Page 59 of Anything (Mayberry University #1)

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

I arrive in my suite lounge that night in a half-float, half-panic. Is a person supposed to be this happy? Is this even healthy?

Sophie is sitting in the dark, typing up a storm.

“Sophs, hi!”

She lowers the cover of her laptop and squints up at me. “No. Way. I know that look. You’ve been with Mr. Dreamboat.”

I bite my lip and bob my head.

More bravery required. But these three have earned my trust. Two-way openness. Am I ready to brave a Tess repeat? Not really. But I think I can trust Sophie. And either way, I don’t have to hold so tightly to my friendships. God will provide.

Right?

Right.

“I want to tell you some things,” I say. “If you have time. And … I have some juicy news.”

She discards her laptop like a frisbee and bounds over .

“And I want to hear about your?—”

But she crashes me into a hug and bounces around until she pulls back with a jolt, hands on my shoulders.

“But we need ice cream. I’ve found the inverse to Ben & Jerry’s heartbreak pints.

Have you had Blue Bell? Austin introduced me.

And I don’t know your favorite flavor. And Mia’s not back yet. And it’s your bed time.” She shakes me.

A buoyant laugh bubbles out of me. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” I step around the corner to crack open our door. “Ayumi, come get ice cream with us? Please? I need to tell you guys something.”

Curiosity transforms her face. “Okay.”

Mia bursts into the suite. “Is Kit back?”

“Oh, she’s back,” Sophie says with meaning.

“Mamma Mia!” I call.

She turns the corner to find me. “What are you doing with jeans on at a time like—” She gasps, and I’m yanked into another hug.

“Thank you.” I squeeze her tighter. “For everything.”

I spent hours this week listening for Jesus’s voice. He felt so close—in front of my fire, on the dock, walking the shoreline at Greenwich Point Park. He knew I’d need time to lay down my hatred for Kit’s ex before it congealed to venom in my veins.

As I read about Jesus’s life in the Gospels, he whispered to me about surrender and sacrifice and love.

He reminded me that love isn’t just one life-altering decision.

It’s an hourly commitment to put another first, to long for their best good, to pray for them and cry with them and delight in them.

He assured me I could trust him, and then I had to keep waiting to see what he was doing.

But what he was doing was even better than I could have imagined.

He’s been answering yes, yes, yes to my prayers.

I thought love was comfort, a fireplace on a cold day, and I have hope that mine will grow into that.

But it’s also danger. Starting with a single spark, it’s grown into a wildfire.

I played a part—I’ve been feeding it. Every minute with Kit nourished the fire until I was helpless to control its spread.

The flames grew in intensity and threatened everything I held dear.

Now, I couldn’t reverse love’s impact on my life if I wanted to.

But I don’t want that. Not for a second.

It’s not time to tell Kit I love her. I want to take this slow, do it right. She likes to be eased into anything new, and I can do that for her.

I slide out my phone. I can finally text her whenever I want—one of a thousand perks of finally being a couple—but this particular text has my fingers drumming against the back. I don’t know how she’ll react to my surprise.

As long as she knows she’s cared for, seen, it’s served its purpose. Now is the time.

Free after class?

I’d like to show you something.

Hey, boyfriend. :)

Yes. I’m intrigued…

Is she making fun of my old nickname for her? I laugh aloud. Good thing Austin isn’t here. He’d have a field day.

Meet you at the bench at 4.

If I may ask a favor, wear leggings?

I twitch in my desk chair. She’s going to think I’m a creep until she understands.

I’m surprised. Mr. Put Together wants me to wear leggings?

You look amazing in them, but I have a different reason.

Hmm.

It’s time. I could puke. Or run a marathon.

I shouldn’t be this nervous. Worst case, she doesn’t want it and that’s fine. No, worst case she thinks I’m over the top. I am, too. I went out on a limb, took a risk. Tenacity.

I squeeze the tiny hand I get to hold. Everything is better when Kit’s next to me.

Part of me is relieved it’s finally time.

Austin and Haymitch helped me out so much—both with the execution of my plan and by backing me up when I repurposed the prank prep space I found.

Anything for Kit. Besides, there will be plenty of time for our prank next semester, and I have months to figure out another spot.

A pack of the guys walk from the gym to an early dinner. When they spot us, they gape. Kit and I were off campus till late last night—word isn’t out yet.

I push my sleeves up, keeping hold of her hand. Here we go.

“Dude. Jeeves.”

“Right?” Kit stops when we reach them. “I gave him a tough time for a bit there.” She cozies up to me, wrapping around my arm, running a finger down it. She gives me a face that’s at once apologetic and alluring.

This time the awareness that she’s putting on a show sends a rush of adrenaline surging through me. She likes me enough to set the record straight. She looks out for my reputation, on top of everything else.

They react like the rowdy bunch they are, with “Oh, it’s like that!” and “Look who’s off the bench!”

