Page 43 of Anything (Mayberry University #1)

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Levi pulls open 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 worthwhile endeavor.”

“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 rewatch Pushing 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, like Definitely .

“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?”

“Oh, I remember. You caught me staring.”

“Glaring, actually. We hadn’t even met. ”

I shift my books. “You had quite a reputation. Everyone said you were untouchable.”

“You still don’t touch me,” he says, trying to make me laugh.

Instead, I adjust my armful again. He holds out hands to take my books and tucks them under his arm. But then his Tic Tacs make another appearance, and he sucks in a breath. Uh-oh.

“I told you I saw you last year. I was drawn to you in a big way. But the reality is, I would have just joked around a little and left it at that. Except … when I finally talked to you, you were so different from other girls. So unimpressed and self-assured. Zero interest in me or what I could do for you. You blew me off so many times”—he sends a teasing sidelong glance—“and, oddly, it helped me trust you. You didn’t care about the impression I give off, the things I’m sick of being known for.

You finagled your way into knowing the real me. ”

I blink at him, dreading how this speech will end.

“I’ve gotten to spend so much time with you,” he continues, “and every minute makes me like you more. You take care of your people whatever the cost to you. You have this certain smile when you talk about your family. You’re wicked smart and so motivated.

You … you love Jesus in a way I’ve never seen before. ”

My head spins, and I can’t hear anymore. I stop right there on the path. I’m not a normal girl doing normal girlfriend things. I’ve given him such a hard time. I don’t deserve any of this.

“Thank you,” I mumble. “So many compliments.”

He presses his lips together before turning serious again. “I’m not the kind of guy who does situationships.”

He lets that hang in the air while I scramble for a not-stupid reply. I’ve got nothing.

“I’m in this, Kit. I’ve been trying to be patient and give you space, to give you time to trust me too. But I need to know if you don’t want a relationship with me. A real one.”

“O-of course.”

“Okay …” he says. “Yes, you want a relationship with me? Please? ”

I gape. The paragon of manhood included a please.

What do I say?

“Look, I know you’re not ready to tell me everything,” he says. “That’s okay. We can figure it out. Together.”

“I … I just … can’t.”

I hold my breath for his response. This is it— We’re done .

Instead, he gestures limply, as if I sucked the energy from his Olympian body like a vampire. “Will you at least tell me why not?”

The king of the school humbled himself, put his heart on a platter.

He deserves the truth. But ... how? Nothing could be worse than Levi finding out how crazy I am, how broken, how stupid and vain and careless I was last year, how it’s all my fault.

If he knew the whole story, I’d fully lose him.

I’d lose the way he looks at me, the way he bends to listen like I’m the only person in the room.

I’d lose every bit of the high regard he holds for me.

He thinks the truth will help, but it won’t. He’d say I deserved what happened and far worse. Hearing that from him? To see the light go out of his eyes, the affection replaced with disgust? ... It would be unbearable. The cruelest torment.

“Is it something about me?” he prods.

“No!” He thinks I’m being all weird and crazy because of him? “No, you’re … No.”

“Something about you?”

I study my feet and force them to walk again. He follows. Maybe I’m brave enough to tell him some tiny part of the truth.

“I’m … broken.” I said something. I said something.

“Did something bad happen to you? Something scary?” His voice is low and ragged, like the thought pains him.

I should have known he’d figure out that much. He’s a smart guy. He knows most of my symptoms now. But he doesn’t know the whole story and he won’t. My throat grows thick. I wish he could give me a hug and tell me it’s going to be okay. But he can’t. And it isn’t.

He continues with me all the way to the lab building, but I remain stubbornly silent. I can’t tell him. I can’t. Handing back my books, he tries to catch my gaze. Finally, he nods curtly and spins back the way we came.

I track his hunched leather jacket before dragging my feet to class. Have you ever been in a room where every last person hates your guts? That’s how my body feels. My ears and eyes and skin and hands and lips and gut and heart—they all hate me.

I wish I had said yes. I wish I had blurted out a laundry list of every beautiful thing I see in and on him. But I couldn’t. It would have been selfish, confusing. I tried to be honest, at least to the extent I could. I have no idea what I’m doing. I don’t know how not to hurt him.

My eyes fill. I pray with a sigh that shakes as I release it.

I am your comfort and strength, a very present help in trouble.

Very present.

I plod down the hall, set up my experiment in a zombie state, sit obediently on my stool. The professor starts talking, but I don’t hear any of it. I’m just here for my attendance record.

I’m trying to stop convincing people that I deserve their love, but I don’t have the courage to be fair to Levi. So which is it? Stop trying to deserve kindness or stop leading him on?

I press hands to my face.

I want to lean into the joy of Levi’s words today, the affection in his eyes.

Despite everything, he wants to be with me.

He’s better than a dream, the best guy I’ve ever known, growing-old-and-wrinkly-together material.

But I can’t be that for him. I can’t even give him a hug when he has a hard day.