Page 23 of Anything (Mayberry University #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

A few days later, I find Sophie in the suite and tap her foot resting on the coffee table. “Hey, girl. Any change in the Leo situation?”

She lowers her phone with a Tigger-worthy sitting bounce. “Totally. Funny you should ask. He’s been acting super weird, but like, in a good way.”

This is Levi’s work. Who could do better than Mr. Charming himself?

I sit cross-legged on the sofa. “Tell me more!”

“Okay so, we have a lot of our classes in the same building, and I pass him a bunch walking around. There was like a phase one, and for a couple days he would sorta-kinda smile at me, but it was more like this.”

I laugh at her exaggerated grimace.

“After that, he waved at me for a few days. I was kinda mad at him still, but the waves were nice, so I started waving back a couple days into phase two.”

It’s weird that Sophie has been sitting on this information. “Your narration is amazing. Go on.”

“Phase three was he would stop and say exactly one sentence. Like, ‘It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?’ and ‘Have a good class.’ But he never waited long enough for me to say something back. He would just walk away super-fast, like he was nervous.”

“Nervous is a great sign.”

“Right? It’s like he’s trying to convince me, and he won’t stop long enough to see I’m totally in already.” Signature Sophie-clapping.

I mirror her. “I’m so excited!”

She hugs me. “Me too. Thanks for asking.”

“What’s going to be phase four?” I ask.

“Maybe he’ll actually let me answer him!”

We giggle.

“You can witness it tonight, I bet, or sometime this week,” she says.

It’s Spirit Week at Mayberry, which means there are school-wide traditions for days.

Car Cram is tonight. Apparently each floor tries to fit as many of their residents as possible into an old VW Bug.

Other days we’ll have root beer floats, a homemade-boat derby at the pond, roller skating—G1 and Flooders are dressing up 80s-style this year—and other fun nonsense.

We’ll be seeing even more of the Flooders this week than usual.

Sophie bursts into song. This time it’s “Sunday Best” by Surfaces. I chime in and sing with her.

Before I think hard enough about it, I send off a text to Levi.

You’ve achieved hero status.

A quick reply.

I have a bad feeling Hiccup earned that praise instead.

You must have coached him in the ways of charm. Sounds like he’s become a Levi apprentice.

My hand flies to my head. I never would have said that in real life.

You think I’m charming?

Ryan Gosling wants his rizz back.

Leslie Knope wishes she could compliment like you.

Levi, you rainbow-infused space unicorn.

Kit, you clever land-mermaid. Your heart is even more perfect than your face.

Try not falling for a guy who misquotes Parks & Rec like that.

It’s Thursday night, which means I’m at the Flooders game.

Levi is all over the field, catching balls and blocking passes, while I sit on the sideline, trying and failing to be as cool as the root beer float I’m finishing off.

It’s impossible not to watch Dreamy Athlete Levi, but I’m working hard to keep my expression in check, lest the other girls remember to tease me mercilessly.

“Kit’s drooling again,” Mia reported last week.

Sophie always sings clever but mortifying songs.

Even Ayumi smiles knowingly. I love my friends, but they pull me way out of my comfort zone—not sure I like it.

As for the rest of the floor, so much gossip goes around about me.

It doesn’t help that I offer zero explanation for why I refuse to date the most sought-after bachelor at our little school, but I don’t know why my thing with him is so interesting to everyone.

There are plenty of other girls with a love interest who are actually doing something about it.

I guess Levi and I are a strange pair. The prince and the pauper.

The athlete and the nerd. The guy who wouldn’t date anybody and the girl who won’t date him.

“When that chem test beat ya up and stress ya, but ya see that Levi playin’, it remind ya of ya blessings,” Sophie raps.

I double over at that one. I love “Church Clap.” One of Sophie’s best lyric swaps.

The girls giggle as they try to recite the fast-paced verses and clap beneath their knees.

Clouds roll in, and the air crackles with foreboding. I shiver, despite the thick, warm air.

“Mamma Mia!” I call.

Arriving late, she sits with a flourish. I scooch to her, and she wraps an arm around me.

“What’s good, my friend?”

“How are you?” I ask at the same time.

“Chillin’ like a mango that hasn’t fallen.”

I spit out a laugh. “What?”

“My cousins taught me that one.” She grins. “It’s good, right?”

“It’s amazing. Are you coming tonight?”

“I’ll be there. Sorry it’s been a while. I got kinda outta control there for a minute.” She lowers her voice. “I met some guys. I kinda got a bad feeling though.”

I clench a fold of the blanket beneath me. I know how stories like this end.

“Girl, relax. Nothing happened. I’m just saying I was hanging out with them a bunch and now I’m not.”

“Oh.” I breathe again. “I’m glad the Spirit guided you.”

“Ya know, I hadn’t given him credit. Thanks for that.”

I hug her again. “So happy you’re here. It’s never the same without you. ”

She beams until her brow furrows. “You wanna tell me why you looked like you saw a ghost when I said, ‘bad feeling’?”

Face forward, shake my head. Maybe she’ll let it lie.

I didn’t used to be like this. I used to ask my friends about everything, always wanting advice, someone to lean on.

“Yeah, I figured,” Mia replies to my silence. “It doesn’t have to be me, but you gotta talk to someone. Start working yourself up to it.”

Do I wait for her to taper off with the pushy advice, or do I have the guts to tell her to cut it out? Maybe a subject change?

“ Es necesario . Kit?”

Saved by the rain. The fat drops fall fast. I’ve been in East Texas long enough to know this will be a downpour.

“See ya” is all I say to my friends. They know I always bolt back to my room when it rains.

Storms are a dangerous catalyst for me now.

It’s a felt loss. I’ve always loved the rain.

I used to sit on our covered patio with Mom watching hail or lightning during summer storms. Now I just want to be alone, even more so with a chance of thunder.

The remaining girls accommodate the rain, apparently pleased for a diversion from the usual.

The prepared ones expand their umbrellas.

Sophie waves girls out of her way and yanks my blanket out from under them to hold it overhead.

They giggle like kids in a homemade fort.

We’ve seen before how our boys revert to childhood playing on the mushy field after a hard rain.

I’m sorry to miss it. I drag myself and my empty cup away, not bothering to cover my head.

Levi stretches out an arm and lifts a few fingers in gentlemanly salutation. I raise my hand in a soft wave.

Pleasant drips grow into splatters, until a distant rumble opens a pit in my stomach. I increase my pace. Guys slide down a hill, using Saga trays for sleds, but Mayberry silliness in action can’t even make me laugh. I try to remember that it could be worse. It could have been so much worse.