He scoffs. “Out of everything that just happened, that’s what you’re thinking about?”
I scrunch up my nose at him. If I counted the inches between our faces (which I’m not doing at all), the number would be five. “Bethany, Barbie, Bailey, Bianca, Bonita… What’s next?”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it. This is very serious business, you know.”
“Apparently.”
Levi’s phone rings (it’s a song I recognize but can’t quite place), and he pulls it out of his pocket, swiping right.
“Hey, Mom,” he says, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “Yeah, I’m at the office.” A pause. “Sure I can. Mind if I bring a friend?” Another pause. (I’m pretty sure I’m the friend.) “I might have a job for you, too, if you can spare the time. I’ll have Bee talk to you about it.” He laughs. “Yeah, that’s the friend. You’ll love her, Mom.” Levi twists at the waist and pats my knee. I jerk.
“Ready?” he mouths to me.
“Where are we going?” I whisper.
“My mom needs eggs,” he whispers back. “Yeah, Mom, I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Make sure you have enough for us. Okay, bye.”
I laugh. “What was that?”
“My mom needs eggs because she’s baking cookies and I think you should come with me.”
Just like that, huh? But it makes me smile. If he wants me to join him, I am not going to say no. “Your mom is baking cookies at…” I check my phone. “Eight o’clock?”
He nods, heading into the hall. The office is terribly empty compared to the last few hours. Levi turns off the lights and locks up. “My mom needed something to help her cope, after the divorce. We quickly found that she gets sad later in the evenings, so one night, about a year ago, she tried baking a cake. It became a sort of calming ritual, except she changed it to cookies because those are easier. It usually works, although she needs to listen to copious amounts of Paula Abdul for it to work perfectly.”
“Your mom sounds awesome.” I step up to my car. “I’ll follow you, okay?”
“I’m just up the street, remember?” He nods toward the street. “We can drive together.”
I don’t hesitate. (Inside, I’m shrieking.) “Sure.”
Levi unlocks his car. As soon as we get in and the doors are shut, his phone goes off again, the same song as before. He screens the call (I see the word “Dad” pop up, even though I’m 100% not looking) and turns it off, shoving it back in his pocket. “Sorry,” he says. “My phone doesn’t normally ring this much in the evening.”
“It’s fine. I don’t mind if you take the call.”
“I don’t want to,” he says between his teeth. He’s trying to smile, but it looks like a grimace.
“What song was that?” I ask, instead of all the questions I want to ask about his dad.
He backs out onto the road. “My ringtone?”
I nod.
“‘Guillotine’, Jon Bellion.”
“Oh! I knew I’d heard it before.”
He squints at me suspiciously. “I was starting to worry about you.”
“Excuse you!” I retort, rolling my eyes. “I don’t live under a rock, okay?”
He glances at me, mouth twisted like he’s trying not to laugh. “Fine, fine. How about Florence + the Machine?”
I nod.
“Walk the Moon?”
I nod again.
“St. Lucia?”
“Yes, Levi.”
“But here’s the real question: Do you know Bon Iver?”
I groan, my shoulders sinking. I’ve had this argument with other Bon Iver fans before, and it’s not pretty. It never ends in my favor, either. “Yes, but I don’t…really…like them.”
“Bee, I don’t think we can be friends anymore. Justin Vernon is my favorite. Ever.” He feigns a wounded expression.
“Sorry,” I say, cringing. “You can show me some songs if you think you can win me over, but my best friend has been trying to get me to like them for forever…”
“I like your best friend already. What’s her name?”
“Gretchen.”
“Gretchen can be my friend.”
I laugh. “She’d love you.”
Levi grins at me and parks in front of Major Market. He makes a quick job of this shopping trip, grabbing two dozen eggs and heading to the front. My short legs can barely keep up with his long ones.
