Chapter 33

The room is quiet, Levi is asleep, and my head is spinning a million miles per hour. I’m resisting (with everything in me) the urge to roll over and curl up against his side and throw my leg over his. Doing so would surely result in the unraveling of everything we just discussed.

I consider, briefly, stealing his comforter to sleep on the ground. But then I just make myself turn my back to him and pull the covers up around my neck, and close my eyes tight.

I must categorize things, or else I’ll go crazy.

One: I’m wearing his sweatpants (they’re tight around my hips but I can’t complain) and an old shirt of his. He picked it for me because it has Superman on it. I love him dearly. (Levi, not Superman.)

Two: Everything here smells like a musty version of him, probably because the room is hardly ever used, but it’s still incredibly distracting. I probably sound like a dog sniffing for its bone as I bury my face in his pillow.

Three: I feel infinitely more comfortable than I did an hour ago before I told him The Thing. Now that I have told him, there’s a weight off my chest, and a sort of happiness—no, contentment—sits in its place. He accepted it, no questions, and I have every reason to believe he’s telling the truth. If it becomes a problem later, we’ll deal with it then.

Four: I think about that, the deal-with-it-then, the possibility that one day there will be something we can’t deal with. I think about him leaving me, us parting ways because of a disagreement too big to overcome. I think about never kissing him again and the hole in my heart that will eat away at the rest of me.

It’s this thought that gets me most, because it’s sharp and raw. What was life like before Levi? What did I do every day? What filled my time and my thoughts and my heart?

I flop onto my back, hand reaching over to grab his. (Levi sleeps like a starfish: arms and legs wide.) I pray I won’t wake him when—

Like a tornado warning, my phone starts to ring. “Dammit!” I whisper harshly, jumping out of bed and flying across the room. I silence it, shocked to see my mother’s number, and answer. “Hello?”

I’d sent her a text before bed, letting her know what happened, that we were safe, that we’d be home in the morning. It was too late to worry about whether or not she approved, but at least if she got the text in the morning, she’d know where I was.

But this! Hearing her voice say my name on the other end makes my knees wobble. Moving quietly so as not to wake Levi (he hasn’t flinched once), I hurry to the bathroom and shut the door. I try to stay calm, for the sake of my sanity, and for sleeping Levi. There are a lot of reasonable explanations for my mom to be up so late (or early) that don’t necessitate panic.

“Mom? What’s going on? It’s almost two in the morning!”

“Oh, baby Bee, I’m all right, but your papa fell in the bathroom—”

Too late. Staying calm is out of the question. “What?!”

“—and we had to run to the ER to make sure he’s okay. The doctor says he’s fine, just an external bump on that hard head of his, but they want him to stay a couple of nights in the hospital to be sure.”

A wave of guilt hits me. I’ve been in Malibu for the past several hours, dressing up fancy with millionaires and kissing my boyfriend in nice cars and sleeping (trying to sleep) in his gigantic bed, while my mom is at home dealing with this.

I struggle to regain my composure. “Is he really okay? Truly?”

“Yes.” She sounds so tired, I want to hug her. And I can’t. Because I’m here. She continues, “I got your text just now because I finally have a moment to myself. Are you all right? Are you safe?”

“Yeah, Levi’s asleep and I’ve been trying to.”

“Okay, good. I wasn’t worried, I promise.”

I smile half-heartedly, even though she can’t see me. “Mama, I talked to Levi today. I told him about everything.” I put emphasis on everything, so she knows exactly what I mean.

“Aahh,” she whispers. “What’d he say?”

“That it didn’t matter. That he likes more than just my face.” I’m blushing just remembering those words.

My mom sighs happily. “I told you he was a Precious Heart, didn’t I?”

I sigh with her. “Yeah. He’s the best.”

She is quiet for a minute, and I can only imagine the things she must be feeling: the doubt and pain and anger and exhaustion at seeing my dad, her husband, in a hospital bed. The guy she was once getting giddy over with college roommates and her own mom, perhaps. Then she says, a little too chipper, “Well, I feel better now that we talked, and I’m so tired I’m going to fall asleep standing up. Call me tomorrow on your way back?”

“Of course.”

“Come see Papa before work tomorrow, if you can. He asked for you tonight. I think he thought you were coming home earlier.”

“I’ll stop by, and maybe Levi can come with me.”

“He’d love that.”

“Hey, how are the girls?” I ask before she can say goodbye.

“They’re all right. A bit shaken, but good. Your friend Elle came over to watch a movie with them because they couldn’t sleep.”

