Page 32 of Anything (Mayberry University #1)

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Sophie babbles as 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.

Think To All the Boys back 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.”

I bite my lip when he leaves his phone on the desk, remembering the last texts I sent to it.

A searching look appears, like he’s trying to read my mind and connect the dots. He leans on his desk and asks just above a whisper, “Are you ready to be honest with me?”

My gaze shoots away from his, then back, then away again.

No, I can’t tell him what or why. I tried that once, and I know how it would go.

I couldn’t bear his reaction. The one I got before was already …

But from him? No. Humiliation and horror at the mere prospect.

Besides, to what end? It couldn’t possibly help, only hurt.

The best I can manage is to hold his gaze and try to communicate without words. It helped once before. I bravely peer into the watchful hazel. I’m closer to him and must have inched forward. Or was that him? I try to explain, to say I’m sorry, to tell him how much I like him, admire him.

He moves his jaw around in his way. “Alright.”

With a big breath he leads me into the hall.

The Light Lounge is at the opposite end where I came from.

Navigating the chaos at Levi’s side is different than the last time I was on the floor.

Some of the guys give off a weird vibe. Last time Levi was the top dog with obvious respect and rowdy approval, but now his reception is split.

Some guys walk by slapping his shoulder with a “What’s up, Jeeves,” but a couple only give a halfhearted “Hey,” and one even sneers at him.

I don’t want to be vain, but this feels like my fault.

What if they’re knocking him down a peg because of my publicly known refusal to date him?

Or because he spends so much of his time with our little friend group when he used to spend it all on the floor?

I want to make a scene, kiss him so passionately right here in the hallway that their jaws drop to the floor.

How I’d relish every second of it, whether anyone noticed or not.

But.

It’s always “but” with me now. I squeeze my hands together.

I’m not going to squash this down. Just address the reality.

The risk—almost promise?—of having a flashback right here in the hallway outweighs the possible reward.

Still, maybe a public whisper in his ear could do the trick.

I can be brave for him. Drawing so much attention will be nerve wracking, but for him I’ll do it.

Nearly to the lounge, I motion to Levi and face him squarely, blocking out the knowledge that we’re visible to anyone down the entire hall.

He grinds to a halt. I grab the zipper sides of his open jacket.

Clothes! How have I never thought of this loophole before?

Those green-gold eyes widen, sending a rush through my system.

His feet move to point toward me as I pull myself up to my toes—parallel elevé …

no idea how I have the brain space to think of ballet at a time like this—and lean close to the side of his head.

He’s still moving, and my lips brush the bottom of his ear.

My body reacts only positively. No fear threatens.

Should I do it again? I’m barely tall enough to reach his ear, so I step closer to whisper in it.

I let my lips brush his ear as I speak, sending tingles from my lips to my spine.

“You look so good in these shorts.” Was that too much?

Am I a hypocrite for complimenting how he looks?

I’m barely functioning here. My mind heaves and creaks under the weight of my body’s closeness to his.

I come down from elevé . I’m still holding his jacket and never want to let it go.

Can I drag him everywhere with me just like this?

Especially if he’ll make that delicious face as I do it.

His eyes are full of thrill, a tiny smile slowly broadening. The hallway is dead quiet, and I glance over to a dozen staring eyes—the original point of this exercise.

Levi’s whisper in my ear jolts me back. “They’re thinking I’m the luckiest guy.” He slides a small step toward me, all affection and playfulness.

We’ll touch if I so much as take a big breath.

I want his breath back in my ear, his cheek next to mine. I blink too slowly, and I’m sorry to see I dropped his jacket along the way.

He squints, as if to figure me out, and his face falls. “You wanted to help?” he asks, too softly for anyone else to hear.

How did he read my face like that? It’s disquieting.

I push hair behind my ear. Before I have a response, he reaches up and tenderly tucks my hair behind the other ear.

My lips part in pleasure. I don’t instinctively recoil.

No fear is lurking. His fingers are soothing, warm, blissful.

But why? Maybe because Aiden never touched me like that?

I can see in his face when he snaps out of his apparent daze and realizes what he’s done.

I beam at him shyly. Oh right, there’s a group of dudes watching. I motion to the Light Lounge and he follows along, speechless.

Austin barrels out.

“Samwise?”

“Skipping the movie. Going to the gym.” He jogs toward their room.

Did I do the right thing, God? I forgot to ask.

College Kit is surprising me.