“It’s not like that.” I sound weak and desperate, like I’m trying to convince a jury to let me off the hook for a crime I didn’t commit. “Sol left. He left me, Ivan. He didn’t choose me. And I . . . I have to move on. Me and Levi, what I feel for him is real. I’d never hurt him; I would never cheat.” I place my hand over my heart, feeling my anxiety rising.
Ivan lets out a breath and nods his head. “Okay.” He resumes eating, taking a big bite out of his double hamburger, as if we just finished discussing the weather and not the two boys who have torn my heart in two.
That’s it?
“‘Okay?’ That’s all you’re going to say?”
He shoves more fries into his mouth, chews, then swallows before saying, “Okay. If you say that you and Levi are the real deal. . .” He shrugs. “I believe you.”
“We are.”
“Okay.”
We both finish our meals in awkward silence. I tug at Ivan’s sleeve when he stands up to throw our trash away.
“We’re good, right?”
“Yeah.” He leans down and gives me a quick kiss on my forehead, then pulls away, smiling. “We’re good.”
In the following weeks, Levi and I spend more time together. Since Thanksgiving, we seem to fall into each other effortlessly, and the way my feelings have changed from like to more than like so fast has my head spinning. Still, I can’t stop thinking about the conversation Ivan and I had.
One day before Christmas break, I head to the library to catch up on my reading after working a half day at the bookstore.
I’m caught up in the novel I’m reading when a warm body presses against my back and lips brush the shell of my ear.
“Whatcha reading?” Levi’s whisper pulls me out of my reading haze.
“Hey, you.” I place a finger on the page and glance up, tilting the book so he can see the cover.
“A Kingdom of Dreams,” he mutters, then looks at me, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Found another book boyfriend?”
I grin. “Yep. Royce Westmoreland. And he’s all kinds of hot.”
“Hotter than me?” he asks.
I narrow my eyes. “Is that a trick question?”
He chuckles, then darts his gaze around the library while dragging his fingers through his hair. “Uh, wanna ditch him for a few minutes for your real boyfriend?”
I’m about to make a joke and tell him under no circumstances am I leaving Royce—The Duke of Claymore—but I notice the slight shake in his hands and the feverish look in his eyes.
Grabbing the bookmark off the seat next to me, I place it between the pages and close the book. Then shove it inside my backpack, my fingers brushing the wrapped box with Levi’s gift—a pair of goalkeeper’s gloves. “Of course.”
Standing, I pull him down for a kiss. He leans into it, groaning under his breath, earning us stares from the few students littered around the vast room. Levi pulls back and smiles, looking calmer, then reaches for my fingers and links them with his before heading us to the door and into the darkening December day. It’s almost three o’clock in the afternoon.
Outside, he pulls me into his warm body with one arm around my shoulders as we walk past the fountain, our feet crunching on frozen snow. The campus is quite deserted. Most students are either indoors packing for Christmas break or in a bar somewhere.
“What’s up?” I finally ask, and I feel his body tense where mine touches his.
He clears his throat. “So, I was wondering . . .” he trails off, and his arm moves from my shoulder to grasp my fingers. “Maybe we should wait until we get to your dorm so we can talk.”
Nerves take flight in my stomach. Why does he want to wait? Is he breaking up with me? Oh my God. He’s going to break up with me. Did I do something wrong?
I force my brain to slow down, then try to remember if I did or said anything to upset him.
Shit.
I can’t think. A low thrumming noise in my head blocks any thinking process.
“Just tell me now,” I blurt out, pulling my hands from his and shaking them to get rid of the tension. “Whatever it is, I swear I’m ready. I promise I won’t freak out or bash your head on that stone over there.”
I need to stop talking.
Levi stops walking and looks at me, eyes wide. “Bash my head—what are you talking about?”
“Sorry. I’m just . . . you said you wanted to talk.”
He nods. “I didn’t mean for it to sound so ominous.” He rubs his jaw, then blows out a breath. “Okay, here it is. I know we haven’t really been together for long. I was just thinking . . . well.” He chuckles and brushes a hand through his hair. “I, uh, I like you so fucking much. I think what I feel is more than mere like.”
My heart expands in my chest, threatening to crash through my ribcage.
The words replay in my head a few times, waiting for my heart to speed up, any sign to indicate I’m about to freak out.
Nothing happens. I feel at peace, like his words calm me and lift me at the same time.
“. . . I want to give you this,” he’s saying, and I realize I dropped out of the conversation a few sentences ago. Then he’s sliding a hand inside his pocket and I’m—
“What are you doing?” I ask in both excitement and panic, causing my body to tremble.
His hand freezes, uncertainty etched in his features. His gaze roams my face before he withdraws his hand from his pocket and lets it hang loose at his side. Empty.
“This was a mistake,” he mutters, taking a step back.
My gaze darts to the pocket, noticing the subtle swell there, then slides back to his eyes. My heart is racing in my chest as I take two steps forward. “Show me.” He shakes his head. I grab his wrist, tugging him to me. “Please?”
He bites his bottom lip, studying me. Slowly he dips his hand back inside the pocket. “Remember when we were at Dirty Joes after the soccer game? That Taylor Swift song? Nothing has changed. You smile and sparks fly and I go weak in the knees.”
He pulls out his hand and opens his fist. In the center of his palm is a little black box. We both stare at it, the air around us crackling with awareness. Of all the things I imagined happening today, Levi standing in front of me, saying words that have my heart growing wings, wasn’t one of them.
If it’s a ring, I don’t know what I’ll do. Yeah, I like Levi. More than like him, but I’m not emotionally ready to take that step.
He shifts on his feet, his eyes shining with something like . . . love. He said he likes me very much. I have a feeling the other four-letter word will follow soon. The past few weeks I sensed the words were on the tip of his tongue, fighting to break free. It’s terrifying. It’s also exciting. I can’t decide which emotion scares me the most.
I sigh, the truth staring me in the face. I haven’t changed much, have I? I still crave to be loved with reckless abandon.
“I—um, I’m in love with you, Grace,” he whispers huskily, yanking me back into the conversation. He snaps the lid open. Light from the lamp standing a few yards away bounces off a necklace. His gaze moves from me to the necklace and back to me, clearly seeing what I’m feeling inside splashed across my face. “It’s just an early Christmas gift.”