Shed always thought that either people could read or they couldnt. Not this in-between thing that Levi had, where his brain could catch the words but couldnt hold on to them. Like reading was one of those rip-off claw games they had at the bowling alley.
But Levi clearly wasnt dumb. He remembered everything. He could quote extensively from the Simon Snow movies, and he knew everything there was to know about bison and piping plovers. And why was she even arguing this point with herself?
Its not like she was going to send Abel Levis ACT scores.
She should have texted him back. (Levi, not Abel.)
But that would have been engaging in this situation. Like moving a chess piece. Or kicking off from the ground on a teeter-totter. Better to leave Levi up in the air for a day or two than to end up stuck there by herself.
The fact that she was thinking about whatever this was in terms of playground equipment showed that she wasnt ready for it. For him. Levi was an adult. He had a truck. And facial hair. And hed slept with Reagan; shed practically admitted it.
Cath didnt want to look at a guy and picture the people hed slept with.
Which had never been an issue with Abel. Nothing was ever an issue with Abel. Because, she could hear Wren screaming, you didnt like him!
Cath liked Levi. A lot. She liked looking at him. She liked listening to himthough sometimes she hated listening to him talk to other people. She hated the way he passed out smiles to everyone he met like it didnt cost him anything, like hed never run out. He made everything look so easy.
Even standing. You didnt realize how much work everyone else put into holding themselves upright until you saw Levi leaning against a wall. He looked like he was leaning on something even when he wasnt. He made standing look like vertical lying down.
Thinking about Levis lazy hips and loose shoulders just dragged Caths memory back to her bed.
Shed spent the night with a boy. Slept with him. And never mind that thats all theyd done, because it was still a huge deal. She wished she could talk to Wren about this.
Fuck Wren.
No Damn her. Never mind her. All Wren did lately was complicate Caths world.
Cath had slept with a boy.
With a guy.
And it was awesome. Warm. And tangly. What would have happened if theyd woken up any other way? Without Reagan barging in. Would Levi have kissed her again? Or would he still have rushed off with nothing more than a later?
Later
Cath stared at her laptop. Shed been working on the same paragraph for two hours. It was a love scene (a pretty mild one), and she kept losing track of where Baz and Simons hands were supposed to be. It was confusing sometimes with all the he s and the him s, and shed been staring at this paragraph for so long, she was starting to feel like shed written every sentence before. Maybe she had.
She shut the laptop and stood up. It was almost ten oclock. What time did parties end? (What time did they start?) Not that it mattered, at this point. Cath didnt have any way to get to Levis house.
She walked over and stood in front of the full-length mirror that was mounted on their door.
Cath looked like exactly who she wasan eighteen-year-old nerd who knew eff-all about boys or parties.
Skinny jeans. Unskinny hips. A faded pink T-shirt that said, THE MAGIC WORD IS PLEASE . A pink-and-brown argyle cardigan. Her hair was pulled up into a floppy half bun on top of her head.
Cath pulled the rubber band out of her hair and took off her glasses; she had to step closer to the mirror to see herself clearly.
She lifted her chin up and forced her forehead to relax. Im the Cool One, she told herself. Somebody give me some tequila because Ill totally drink it. And theres no way youre going to find me later having a panic attack in your parents bathroom. Who wants to French-kiss?
This is why she couldnt be with Levi. She still called it French-kissing, and he just went around putting his tongue in peoples mouths.
Cath still didnt look like the Cool One. She didnt look like Wren.
She pushed her shoulders back, let her chest stick out. There was nothing wrong with her breasts (that she knew of). They were big enough that nobody ever called her flat-chested. She wished they were a little bigger; then theyd balance out her hips. Then Cath wouldnt have to check pear-shaped on those how to dress for your body type guides. Those guides try to convince you that its okay to be any shape, but when your body type is a synonym for FUBAR, its hard to believe it.
Cath pretended she was Wren; she pretended she didnt care. She pushed her shoulders back and lifted her chin and told her eyes to say, Have you met me yet? Im the Pretty One, too.
The door flew open and the doorknob caught Cath in the ribs.
Shit, she said, falling halfway onto her bed, halfway onto the floor. Her arms were over her headshed managed to protect her face.
Shit, Reagan said. She was standing over Cath. Are you okay?
Cath brought a hand to her side and finished sliding onto the floor. Jesus, she moaned.