“Elle? Really?”

“Tom asked her to.”

I open my mouth, then close it. Well. There’s that. “Okay. I love you, Mama.”

“Sleep well, Bee.”

I press the red button and rest my head against the hard cabinets behind me. My hand drifts to my chest, which hurts like hell. I can’t shake the feeling that I should have been there, even though I know I should also be here with Levi, supporting him. And his dad…that was an emergency.

Feeling cold and upset, I stand up and look in the mirror over the sink. It’s modern, with a simple white frame; I feel like it shows too much of me. I don’t know how to see myself when I feel pulled all directions, when there isn’t a single thing I can do to help.

I open the door quietly, thankful Levi hasn’t moved, and put my phone back on its charger. Then I stand by my side of the bed with my hands on my hips.

Levi’s wide open arms look too comforting, too real, too wonderful. And I am in need of comfort, of reality, of wonder. I don’t want to be here, not now, but I do want to be with Levi.

I lift the covers and slide in, scooting my hips closer until they are an inch away from his. This is practically unbearable, so I lay on my side and put my head on his shoulder and my hand over his stomach and my leg on his. He stirs and turns, and suddenly our feet are tangled, and both of his arms are around me. He turns so that my face is against his chest. I breathe him in, asking, “Is this okay?”

“Yeah…sss…okay…” he mumbles in reply. At least, that’s what I think he said. I’m not sure how awake he is right now, but it doesn’t matter. It’s like he was holding out his arms just for me to roll into them, and that’s all I need in order to finally fall asleep.

Levi’s ringtone wakes me at the crack of dawn.

I roll over, reaching for him, mumbling that he should answer it or I’ll kill him because why would anyone call so early in the morning. But then I realize he’s not there. I’m grasping at empty sheets, and I haven’t actually opened my mouth yet. Or my eyes.

I crack them, just a little bit, and see Levi rushing across the room to his phone. (I find it adorable that our phones are plugged into the same outlet, lying side by side. I realize this sounds ridiculous, but it’s too early to care.) “Hello?” he whispers. He sees that I’m awake, and makes an I’m-so-sorry face.

I muster a smile, and he goes back to his conversation. I hear snippets of “What?” and “Are you serious?” and “When?” before he hangs up.

I push myself up to a sitting position, watching him pocket his phone in his sweatpants with a look of complete surprise and adorable wonder. “Who was that?” I mutter, rubbing my eyes.

“Felix.” Levi runs a hand through his sleep-skewed hair and says, “Oh, my God. He said one of his friends at the auction last night lives in Carlsbad and wants to host an event for potential sponsors. He also wants to help us get an official building.”

“Levi—that’s crazy,” I say, a little more awake, and push the covers off my legs. “Did he say when?”

“He’s going to call me in a couple of days with more details, but I think…soon.”

My sweetheart Levi looks like a deer in headlights. I smile, but not just because of his news, which must make me a terrible girlfriend. “That’s amazing.” I pause to yawn. “What time is it?”

“Almost eight. Sorry that was so loud—”

I wave him off. “I need to get up anyway.”

His signature smirk takes over his face. “You slept so hard; you didn’t even move when I got up. We were face to face, and I’m pretty sure our legs had become a pretzel. I didn’t realize I’d been promoted to full-body pillow.”

I snicker. “You offered yourself up for the job, so don’t blame me.” Suddenly, I remember why I slept so close to him in the first place, and my mood drops. “I got a phone call at two in the morning, from my mom.”

He pales. “Please tell me it’s not as ominous as it sounds.”

I rub my eyes again, frustrated that I can’t truly see, before realizing that my glasses are still off. “He hit his head in the bathroom, and they had to take him in. He’s fine, but…” I shrug.

Levi huffs, standing at the end of the bed. “Okay. We can leave right after we eat, promise.”

I nod, studying him and his hilarious hair that stands on end. That’s it. I stand up on his bed and walk toward him. One of his eyebrows shoots up in question.

“Dammit,” I say when we’re two inches apart. “I was hoping to be a lot taller than you, but this is, like, only four inches.”

“My bed’s low to the ground.”

“Dammit,” I say again.

“Um, Becky, who said you could walk around on my things?”

“Um, Levi, shut up,” I reply, and wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him deeply.

He tries to protest, but I keep kissing him, despite his frantic attempts at speaking. “I can’t…you can’t…abuse me…like that…there are…boundaries.”

I pull back. “Like what?”

“Like…”

I roll my eyes. “Just kiss me.”

