I’ve been fighting myself over Levi for weeks now. Proximity to him is exhilarating to the point of exhaustion. After weeks of sharing a friend group, my attraction to him, my confusion, the complication only grows. My mind jumbles when I gaze into those eyes, and my heart pounds when he smiles.
Matt and I are jostled by the stampede of students bursting out of the building after chapel. He ushers me to the side like I’m Simba. I covertly slink away from not-Mufasa’s hand.
If I could just be content with someone like Matt—simple, comfortable, someone who doesn’t leave my brain in completedisarray—maybe I could finally breathe. I stood that close to him, met him in the eyes, and not a cell in my body took notice. Maybe … I could actually ride in his car like a normal person, not freak when he tries to hold my hand. My brother can drive me hundreds of miles no problem, but I can’t so much as sit on a sofa with Levi?
Quiet comfort. Maybe that’s what I need. Plenty of adults are satisfied in relationships without fireworks. I can’t be so naive to assume I’m going to end up as thrilled and love-struck as my parents. I’m broken. Content and satisfied might be the most I can hope for.
Should I?
When we’re far enough from the student wildebeests, Matt hesitantly turns to me. My stomach twists in knots to think of losing the relationship I’d always assumed could be mine someday, but I don’t have time for that right now. An opportunity has presented itself, and this could be the escape I’ve been praying?—
But Matt sighs at something behind me, like his plan is foiled.
“You couldn’t seriously …” Levi’s voice, low and authoritative, reaches me before I even see him. His warmth radiates, close enough to touch—inviting but risky. My shoulders raise with pleasure as I fight the reckless impulse to step back into his arms.
“… be considering going out with that guy.”
My shoulders plummet.Excuse me?I want to whip my head around and give him a piece of my mind, but he doesn’t deserve the gratification of an immediate response. A quick study of Matt’s face tells me he couldn’t have heard Levi’s disparaging comment. The guys must be looking eye to eye now, over my head. Matt continues like a statue in front of me, courageously attempting to hold Levi’s gaze. Matt has some guts—I’ll give him that. I’ve seen the face that goes with Levi’s imperial voice, and it’s enough to make lesser men quiver.
I keep my back to Levi and try to record all of Matt’s good features. Brave, unassuming, comfortable. “Thank you for asking, Matt. Can we talk after class tomorrow?”
He confirms and awkwardly glances once more at Levi. Raising his hand in a wave, he takes himself away.
“At least give me some real competition.” Levi slides up next to me and sneers at the retreating Matt.
“Your trust fund is showing,” I bite back, sharp and cold.
He swings around until that look of condescension is leveled at me, but then his face softens.
I glare at him. “He could have heard you. He isn’t like you, but he deserves just as much dignity.”
Levi shifts his jaw.
“See you around, Levi.”
I press a hand to my forehead as I walk away. He was way out of line, even if he’s frustrated about my mixed signals. But … this is my out. I’ve been caught in this exhausting loop—Like-Him, Can’t-Like-Him—for too long. Now I have data. I can use this to end the cycle, to protect myself, to escape the sinking feeling of liking him so much and knowing I can’t have him to myself.
Not a full day has passed since my resolution, but here’s Levi, raising a finger, asking for a moment in a gentlemanlike manner. How did he know where to find me? Oh, Austin’s in this class. He sneaks a peek at us as he disappears into the math building. I acknowledge Levi but don’t speak, proceeding ahead. Remember—he showed himself to be condescending, rude, and pretentious. I do not need to give him another chance. I can’t afford to give him another chance. I hold tightly to my books and to my grudge. I need them to keep him pushed back into obscurity.
Levi falls into step with me. “I was wrong. I apologized to Matt.”
I snap to him.
“I asked around and showed up at his room.”
I hide my shock behind a wall. “Did he think you were going to beat him up?”
He grimaces. “Maybe at first. Kit, I’m sorry. I really appreciate that you called me out ...”
With a few sentences, he’s bludgeoned my resolve as if with a club.
“I was jealous, but I have no right to be. And I certainly shouldn’t have acted like that. Will you forgive me?”
Cold dread settles in my gut. Oh, this is bad. His thorough and genuine plea for forgiveness is enough to dissipate my anger and then some.
He gazes at me with humility, lips twisting in anguish. I rub my head, trying to compute. A character flaw could help me change direction, but a mistake followed by regret, repentance, making amends? That’s … marriage material.
I move my books between us, as if it will keep him away. I can’t afford to forgive him. I know what will happen if I do.
