Page 19 of The Break-Up Pact

“What did Annie say?” I ask.

He twists his lips to the side before settling his face again. “Well, she thought the whole thing was juvenile. That if we were going to be great authors together, we should take ourselves seriously.”

We’re quiet for a moment.

“That’s a shame,” I say. “About the class and—well. About what Annie said.”

Levi doesn’t nod or shake his head, but his shoulders loosen, and he blinks some of the cloudiness out of his blue eyes.

“Well, it’s all ancient history now.” He gives a half shrug. “Besides, they say to write what you know.”

And that just squeezes my heart all over again. Because I know he’s talking about New York, about the character coming of age, about the ties he still feels to his family and the uncertainty he feels making roots anywhere else. But all I can think in that moment is Your character seems awfully lonely.

Levi’s eyes sweep to mine so quickly that I realize we’ve closed the gap of distance between each other, close enough that it feels only natural to press my shoulder into his, to soften the words by leaning into him. I smell his shampoo again, and that same distinct Levi smell that makes me ache. That makes me want to do more than just lean in and wrap my arms around him like I can ease this old hurt.

Levi leans some of his own weight back into mine. “Honestly, I can’t remember that much of what I wrote for The Sky Seekers back in the day.” He looks at the painting in front of us. “Or more like—I remember all the pieces, but not how they fit together.”

I almost don’t say it, because it feels like admitting to something else—not just that I remember the story, but that I held on to it all these years we were barely speaking. That there were parts of him I couldn’t let go of even when I wanted to.

“I bet I can,” I say anyway. I tell myself it’s for the story’s sake, but when I sense a new warmth between us, I’m not so sure.

“Okay, I’m loving the proximity, but could you throw me a bone and hold hands, maybe? Give me some options to work with?”

Levi and I both flinch away from each other to find Sana behind us with what she dubbed her Fancy Journalist Camera raised in our direction. She’s clad in a pair of tight denim jeans and a loud tie-dye top, her ponytail slung low, her face the picture of concentration.

“When did you get here?” I blurt.

“Ten minutes before you did,” she says, walking over to us.

“And you didn’t say anything?” I manage. “You’ve just been lurking in the corner?”

Sana pats me on the cheek and gives me her patented “oh, sweet summer child” look. “This is your very first fake viral internet relationship. You thought I’d actually trust you two to pose for plandids?”

“Planned candids,” I murmur to Levi, whose head just tilted.

“Here. Stand like you were in front of this one,” she says, physically grabbing us each by the shoulder to pivot us around again. “Except hold hands.”

We’re both too jarred by Sana’s presence to question her. Levi’s hand finds my hand, and I’m expecting a simple grasp, but he weaves his warm fingers through mine. I feel a quiet zing that starts where our skin touches that travels up my arm and through my body, and the suddenness of it combined with Sana’s lens on us makes me feel more self-conscious than I have all day.

I don’t realize I’ve gone entirely stiff until Levi leans in and says, “So I’m guessing that’s a hard no on you spending the night with my main character.”

I cackle, leaning into him again. He squeezes my fingers.

“Aaand that’s a wrap,” says Sana from behind us. “I’ll get in touch with some contacts tonight. Would you be okay if a write-up summarizing the whole thing ended up running with them? Only with someone one of us knows. Totally fine if not, but it could get things moving faster if someone bites.”

I look over at Levi, who’s already looking at me. “I trust anyone Sana does, if you’re okay with it,” I say.

“Then sure,” says Levi. “Everyone’s already tweeted most of what there is to know anyway.”

Sana beams. “Excellent. Then I’m off to shop these around and watch the internet burn.”

Levi eyes her camera as we pull apart. “Do you have time to take one more photo?”

Sana raises her eyebrows. “Depends on how shirtless you’re going to be.”

Levi takes that as a yes, but instead of initiating any kind of pose, he motions for me to open my tote bag. The Revenge Ex is still at the top like it’s my emotional support scone. He pulls it out and then walks the short path back to the empty venue, settling it right on the altar where the sun is streaming in dramatically from the paned windows, all soft, angelic light on the dark chocolate and caramel chaos of the scone.

I have to admit, it looks pretty badass. Like a lover scorned.

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