Page 41 of The Break-Up Pact

In between sets, I text Dylan: Where are you two??? You’re missing some top-notch cheese puns and we’re running out of tater tots.

Dylan’s response is immediate: Are you at the bar? I thought we were meeting up tomorrow?

And then I realize with a guilty thunk in my chest—the reason we’re here for scream poetry isn’t because I mixed up which open mic was on which day. It’s because I mixed up the actual days.

Oh crap. I’m sorry. Levi and I came tonight, I text. Any chance you can make it?

Dylan starts typing, then stops, then starts again.

“Shit,” I murmur to myself.

“What’s up?” Levi asks.

“I fucked up the dates,” I admit. “We were supposed to meet them here tomorrow.”

Levi raises his eyebrows. “Oh, so this wasn’t you getting revenge. This was the universe avenging you.”

More like me being a jerk. I should have paid more attention to the date. Not just for Dylan’s sake, but because Levi’s been looking forward to hanging out with us as a group again, too. I’m about to look up and apologize, but an incoming text from Dylan lights up my phone.

Nah we’ve got a Rainbow Eagles meetup tonight. Can you still make tomorrow?

I wince. I rearranged everything I had to do this week to make it here tonight as it was. If I go out a second time tomorrow, there’s no way I’m going to be able to keep up with the chaos at Tea Tide.

Shit shit I can’t. I’m sorry!!! I owe you a beer!!

The read receipt pops up immediately, but Dylan doesn’t type back. I set the phone down and rest my head in my hand.

“Hey. Don’t beat yourself up. There’s a lot going on.” Levi puts a hand on my shoulder, and the weight of it is so immediately, ridiculously comforting that I almost forget what he’s talking about altogether. “And at least you didn’t break anyone’s Duolingo streak.”

I smile despite myself. Levi squeezes my shoulder again before he lets it go, and I feel the warmth of it spread through me, loosening some of the tightness wound into my bones.

“All right folks, that’s the end of our scheduled lineup, but the catharsis doesn’t need to end,” says Gerry from the stage. “Do I have any takers for the open mic?”

Her eyes settle on us with clear mischief and Levi immediately ducks his head, but it’s too late. Half the bar has turned around and spotted us. The commotion is instant. I cannot for the life of me stop cackling when I look around and realize that one corner of the bar is occupied by half the staff of the salon where Levi’s mom works, and another by a cluster of former Science Olympiad members who all light up at the sight of Levi like it’s a surprise second Christmas.

“Seems to me like maybe two people here in particular might have some grievances to air,” says Gerry with a smirk.

Levi’s face is red enough to reheat our tater tots as he waves her off, but the rest of the Bar isn’t having it.

“Let ’er rip, kiddo!” says one of the nail techs from the salon.

And then, to Levi’s absolute mortification, one of his former teammates starts chanting “Levi, Levi, Levi” until the entire bar is chanting along with them, even people who clearly have no idea who he is.

“Aw, come on,” I say. “Give the people what they want.”

Levi looks over at me, his expression a mix of bafflement and panic. “What would we even say?”

I bite down a happy smile at the we—at the assumption I’m going up there with him, even though the crowd clearly has one very singular demand. That the two of us are in this together, for better or worse, the same way we have been since the first Revenge Ex tweet hit the internet.

At that particular thought, a grin starts curling on my face.

“Uh-oh,” says Levi, before I’ve even spoken.

I lean in and grab his hand, snaking his fingers through mine. “Do you trust me?”

“Unfortunately,” says Levi, without missing a beat.

I yank him up to his feet then, much to the delight of the entirety of the Bar, which is roaring with approval. On the way up to the mic, I pull up Twitter on my phone and type our names into the search bar. Within an instant it’s pulled hundreds of tweets from strangers, ranging from supportive to confused to downright annoyed by our existence.

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