Penis jokes, Gretchen’s ever-present spirit whispers into my ear, as is common for best friend spirits to do. Ugh, no, NOT NOW, I reprimand her as I wait for the cashier to ring us up. Grabbing the eggs at the end of the line, I ask, “What about my favorite bands? Have you heard A Silent Film, San Fermin, or Blindside?”
“Love the first two, but I’ve never heard Blindside.”
“Well, then. You’re going to hear them tonight.”
“Oh, it’s on, Bridget.”
“WRONG!” I shout, yanking open his car door. I love the sound of his laugh as it follows me. I buckle into my seat and hold the eggs on my lap. “Speaking of names—”
Levi turns to me with hope in his eyes.
“I’m not going to tell you. Chill—”
He taps the side of my head with one finger. “Beeeeee,” he pleads in a sing-song voice.
“Shh, Levi!” I swat his hand away. “I was going to ask what you named your car, since you took it upon yourself to name mine.”
He drives through a yellow light to get out of the parking lot, then glances at me with a wary smile. “I’ve never actually named my car.”
“Oooohh!” I practically jump in my seat. “I nominate myself to do the honors!”
He chuckles, indicating that he understands: I’ve won this war already, and there’s no use arguing. “Dear God, what have I gotten myself into?”
I give him a taste of his own medicine: a smirk I hope shoots his nerves right in the heart. “Well, he’s dark green, but I feel like calling him Forest would be way too obvious.”
Levi laughs again, like he can’t help it. His sharp features are lit up by street lights and signs on buildings and the red lights of the car in front of us. “Bee—”
I shush him vigorously and keep going. “He’s super soft, like velvet.” I pat the leather seats. “Older, but taken care of. Refined.”
“My car is refined.” He smirks, and I laugh because it does sound rather ridiculous. “Okay then.”
“So,” I announce, “his name is Maximillian. Obviously.”
Levi laughs, so hard and so suddenly that he presses a hand to his stomach. “Okay, okay,” he concedes, turning onto his street, breathing hard as he tries to control his laughter. “Maximillian it is. Can I at least call him Max, if I need a break from the mouthful?”
“Well, duh. Any self-respecting Maximillian needs the nickname Max. It is the Way of Things.”
His smile never breaks, and I am happy. I adore that smile.
Levi’s house is small.
I guess I didn’t notice this factor the last two times I saw it, but now it’s obvious. Unlike the last time I was here, lights illuminate the windows, contrasting the night. I like it immediately, with its shutters and gables and white siding. It looks inviting and warm, and I’m bombarded with an image, one I’ll never, ever be able to forget: Levi and me, sharing a perfect kiss on the patio, my hands on his shoulders as he hooks his arm around my waist and dips me backward.
I stop in my tracks. I just thought about me and Levi kissing. The real Levi, the one not kissing me, is staring at me from the patio, waving me to him.
I’m frozen.
“Come on, Bee!” he calls out.
That’s what does it: His voice (and his hair) and his welcoming smile as he sweeps open the door. I pick up my pace, entering his hom
e. A delicious smell hits me, like oranges and cookie batter and summer. It also smells like Levi. (But let’s pretend I never noticed, for the sake of my sanity.)
The front room consists of a brown leather couch and a TV mounted on the wall, as well as a bookshelf stashed with self-help, cooking, and gardening books. Around the corner I hear Paula Abdul singing away, her voice echoing in the small space. I slip off my shoes and place them beside Levi’s, put my purse by the door, and follow him inside.
Levi’s mom stands at the kitchen sink, her back to us. She’s singing with Paula, voice rising as the song’s emotions heighten. Levi clears his throat loudly, making her jump and turn, glasses askew on her face, bubbles coating her hands.
“Levi, dear.” She pauses the music by touching her elbow to the pause button on the iPad. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“I wonder why,” he teases, letting her kiss his cheek. “Mom, this is…” He shrugs, pauses, and shrugs again. “I don’t know. I don’t know her name. She won’t tell me.”
I gape at him, but it quickly turns to a smile. “Oh, so you’re trying a different tactic now? The guilt trip?”
