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September 16 - September 16, 2023
He drags one big hand, which was drawing little pictures on my hip just a few minutes ago, up through his hair. “Rose fell out of bed when she was reaching for something.”
Levi’s voice snakes up to me, easy and filled with sadistic interest. “That night?” No. No, we are not going there. Clutching my coat, I whirl and bark, “Jealous?” “Increasingly,” he says, but his eyes are intense, and it seems more like he’s highly amused by the idea I have a secret love more than offended or threatened by the fact I’m clearly still emotionally attached.
“So…” Levi settles in my bed, looking like a force of sexy nature draped in the disarray I caused my blankets. One leg draws up, and he has the arrogance to tuck his hands behind his head, giving me an unnecessary show of his strong arms when they flex. “You met a guy one night. And then you stole his coat.” My face heats as I rip a modest, short-sleeve dress out of my closet. “I did not. He gave it to me.” “You met a guy one night, and he was so enamored by you, he gave you his coat,” Levi amends.
Instead of commenting that dirt will wash out or he doesn’t mind or even that he can afford new things if he needs them, he gestures toward me and says, “Your daughter’s in a very pretty dress.” I spin, letting the skirt of my very pretty butter yellow dress flare. My wide eyes accuse him of being a jerk, and his eyes warm as he pins a smile between his lips. Mom plants her hands on her hips. “Rose Aurora Briars, you know better.” Sparks of betrayal settle in my gut, and I narrow my eyes, muttering an apology as I march past my lousy boyfriend. He mouths Rose Aurora Briars at me. And it’s hard
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I get to the back door right as my father strikes up a conversation, no doubt intending to scare Levi off—because nothing says reconsider everything you’re doing like commenting how Rose Aurora Danner doesn’t have a better ring to it; hence, the billionaire should consider changing his name in the event we get married. I linger in the kitchen half a second longer than I need to just so I can hear how Levi responds to that. “Levi Mars Danner-Briars. I would hyphenate, of course. Purely because Mars and Briars end on similar sounds, and I think having them back-to-back would bother Rose.”
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“Hey, kitten,” he says when I squat beside him. “I think your parents really want us to get married.” “Very funny,” I murmur, using my eyes in a futile attempt to tell him if he calls me kitten again within earshot of my parents, he better sleep with one eye open tonight.
“Why? Aren’t you good enough to be a big shot’s wife?” His gaze slides and pierces Levi, demanding he be the one to answer. “Isn’t she?” “Of course, sir,” Levi responds promptly. “It’s more a matter of whether or not she wants to be.” He clears his throat. “I think. Anyway.”
Dad opens his mouth, but Levi’s the one who speaks, “With all due respect, sir, and knowing my next statement won’t make me your favorite person, that sort of thing isn’t the business of anyone present here.” A vein pops in my father’s forehead, and the way his hazel eyes slash toward Levi seems sharp enough to cut. Mom’s face hardens, her fingers flinching around the glass she’s holding. Levi gives neither of them the opportunity to step in before he’s done. “What Rose does with her body shouldn’t be brought up so casually or with that tone of accusation.”
Everyone at this table cares about everyone else—so take five seconds to put yourself in the other person’s position before you hurt someone with your words. Rose lives and breathes and loves words. Whatever negative thing you say is going to cut her a thousand times deeper than you think. So think twice.” Levi’s chest fills, but the inhale seems stilted, and he’s on his feet whipping his long legs over the bench before I can track the action. He mutters, “I’m sorry. Excuse me,” then walks around to the gate at the side of the house, disappearing beyond it.
Eyes falling closed, he presses a kiss to my forehead, and all brain function stops as his warm, soft lips touch me. “I’ll believe whatever you tell me, so don’t cower in shame or think you have to defend yourself for existing in front of anyone. Okay?”
“You are so inappropriate sometimes.” “Most of the time.” “Yes, most of the time.”
“In that case—” He works something else out of my hair. “—you are a genuine mess. I have no idea how you got this filthy.”
