At some point Levi had put his left arm around her and pulled her back against his chest—she’d been fidgeting and rubbing her back on the wall, and Levi just reached behind her and pulled her into him.
Then his hand had fallen back down to the bed and stayed there. Except for when he stretched or moved. When he moved, Levi would bring his hand up to Cath’s shoulder to hold her against him while he adjusted.
She could feel his chest rising when he breathed. She could feel his breath on her hair sometimes. When he moved his chin, it bumped into the back of her head. The muscles in Cath’s arms and her back and her neck were starting to ache, just from being held so long at attention.
She lost her place in the book and stopped reading for a moment.
Levi’s chin bumped into her head. “Take a break,” he said in a voice that wasn’t a whisper but was just as soft.
She nodded, and he held her left elbow while he reached his right arm across her to get the glass of water. His body curved around her for a second, then settled back again against the wall. He kept his hand on her elbow.
Cath took a drink, then set down the water. She tried not to squirm, but her back was stiff, and she arched it against him.
“You okay?” he asked.
She nodded again. And then she felt him slowly moving. “Here…”
Levi slid down the wall onto the bed, resting on his side, then tugged Cath down so she was lying on her back in front of him—his arm beneath her head like a pillow. She relaxed her shoulders and felt warm flannel against the back of her neck.
“Better?” he asked in his superscript voice. He was looking at her face. Giving Cath a chance to say no without having to say it out loud. She didn’t speak. Or nod. Or answer. Instead she looked down and shifted slightly toward him onto her side, leaning the book against his chest.
She started reading again, and felt Levi’s elbow curve around her shoulder.
* * *
Cath didn’t have to read very loud when he was this close. Which was good because her voice was almost gone. (Gone.) God, Levi was warm, and up close, he smelled so much like himself, it made her tear up. Her eyes were tired. She was tired.
When Johnny—one of the main characters—got hurt, Levi took a sharp breath. By that time, Cath’s cheek was on his chest, and she could feel his ribs expanding. She took a deep breath, too—her voice broke a little more, and Levi tightened his grip around her.
She wondered whether there was any blood left in his arm.
She wondered what happened when they got to the end of the story.
She kept reading.
There were too many boys in this book. Too many arms and legs and flushed faces.
She’d expected to laugh when she finally got to the line “Stay gold, Ponyboy,” but she didn’t, because it meant that Johnny was dead, and she thought that maybe Levi was crying. Maybe Cath was crying, too. Her eyes were tired. She was tired.
* * *
“‘When I stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman and a ride home.…’”
Cath closed the book and let it fall on Levi’s chest, not sure what happened next. Not sure she was awake, all things considered.
The moment it fell, he pulled her into him. Onto him. With both arms. Her chest pressed against his, and the paperback slid between their stomachs.
Cath’s eyes were half closed, and so were Levi’s—and his lips only looked small from afar, she realized, because of their doll-like pucker. They were perfectly big, really, now that she had a good look at them. Perfectly something.
He nudged his nose against hers, and their mouths fell sleepily together, already soft and open.
When Cath’s eyes closed, her eyelids stuck. She wanted to open them. She wanted to get a better look at Levi’s too-dark eyebrows, she wanted to admire his crazy, vampire hairline—she had a feeling this was never going to happen again and that it might even ruin what was left of her life, so she wanted to open her eyes and bear some witness.
But she was so tired.
And his mouth was so soft.
And nobody had ever kissed Cath like this before. Only Abel had kissed her before, and that was like getting pushed squarely on the mouth and pushing back.
Levi’s kisses were all taking. Like he was drawing something out of her with soft little jabs of his chin.
She brought her fingers up to his hair, and she couldn’t open her eyes.
Eventually, she couldn’t stay awake.
“I’m sorry, Penelope.”
“Don’t waste my time with sorries, Simon. If we stop to apologize and forgive each other every time we step on each other’s toes, we’ll never have time to be friends.”
—from chapter 4, Simon Snow and the Second Serpent, copyright © 2003 by Gemma T. Leslie
SIXTEEN
Cath didn’t wake up when the door swung open.
But she jumped when it slammed closed. That’s when she felt Levi sprawled out beneath her, the warm scrape of his chin against her forehead. Then she woke up.
Reagan was standing at the end of Cath’s bed, staring at them. She was still wearing last night’s jeans, and her silvery blue eyeshadow had drifted onto her cheeks.
Cath sat up. And Levi sat up. Groggily. And Cath felt her stomach barreling up into her throat.
Levi reached for Cath’s phone and looked at it. “Shit,” he said. “I’m two hours late for work.” He was up then and putting on his coat. “Fell asleep reading,” he said, half to Reagan, half to the floor.
“Reading,” Reagan said, looking at Cath.
“Later,” Levi said, more to the floor than to either of them.
And then he was gone. And Reagan was still standing at the end of Cath’s bed.
Cath’s eyes were sticky and sore, and suddenly full of tears. “I’m so sorry,” she said, feeling it. Feeling it in her stomach and in every sore muscle between her shoulders. “Oh my God.”
“Don’t,” Reagan said. She was obviously furious.
“I … I’m just so sorry.”
“Don’t. Do not apologize.”
Cath crossed her legs and hunched over, holding her face. “But I knew he was your boyfriend.” Cath was crying now. Even though it would probably just make Reagan more angry.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Reagan said, very nearly shouting. “Not anymore. Not … for a long time, actually. So just, don’t.” Reagan inhaled loudly, then let it out. “I just didn’t expect this to happen,” she said. “And, if it did happen, I didn’t expect it to bother me. I just … it’s Levi. And Levi always likes me best.”
He’s not her boyfriend? “He still likes you best,” Cath said, trying not to whimper.
“Don’t be an idiot, Cather.” Reagan’s voice was serrated. “I mean, I know that you are. About this. But try not to be an idiot right this moment.”
“I’m sorry…,” Cath said, trying and failing to look up at her roommate. “I still don’t know why I did it. I swear I’m not that kind of girl.”
Reagan finally turned away. She dropped her bag on the bed and grabbed her towel. “What kind of girl is that, Cath? The girl kind?… I’m gonna take a shower. When I come back, I’ll be over this.”
* * *
And when she came back, she was.
Cath had curled up on her bed and let herself cry like she hadn’t all Thanksgiving weekend. She found The Outsiders wedged between the bed and the wall, and threw it on the floor.
Reagan saw the book when she came back to the room. She was wearing yoga pants and a tight gray hoodie, and square brown glasses instead of contacts.
“Oh, fuck,” she said, picking up the book. “I was supposed to help him study.” She looked over at Cath. “Were you actually just reading?”
“Not just,” Cath said, her voice a hiccupy wheeze.
“Stop crying,” Reagan said. “I mean it.”
Cath closed her eyes and rolled toward the wall.
Reagan sat at the end of her own bed. “He’s not my boyfriend,” she said solemnly. “And I knew he liked you—he was here constantly. I just didn’t know that you liked him back.”
“I thought he was here constantly because he was your boyfriend,” Cath said. “I didn’t want to like him back. I tried to be mean to him.”