Page 35 of Anything (Mayberry University #1)

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

On Saturday night I whisper for Levi to walk me back earlier than usual. His eager nod shoots a thrill up my spine.

These late walks back with him are my favorite minutes of the week. I push aside the nagging feeling that I should stop, that I’m stringing him along.

Our steps match pace on the sidewalk. I squeeze my hands and peek over. Learning about his beautiful inside has made his outside even more irresistible. His eyebrows raise a fraction, and his lips twitch. He’s getting better at reading me.

I need a subject to distract me from my jitters. “So, Jeeves, tell me—you didn’t really have a butler, did you?”

He rolls his eyes. “I did not have a butler.”

“Or I guess Wodehouse wrote Jeeves as a valet.”

“No valets either. I put my own clothes on.”

I tilt my head. “You are kind of like Valet Jeeves—clever and helpful. And you’d never allow Bertie to embarrass himself with a hideous waistcoat.”

His cheeks twitch. “I’ve been told I should read Wodehouse. Have a book here you can lend me?”

“Nope. You definitely should though, and report back?”

“I’ll see if I can get it done over Thanksgiving break.”

I’m giddy. Book club with Levi. “So your floormates were totally off on your upbringing? Or just teasing you.”

“No, they were mocking me for having a household staff, and I did. But I’d rather pretend I’m Ask Jeeves. Like I’m the source of all knowledge.” He makes a ridiculous pompous face.

“Yeah, right,” I tease.

“Alright, how about the source of all ‘useful’ knowledge?” he asks.

I raise my brows with humor and challenge.

His eyes laugh in return. He offers me a Tic Tac and shakes one into my hand.

“Do you ever regret your decision to come to random East Texas instead of fancy Yale and all that entails?”

“No. I miss the ocean, and The City sometimes, but the life I left wasn’t …

satisfying. I couldn’t stay in Connecticut around all the same people.

My family, my neighbors in Greenwich. They drop cash in frantic search of something better.

Cars, parties, jet-setting, girls, whatever it is.

It never works. They never feel better for long.

I know my parents don’t. Only Jesus changes things, changes the heart, satisfies.

Still, transitioning has been … a process.

I’m not cured of my upbringing because I came here. ”

You must have brought him a long way to be able to see the world he grew up in so objectively.

Be transformed by the renewal of your mind.

“Sometimes I want to just donate my share of the family fund to charity.” He motions with his hand.

“Get rid of the responsibility, as you called it. But I have this feeling there’s something God has in mind for it.

” He shrugs. “For now the distributions are paying my tuition. My parents certainly wouldn’t. ”

So many private words he’s entrusting to me. And then it hits me. “Wait, just the income from your trust fund’s investments covers tuition here every year?”

Levi glances at me, amused. More than that? My stomach turns. My experience with Avery’s well-off family has absolutely no relation to that kind of wealth.

“Sorry I asked. And that I started on this subject. I know you don’t like talking about this kind of thing.”

He taps my arm with his Tic Tac box before depositing it in his pocket. “Don’t be. Samwise knows, but he still thinks money makes everything easier. You’re the only one who seems to understand.”

I blink at him, at a loss.

“You understand that it’s not a cure-all,” he says. “That it can be a detriment, a danger. You’re the only girl I’ve ever met who counts it all against me.”

“Hey …”

That pulls his gaze.

“You’re not your money. You’re Levi. It was a mark against dating you, not against you-you.”

“Is it still?” So quiet.

I shake my head, but I can’t afford to continue this line of thought.

“Discretion about money is still uncomfortable for me,” he says, back to normal volume. “At home, people just know how much everyone has. It’s no big secret.”

“People here would probably get weird and jealous and … conniving about that kind of thing.”

He tips his head.

I hate that he’s experienced that already. “I won’t break your confidence.”

“I know. I trust you, Kit.”

He trusts me. “I’m so impressed with you,” I blurt. “I’ve never met someone so unaffected by money. You’re swimming in it, but you don’t even seem to think about it. It has very little to do with who you are.”

With vulnerability in his eyes, he gives a small smile.

“I want to accept your compliment, but I’m afraid I can’t.

I think the mentality is just different, depending on how a person grows up.

” He gathers his words. “Middle-class families seem to spend a large portion of their lives preparing and maintaining the ability to make enough money. Does that seem right to you?”

School, college, jobs, promotions, saving for retirement. “That does seem like the status quo, although ‘enough’ varies a lot. Not for you?”

“No. Where I’m from, parents don’t expect their children to compete for scholarships or to ladder climb in some career. I grew up assuming money would never be an issue. My parents raised me to focus on status, connections, maintaining the family image—” His jaw clenches.

