Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
The weird tension breaks with a laugh, and that Vanderbilt confidence I know Levi for is shining through more than ever.
“Remy came with me with the intent to make me balls up and see you again, but then all the football was too much for him to handle, so we came here,” Levi explains.
“You were at the game … to see me?”
“I figured if we are actually going to be friends that maybe we should converse at some point.”
“Is that what friends do?”
Levi sips his beer. “Well, that and hook up. You know, it’s how you cement a friendship, I’m finding.”
My gaze narrows, and I swivel my head toward the door and then back to Levi. “All friendships?”
He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Nope. Just one in my case.”
I mirror him, bringing us close together. So close I can see every tiny speck of silver in his gray eyes even in the dim lighting of the bar. “But that hookup was so long ago. What’s the protocol on getting reacquainted with friends?”
“Hmm.” His tongue darts out to wet his lips. “That might be a case-by-case situation.”
“How so?” I ask.
“Where one friend is at in terms of … let’s say openness. And where the other is in terms of being okay with the first answer.”
“I have no idea what that means or which one I am. I think it was you who told me in high school us football players are supposed to be dumb. I need it spelled out for me.”
“If I go home with you tonight, will either one of us wake up with regrets tomorrow?”
“I never regret sex.”
“Even when it was with me? Even if going there again means there really is no mistaking it for curiosity like I tried to convince myself it was four years ago?”
Ah. He thinks I’m going to have some big gay panic, because unlike him, I didn’t test out my bisexuality more than our one tryst.
I reach across the table and cover his hand with my own. “Levi—”
Some drunk dude bumps into me and wraps his arm around my shoulder. He smells like cheap beer as he yells right next to my ear, “Peyton Miller! You had a great game tonight.”
I lean away from him, letting my hand slip from Levi’s. “Thanks, man.”
He claps my shoulder and stumbles away.
“I can’t believe that actually happens to you. Do you even know that guy?” Levi asks.
“Nope. Want to get out of here so we’re not interrupted again?”
The hesitance in Levi’s eyes makes me pause.
“Unless you don’t want to.” God, please want to.
“That’s not the issue. At all.”
“I promise I won’t gay panic all over you.”
That does the trick. The wariness in his gaze disappears as he stands. “Then let’s go back to your place.”
Levi goes to step by me, but I stand too and hold out my hand to block his chest.
“Let’s go to yours instead. Brady won’t interrupt us there.”
And the hesitance is back. “O … Okay.”
We leave the bar, and I shoot Brady a text telling him I’m leaving, and he responds by sending me an eggplant emoji, so I can’t help replying, “That’s what you are.”
We’re mature like that.
As we walk along the beach path toward Levi’s apartment, he’s silent. I want to ask him what he’s hesitant about, but I’m also not sure if I want the actual answer.
“Are you still worried about me freaking out?” I ask. “Because it won’t happen.”
His features still stay pinched.
“Mainly because I’m bi, so I can’t have gay panic.” I do the whole drum ba-dum-tss sound, and that doesn’t seem to ease his mind either.
I stop walking, and Levi pauses but doesn’t turn around.
“Do you not want to do this?” I ask. “I’m getting a whole lot of mixed signals here. You moved here for me, you want to be friends, you want to go home with me … Oh. Are you, like … Do you have a fancy, genius boyfriend back at Hahvid? Will this be cheating or something? Because I’m not cool with that.”
He faces me. “It’s not about you. Well, it’s not entirely about you.” Levi steps closer. “Yes, I’m worried you might regret sleeping with me tomorrow—and that maybe it will ruin any chance we have of being actual friends. I don’t have many of those out here yet. Just you and Remy, and I haven’t even spoken to you for two weeks.”
It’s my turn to take a step closer. “I promise. I’m good at separating feelings from sex.”
“That’s the other thing I’m hesitant about, though.” He averts his gaze. “I’m not. So while I want this—I really, really want it—I’m worried that my lines will blur.”
If anyone had said this to me at the beginning of the school year, I would’ve run for the hills. Levi is different, but I can’t pinpoint why. Maybe because he comes from my old life. Before I had rules for having sex with people. Before I hit my limit with jersey chasers or friends who use me.