I wince, imagining little Levi standing in front of that desk.
“That kind of thing. Living differently than that should really be my bar for impressive.”
“I know you to be humble and authentic and kind, none of which fits well with what you just described.” His spiel only reinforces my opinion of him. He’s a wonderful person. He sees his faults. He wants to grow. It’s so rare to find someone like that, and I know he’s the kind of person I want to be with forever. If I were to chart my Levi crush, it would be an exponential function rather than linear. Every new thing I learn about him, every peek into his beautiful faith, every mark of his kindness and gentleness bumps me higher up the y-axis. Every day my fondness for him grows faster than the day before. Like Aladdin, I hear the genie buzzing in my ear—“Mayday! Mayday!”—but I swat it away. “Nice try negating my compliment though,” I tease.
His brow moves up and down, like he doesn’t know whether to be honored or concerned. “Thank you.” He dips to toss a pinecone at me, and then another, sparking a full-on pineconewar. Gleefully, I pelt him with the pinecones near my feet as I scurry behind Arma Chapel. I gather an armful and spring them on him around the corner.
He laughs my favorite hearty laugh. “Behold the Pinecone Queen.”
I curtsy, daring him to show me the formal bow that must be in there somewhere. No luck today.
Levi continues our walk. “I have a confession to make. I watchedBeauty and the Beast. Austin was on some date, and I hid in my dark room streaming it alone on my couch.” He chuckles at himself, and I can’t help but join him.
“Why?”
“I was curious about your floor name.”
I open my mouth, but no words come out.
He half smiles, sheepish.
“What did you think of the movie? It’s good, right?”
“It was certainly informative. I learned that Belle is well read, loyal, intelligent, kind … What else? Desired, slow to pass judgment, quick to refuse arrogant men.” He shoots me a look. “Do you agree with my findings?”
I agree hesitantly.
“It’s one of the best floor names I’ve heard, really. So much complexity is captured. My sole reservation is that Disney Belle is inferior to you in every way.”
I nearly fall off the sidewalk into the street. His arm catches me effortlessly and guides me back. My arm tingles in pleasure, but vicious fear claws past the edges of my consciousness, robbing my joy and yanking me to a stop. No, no. Will I be pulled under?
Breathe.
I seem to be safe from a freakout at the moment. My shoulders fall in relief.
Thank you.
What were we talking about? Oh. “They just know I like to read.”
He shakes his head in affectionate disagreement. Suddenly his happiness deflates. “Kit. Am I playing Gaston in your story?”
Gaston? As if Levi could ever be so hateful, so ignorant, so despised. I shake my head forcefully, stomach clenching.
“Can I be the Beast?” He steps close, otherwise uncharacteristically still.
I gulp. Is this a DTR or a character analysis? “Levi, you’re … a perfect hybrid, all mixed up and transformed by Jesus-magic. You’re strong and impressive like Gaston, but you’re vulnerable and want to grow like the Beast. The real Belle couldn’t help but …” I trail off. Saying this is making me face how strongly I feel, what a mess this is, how angry I am that I can’t have what I want. I crane my neck away so he won’t see the tears welling. There is no happily ever after to this story. I’m just buying time like a coward, a selfish coward. Restraining the tears requires all of my focus.
“Are you alright?” That soft, rumbly voice.
I half laugh that my tear hiding is helping nothing. He’s always so attuned to my feelings.
I nod, daring my nose to grow at my lie. With a wobbly voice, I ask, “How many eggs can you eat?”
He bites back a laugh. “You are a constant delight. Thank you. For what you said.” He inches a hand toward mine, but I turn to drag myself down the sidewalk. He follows silently along, but I won’t face him. I can’t handle whatever reaction he’s having, no matter what it is.
I should warn him—tell him something, at least—before this gets worse. I owe it to him. My mind is unreliable, hateful enough to make a simple touch agonizing. I care about him too much to lead him on anymore. I muster up the courage to spit out the bottom line, what I haven’t told him for months. “I can’t make that ending happen. It’s impossible.”
“Why not? Kit, look at me. Why?”