I wince, imagining little Levi standing in front of that desk.

“That kind of thing. Living differently than that should really be my bar for impressive.”

“I know you to be humble and authentic and kind, none of which fits well with what you just described.” His spiel only reinforces my opinion of him.

He’s a wonderful person. He sees his faults.

He wants to grow. It’s so rare to find someone like that, and I know he’s the kind of person I want to be with forever.

If I were to chart my Levi crush, it would be an exponential function rather than linear.

Every new thing I learn about him, every peek into his beautiful faith, every mark of his kindness and gentleness bumps me higher up the y-axis.

Every day my fondness for him grows faster than the day before.

Like Aladdin, I hear the genie buzzing in my ear—“Mayday! Mayday!”—but I swat it away.

“Nice try negating my compliment though,” I tease.

His brow moves up and down, like he doesn’t know whether to be honored or concerned.

“Thank you.” He dips to toss a pinecone at me, and then another, sparking a full-on pinecone war.

Gleefully, I pelt him with the pinecones near my feet as I scurry behind Arma Chapel.

I gather an armful and spring them on him around the corner.

He laughs my favorite hearty laugh. “Behold the Pinecone Queen.”

I curtsy, daring him to show me the formal bow that must be in there somewhere. No luck today.

Levi continues our walk. “I have a confession to make. I watched Beauty and the Beast . Austin was on some date, and I hid in my dark room streaming it alone on my couch.” He chuckles at himself, and I can’t help but join him.

“Why?”

“I was curious about your floor name.”

I open my mouth, but no words come out.

He half smiles, sheepish.

“What did you think of the movie? It’s good, right?”

“It was certainly informative. I learned that Belle is well read, loyal, intelligent, kind … What else? Desired, slow to pass judgment, quick to refuse arrogant men.” He shoots me a look. “Do you agree with my findings?”

I agree hesitantly.

“It’s one of the best floor names I’ve heard, really. So much complexity is captured. My sole reservation is that Disney Belle is inferior to you in every way.”

I nearly fall off the sidewalk into the street. His arm catches me effortlessly and guides me back. My arm tingles in pleasure, but vicious fear claws past the edges of my consciousness, robbing my joy and yanking me to a stop. No, no. Will I be pulled under?

Breathe.

I seem to be safe from a freakout at the moment. My shoulders fall in relief.

Thank you.

What were we talking about? Oh. “They just know I like to read. ”

He shakes his head in affectionate disagreement. Suddenly his happiness deflates. “Kit. Am I playing Gaston in your story?”

Gaston? As if Levi could ever be so hateful, so ignorant, so despised. I shake my head forcefully, stomach clenching.

“Can I be the Beast?” He steps close, otherwise uncharacteristically still.

I gulp. Is this a DTR or a character analysis?

“Levi, you’re … a perfect hybrid, all mixed up and transformed by Jesus-magic.

You’re strong and impressive like Gaston, but you’re vulnerable and want to grow like the Beast. The real Belle couldn’t help but …

” I trail off. Saying this is making me face how strongly I feel, what a mess this is, how angry I am that I can’t have what I want.

I crane my neck away so he won’t see the tears welling.

There is no happily ever after to this story.

I’m just buying time like a coward, a selfish coward.

Restraining the tears requires all of my focus.

“Are you alright?” That soft, rumbly voice.

I half laugh that my tear hiding is helping nothing. He’s always so attuned to my feelings.

I nod, daring my nose to grow at my lie. With a wobbly voice, I ask, “How many eggs can you eat?”

He bites back a laugh. “You are a constant delight. Thank you. For what you said.” He inches a hand toward mine, but I turn to drag myself down the sidewalk. He follows silently along, but I won’t face him. I can’t handle whatever reaction he’s having, no matter what it is.

I should warn him—tell him something, at least—before this gets worse.

I owe it to him. My mind is unreliable, hateful enough to make a simple touch agonizing.

I care about him too much to lead him on anymore.

I muster up the courage to spit out the bottom line, what I haven’t told him for months.

“I can’t make that ending happen. It’s impossible. ”

“Why not? Kit, look at me. Why?”

I wrap my arms around my stomach, unable to bring myself to accommodate the request or the questions. Maybe with more time, I can develop the kind of selfless courage I need to tell him what happened, to tell him how broken I am.

Help me. Fix me. I hate that I’m confusing him. I don’t want to hurt him.

When you are afraid, put your trust in me.

But how?

A Tic Tac box snaps shut.