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He gestures helplessly toward the bathroom. “Products.”

Oh god.

“Yes. I’m fine,” I say, softer now. “Really. I just need some space.”

Levi waits.

I wait.

Neither of us is equipped for this.

Finally, he nods far too seriously. “Right. Space.”

“Yes.”

“Because of the…situation.” He gestures vaguely toward my lower belly.

“Please stop talking.”

“Yep.”

He takes the container of muffins and backs toward the door like sudden movements might make everything worse.

“Text me if you need anything.”

“I won’t need anything.”

“Text me anyway.”

The door clicks shut behind him. For a while, I just stand in the kitchen, staring at the counter. Then I head to the couch, pull a pillow into my lap, and hug it tight.

God, I’m so stupid.

I actually let myself believe this was becoming something real. The way he looked at me. The way he held me. The nights he stayed until I fell asleep.

I thought maybe he was starting to feel it too.

But he’s not.

He’s possessive when it suits him. Sweet when he forgets not to be. Careful with my body and completely careless with my heart.

I close my eyes and let out a shaky breath.

Whatever this is, it is clearly not going anywhere.

32

LEVI

Isit in Ms. Grover’s office, trying not to look as uncomfortable as I feel. I’ve been shot three times—twice in the shoulder and a graze in Vegas. This is worse.

Ms. Grover folds her hands on the desk and stares at me over the top of her glasses like I’m a problem she’s already tired of dealing with.

Theo’s been buzzing nonstop about the Spring Dance, practically begging Carmen to go. Which means I have to be there too. Which means I need to get back into the school’s good books. Last time I showed up to one of these things, it didn’t exactly go smoothly.

“Thank you for finally making it in,” Ms. Grover says.

“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “I wanted to apologize for the bake sale mix-up.”