Page 58 of Anything (Mayberry University #1)

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

I perch on my dorm room bed, chewing a hole in my lip and eyeing the box of Tic Tacs sitting on my desk. What should I text Levi?

At a soft knock at my window, I pull back the curtain. It’s him, with a big white box under his arm. Gold script and his blond hair glimmer in the sun. That favorite face of mine is a sight for sore eyes. So much concern, so many questions are etched into it.

“Kit.”

I can’t really hear him, but I may as well. I’ve heard that scrumptious murmur enough.

“Levi,” I whisper back.

“Meet you at the bench?”

I grab the paper-wrapped package on my desk and cram the stolen Tic Tacs into my pocket, running through the hall to the stairwell .

I heave the door open and motion for him to come in for Open Dorms. He follows silently. He’s never been in my suite before. My suitemates aren’t around, but they could be back any minute.

When I finally told Mom everything, she had to remove her jaw from the sidewalk.

To her, there was an obvious thread of God’s orchestration throughout our relationship.

I tried to tell her how impractical things were for me and Levi.

“Then keep praying,” she said, “and definitely ask Levi what he heard this week. If he heard a no, that’s it.

But it sounds to me like God’s been setting this up all along, like he’s gift-wrapped this relationship for you.

I really think it’s time you make your choices and let Levi make his own. ”

I prop open the suite door as required and whip around to him. “Hi.” I shyly grin at Levi and his box. “For me?” I mean both.

“For you.” He opens the big box with one hand so I can see the macarons of every flavor inside. This doesn’t look like a no.

The box has attitude, like it hails from a fabulous bakery, folded by hand by someone French with excellent posture and perhaps a sneer of superiority. I want to dive in and transport myself there.

“Did you fly back from Connecticut with these?”

“I did. I dragged Everett with me to a patisserie in The City.” Not something he’d do if he’d heard a no.

I snag a pink one as he closes the box. Strawberry bursts in my mouth with a perfectly delicate bite. A moan escapes. “Bless you, cosmopolitan New York.”

“They were my ‘personal item’ on the plane,” he says. “Very nearly stepped on. I’m clearly under the impression you’re open to bribery.” His face changes like he regrets the joke, and he sets the box on the coffee table.

My heart beats not a no, not a no, not a no.

Not a no?

I can’t answer until I swallow but give a closed-mouth smile. Then, “What am I gonna do with you?”

“I hoped we could cover that topic,” he says seriously. “What do you have there?” He motions to the package still in my hand.

“It’s for you. Later.” I set the handmade leather-bound journal I found for him next to the bakery box. Unable to wait another second, I take a step closer, almost touching, and look way up.

Anticipation and hope replace his hesitation. So much is different from the last time I stood like this. I have answers, strategies. It’s scary—terrifying—but I’m ready. He can help me. I’ll let him, teach him what I need.

“Kit.” That gravelly, soft voice. “I’ve been praying, and?—”

“Did you hear a no?” I blurt.

“No. I didn’t.”

“Me neither. It’s not going to be simple, but …” Let him make his own choices. “I’m in if you are.” I’m resolute. I’m not my own protector. This is the new Brave Kit.

I don’t have everything figured out. I don’t have much of anything figured out. But I won’t be Stella another day. I think this is the next step, so I’m taking it with gumption, with enthusiasm, with hope. God’s got this. God’s got me.

Levi rocks his head side to side like he isn’t sure. He’s clearly messing with me because my favorite hazel eyes lock onto mine, full of awe and amusement and growing wet.

Is this really happening?

Oh, I’m so thankful. I can’t do this without you. I can’t do anything without you. You’re right here with me, right?

I study Levi’s drumming hand. He knows why I never hold that hand, and he wants me anyway. But I want to. What if I can? I lurch out and slip my fingers into his palm. His fingers close around mine, and the dark clouds in my mind swell and cut a pit of dread in my stomach.

When I am afraid, I put my trust in you.

My breathing turns ragged, but I refuse to despair .

Help me. Protect me. If you won’t take this away, teach me to fight it.

I’m always here.

Though the surging fear, I fight the instinct to run, to cower.

You want good for me and you never waste the bad. You “put my tears in your bottle.” You care. You love me. I can trust you.

I shuffle a step back, still gripping his hand, retrieve the Tic Tac box from my pocket with my free hand, and concentrate on it. My counselor taught me about using grounding objects.

Set my shoulders. Time to face my fears and try what I learned.

I pull in a shaky breath and focus on the feeling of the plastic on my fingertips, the sound of Tic Tacs falling, the texture of the label, the weight.

I picture the day I stole it from Levi and ran off, undone not by fear but by closeness to him.

An okay undone, a good kind, not the same as before.

The darkness consuming my mind dissipates.

Relief and gratitude flood into its place. A shuddering sigh tumbles out.

Thank you, God. Thank you … thank you.

I intertwine my fingers with Levi’s and sheepishly peek at his reaction to it all.

Surprise and tenderness mix in his expression. His warm hand squeezes—he’s gentle and attentive as ever—and his thumb moves down mine, sparking a zing along its path.

“So … can I talk you into a date tonight?” I ask playfully. “I want to hear about your week. And I have so much to tell you.” I hold up the Tic Tac box to imply its relevance and hide it in my pocket, embarrassed to be copying his habit.

The creases at his eyes reappear in the dreamiest way. “Absolutely.”

“Everett has the ‘grinders’ on the sailboat memory, but I was thinking barbecue in a canoe might be a fun Texas twist. I found a good place.”

He’s been pursuing me with vulnerable abandon. I hope he can see that I’m in this too, that it’s not going to be one-sided between us .

“Sounds like a daydream,” he says.

You made this possible. You said yes to all of those prayers. Thank you.

He slowly lifts his free hand to tuck my hair behind my ear. I close my eyes and feel his thumb brush down my cheek and under my chin. Tingles down my spine. My lips part.

When my eyelids flutter open, his head is moving toward the side of mine.

He moves inch by inch, looking for a yes which I provide nonverbally though wholeheartedly.

He kisses my temple, my cheek, my jaw, my neck, and back up.

My heart hammers. All I can think is Jane’s line in Pride & Prejudice , “Can you die of happiness?”

My free hand goes rogue and combs through his waves. It feels as good as I thought it would, soft and thick with the slightest stiffness. It’s all I can do not to destroy his hairdo. His eyes drop to my mouth.

Ohhh-kay. I’d better tell him before I sabotage my own plan. Or maybe I shouldn’t. It suddenly sounds like a terrible idea.

With a little sigh I pull my hands away and wrap them around his back, noting the Tic Tacs at my hip.

They’re ready just in case. He pulls me close, nestling his head on mine.

My shoulders relax as I hear his racing heart slow beneath his sweater.

My new favorite sound. In his arms I’m safe, known. Perfect contentment.

This strong back … Keeping myself from escalating is my new full-time job.

“Your hair smells so good,” he says.

I chuckle and look all the way up, chin on his chest.

I’d better tell him now. Now that I know that I can touch him—and it’s amazing—this is what I want, what I need. It’s okay because I’m not earning my place. Deep breath. “So … I have a request you might not like.”

That light in his eyes I adore beams recklessly from his whole face. “Anything.”