“Hold still,” he grumbles, reaching for me. “Is this a leaf? Rose, there are five trees in this neighborhood. How?” I toss my, apparently, very messy hair and say, “I’m special.” “Incomprehensibly.”
“I want to be with him.” The words are out of my mouth before I register exactly how emotionally charged they are. I want to be with him. Now. Until Christmas. Beyond that.
Sympathy burdens Mom’s expression. “Do you think that you love him?” That strikes a nerve. The wording there. Do you think that you love him. It’s already invalidated before I even have a chance to answer.
“I doubt he didn’t flirt with you,” Levi says, helping no one. Excuse me? I lift my brows at him. Has he changed sides? “The guy barely smiled.” “Like me?” he asks, all cool and collected, letting one of his own brows rise. “You must have a type, kitten.” My stomach flips, bottoming out, and I hold my breath, waiting for my mother to say something about that nickname. By some miracle, she doesn’t. Because, clearly, there are more important points to make. “Levi agrees with me.” “Levi is attempting to wiggle his way back into good graces.”
My parents actually approve of this self-entitled man eight years older than me who happens to be in a position of power over the whole world? Has she overlooked something? I said not evil. This goes past not evil. Not bothering to hide my surprise, I look up at Levi, and he smiles. He just smiles. No remorse. No teasing. Did he forget the plan? What is going on?
Levi snorts. “I don’t. But I’ll probably do all the cooking. I don’t trust Rose with a knife.” Expectations of marriage aside, I jump off the couch. “What did you just say?” “I don’t want you to fall into the stove.” “Excuse me?” “Or drop anything in the garbage disposal.”
“Grilled cheese?” Mom hones in on that detail. “You know grilled cheese has next to no nutritional value and high amounts of cholesterol. Don’t get me started on the saturated fat.” I will not. I will not get her started on the saturated fat.
“Are you a drug addict, kitten?” Again with that nickname. He’s going to use it in front of my whole family tomorrow, isn’t he? I swear. If I didn’t like it so much, I’d tell him to stop.
“Maybe if I went with you.” The blatant you’re special that he’s been giving me all day turns my insides into warm, gooey, next to no nutritional value. Resting my elbows on the counter, I link my fingers into a cradle and bat my lashes. He kisses my nose, smiling in that painfully soft and brief way he does before dropping his gaze to the vegetables. Mom, who was getting a main course of rice prepped, gasps when she sees what Levi’s done. To the zucchini. Not my now very red nose. “Not paper thin! Two cuts would be plenty.” “Oh.” Levi’s smile is already gone as he blinks down at the strips
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My head may or may not also be angled against Levi’s chest. And that may or may not be making all the difference. Pulling out of my Kindle app, I text him. Rose: Your heart’s racing. His text tone sounds just below all the hustle and bustle. He angles his hips to pull out his phone, and the motion rocks me slightly enough that he uses his hand to brace my waist. I don’t know that anything feels better than his fingers against me. His chest moves with a soundless laugh, then he curls his chin down toward me. “Because of you.” Rose: I doubt that. You’re anxious around strangers. Because you’re a
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“You’re only planning to ghostwrite?” Levi asks, his voice a low caress that starts near my ear but trails fingers all the way down to the base of my spine.
My jaw locks, my lips pinching. It’s not fanfiction. But some of it may be chaste romances involving Slenderman Guy. Where he is called Slenderman Guy. Because, yes, throw dorky, awkward, and sheltered teenager all together, and you get a seventeen-year-old who copes with a crush through writing out scenarios where anything went differently that night. I got his name, and we met again in college later. I got his address, and we wrote letters to one another. I was a little less young, but he still gave me his coat, and the only difference is that when I practically fell into him, he kissed me.
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Levi makes me buzz with static as his lips accidentally touch the shell of my ear. “Oh my, Rose,” he murmurs with stress on every word, like he’s cursing. “It’s all fanfiction.” “Shut up,” I hiss toward him, feeling as though my greeting duty is done and I would like to be back on the couch. “What is it about?” he presses, ignoring when I grab his hand and drag him back to our corner.
