Page 35 of The Break-Up Pact

Chapter Eleven

Holy shit.

Those are the only two words my short-circuiting brain can summon when I see it. The photo. The photo. The one of me and Levi dancing in Happy Shores is so unrepentantly, ridiculously steamy that I almost don’t recognize my own self in it. Someone took it just after Levi spun me into him, the two of us suspended in motion, bright against the moody light of the club. My back is pressed against Levi’s, my dress hiked up where it’s pushed up against Levi’s legs, his own shirt lifted and exposing a sliver of his lean, toned stomach. My face is tilted up to look at him, my eyes obscured, but his are fully visible and looking at me like he’s about to take a bite right out of me. We look like something timeless, something iconic. Like two people so far in the throes of passion we’ve forgotten the rest of the world exists.

A Business Savvy fan account tweeted it with the caption Twitter gets it first!!! and a bunch of fire emojis about an hour ago. It’s already blown up enough that Cassie, whose newest location is literally opening today, took a moment to text me, Um??? I need to fan myself. You two are too much!! and Mateo texted me in the middle of class to say, You broke my students. They’ll never learn about the cultural diffusion of Alexander the Great’s conquests now.

I’d probably liquefy on the spot if I could afford to. But Tea Tide is just as packed as it’s been all week, so all I can do is go, go, go. By the time Sana wanders in, I’ve got the photo primed on my phone, holding it up to her accusingly.

“Fool me thrice?” I demand.

“I had nothing to do with this,” says Sana, raising her hands to gesture for peace. “I was extremely busy with Aiden, the hot pediatrician who was the designated driver both for his friends and for my human body that night.”

“Okay,” I say, “details about that, please. But also, how did this happen?”

“It might have had something to do with me pointing and yelling ‘Are those the Revenge Exes?’ every chance I got, but otherwise, no idea,” says Sana, helping herself to a chocolate chip scone and ringing herself up.

I set the phone down. “My parents are going to see this,” I moan. I’m already dreading my next long Sunday afternoon call with my mom. So far, I’ve managed to skim the surface of the whole “Levi and I are dating” thing, but this is going to warrant an entire mom-sized investigation that will start with her asking what on earth I was doing in a club and end with her asking when Levi and I are getting engaged.

If she and Levi’s mom haven’t already called each other and skipped straight to that part, that is.

“And so are a whole bunch of potential Tea Tide customers,” says Sana, wiggling her eyebrows.

She’s got a fair point. We’re in a rare lull right now in between the lunch rush and the afternoon snack rush, so for once, there isn’t anyone immediately in line behind her. “Quick, tell me about this Aiden,” I say.

Sana’s eyes go all dreamy. “He makes his own cheese. The next morning, he brought me homemade gouda in bed.”

I blink. “You’re making that up.”

“He’s got an adorable puppy named Snickerdoodle.”

I shake my head at her. “That absolutely cannot be real.”

She leans in, putting a finger to my nose. “He’s taking me out to that fancy winery with the chocolate fountain this weekend.”

I wrinkle my nose. “Literally every Hallmark movie heroine written into existence is ready to fight you right now.”

“You’ll get there,” she says, patting me on the back. “Just as soon as you and Levi drop this whole fake dating thing and realize you’re madly in love with each other.”

I glare at her as intensely as a woman who is subsisting mostly off scones and the fumes of four hours of sleep can manage.

“I’d write you a whole laundry list of why that’s never going to happen, but I’m getting a call,” I say, pulling my buzzing phone out of my apron pocket.

Griffin’s name is lit up on the screen. Both Sana’s eyebrows and mine fly up. I haven’t heard from him in so long that I forgot that hearing from him was still a possibility.

Out of curiosity alone, I decide to take it, waving over one of the part-time employees to mind the register while I walk to the back parking lot.

“Hey, June,” says Griffin, the warmth in his voice so honey-sweet that I almost pull the phone from my ear like the speaker made a mistake. “How are you holding up?”

I tense at that. Holding up. The words are choice, but so is his tone—it’s the same one he’d use to push and pull me in moments he was trying to get me on board with wild stunts I didn’t want any part of. Coddling, almost. Like he knew better than I did.

“I’m fine,” I say flatly. I make a point of not asking how he is and jump straight to it: “Why are you calling?”

“Well—partially because I’m worried about you. I know you and Levi have a past.”

My fingers tighten around the phone. I’m not naïve enough to think nobody caught on to my crush on Levi in high school, but this is the first time Griffin’s come close to bringing it up. I think a part of him always resented that he didn’t ask me out until after it was clear that Levi and I weren’t going to be a thing.

“You don’t have to worry,” I say, my voice breezy and even. “We’re happy.”

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