He does, pulling me close with one hand on my lower back, the other curling around my neck. His lips press hard enough to open mine, and he kisses me so thoroughly that I don’t notice his hand moving to my legs—which he then proceeds to swipe out from underneath me.

I shriek, falling backward, landing hard. “Oh. My. God.”

He crawls onto the bed, one leg between mine, hands on either side of my shoulders. He kisses me again, smooth and comforting and warm. I can hear our breaths like little gasps between kisses, faster than normal, our heart rates skipping sky-high. The kiss lasts forever and is over too fast at the same time—fulfilling and wonderful but still not enough. It’s like he knows this, and understands the boundaries I’ve set, because when I start to slow down, so does he. With a last peck on my nose, he stands up, grabbing clothes from his dresser, and heads into the bathroom. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

It takes only a moment before his phone rings again, almost painfully loud. “Dude, your phone’s ringing again,” I say over the noise.

“Yeah, I can hear it,” he yells from the bathroom.

“Want me to answer?”

“No, let it ring.”

His ringtone, as usual, is a jumpy, dancing song, and I’m feeling ornery, so I stand up again and start jumping around. “Levi, guess what?!”

“What?” he shouts back.

“I’M JUMPING ON YOUR BED!”

“Bee!” He sounds exasperated, but then there’s a trickle of laughter that comes after. “I’m going to—” He bursts out of the room, wearing a yellow t-shirt and his boxer shorts. Which, adorably, are covered in rainbow stripes.

I laugh again, still bouncing, and ask, “Is that what you wear under your jeans?”

He looks down. “Uh, yeah?”

“You’re cute.” I bounce again, and this time he doesn’t seem to notice or care.

“As long as you like them,” he says, backing up into the bathroom.

“Not that I’ll be seeing them much,” I remind him, then jump off the bed and land with a thud. “What’s for breakfast?”

Levi leaves the door open as he pulls his jeans on. He brushes back his hair and tosses his laundry into the basket by the door. “Let’s find out.”

Levi sets a plate in front of me. “Fresh cinnamon rolls, straight out of the oven.”

My mouth waters at the steamy goodness in front of me. I kick my feet at the rung of the barstool beneath me, glancing up at Levi who is grabbing his own plate of cinnamon rolls. “Who made them?”

“Dad’s maid.”

I take a bite and immediately melt, just like the frosting on my tongue. “Wow. She’s good.”

“She’s damn good.”

I look over. “You’ve got some—” I lean in and kiss the top of his lips, where there is some lingering cinnamon and frosting.

Levi groans. “You can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because, you minx, you—”

“Levi,” a sharp voice interrupts.

I jump back, embarrassed, as AuGUStus! walks into the kitchen, sans Penelope. (And good riddance, I think.)

“Dad,” Levi says, bristling.

AuGUStus! nods, noticing that we’re eating the breakfast that was probably for him. “Did your friend meet Julia?”

I assume Julia is the maid, but I’m focused on the fact that he called me Levi’s friend.

“Dad,” Levi says again, this time as a warning.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, waving his hand like we’re flies and he’s annoyed. “Your girlfriend. I have a massive hangover.”

“Dad, she’s sitting right here.”

“Hi,” Mr. Orville says to me, like he’s four years old, like he has no manners or training in social awareness.

“Hi, Au—” I swallow the unfinished word and my laugh. (Oops.) “Mr. Orville.”

“Did you sleep well?” He pours himself a glass of orange juice and slips a cinnamon roll onto a plate. “I trust Levi gave you a tour?”

“We haven’t gotten to that yet,” Levi answers for me.

“You should have done it at sunrise,” his dad continues. “Best time of day.”

Levi’s expression burns; he’s not even trying to hide it anymore. “You think we were actually going to be up at sunrise after the night we had?”

I’m frustrated because I can’t quite put my finger on how to help him. He looks so irritated, like he’s lost his will to persevere. I remember what he said about his dad before we started dating: “He’s not the monster under my bed.” And I wonder if that’s true. I wonder what Levi would say right now if I asked him about it. Maybe he isn’t afraid, but everything I’ve seen so far has brought me to one conclusion: Augustus Orville is a monster.

Mr. Orville looks at his son closely before shrugging. “Why’d you take the Maserati?” he asks. I can’t tell if he’s put off or genuinely curious.

Levi’s eyes widen in disbelief. “If you have a problem with me using your gas and miles to go pick you up an hour away, then you’re going to have a problem for a long, long time.”

“Seriously, kid? I’m messing with you.”

