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272 pages, Kindle Edition
First published March 4, 2014
“Because love isn’t something that needs to be said out loud!” Her face flushes with passion. “It’s something you just know. It’s an unspoken thing. It’s humble and quiet and constant…” She goes back to slaughtering the mushrooms, but lowers her tone a bit. “I mean, you can’t just say you love someone and make it true. That’s not how it works. Real love doesn’t need to be declared or confessed. Real love just… is. You know?”
Haunted eyes stare back at me in the mirror as I slowly finish shaving.
I wish I would have known back then how significant Pixie was going to be.
I wish I would have known a lot of things. - Levi
Pixie’s been living here for only twelve days and I already want to stab myself with a spoon. Not because she keeps blowing the fuse, though that reoccurring shenanigan of hers is certainly stab-worthy, but because I can’t do normal around Pixie.
But fighting? That I can do. - Levi
My eyes drop to her mouth, her throat, her hands. Every instinct I have is screaming to touch her. To cross the space between us and wrap my arms protectively around her small frame. To shield her from all the bad things, the sorrowful things. All the things I’m made of.
But that can’t happen. We can’t happen. - Levi
Our eyes meet beneath the dimmed lights, colliding in a tangle of shared emotions too raw to touch. How did we get so broken. - Levi
I used to know him. I don’t anymore. - Pixie
“You seem stressed.” Levi, whose jeans are so low on his bare hips that I can tell he’s going commando, tilts his head. “You know what you need? A nice hot shower…oh wait.” He gives me an impish smile.
I might just pee on his bed right now.
“Joke all you want, Levi. But the next time you’re out fixing a broken window or a fire alarm, I will sneak into your room and pee on your bed.”
...
The impish smile grows. “I can think of better things for you to do in my bed, Pix.”
Silence.
If his plan was to make me uncomfortable by flirting with me, it totally backfired. Because the second those words left Levi’s mouth, his body stiffened in awareness and the space between us became electric. So now we’re staring at each other’s lips and we’re both breathing heavier than necessary, and neither of us is really dressed.
I shift in my towel and feel the material slip a bit as I pull my eyes from his mouth and try to coax my face into a look of something less come-and-get-me and more ew-you’re-pathetic.
I’m gearing up for my comeback – which will be brilliant and kick-ass as soon as I nail it down – when his eyes drop to my chest, and all the air leaves the room.
He has me.
He has me when I’m seven years old and scared of monsters. He has me when I’m brokenhearted in the eighth grade because Tommy Marchim won’t take me to the Valentine’s dance. And he has me when I’m nineteen and in the shower with my pyjamas on, searching his eyes for my hero.
He has me.
He’s always had me.
And I’ve never wanted to be had by anyone else.
I’m still angry with him, but I follow him through the drizzle anyway. Because this is Levi. This is my hero. And you always follow your heroes, even when you’re mad, even when you’d rather punch them in the mouth. That’s how trust works. It’s blind and unconditional and it takes you places you can’t reach by yourself.
Just like love.
“I am yours … Even when you don’t want me. I’m still yours.”