Page 9 of Anything (Mayberry University #1)

CHAPTER EIGHT

Sophie and Mia make friends wherever they go. When some Flooders invite us back to Albert Hall, they head over while I finish up my homework. Ayumi passes, again. By the time I’m done, the games are probably wrapping up, but I make my way to the lobby as a gesture of friendliness.

Mia eggs someone on, pointing at his hand of cards.

Austin and Sophie laugh at the end of the table.

Austin sends me a head-tilt and fishes his phone out of his pocket.

The group finishes whatever card game they’re playing, and I carry over a chair to observe.

A few minutes later, Levi saunters out of the stairwell but stops short when he spots me.

His eyes narrow. He must be sick of girls following him around.

I squirm in my seat, hide my hands beneath my legs.

No—I was invited here. By name. I straighten and frown from afar. You don’t own the lobby, your highness.

From across the room, he swivels his head toward Austin . They share a silent mini conversation, like Shawn and Gus would on Psych . Levi lets out a sigh and walks over. That muted rattle follows him everywhere.

I should stay, but the implication that I don’t belong here just makes me long for my math books. I return my chair. “See you guys later.”

“Time for a walk?” Levi says to the group, but his heavy hazel gaze doesn’t drift an inch from mine.

My friends drag me along as everyone follows him outside. How did he do that?

Smug, he lets the others pass so he can walk with me at the back of the group.

I shake my head at him.

“Nice to see you again,” he says.

I send him a look. “Is it?”

His lips quirk. “How’d you hold up against Samwise? He’s notoriously hard to beat.”

“I was too late to play, but Mia wiped the floor with everyone.”

“Impressive.”

“Always. So, why’d you get weird?” My filter malfunctions around this guy, and the condition is not improving with familiarity.

His slow pace gives us a buffer from the others. He faces forward and takes a breath. “People are too interested in the money I grew up with.”

Oh. I’d assumed the trust fund everyone knows he has would be something he’s proud of. “It’s odd that everyone seems to want all of that.”

He eyes me skeptically.

“I just mean, what a burden to try to spend all that money wisely. I wouldn’t want to have to answer to God for that responsibility.” I wince. Too much.

His countenance has changed in an instant. “Very wise. Money is a mark against me?” he teases .

I shrug apologetically. It’s not his fault. He has no idea how many other marks he has against him.

He pulls out the Tic Tac box. Open, shut. “Do you like art?”

Random question, but I bob my head. “I love sculptures. It’s remarkable that someone can use a hammer and a rock and end up with something graceful, almost alive.”

He listens with rapt attention.

“I would love to see the David in Florence someday. Or any of Michelangelo’s sculptures. I’ve only seen photos, of course, but there’s so much feeling. Have you seen them? Have you traveled a lot?” I clamp my teeth together. No more rambling.

He hesitates. “I haven’t been to Florence since I was a kid.

I’m not sure if I ever saw the David. I mostly just begged our nanny for more gelato.

” He’s avoiding eye contact? “But I’ve seen the Moses in Rome and the Pieta in Vatican City.

My classical school had us do a trip for art history our junior year.

” He hides his hands in his pockets. “How’s that for obnoxious? ”

I frown and shake my head. He seemed so cocky, but he’s insecure about this? “We grew up differently, but that doesn’t make you obnoxious.”

His tension eases. He seems … sweet. Vulnerable.

“Did you …” My voice fades out when I see his hypnotic gaze trained on mine, holding a question. The intensity there rattles my nerves, but the kindness settles them. My mouth curves up.

He motions for me to stop there on the sidewalk. I swivel my head to see others milling about on campus. This should be okay. Our group walks on, and I can’t say I’m sorry to see them go.

“There’s an art museum here in Pinecrest. It’s not exactly the Accademia,” he jokes, “but it might be worth an hour or two. Any interest in checking it out with me?”

Check it out with him? Every instinct says run, but something about the way he asks—gentle, almost hopeful …

“You can renew my interest in sculptures since exams sucked it out of me.” He cracks a smile, and I turn to goo.

His knuckles brush my arm, warm and gentle? —

I jerk away.

Fear crashes over me, thick and suffocating, like tar sticking to my skin. His eyes soften with apology, but my breath comes in sharp, ragged gasps. I never should have let this happen.

How could I even consider a date? It doesn’t matter if he seems vulnerable and endearing—I can’t trust my judgment anymore.

I’ve only spoken to him a handful of times.

A date is completely out of the question.

And if that weren’t enough, the familiar terror continues to grow inside me like a rising tide, terror like I haven’t felt since I was in the same city as Aiden.

“Friends, remember?” I say, my voice wobbling. Dread tightens in my stomach. The fear I’ve fought to bury rises fast and hard as nausea crashes in. Should I run?

I thought I was safe here. I thought this was going to be a thing of the past.

“Alright,” he says. “Friends.”

I try to focus on dragging my feet in the direction of my building. Levi responded with kindness. He respected my no. This is fine. I’m fine. So why do I feel like I’m on the edge of a cliff? His kindness is as unsettling as his charm.

Why do I keep praying for relief from my anxiety if it’s the only thing keeping me from making the same mistakes? The black tendrils of fear push in harder. Oh no, oh no—I squeeze my eyes shut against the flashes of memory coming.

Rain. Tripping. The smell of waste and sticky floor. Curling into a ball as I drowned in red flags I ignored.

I blink, returning to reality, stomach clenched and churning and heart beating like mad.

I stare at my frozen feet and will the tears away. My heart rate is already calming. Compared to the ones at home, this was a lot better. But I needed my past to stay there. It was supposed to stay in Colorado.

More of this? I thought this place was an answer to prayer. Please take it away .

We’re nearly back to my building. Without an explanation, I resume a fast pace, willing the side door to arrive sooner.

Levi follows silently. I check his expression from the corner of my eye. He’s squinting at me as if trying to solve a riddle. You and me both, pal. Maybe he’ll think I’m crazy and keep his distance.

“Good night.” I badge in as if it requires all my concentration.

“Good night, friend.” No sarcasm, just concern.

He opens the heavy door for me, and I step into the jarring, fluorescent stairwell.

Moving away from him pulls against his magnetic forcefield.

I shake my head and navigate the halls to my room and begin my bedtime routine, thinking and praying.

I’m scared. Anxious. But also enamored. Fascinated.

Infuriatingly, irrationally hopeful. But it doesn’t matter anymore. I’m sure I scared him off.

Part of me begs to tell someone about my invasive memories, to lay my secret fears bare, but I know better than that.

I will not make that mistake again. Mom kept throwing the “counselor” word at me right at first—everything online said the same—but I made it clear it’s not for me.

I can’t bear to admit aloud the bizarre and terrifying patterns of my brain to anyone else.

I thought all of this was going to end when I came here. I thought … well, I thought wrong.

Sophie and Mia return to the suite, happy chattering growing quieter. Ayumi’s asleep in our room behind me. I turn toward them, floss between my teeth, as they round the corner from the lounge.

“Well, well. How was the romantic moonlit walk?” Mia waggles her eyebrows.

I force a fragile smile around my floss. They saunter into their room, apparently not expecting a response.

I trash my floss and flop onto the mess of blankets on Sophie’s bed, trying to focus on my friends. “Well? Albert Hall two nights in a row. Any Flooders stand out to you, Sophs?”

Her bright eyes answer in the affirmative. “Lots of juicy ones on that floor. We’ll see.”

I turn to Mia.

“That mess is not for me. When are you gonna see the crown prince again?”

I shrug. As Dad would say, I need that like a cat needs a snorkel. Or like a pilot needs a blindfold. Or like Olaf needs a suntan.