I grimace at my brazenness. Fingers spread across my face as I type a question with the other thumb.
Think about what’s close or far off?
I think about having you close. Sadly, not so far.
My stomach somersaults, and I toss my phone onto the bed like it’s radioactive. How does that tiny rectangle have power over me? Even the screen begs me to be braver, to be more open, to put the truth out there. I wag a finger at it. No more, phone. You’re staying over there.
I pull on my favorite secondhand Sevens for movie night and retie my navy wrap sweater. The girl I see in the mirror is steadily changing, different even than last week. Knowing Levi has stirred something deep inside me. A restless contentment. A soothing exhilaration. He’s a thrill and a comfort. He makes me feel like it’s okay to be me. It might even be okay to look like me. The reflection of my shaking head goes blurry as I yawn.
I didn’t sleep much again last night. More nightmares. Staying awake during the movie might be hard, but I’ll borrow a blanket and get cozy. Then again, Levi will be there unsettling me in the best way … one couch over, like always. I haven’t touched him since that unwise moment with his tattoo. My skin on his again sounds glorious. I wonder if his palms are calloused from his weight lifting. I wonder if his face feels scratchy at the end of the day. I wonder how warm and settling his hugs would be.
No. I have to stop thinking that way. It’s not helping me cope with my reality. It’s kindling a desperation to change something, a desire to forget about my constraints and live dangerously. But I need my constraints. They keep the pain at bay. The less memories of that night, the more doable my life is.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Sophie babblesas we cross the field. I try to listen. It’s the only thing keeping my legs moving. I still get nervous on the way to Flooders. Walking down the hall with Levi is a whole thing. ThinkTo All the Boysback pocket spin—without the back pocket part, of course. I can do this. It seems important to Levi for me to join him on his floor sometimes, and I’m not going to pass up more time with him.
We’re early this time, so no one is waiting to greet us when we push out of the stairwell onto Flooders. Levi shares a room with Austin near the end of the long hallway, but I’ve never seen it. We always hang out in the common rooms when we’re here. Dare I sneak a peek? Sophie stops in Leo’s room, so I officially have an excuse. Maybe eight rooms line each side of the hallway with another stairwell at the other end. I duck when a football soars by, barely missing my head.
“Sorry, Kit!” someone calls. And the football has already vanished.
Two familiar Flooders pause their gaming strategy to part for me. I wave back and wish for the millionth time that I could be invisible again as I trek down this intimidating hallway. Then again, even back to my ordinary self, I couldn’t blend in here in Testosterone Land. I’d need Harry Potter’s invisibility cloak.
I overhear a conversation in a room I pass. “Guess he’s still on the suicide mission. Maybe she’ll shut him down in front of everyone.”
That jerk had better be talking about someone else.
Finally, the other end of the hall. I peek in a door on the left. A lineman on Levi’s football team wordlessly points me to the last room, and I step over with jitters. I hope it’s okay that I’m showing up at his personal space unannounced.
Door wide open, Levi is stretched out longways on a couch in the hoodie jacket and running shorts he wore to play Frisbee earlier. His strong legs are showing off, bent and mostly bare. One foot taps in the silence, accommodating his need to fidget without Tic Tacs in his typing hands. He’s laser focused and hasn’t noticed me. I’m surprised to see his couch is as ancient as the others on the floor.
That hallway left me out of sorts, but the sight of Levi ignites a fire that thoroughly warms me. I don’t belong out there, but somehow I know I belong in here.
Seeing him in his room in his comfy clothes feels like a breach of his privacy. It must be better to break his focus than to stand here creepily staring.
I hold onto the door frame and lean in without actually crossing the threshold. “Levi,” I whisper.
An instant signature smile. Graceful as always, he swings his legs around, crosses the room, and sets down his laptop on the desk next to me.
With a laugh in his eyes, he whispers to follow suit. “Kit.”
“Do you want to finish?” Shy, guilty, or hesitant, I don’t even know. “I interrupted.”
“A welcome interruption. Let me just save my work.” He types a few buttons and closes the laptop. “Want to come in? I’ll give you a tour.”
I take a single step inside and point to the couch. “That’s where you write your code”—and at the desk—“and this is where you write your boy cursive?”
He chuckles and nods.
It’s so intimate to be in his room. Austin’s side is apparently by the window. Trash that hasn’t made it into the can litters the floor. Books and papers conceal the top of the desk. A quilt made of T-shirts is about to fall off the lofted bed over his own old sofa underneath.
Levi’s bed is lofted, too, above the couch I found him on, with more organized blankets. His side of the room is neat but lived in and smells pleasant and familiar. I didn’t think I’d been close enough to him to know what he smells like, but I’ve had whiffs of this before. Mint and fresh laundry with a boyish twist. I covertly steal another inhale.
Two giant monitors sit on his desk next to the door. His Rover keys attached to a Flooders-orange AirTag case sit in a wooden bowl at the corner. Very trusting. And so tidy. I wonder if he cleaned his own room before coming here.
Past him, his closet is open and organized. Surprisingly few items hang inside, all of supreme quality, of course, and not a brand logo in sight. Everything is new and curated and, knowing him, sustainably sourced. I’ve seen him wear almost every piece. It’s like he moonlights as a minimalism influencer. Did he run away from home with the shirt on his back and order what he needed when he got here?
Levi scrutinizes his running shorts. I bet he feels the need to change clothes. He never wears athletic wear except for athletic activities. I keep my mouth shut. Standing outside his room while he changed would be awkward. Plus, these shorts are my favorite.Apparently I’m off the hook because he holds an arm out to the hall. “To the Light Lounge? Dark Lounge is taken tonight.”
