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“I’ll take you home,” Levi says, once again behind the driver’s seat.
I’m so tired. It may only be eight o’clock at night, but I am ready for bed. “Okay,” I say. I’d probably agree to sleep on the floor of Levi’s bike shop if he said that was the only place I could rest.
“Can I get your address?”
“Yep,” I say, eyes closed, forehead pressed to the cool glass of this passenger side window. I don’t tell him the street or the numbers. That feels too difficult at the moment. Instead, I hand him my phone. “Bob Allen.”
Levi searches through my contacts. “Tulip Street? Is that where you live?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“You live with Bob?”
“Mm-hmm.”
Levi grunts, but it’s not enough to make me open my eyelids. They must weigh two tons. “Bob doesn’t want to teach you to ride a bike? Number four?”
I hear him. But I just don’t feel the need to answer. Sleep is much more tempting than Levi’s grunts and questions.
The hum of Levi’s truck is lulling. The pause when we stop is jarring. I flutter my two-ton eyes open, sure there is drool slipping down my chin. But I refuse to be persuaded to be bothered enough to do anything about it.
And then, my door is opening, and the glass that was so kindly holding my head in place is gone. Rude.
“Okay,” I hear Levi say as my body rolls out of the vehicle. I land, nice and soft, not on the ground but into cool, clean, breezy-smelling arms. Strong arms.
“What’s the name of your cologne?”
“I don’t wear cologne,” he says. He hefts me up and my heavy eyes open once more.
Uncle Bob’s yard and house look different up here. I am in Levi’s arms. I find it's a very nice place to nap. I let my eyes droop closed again and press my nose into Levi’s chest—hard and smooth and breezy smelling. Yep, I like it here. Levi has a natural scent that makes me feel like I’m the star of a Harlequin novel. That, or he wears fantastic deodorant.
The doorbell rings. And rings.
Well, that’s not going to work.
Speaking is not my favorite right now, but if I don’t, we’ll never make it inside. And while I’m content to sleep all night long on Levi’s chest, it’s getting chilly outside. I’d rather we go in, where I know Uncle Bob has the thermostat set to seventy-two degrees.
“He won’t come to the door,” I say, all while nuzzling closer to Levi’s pectorals. “It’s unlocked.”
I don’t have to tell Levi twice—I like that very much about him. He turns the knob and I know the minute we’re inside, though I’ve decided to keep my eyes shut. They’re much too heavy to try and open again. Still, the air warms around us, and I can smell the cinnamon of Uncle Bob’s incense and the warmth of his herbal tea.
I don’t hear my uncle which means he’s probably in bed. That’s okay, I’m perfectly happy right where I’m at. It’s quiet, and Levi has the most comfortable arms I’ve ever lain in. True—they may be the only arms I’ve ever lain in, but I’m certain others couldn’t compete.
I don’t stay in his arms long though. I’m set down, my body moving from Levi’s warmth to a cushioned back and side. The couch. I like his arms better.
“Meredith,” he whispers. “Can you open your eyes for me?”
But I’d rather not.
“Is this the right house?” He groans. “Please tell me I’m not leaving her in some stranger’s living room.”
I force my eyes to open, to see Levi draping one of Aunt Cindy’s afghans across my legs.
He starts when he notices me watching him. “Mer, is this your house?”
Mer. Mer. No one’s called me that before. Have I ever had a nickname? I think you have to have friends to get one of those. And while I had friends online, we usually referred to each other as our online school handles. I was never Mer, just @mp5301.
“Meredith?” he says again. And I want to tell him to go back to Mer.