Levi’s response is to stick his tongue out at me. His mom laughs, reaching for me. Her hug is warm, her hands still soapy. She holds them away from my body so as not to get suds on my hair. “That was his favorite as a little boy, the guilt trip. He’s quite good at it actually. This young man’s charm is unreal.”
I shake my head, pretending to be exasperated. “My name is Bee. Nice to meet you.”
Her smile is just like Levi’s. “Bee, I’m Suzie. You’re welcome in my house any day.”
“This nameless creature,” Levi interrupts, “has been helping out at TCP for a couple of weeks.”
“It’s only been a few days,” I protest, but Levi’s words strike me. It feels like I’ve been a part of this for a lot longer. Like I’ve always belonged here. (I think I like this.)
“Welcome to the Project, Bee!” Suzie waves her hands in the air. “You want to stay for cookies? They’ll be done in about twenty minutes.”
“I’d love to.”
She claps. “Goodie! Levi, get our guest comfortable, maybe with some coffee or tea or juice or something, and I’ll bring the cookies to you.”
Levi salutes his mom. “Thanks, you’re the best, love you, all that mushy stuff.”
“You know you love it, Levi Brenton Orville.”
“Have fun with Paula,” he says over his shoulder, ushering me toward the back of the house. There’s a sitting room and a small hallway that leads to the bedrooms. Levi opens one of the two doors in the hall and disappears inside.
I hadn’t thought about what his room looks like, but when I see it, I know I wouldn’t have expected this. It’s nearly bare, with white walls and navy bedding and books that evenly line the baseboards of one wall. The sliding doors to the closet are closed. I stare for a second too long into the full-length mirror at my frizzy hair and reddened face. I’ve been thinking about him too long, obviously.
“What?” he asks, stirring me from my trance. “Is something wrong?”
“No, no.” I shrug. “Just…thinking.” I hope he can’t see the lie.
He reaches into his closet and pulls out an iPod and headphones. “We’re going to need these,” he says.
Once we’re in the sitting room at the back of the house, Levi stands in front of me, feet planted, unraveling the ear buds. “You’re going to listen to ‘Michicant’. I’ll be disappointed, severely, if you don’t like this song.”
I sit down on the couch. “Are you threatening me?”
“Yeah, with a life without cookies.”
“Ah!” I gasp.
His smirk is very satisfied. (I think about kissing him again.) “Here, have these.”
The song that plays into my left ear (Levi has the right ear bud) is…not exactly what I expected, but it’s not my favorite, either. I can’t see myself listening to this on a daily basis, let alone it becoming my favorite song. But I sit through the whole thing, shoulder to shoulder with Levi. His eyes are closed, and he looks so peaceful I almost don’t say anything when the song is over.
He sits up and takes the bud out of my ear. “Well?”
I smile sheepishly, shrugging my shoulders. “Well.” I clear my throat. “I really want a cookie.”
He rolls his eyes.
“But it wasn’t…terrible?”
“That’s all you’ve got?” He sighs loudly and heavily. “I suppose that’s all I can ask of you.”
“I didn’t love it, but it didn’t make me cringe like the last song I heard by them.”
“Which was?”
“I can’t remember.”
“Hmm.” His humming noise is full of disbelief.
“Here,” I say, pulling out my phone. I find my favorite Blindside song and hook up the ear buds. “You get both ears, and you have to listen to the whole thing.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says, laughing.
I flick his arm, then immediately pale. I touched him. On my own. Without thinking about it. Sitting back on the couch, I try to calm myself. It was just a flick, Bee. Chill. And yet, all I can hear is Gretchen’s voice, buzzing inside my brain, saying, You’re a goner, Bee. So far gone.
Mortified, I focus on the sound of Suzie and Paula’s duet with enough energy to power New York City.
When the song finishes, Levi hands me my phone, movements lethargic. His eyes are sort of glazed over. “That…was beautiful.”
“I told you.”