Like nothing’s happened, he repeats, “What’s it about?” His head cocks, smooth amusement glimmering in his eyes. “Powerpuff Girls?” I snort, because this conversation is so insane. “First of all, that’s your first guess? Second of all, you think Powerpuff Girls was allowed in this household?” “Wordgirl?” Levi asks.
“It’s possible, or plausible, or perhaps even likely.” His eyes flicker, that amusement and flashing gleam of heat so hilariously out of place given the fact he may or may not be flirting with me using my favorite cartoon, which was made for children. Be still my freaking heart. I’ve almost forgotten exactly the horrors that lie within my notebooks. A laugh bubbles out of my chest, and I can’t stop the way it overtakes me. “Wow, puppy. Wow. If only your employees…no…the world could see you now.” He begins whistling the theme song, striding past me to the bookcase. “It’s not Wordgirl
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His lips part. “How bad did you have it for that guy?” I roll my eyes away from him. “Honestly? I was a sheltered kid who went to an all girls’ school after ‘graduating’ from homeschool. I latched onto him like a baby bird.” I cut my gaze back. “And I’m only telling you this, because we’re now Word Up sisters.” Absently, eyes still clinging to the notebooks behind me, he says, “If we play pretend later, I’ll be Tobey. You be Wordgirl.” “Makes sense, since you can probably afford his robot army.” He puffs a soft breath, locking eyes, and says, “That’s not why it makes sense to me,” but he’s
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“Okay,” I exhale. “But you have to understand it’s really stupid. Like impossibly stupid. I didn’t know his name, and I call him something really dumb. And, oh boy…I don’t know why I’m even considering this.”
“You fell for someone who reminded you of a faceless, pale horror game villain?” He sounds baffled more than accusatory. I wrap my arms around my chest. “Shut up. You’re reading it. You know what I thought of him.” Softer than anything, a coarse, “Yeah,” meets my ears. I look up, slowly, afraid, and find his fingers tracing the pages, his eyes following tenderly. He covers his mouth with his hand and closes his eyes for a moment. Letting his hand drop back to the pages, he fixes his attention on me, “Rose, there’s someth—”
Levi’s arm lunges for me, catching my bicep, as my yes turns into a squeak. Pulling me up onto my feet like I weigh nothing, he wets his lips and glances sidelong away.
Shaking his head, Levi smiles. “Nothing important. Just. You’re a great writer. Whatever you want to do with your skills, you’ll succeed. I know it.” The way the butterflies in my stomach take off in response to that leaves me thinking Levi may have watched Wordgirl, but he has no idea what the definition of important is.
Levi’s hand settles on my leg, and I freeze. His big, warm hand is on my thigh. I can feel his fingers through my clothes. It sends a chill sailing into me. Oh. Wow. Okay. No. In the wake of that chill, heat pours, and I hope no one can see my face going beet red. Levi leans toward me, his voice so hushed and deep I think it rolls something inside my brain.
I look toward my mother and feel the weight of his hand a little deeper in my skin. I have a feeling she wouldn’t exactly approve of his hand on me like this without a serious declaration of proposal. But I’d rather die than let it go anywhere.
“What would you like to do?” Levi asks, adding, “And, yes, leave is an option.”
“You’re still hungry?” Levi asks, guiding me toward the pub counter and settling me into a protected spot in front of him. “I’m stocking up in preparation for my return to starvation at college.” His chest presses against my back, his body working as an effective shield from basically everything, and I feel his silent laugh. “Say the word, and I’ll upgrade your meal plan to unlimited.” I rest my head back against his chest, so completely cozy. “I don’t like you for your money, you know.” “Oh I know. It’s my bubbly personality.” Laughing, I let my eyes close. “Exactly.”
Levi talks with the tender, ordering the fries and a soda, then he sets a hand on my hip, absently stroking his thumb into my side as he asks, “What drink for you, kitten? Gin? Whiskey? A soda with ice, so you can say Sprite on the rocks?”
