His gaze dips to my sneakers. “What kind of shoes would you prefer to dance in?”
“Well, now that I’m out of that world, I wouldn’t want to destroy my feet again with pointe. I like lyrical shoes. They’re like the front half of a ballet slipper.” I chew on my lip. “Are you trying to out-Veronica Mars me?”
He tilts his head playfully the direction we’re walking. “Come with me?—“
“Levi?” I stop to face him as dissonance blares in my head. It’s rude to interrupt him. I’m messing up this mission he’s on. But I can’t manage whatever he has planned. I play with my fingers and try not to think about Mia.
“I don’t know what you have in mind,” I say, “but I’m not up for dancing right now. I’m sorry. I—I need a bit to wrap my head around it. And besides, I’m completely out of shape.”
His look saysYeah, right.
“I’d pull something if I just went and tried to dance again.” And I couldn’t bear to let him watch me all clunky and out of practice. But more than that, wherever we were going was probably going to be enclosed and alone. I don’t trust my mind to behave.
I rub my temple. The little lady pulling files in my brain is usually very accurate, but I wish she’d take a break sometimes—I don’t need to remember every relevant memory every single time. I certainly don’t need Mia’s lecture bouncing around my head right now. I hate this. And I hate that I hate it. And I hate that Mia was right about me.
Hands in his pockets, Levi studies me gently.
Mia would have a fit—she’d say I’m missing another opportunity. But the file clerk in my mind keeps flashing memories of every time I’ve freaked out and humiliated myself in front of Levi. I’m not budging on this.
But Mia might also tell me to stop stressing about turning him down. That he can handle it, that I’m allowed to take up space. Still, my stress isn’t going anywhere, and the file clerk flaunts a dozen examples of my overthinking.
Then again, Mia would probably say I shouldn’t be trying to please her in this random debate in my head. At that, the clerk throws up her papers in frustration.
“Sorry,” I finally say. How many sorrys move me from polite to groveling? “I hate to mess up your plan. You’re so sweet to care about this.”Say it’s okay.I stare at his sneakers.Don’t be mad.Or do. I don’t know!
Two knuckles brush my jaw and I jolt backward. My heart hammers and my mind swims in inky black.
Levi flinches. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
All I can manage is a wan smile as I about-face toward to my building. I’ve ruined his thoughtful idea and affectionate touch. May as well cut my losses and end the walk too.
He follows along silently.
Remember that scene inHitchwhere Eva Mendes wakes up on her couch? Hitch is picking up coffee, but she doesn’t know and she lectures herself with numbered points into the pillow? As soon as I get to my room, that’ll be me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Sophie isas upbeat as her road trip playlist, harmonizing to “Leaving on a Jet Plane.” Her song choices are amusingly literal. Meanwhile, I’m deteriorating into Carl fromUp. What if I tricked Levi? What if he didn’t realize I wouldn’t sit in the front seat? What if he spent his money and changed his flights and didn’t even have the result he aimed for? One of the rare times I stood my ground with Sophie was to insist she sit in the front with him. What is wrong with me?
I wonder if Levi is nervous about going home. Maybe his granny is worse. Maybe he’s bracing for a run-in with his dad. And here I’ve been scheming and moping and self-involved.I want to ask, but he’s so private. And Sophie’s here. Because of me.
He looks perfectly content up there, tapping a thumb on the steering wheel to the beat. But something sinister whispers that I need to make up for his trouble, to pay him back … like withAiden. I shudder. Shoes off and legs curled up under me, I slump in the seat behind Levi and watch a million trees fly by on I-20.
My grace is sufficient for you,
for my power is made perfect in weakness.
Well, I have plenty of weakness.
Sophie is calling me. I ease my mind back to my surroundings and see Levi checking on me through the rearview mirror, brows furrowed in concern. Sweet Levi. His reflection relaxes and grows tender.
It’s even worse with him than with my friends, isn’t it? I didn’t ask him to wait around for me, but I don’t discourage him either. I can’t make his kindness or friendship or gifts worth his trouble. I can’t make myself worth his trouble.
“It’s just her zone-out thing,” Sophie says. “Don’t worry, she’s not mad or anything.”
Levi nods knowingly.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
