I’m always here.
In the morning, I run a brush through my hair, working out the knots from the night. I try to do the same with my thoughts, but the nightmare’s tangled mess keeps snagging. I circle back to the same memories—not the worst ones, but the ones from before, when things were still fixable. Why can’t I let it go? Why must I obsess?
Trying to pull away from another kiss. Hand held too tight. Everything too fast, too soon. Ownership. Three months of what he wanted. Another human trophy, another win, another notch for his belt.
I saw it happening, but I didn’t see. Why didn’t I see?
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Levi pullsopen one of Saga’s doors as I drop off my lunch tray. He sees me coming and slows to a stop. Sweet Levi. Our not-relationship is running on the fumes of false hope, but I won’t just give in.
He flicks the top of a new box of Tic Tacs. The last one is sitting on my desk, half-full. His smile grows as I reach him.
This is the first time I’ve seen him since our not-conversation yesterday. I study him for awkwardness or judgment. None. Maybe yesterday actually worked. Maybe we’re back to Before Us. Except, I’m not Before Kit. I’m Brave Kit. I’m doing instead of just thinking all the time. The car ride after Miss Evelyn’s was a train wreck, but I won’t be derailed.
Awe and amusement surface in his eyes again, joining the fatigue and concern. “Hey, friend,” Soft, lazy.
I deteriorate into a goofy grin. “How was Jesus class?”
“A worthwhileendeavor.”
“Speaking of an endeavor, did you decide about running for student body president? I meant to ask … the other day.”
“I think I’ll throw my hat in the ring.”
“Yeah?”
“I’ve been praying about it. I feel like he might want to use it.”
“Of course you have. You’re amazing.”
“Thank you. And thanks for remembering.” He taps my notebook affectionately. We’re getting better at this no-touching thing. I should rewatchPushing Daisies.
“Of course,” I say. “I want to help with your campaign. If—” I drop his gaze. “That’ll be next semester, huh?”
His head tilts. “Yes. March.”
He’ll have given up on me by then. At least I bought myself a few more days.
I bend to check his watch. I have to get to lab early today.
He about-faces. “I’ll walk you to class?”
“You sure? You must be starving from all that swimming.”
He nods, likeDefinitely.
“The lunch prospects won’t please you. Probably a sandwich day. One of your Goliath sandwiches with half a pound of grilled chicken and hummus and every vegetable available.”
He shakes his head, amused.
I’ll have to check for rain clouds or open car doors. Just this morning the wind from an open window slammed a classroom door. I blink hard. That was humiliating.
When he opens the door for me, it stirs up the memory of when our eyes locked across Saga that first time. He’s so much more than my assumptions. He isn’t at all how people said he’d be.
Oops, I missed what he said. “Sorry, what was that?”
“I saw you from there the first week of school.” He motions back at the doors, like he read my thoughts. “Do you remember that?”
