“Yeah. That,” Levi mutters, grabbing my attention from the way his scruff in the morning is pretty much the most attractive thing I’ve ever seen.
Note to self: Hide all the razors in our apartments.
“Charlie?” he presses.
I grin at how hesitant he looks. It makes me feel…powerful. Like I might own him just as much as he’s always owned me. After another pause where I can tell he’s close to snapping, I murmur, “I know, Levi.”
“But you’re different,” he rushes to add. “You’ve always been different. I want to do this for real. With you. Are you okay with that?”
Did Levi McCoy just ask if I would be his girlfriend? I feel like my middle school self is jumping up and down in excitement, and I can’t stop the smile from practically splitting my face in two.
“Definitely.”
He plants a quick peck against my forehead. “Good. Will you go to the Jelani Arts Center grand opening with me?”
There’s a hopefulness in his eyes that makes me want to laugh.
“Uh…duh. Did you think I wouldn’t?”
“I don’t know,” he hedges. “I didn’t want to assume—”
“Dude. I would’ve gone with you before this”—I wag my fingers between us—“happened. You’re stuck with me, remember?”
“No matter what?”
“Hell, yes.”
“Even if things don’t work out? Or I screw this up? Charlie, I’ve never done this before. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Neither of us has done this before, but there isn’t anyone I’d rather do it with. And if you’re all in, then so am I.” I brush my lips against his, ignoring the panic that flares in my chest when I realize he might not be a fan of morning kisses. It’s quickly extinguished when he grips the back of my head and pries my mouth open with his tongue, deepening the kiss until I’m left gasping. Again.
Apparently, Levi likes sex and isn’t afraid to show me how much he enjoys it. Over and over again.
And I’m totally okay with it.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Levi
“Mom! I’m here!” I call out.
“I’m in the kitchen!”
Following her voice, I find my mom busy frying up some eggs and bacon with a light blue, tattered apron wrapped around her waist. It’s the same one from my childhood and reminds me of Christmas mornings and Sunday brunches. There’s a soft-ball sized stain on one side, and I make a mental note to order her a new one.
Which reminds me….
My eyes dart to the mail organizer to see a fresh stack of bills. The pressure in my chest tightens.
“Grab a plate. It’s ready,” she orders before grabbing a spatula and flipping a perfectly cooked strip of bacon.
I set two plates onto the counter. “Here you go.”
“So, how’s your day going?” she asks, dishing me up a pair of eggs and some bacon.
I fight my smile, but she catches me at the last second.
“What was that?”