We share that inner terminology, that perspective. His upbringing has been a hindrance for him like my appearance has been to me. We have more in common than I realized.
“No need to adapt when you’re with me.” I try to sound casual. “I like all of you.” I mentally face-palm. Real casual. I catch his tender gaze through my blowing hair and brush it over my shoulder. “I’m surprised you didn’t choose a school near the ocean. I could see you chillin’ with the surfer bros in California. Or you could be a Pacific Northwest crunchy guy. You’re already deep in a love affair with whole foods. Or the Deep South with your impeccable manners.”
“Trying to get rid of me?” he teases. “I do miss the ocean. I tried setting a sound machine to waves crashing, to no avail.”
“Aw. Is your house close enough to hear the waves?”
“Right on the water. I can hear the waves lap when my windows are open.”
“The sound machine couldn’t fake you out?”
“No. Those waves sound like Hawaii. On the Sound we have puny waves.” He lifts a finger. “But huge egos.”
I giggle. “What a slogan.”
“Remember the guy I told you about who introduced me to Jesus? He had a list of Christian schools, and I admit I decided to enroll at whichever had the lowest acceptance rate, as long as it was far from New England.”
“Mayberry won.”
“Mayberry won.” His face clouds with an unreadable expression. “I always plan ahead. But coming here was impulsive, very unlike me …” His voice trailsoff.
“Impulsive.”
He gives his head a half shake, as if to reset. “Your turn.”
“Pets growing up?”
“Killed a couple fish by accident. My parents aren’t really pet people. But when I grow up,” he says like a kid, “I want a dog. A big one.”
“Poor dog,” I tease.
“Hey!” he jokes back. “Maybe someone will take care of it with me.”
My happiness sinks as I grieve the future I want. Resting my head against the chain, my swing falls out of sync with his.
“Let’s see what you got,” I say, propelling myself higher to change the subject.
Never one to back down from a challenge, Levi swings high enough to rock the swing set’s supports. We both laugh.
“One, two, three,” he calls.
We jump, but I hesitate before takeoff.
Levi lands an Olympic-sized jump and lifts his arms in victory. He is handsome beyond excuse. It’s unlivable.
“Show off.” I shake my head with endearment.
He saunters over, digging Tic Tacs out of his pocket, but stows them again to pull a pine needle from my hair.
Levi. I long for the best for him. I am the obstacle.
He slowly, intimately pulls fingers down my hair. Like I’m precious to him. My eyes close in pleasure, but they flutter open full of tears. The fear is absent—only my guilt threatens.I’m not good for you. I can’t keep you trapped.
“I’m sorry,” he says gently. “I won’t do it again.”
“That’s not why … I liked it.”
He works his jaw around.
