Page 12 of The Break-Up Pact

My throat is thick enough that for a moment, I don’t trust myself to speak. I didn’t know how badly I wanted him to say that until the words started settling in me, easing an old ache.

“Okay,” I finally say.

Levi nods. I breathe in deep, salty sea air, listening to the thud of my heart slowly start to find its usual rhythm.

“Well,” I say, digging my feet into the sand, “on the plus side, this will probably piss Griffin off.”

Levi tilts his head. “You think?”

“Oh, yeah.” When I look back up at Levi, I can’t bite down my smirk. “He really doesn’t like you.”

This isn’t exactly news. Griffin was always jealous of Levi for being the better runner, and only got more bitter when Levi got into Columbia. I never once mentioned Levi without Griffin rolling his eyes or making a snide comment.

“That makes two of us,” Levi mutters, the gray in his eyes steely again.

I shiver, some ripple of disbelief at the whole situation coursing through me. Levi doesn’t miss it.

“And you’re okay with… all this?” he asks, lifting his phone.

“Me? More than,” I say. “Hell, I’d take being a Revenge Ex over Crying Girl any day of the week.”

Some of the tension eases in Levi’s jaw. “Yeah. Certainly has more of a ring to it than Kelly Carter’s Reject.”

I take a step closer to him, searching his face.

“So how should we handle this?” I ask. “Rely on your two pals ‘no’ and ‘comment’?”

Levi nods. “That seems like a good plan to me. This will probably blow over by tomorrow anyway.”

As if on cue, both of our phones light up in our hands. Levi’s with an incoming call from Kelly, and mine with an incoming call from Mateo. Levi freezes, but I don’t hesitate. Mateo’s a texter, so a call means something is up.

“How far are you from Tea Tide? Because there’s a situation,” Mateo tells me in a rush. “And by situation, I mean there’s a line down the boardwalk.”

I pull the phone away from my ear to look at the time. “We don’t even open for a half hour.”

“I hope that’s enough time to make a million more scones.”

My brain doesn’t even know how to parse both the panic and the relief. More customers means more money means possibly saving Tea Tide. But more customers also means more demand means I’m about to be in way over my head.

“Shit. Okay. I’ll be right there.” I hang up the phone and look at Levi. “I’ve gotta jet. That photographer’s probably long gone by now, right?”

I start trekking back toward the boardwalk stairs, but Levi reaches out to wrap his hand around my wrist. I stop, then follow his gaze down to a broken piece of glass in the sand I must have barely dodged earlier.

Levi’s tone is a mix of affection and exasperation. “Where on earth are your shoes?”

I pull a face. “Do I look like some kind of tourist to you?”

Levi may have abandoned our contest every summer to see whose feet were the toughest, but Dylan and I sure never let it go. It’s clear Levi hasn’t forgotten about it, though, when he turns his back to me and says, “Fine, then. Plan B.”

“No,” I say, half indignant and half delighted that he’d subject himself to it after all this time.

“Too bad. I don’t feel like explaining to Dylan why I let your feet get sacrificed to some fifteen-year-old’s abandoned moscato.”

I eye Levi’s shoulders, considering the mechanics of getting on his back. His toned, broad, tank top–clad back. I have to tear my eyes away before I start considering other less mechanical things.

“I’m not seven anymore,” I remind him. “I’ll squish you.”

“I’m not eight anymore,” says Levi, affronted. “And you’re pocket-sized. Give my muscles some credit.”

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