“But I feel incredibly slighted. Or, just…not good at this. Now I have to show you a song you’ll really love.” He wraps his headphones as he studies me. “I must think about this in depth.”
“We’ve got all the time in the world,” I say, wanting this to be true.
“That’s a lovely thought.” He grimaces. “Speaking of time, I should probably be going over flier layouts right now, but here I am, listening to music and eating cookies.”
“Well, you’re not eating cookies yet, and remember: Now you have me to help you.”
“I’m glad you want to help, but…be honest…you’re here because you feel bad for me.”
“Nope. What’s there to feel bad for? I’m here because I love a good happily ever after story.” (It’s not completely a lie.)
He leans a little closer to me, our shoulders brushing. “Then, thanks. I think I might be a little lost without you.”
Can’t breathe can’t breathe can’t breathe can’t breathe— “You could have done it.”
He shakes his head vigorously. “I wasn’t thinking straight today. I almost made a total idiot of myself.”
“You’re not an idiot,” I whisper. “Not even close.”
Gretchen is right, as usual: I am a goner.
“Do you want milk, my dears?” Suzie asks, interrupting us. She peeks her head around the corner.
“That’d be nice,” I say, but my eyes are still on Levi, and his eyes are on me, and poor Suzie is ignored.
Suzie is still there a few seconds later when she asks, “And you, Levi?”
“Oh.” He turns to his mom. “Definitely—wait, what was your question?”
Suzie smirks, her mouth looking incredibly like Levi’s, and repeats herself.
“Yes,” he decides. “I want milk.”
I haven’t moved when he turns back to me, and his expression is amused. “Sometimes I tune her out.”
“Actually,” Suzie interrupts again, stepping into the room with a tray of cookies, which she sets on the coffee table. “He’s usually such a good listener. I wonder why he’s so spacey tonight.”
“Mom.” He grabs a cookie and his glass of milk, giving Suzie a sideways glance.
“Goodness, Levi, you
should get a girlfriend,” she continues. (Her words cause me to choke on a chocolate chip.) “I’d love to do this more often, you know. It’s nice to have another girl in the house.”
She’s staring at him pointedly.
“Mom,” he says again, at a loss. His hair is ruffled, his eyes alarmed.
“Yes, dear?”
He shakes his head and changes the subject. “Do you…want to help plan a wedding?”
Wrong question.
“Are you getting married?!” Suzie shrieks. “Grandchildren, here I come!”
“MOM.” Levi has to laugh at this, despite the pink that flushes his cheeks. “Please. Calm down. We’re funding a wedding and part of the deal is that we have to help them set up.”
“Now that’s exciting.” Suzie settles deep into the plush armchair across from us. “When is it?”
“It’s….the same day as the fundraiser. Bee—” he gestures at me “—stepped in and took charge like a boss, but we still need help. Is there anything you’d like to do that will make things easier? I’ll email you budget details later.”
“Hmm. Not as exciting as grandchildren, but I’m still happy to help.” She winks at me, adjusts her glasses, and offers, “I can cook.”
“I’ll ask what they want at the reception. I’m getting the final details tomorrow.”
“How many people?”
Levi thinks for a second. “Around fifty, I believe. Mostly their extended family from Prague, but some local friends as well.”
“Oh, Levi! I could bake some traditional Czech pastries!” she exclaims, rather adorably.
Levi grins. “We’ll see. Anything else you can do? Anyone you know?”
“I’ll think it over. But, Bee, if you need anything at all, you just ask me, okay?”
I nod fervently. I love this woman so much already, despite how badly I’m still blushing at what she said before. (So he doesn’t have a girlfriend.) “Absolutely.”
“Good, good.” Suzie leans forward, eyes suddenly alight. “Levi, I have an idea!” Standing, she hurriedly puts on her shoes and rushes toward the sliding glass door to my right. “Come on!” she gasps.
“Your mom’s amazing,” I whisper to Levi as we follow.
The Color Project Page 11