Page 45 of Anything (Mayberry University #1)

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

I almost choke on the last bite of my oatmeal when Levi shows up at my table at Saga.

Almost no one else on campus is awake so early on a Saturday morning.

His hair is still damp, but he’s dressed for a fall photo shoot—jeans, laced leather boots, Jesus backpack, and a solid charcoal flannel buttoned up.

He sits with an expertly crafted yogurt parfait, Exhibit A of his well-rounded nutrition.

Dissonance hums between us. Things have gotten so complicated and yet so clear. We’re not just friends. We’re exclusively, non-casually not dating. Last night I ripped myself to shreds in a tug-of-war between what he asked for and what he needs.

“I thought I might find my favorite morning person here,” he says, cutting through the silence.

I manage a sheepish smile. “Oh look, it’s my favorite early morning swimmer.”

“Up for a walk today? An off campus … date walk? ”

What would Austin say? A walk isn’t torture, is it? “Are you sure? … Considering.”

“Yes.” Is that a challenge in his eye?

“What’s in the backpack?” I ask.

“A thermos. I got some mochas for us from Copper Fox.” He glances at the mug in front of me. “For later.”

The best coffee shop in Pinecrest, and he prefers tea. I shake my head at him. He’s impossible.

He rests his arm on the table, and I tilt his watch toward me, avoiding his skin, to read it upside down. Bible, swim, shower, and coffee run before 8:30 a.m. I give him a pointed look. He smirks.

“Thank you,” I say softly.

When he’s politely downed his yogurt, he tilts his head toward the door in invitation. “All set?”

For weeks I was stuck in the cycle of Like Him, no, Can’t Like Him . Now that it’s a forgone conclusion, I’m stuck in Be Brave, no, Be Kind . Sorry to Live-Action Cinderella, but I can’t seem to do both. I’m sick of it. Nothing I do feels right anymore.

As we drop off our trays, his gaze drops to my go-to pointed-toe flats. I huff in annoyance. I thought I’d be safe putting zero effort into my outfit this morning, just threw on jeans and a T-shirt.

“What’s wrong with my Rothy’s?” I grumble. “Not everyone can afford Ferragamo.”

He recoils. “I was going to offer to stop by your room to grab your sneakers, since we’ll be walking awhile.”

Oh. Oops.

“Is that what you think of me?” He opens the door for me, still chivalrous even when hurt.

“I mean, look at you.” The words tumble out, sharper than I intend. My lack of filter and exhausted frustration is a terrible combination. “I’ll never keep up. How could any of us plebes?”

He scowls at me. That’ s a first.

Whatever you wish that others would do to you, do also to them.

I cringe inwardly. Okay, I see the glaring hypocrisy.

I hate when people treat me differently because of how I look. And I just did that that to him, but with his money.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “Can I have a do-over?”

His face relaxes, instantly forgiving. A huge credit to him. “Sure.” His expression turns mischievous. “I know you don’t like to be complimented about your appearance, but may I please have an exception today?”

I half laugh, alarmed that I’m so pleased. “If you must.”

“I see the need to state, for the record, that you always look lovely. Timeless and elegant, understated. Same story today.” Then, with quirked lips, “Emma Watson wants her vibe back.”

I’m giddy, fourth-grade style. A full 180 from my reaction the first time he complimented me.

Like the day I found myself brushing my hair to go see him, like the day I put on that white dress, this is oddly revolutionary.

His reaction to Ada has freed me, not only to accept how I look, but to want to be beautiful to him.

It’s just one part of me. He sees beyond it, just like he trusts me to see past his money.

My head spins with the reworking of so many thoughts.

Energy zings in my veins. I’ve finally come back around.

I’m finally comfortable in my own skin again.

“I love when you wear white or blue,” he adds. “Your eyes …”

“Okay, okay.” I push his backpack.

He checks to see if I mean to stop him, but my stupid smile tells him otherwise.

“So many favorites.” He loops thumbs around his straps.

“The white silk tank top you wore in summer. The navy sweater that wraps around. The denim skirt with the white button-down tucked in. Mm. So classic.” He’s fully flirting now and enjoying himself.

“My favorite is that white dress—but you knew that already.” His sidelong glance is cheeky, like I might be mad.

“You’re impossible. I fuss at you, and you compliment me? ”

He grins, then it softens. “I still remember what you had on when I first saw you.”

My brows shoot up.

“White button-up, sleek gray skirt, black heels,” he says. “Ring a bell?”

“I do have a woman-crush on Rachel Zane from Suits ,” I joke. “That was for my interview with the panel.”

“You looked bummed, in your own world.”

I nod and kick a rock back into its place in the landscaping. “Their last question was what animal I’m most like. I blurted out ‘zebra,’ of all things.”

We chuckle.

“But then the next girl was heading in,” he says.

“She looked terrified, like she was about to lose it. You stopped to encourage her, held her arm. Whatever you told her … she walked in there like a new person.” He shakes his head.

“I’m still blown away that you’d do that for your direct competition. You’re incredible.”

I study him. He liked me for me—from day one.

“I really wanted to talk to you then, to see you smile. I was so close to coming over there, but I had this feeling I shouldn’t. Now I know that chat would have been a crash and burn.” He grimaces to be funny.

But, actually …that was pre-Aiden, when I was trusting, whole. I would have jumped at the chance to talk to Levi, and anything more than a hard pass would have scared him away. Timing really is everything.

Timing is usually your thing, God. Did you give me that crazy zebra answer to get me here? Did you give me these months with him? Why?

“I prayed that you’d win the scholarship.”

I snap up. Like he heard my prayer.

He twists his lips, embarrassed. “Now I know you earned every bit of it. You’re just like a zebra, after all,” he teases.

I roll my eyes to cover an flattered smile.

“But I did—I prayed for the enchanting stranger, and here you are, stunning and selfless, and also brilliant and fun and inspiring. You’re so much better than I’d hoped.”

I try to breathe. He prayed for me and here I am. Why would God say yes just to let this disaster with Levi blow up in my face?

“In conclusion?—”

I laugh at his official tone, and it melts the tension growing in my chest.

“— you are exquisite. And I don’t want to hear any more comments about Varas, or whatever you said.”

Exquisite?

I tug his backpack strap. “Thank you.”

As we step off campus, Levi shifts between me and the street, a silent shield. I dart a glance upward, half-expecting storm clouds. Instead, blue sky and wispy clouds greet me—a profound relief. But the road we’re on is risky, unpredictable. Hopefully there won’t be any alarming interruptions.