“Nothing he couldn’t handle,” Calvin flippantly replies to Kit. He’s a good guy, but his role as RA this year has done nothing good for his ego. “Glad to see it’s working out though. ‘Lit’ has got to be the coolest ’ship name ever.”

A genuine laugh bursts from Kit.

“Congrats, bro,” Noah says.

Mateo looks impressed but would never admit as much.

“Never doubted you, man” from Ethan.

Sure …

Pats on the shoulder. Fist bumps. And just like that, I’m back.

It wasn’t even about the prank? I suppress a head shake at their fickle respect. Good thing I was ready to trade it all permanently for a chance with her. “Thanks, guys.”

As they move on, Calvin says beneath faux coughs, “Someone’s getting showered later.” Hoisting a fully clothed Flooder into the communal shower when he wins the girl is floor tradition and a thorough endorsement. Note to self—keep my phone and keys out of my pocket for a day or two.

“Those guys gave you a hard time about me?” Kit asks, insightful as ever. She releases my arm and brushes both hands down on the way to hold mine.

It’s a slower movement than I expect, and I catch her eyes darting down to watch, relishing what’s under her fingertips. In stark contrast to a minute ago, that was completely for her. I croak a “yes” and shiver in pleasure. Those hands on me … it feels even better than I thought it would.

“All better,” she says with a cheeky smile.

I eye her and joke, “It’s very selfless of you to date me to save my reputation.”

“At complete sacrifice of my own comfort.” She covertly points at a scowling girl several feet away. I recognize her but don’t recall her name.

I squint at Kit in question, and she references our intertwined fingers. “She’s the third one on this walk. Tom Holland wants his popularity back. Oh, new rule. You hand deliver any gifts.”

She’s talking a mile a minute. I’ve never seen her so cheerful, so at peace.

Thank you.

“Happily,” I say. “But why?”

“I can’t handle any more awkward handoffs. Those poor girls don’t need any more reminders that the best guy on campus is taken.”

I smirk at her. I’m thrilled that the compliments are still in full force, but dirty looks? Poor girls? “I appreciate the ringing endorsement, but I’m pretty sure you’re imagining a lot of that.”

“I’m relieved you’re not half as cocky as I thought you were,” she quotes with a flirty undertone. She knocks me with her elbow and I reciprocate.

Kit.

It’s all so much better than I imagined.

I had no idea how much she was holding back for my sake, trying to be fair to me because she was convinced our relationship couldn’t go anywhere.

I had no idea how much strain she was under before, at the mercy of her own mind.

I can’t believe I’m holding her hand right now.

I check on our walking progress. Only a couple more minutes and we’re there.

“Should I be nervous too?” Oh, she’s reading me.

I brush my thumb down hers to reassure her. “No. Nothing to be nervous about.”

“Okay …”

I push my Tic Tacs farther up my palm so my fingers can pull the key out of my pocket and hand it to her. She blinks at it.

“I’ve been working on something. For you. I want to explain before we get there.”

She stares at me with brows raised, but she’s still walking, so I haven’t completely freaked her out. She finally plucks it from my hand and studies it like it’s the key to a puzzle rather than to a door.

“First of all, I want you to know that Samwise and Haymitch and I did most of it ourselves. I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable about me spending too much on it.”

“Did most of what? Spend too much on what?”

I squeeze her hand in anticipation, and she reacts with a jolt, yanks her hands away, balls them at her chest. She stops in her tracks on the sidewalk.

Oh no. The squeeze? “I’m so sorry.” It’s been less than a day. I have no idea what’s risky and what isn’t.

“I’m okay.” She hesitantly grabs my hand again and continues walking. “Go on.”

“Please tell me, Kit. I can’t bear to scare you again.”

This time she squeezes my hand. “It’s going to happen sometimes. I’m sorry.”

“Can I have more guidance than that?”

“Gentle is good. So just be you.”

Please keep me from triggering her. Heal her mind. Show me how to take good care of her.

“No hand squeezes?” I ask.

“Um, maybe no squeezes while I get used to things. Now spill. What is this key for?”

No hand squeezes. Must remember. I hold her hand like it might shatter.

“You’ll see. So, listen, I did this to show you that I care about you …

” See? I can tone it down. “So it’s about to serve its whole purpose.

There is no pressure whatsoever to use it.

It will benefit people after you, so it’s completely up to you whether you want to use it or not.

” I’m repeating myself. At least I’m not speaking like my father.

Beautiful dimples reappear on her face. “Levi. What’s going on?”

I open the door and guide her into the gym, down the hall with the multipurpose rooms. Here’s the door. Her door .

She holds up the key in question, biting her lip. Resisting the urge to kiss that lip will be excruciating. I kiss the top of her head instead. She shrugs her shoulders in that delighted way that makes my heart pound, and I’m overwhelmed that Jesus said yes. That she’s mine to care for.

Thank you.

And I motion for her to unlock the door.