Page 42 of The Break-Up Pact

I tilt the screen so Levi can see it, too, and he lets out an amused breath of a laugh. I lean toward the mic first, staring at the crowd, and yell with all my might, “WHY DO PEOPLE CARE ABOUT LEVI AND JUNE SO MUCH? GO GET A HOBBY YOU BUNCH OF SEX-DEPRIVED NERDS.”

The bar immediately erupts with laughter. Levi’s trying not to grin and failing spectacularly when I hand him the phone. He lets out a surprised laugh at whatever he reads on it, then leans in close to the mic and yells, “GOD DAMMIT I WISH SOMEONE WOULD WRONG ME SO I COULD PULL A LEVI AND JUNE AND JOIN THE REVENGE EX MOVEMENT.”

He looks at me with eyes so full of mirth that all at once I feel giddy, near electric, like the stress of the last few months is sliding off my shoulders and under the stage. I grin up at him as I nudge him out of the way of the mic and yell into it, “BOLD OF LEVI AND JUNE TO HAVE AN ORIGIN STORY SO ICONIC THAT THEY SINGLE-HANDEDLY DESTROYED EVERY DATING APP ON MY PHONE.”

Levi grins back, nudging me in turn to yell, “LITERALLY A CRIME THAT DUNCAN HINES HASN’T SPONSORED LEVI AND JUNE AFTER THAT CAKE NONSENSE.”

I let out another sharp cackle, then lean into the mic so close that I can feel Levi’s breath against my cheek. There’s a split second where I almost forget to speak, so overwhelmed by the tempting heat of him I only just barely manage to yell, “MY FUCKING KINGDOM FOR A MAN WHO LOOKS AT ME EVEN ONCE THE WAY LEVI SHAW LOOKS AT JUNE HART.”

I glance over at Levi after I say it, anticipating the next tweet he’s going to yell into the mic. But Levi isn’t leaning in. He’s staring at me with a fondness so unmistakable I feel the impact of every word in that tweet—that I feel a whole lot else on the heels of it, curling in my smile, fluttering just under my ribs.

I’m so swept up that I don’t even notice the entire bar has gone quiet, staring at us as we stare at each other, until Gerry steps onto the stage.

“The Revenge Exes, everyone!” she says, clapping us both on the back.

We startle back into reality, which is somehow even louder than our yelling. Nobody is more effusive than Levi’s high school buddies except for maybe his mom’s friends, and the display has Levi looking so bashful that I feel a little cinch in my heart at the sight. I’ve wondered if maybe Levi’s avoided some of his old crowds since he got here, worrying that he’d been gone too long to jump back into their new rhythms. But from the near-deafening applause and cheers, it’s all too clear how happy everyone is to have him back, and how much it means to Levi that they are.

“Get the fuck over here, Levi!” one of his friends exclaims, the others clearly about to descend on him.

He looks to me, and before he can ask if I want to join, I give him a quick hug. “Go hang with your nerds,” I say into his ear before I pull back. “I have a whole mountain of work to get back to at Tea Tide.”

“You’re sure?” Levi asks.

He looks almost boyish when he asks, a shade of the Levi he was when we were kids. I nod, reaching out to squeeze his elbow, and say, “Very sure.”

Levi smiles appreciatively, then leans in close and says, “All right. But just know that in another ten years, you should be on your toes. Because I’m dragging you right back here to get revenge on your revenge.”

I lean in farther and say, “I’d be disappointed if you did anything less.”

I can feel Levi’s smile before we pull apart enough for me to see it. His friends find him a moment later and even then, he still glances at me, giving me a quick, happy wave before he practically gets swallowed into their pack.

As I’m leaving, I cast a glance back at the inside of the Bar. At the performers all flushed and pleased with themselves, cheersing with a round of beers in the corner by the stage. At one of the walls teeming with half the beach’s lifeguards finishing up their shift for the day. At Levi getting hugged and hair-ruffled and playfully shoved by his friends. At the way this place isn’t just a bar, but a community. Another version of home.

My chest aches and warms at the same time. It’s what I’ve wanted for Tea Tide from the start, but it’s always been hard to fully envision it. All at once, that version of Tea Tide feels less like a hope and more like a possibility—like once all this mess is over and we’re solidly back on our feet, I really could build a home like this of our own. Something soft and safe and welcome to everyone. Somewhere you don’t just come to visit, but come to stay.

I tuck the feeling into my heart and step out into the sweet summer air. For the first time in a long time, I don’t dread the mountain of work ahead of me. For the first time in a long time, I see what might be on the other side of it, and love every inch of the view.

Chapter Thirteen

I’m terrible at trivia and even worse at sports, but I’m very good at drinking Blue Moon—so even though I’ll be out of my depth at Games on Games, the hybrid sports and trivia bar Levi and I are checking out for Mateo and Dylan’s bachelor party, I’m raring to go.

Technically, we don’t need to vet it. It has an absurd number of good Yelp reviews, and Sana’s a regular, so she can vouch for them. But Sana decided it would make an excellent casual Revenge Ex date, so here I am, dressed in a black crop top and high-waisted ankle jeans with a pair of combat boots and my hair pulled into a messy French braid, waiting for Sana’s outfit approval.

Except when Sana answers my FaceTime call, she’s got on her “I mean business” blue light glasses she only wears when she’s about to pull an all-nighter at her laptop.

“Oh. Cute,” she says, tilting her head at me. “Where are you headed?”

I blink. “Did you forget?”

Sana winces. “Right. Shit. Sorry, I’m out.”

I point a finger at her through the screen. “If you think you’re going to fake us out and sneak pictures a fourth time—”

“No, seriously,” she says, pulling the camera back so I can see she’s not only in her Deadline Sweatpants (I suspect the only pair of sweatpants Sana owns), but she’s got a can of Pringles propped on one leg and several empty cans of Red Bull leaning precariously on the other. “I’m on a roll right now.”

“With what, an essay about testing the limits of your mortality?”

“My idea for Fizzle. I have to start writing it tonight while my brain’s buzzing.” She presses the phone to her lips, the screen going dark for a moment while she gives it a loud smack of a kiss. “Have fun. I’ll see you on the other side.”

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