I’m giggly just from his body heat, and it takes all my strength not to sigh at the way he’s touch...
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Levi sets the tray down on a small table nearby that seats two. “All right, kitten. What do you want to play?” “Darts?” He sips his soda, watching me. “You’re so cute sometimes. You really were sheltered, weren’t you?” A tiny blush crawls up my cheeks. “Yes.”
He smiles, and my heart fills to the brim.
Levi bites his lip before smiling bigger than I’ve ever seen, teeth and all. “That’s my girl,” rumbles out of him, and it steals my breath, my heart, my whole mind. He’s so beautiful. Oh my word. Like a curtain of innocence just fell away, I’m suddenly all too aware that there are people making out on the other side of this building, and I know that I’d fit nicely on Levi’s lap just like a few other couples in here.
I look over my shoulder, attempting to not mourn the loss of his lap and bad ideas.
“I’d like to read the rest of your ‘Slenderman Guy’ story.” He doesn’t even hesitate. The second the last dart is out of my hand, that’s what he says. I look at him. “What? Why? It’s so stupid.” “It’s not, actually.” A tiny frown mars his lips. “As far as the writing is concerned, it’s as good as anything else I’ve read in the genre. And I don’t read that genre unless it’s something I find particularly interesting.”
“If you wanted to get me drunk…” “…so I could wildly have my way with you…” he inserts. “Puppy,” I mutter, chiding. “Kitten,” he murmurs, right into my very soul. Leaning near, he whispers, “I wouldn’t get you drunk, sweetheart. You’re young. Naive. I’d ask.” He kisses my cheek, leaving me blistering red, eyes wide, mouth gaping. “But I’m not going to do that. Your parents would kill me.” I clutch the glass in my fist. “They’d kill you just for taking me here.” “I asked,” he says smoothly.
Oh no. He’s right. He asked; I said yes. This is my fault. I was curious. I wanted to come. And I want to try whiskey. Because it’s here? Because this horrendously inappropriate flirt of a man will make sure I’m okay if something goes terribly wrong? Whatever the reason that makes it okay, I lift the glass to my lips and take a sip. It’s…warm. Sweet. A lot sweeter than I was expecting. It surprises me. There are hints of spice. It’s almost like cider. I like it. Oh no. I like it. I’m going to become an alcoholic now.
Is it just me, or has he been more affectionate tonight?
“Savor it then. I’m not buying you another cup.” Lifting the glass from my hands, he takes a small sip, and I’m thoroughly entranced by the intimacy of the action. He swallows, setting it back down on the table. “I like the taste, too, but it’s a bad idea waiting to happen if you approach it like it’s not something that very regularly and very commonly ruins lives.” His finger circles the rim—where I sipped, where he did, again and again, drawing the places our lips touched together. “You don’t play with fire unless you have a strict plan and set of rules in place to stay safe. I let myself
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I love it—the way he makes me laugh.
I have never felt like this before. I’m so tingly I’m buzzing. I barely took a sip, so I think this is all him. I’m certain of it. Every last drop of Levi in my veins is far more potent than all the alcohol in this place. I feel new. Bold. In control of myself and my own life. For the first time. Ever. Even going away to college didn’t feel like this. That was a battle I consistently doubted my role in, especially with every crass word I found from my peers when I began attending classes. This is different. Every part of this is something I am in control of. Levi chose his words meaningfully.
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Levi curls a finger beneath my chin. “You know what, kitten?” “Hm?” I nearly squeak, and I know—I know—I’m drunk on him. “I think your parents would be proud. But if they aren’t, I am.” For a fragment of a second, his eyes are on my lips, and my breath holds, and I don’t know if anyone’s watching, or if he even actually wants to, but I want him to kiss me so badly it’s an ache in my chest that pours a flush over my skin. He doesn’t. Nodding toward the board, he lets his fingers pull away as he says, “It’s your turn.”
