“You didn’t . . . you didn’t even let me finish the sentence.”
“Whatever you’re imagining, from the tamest to the most . . .
inappropriate thoughts, that’s probably where my mind was at.” He swallows visibly. I watch his throat move. “You were always in my head. And I could never get you out.”
I turn to the window, scarlet. There’s no universe in which I’m parsing his words correctly. This is a misunderstanding. I’m having some neurological event. And all I want to ask is, What about now? Am I still in your head?
“You always stared at me like I was some obscene
monstrosity.”
“I tried not to stare, but . . . it wasn’t easy.”
“No. No, you—the dress. You hated me in that dress. My blue dress, the one with—”
“I know what dress, Bee.”
“You know because you hated it,” I say in a panic.
“I didn’t hate it.” His words are quiet. “It just took me by surprise.”
“My Target dress took you by surprise?”
“No, Bee. My . . . reaction to you wearing it did.”
I shake my head. This cannot be true. “You wouldn’t even sit next to me.”
“It was hard to think when you were close.” His voice is husky.
“No. No! You refused to collaborate with me. You told Tim he should marry someone better, you avoided me like the bubonic plague—”
“Tim warned me off.”
I turn to him. “What?”
“He asked me to back off and leave you alone.”
“He . . .” I cover my mouth and imagine Tim, very average-sized Tim, confronting Levi, a not-so-gentle bison. “How did he . . . ?”
“He told me you knew that I was . . . interested. That I was making you uncomfortable. That you found me unpleasant.” Levi’s throat works. “He asked me to avoid you as much as I could. And I did. In a way, it was easier.”
“Easier?”
He shrugs with a self-deprecating smile. “Just . . . wanting and not having, it can get unbearable. Quickly so.” He wets his lips. “I didn’t know what to say anyway. You have to understand, people don’t talk about the things they feel where I come from. I got really tongue-tied around you —leading you and everyone else to believe that I despised you, apparently. I . . . I had no idea. I owe you an apology for that.”
I can’t believe what he’s saying. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I can’t believe Tim knew and successfully manipulated Levi into staying away while he screwed his way through Pitt’s student body.
“Why are you telling this to me? Why now?”
He looks at me, serious and earnest like only Levi Ward could ever be, and something surges into me. Something painful and delightful and confusing. Something breathtaking and spellbinding, rich and frightening.
Not a fully formed feeling, but an early draft of it. It’s on the back of my throat and on the tip of my tongue. I want to get a grasp of its taste before it’s gone. I am reaching out, almost
there when Levi says, “Bee, I—”
My phone rings. I groan in frustration and relief and scramble to pick up.
“Hello?”
“Bee, this is Boris Covington.” Huh? “Are you and Levi back?”
I glance at Google Maps. “We’re about ten minutes out.”
“Could you both come to the Discovery Building as soon as you get in?”
“Sure.” I frown, switching to speakerphone. “Does this have to do with BLINK?”
“No. Well, yes. But only indirectly.” Boris sounds tired and almost . . .
embarrassed? Levi and I exchange a long glance.
“What’s this about?”
Boris sighs. “It’s about Ms. Jackson and Ms. Cortoreal.
Please, come in as soon as you can.” Levi presses on the gas pedal.
• • •