Levi’s jaw tightens. “Whatever.”

“Whatever?” Mr. Orville smirks. (It’s the nastier version of Levi’s.) “Okay.”

As if to give himself something to do, just for the sake of distraction, Levi puts our empty plates into the sink. Then he asks, “How’s Patricia?”

“Penelope.” His father looks down into his empty glass. “It’s not that hard to remember, Levi.”

Levi doesn’t answer.

“And she’s good,” Mr. Orville finishes.

“Where is she?” Now Levi’s just asking for a fight—it’s in his eyes when he looks at me. I also see his apology, and I squeeze his hand sympathetically.

“She left early. She had to pick up her husband at the airport.”

And just like that…everything in the room goes still as death.

“Hey, Dad?” Levi’s livid, barely under control. “Can I speak to you in another room?”

Mr. Orville says nothing as he turns and walks out. Levi follows without even looking at me. I know I’m not supposed to butt into their private discussion, but I can’t help it: I wait for them to close the door before I stand just outside, ear pressed to the wood. (Remember what I said about sometimes not feeling bad about eavesdropping? Well, this is one of those times.)

“This has to stop.” Levi’s tone is muffled, but I can hear each word.

“I’m a grown man. I don’t need my own son to tell me what to do like I’m a child.”

“I’m not telling you what to do.” Levi says it like he’s trying to keep his voice level. “I’m asking you to respect some boundaries—boundaries that are important to me.”

“I didn’t know you had any,” Mr. Orville snorts.

“Well, since the basic boundaries for any human being are unclear to you, I’m putting some up right now. Call my girlfriend by her name. It’s Bee, okay? Think about me calling your girlfriend Patricia—I know her name is Penelope. It’s a million times worse when you refuse to acknowledge Bee, who actually means something to me.”

“Oh, Penelope means something to me.”

“You’re sick.” Levi’s starting to lose it, and he’s not the only one. My fingers itch with anger; I want to do some damage.

“You think Bee means something to you? You’re nineteen. You’ve got a lot of life left to live, a lot of people to meet, and you think you’ve struck gold.”

“Oh, I definitely have. Bee’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“You think that girl is going to make you happy? Keep you happy? I thought that about a girl named Suzie once, and she did nothing for me.”

“That’s exactly the problem!” Levi says, a little too loudly. (I’m cringing so hard that my face hurts; I’ve never heard Levi yell before.) “It was all about you. It was never about me, or Mom, or our lives together. It was about you and your money and your girlfriends and wanting a bigger house and nicer cars and wealthier friends.”

“Shut up, Levi.”

(Oh, I’m definitely going to kill him.)

“I’m in love with Bee,” Levi says, and suddenly the breath in my lungs whooshes out. “I love that girl so much, I don’t think she even knows how much yet. I’m just figuring it out and I’m glad I have a lifetime ahead of me to discover it.”

I’m in love with Bee. It takes me completely by surprise. I know we love each other like friends do—best friends, inseparable. But in love is different. In love is big and loud and new and it makes my knees wobble and my hands shake.

He continues. “I don’t want you around her if you’re going to act like an asshole about…everything. It’s one thing when it’s just me; I can ignore it. But I’m drawing a line when it comes to Bee, and I don’t want you to cross it.”

His dad is quiet for a moment. “I can’t believe you—so naïve. I definitely didn’t raise you.”

Now it’s Levi’s turn to be quiet. “Maybe I am,” he finally says. “Naïve. I’d rather be simple and be like Mom than have no heart and be like you. Excuse me.”

I hear his footsteps headed toward me. I scramble backward, but I’m too slow, and he sees me standing there like a lone animal on a highway. He sighs.

“I’m sorry,” we say at once.

“What did you hear?” he asks, clearing his throat.

“Everything,” I blurt. (I may be an eavesdropper, but at least I’m not a liar.)

“Okay.” He rocks back on his heels and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Then I should probably explain some things.”

“No, there’s no need.”

He glances at me.

“Unless you want to tell me just how much you love me.” I attempt to smile, but oh, my face hurts as much as my heart does.

“A lot.” He says it like he’s reciting his favorite lyrics, with care and emotion, like he can’t quite explain how they truly make him feel. (I’m crumbling.) “More than I expected or imagined.” (I’m breathless.) “You’ve surprised me in every possible way.”

I don’t touch him. I want to, but I don’t.

“We’ve wasted a lot of time here,” Levi says, and holds out his hand for me to take. “Come on. Let’s go see your dad.”