arms. Someone’s singing an unrecognizable song. Another guy joins in, passionately off key. We’re spotted and greeted in seconds.
“Levi invited us,” Sophie says, as if they’re bouncers with a list.
Mia snorts.
One of the Flooders chuckles, likeYeah, sure. The other introduces himself, a smile growing.
I forget his name already because … this hallway. Someone yells “fore!” before hitting a bean bag down the hall with a golf club. Another guy catches it with a baseball mitt and no shirt. One wanders toward us with his hand in a bag of chips. I could swear I saw someone riding a unicycle at the far end of the hall. I crack a smile, despite myself. My brothers would love this place.
“Where does movie night happen around here?” Mia asks.
Flooders 1 and 2 lead us through the chaotic cinderblock hallway, past the “Light Lounge” and into the “Dark Lounge,” a jet-black room with a giant orange Flooders logo. Third-hand couches rest on homemade lofts providing stadium seating. A projector on the black ceiling shines the Netflix menu onto a screen on the front wall.
“Jeeves!” Flooder 1 bellows down the hallway.
I jump.
“You have visitors!”
I follow along as my friends chat with a group of freshmen Sophie knows. I only recognize Leo, the guy who rides an electric scooter everywhere on our postage stamp of a campus. Barely anyone my own age is in my classes because I earned so much college credit in high school. It’s making for a weird start to freshman year.
Austin appears and beelines to us. We’ve been in class together for a month but we’ve barely spoken. That makes him friend material like nothing else could.
“Great spot for movie night,” I say to him.
“Thanks. It kinda gives ‘nightclub in the daytime,’ huh?”
