Fangirl

There was just too much else going on. Wren. Levi. Baz. Simon. Her dad … Actually, Cath wasn’t as worried about her dad as she used to be. That was one nice thing about Wren going home every weekend. On the weekends that Wren was stuck at home, she was so bored, she practically live-blogged the whole thing for Cath, sending constant texts and emails. “dad is making me watch a lewis & clark documentary. it’s like he’s DRIVING me to drink.” Wren didn’t even know about Cath’s Fiction-Writing assignment.

Cath had considered telling Professor Piper—again—that she wasn’t cut out for fiction-writing, that she was practically fiction-phobic. But once Cath was here, looking up at Professor Piper’s hopeful, confident face …

She could never get it out. She’d rather endure these excruciating checkups than tell the truth—that she only ever thought about her project when she was sitting in this room.

“That’s wonderful,” the professor said, leaning forward off her desk to pat Cath’s arm, smiling just the way Cath wanted her to. “I’m so relieved. I thought I was going to have to give you another ‘blood, toil, tears, and sweat’ speech—and I didn’t know if I had one in me.”

Cath smiled. And thought about what a repugnant creature she was.

“So, tell me about it,” the professor said. “May I read what you have so far?”

Cath shook her head too quickly, then kept shaking her head at a more normal pace. “No, I mean, not yet. I just … not yet.”

“Fair enough.” Professor Piper looked suspicious. (Or maybe Cath was just paranoid.) “Can you tell me what you’re writing about?”

“Yeah,” Cath said. “Of course. I’m writing about…” She imagined a big wheel spi

Professor Piper smiled. Like she knew Cath was lying, but still really wanted her to pull this off.

“My mom,” Cath said. And swallowed.

“Your mom,” the professor repeated.

“Yeah. I mean … I’m starting there.”

The professor’s face turned almost playful. “Everyone does.”

*   *   *

“The aerie,” Cath said, “that’s what this is.”

Levi was sitting against his headboard, and Cath was in his lap, her knees around his hips. She’d spent a lot of time in his lap lately. She liked to be on top, to feel like she could move away if she wanted to. (She almost never wanted to.) She also spent a lot of time deliberately not thinking about anything else that might be happening in his lap; his lap was abstract territory, as far as Cath was concerned. Unfixed. Unmapped. If she thought about Levi’s lap in concrete terms, she ended up crawling off the bed and curling up by herself on the love seat.

“What’s an aerie?” he asked.

“An eagle’s nest.”

“Oh.” He nodded. “Right.” He ran a hand up through his hair. Cath followed with her own hand, feeling his hair slip silkily through her fingers. He smiled at her like she was someone who’d just ordered a peppermint latte.

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

He nodded and kissed her nose. “Of course.” When he smiled again, only his mouth moved.

“What’s wrong?” Cath started to move off his lap, but he caught her.

“Nothing. Nothing important, I just—” He closed his eyes, like he had a headache. “—I got a test back today. It wasn’t good, even for me.”

“Oh. Did you study for it?”

“Clearly not enough.”

Cath wasn’t sure how much Levi studied. He never cracked a book—but he went everywhere with earbuds. He was always listening to a lecture when she came down to his truck. He always pulled them out when she climbed in.

Cath thought back to the way he used to study with Reagan, flash cards spread all over the room, asking question after question.…

“It’s because of me, isn’t it?”

“No.” He shook his head.

“Indirectly,” she said. “You’re not studying with anyone else.”

“Cather. Look at me. I’ve never been this happy in my life.”

“You don’t seem happy.”

“I didn’t mean right this minute.” He smiled; it was tired, but genuine. Cath wanted to kiss his little pink mouth immobile.

“You need to study,” she said, punching his chest.

“Okay.”

“With Reagan. With all those girls you exploit.”

“Right.”

“With me, if you want. I could help you study.”

He reached up to her ponytail and started tugging out the rubber band. She let her head fall back.

“You have enough homework,” he said. “And thousands of Simon Snow fans hanging on your every word.”

Cath looked up at the cracks in the plaster ceiling while he worked the hair tie free. “If it meant being here, in the aerie, with you,” she said, “instead of you being somewhere else with someone else, I would gladly make the sacrifice.”

He pulled her hair forward; it fell just past her shoulders. “I can’t decide if you love me,” he said, “or this room.”

“Both,” Cath said, then thought through his choice of words and blushed.

He smiled, like he’d tricked her. “Okay,” he said, playing with her hair. “I’ll study more.” He lifted his legs up and bounced her forward. “Take off your glasses.”

“Why? I thought you liked my glasses.”

“I love your glasses. I especially love the moment when you take them off.”

“Do you need to study tonight?”

“Nope. I just bombed a test. I got nothing to study for.” He bounced her on his legs again.

She rolled her eyes and took off her glasses.

Levi gri

She opened them as wide as she could.

“I can see them,” he said. “But I can’t decide what color they are. What does it say on your driver’s license?”

“Blue.”

“They’re not blue.”

“They are. On the outside.”

“And brown in the middle,” he said. “And gray on the edge and green in between.”

Cath shrugged and looked down at his neck. There was a mole just below his ear, and another one at the bottom of his throat. He was paler now than when she’d first met him; he’d seemed so tan that day, like a little kid who’d been playing outside all summer.

“What are you doing this summer?” she asked.

“Working on the ranch.”

“Will I see you?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“We’ll make it work.” He touched her cheek.

“Not like this…”

Levi looked around the room and took her face in his hands. “Not like this,” he conceded.

Cath nodded and bent to kiss the spot under his ear. “You’re sure you don’t need to study?”

“Do you?”

“No,” she said. “It’s Friday.”

Levi had just shaved, so his jaw and neck were something extra. Soft plus minty. She ran a hand down the front of his fla

Levi inhaled.

She found the next button.

When she’d finished with the third, he pulled away from her and yanked the shirt up over his head. The T-shirt came next. Cath looked down at his chest like she’d never seen anything like it before. Like she’d never been to a public swimming pool.

“You look thi

He laughed. “Is that a compliment?”

“It’s a … I didn’t expect you to look so strong.”

He tried to kiss her, but she leaned back—she wasn’t ready to look away. Levi wasn’t noticeably muscular. Not like Jandro. Not even like Abel. But he was firm and nicely shaped, muscles curving around his shoulders, over his arms, across his chest.

Cath wanted to go back and rewrite every scene she’d ever written about Baz or Simon’s chests. She’d written them flat and sharp and hard. Levi was all soft motion and breath, curves and warm hollows. Levi’s chest was a living thing.

“You’re beautiful,” she said.

“That’s you.”