Chapter 5
Chapter Five
LEVI
“Hey, Kami,” I answer, confused since we’re meeting up at King’s Wolf in thirty minutes. “What’s up?”
“Hey, Levi, it’s Cameron.” Kami’s boyfriend sounds exasperated. Before either one of us can say anything else, a loud voice echoes in the background.
“Cam, I need you to pass me my lipstick, please.”
Cameron lets out a barely audible, annoyed huff of breath, but Kami doesn’t miss it.
“Am I annoying you, Kahlo?”
I let out a choked laugh. “Rookie move, dude.”
Cameron attempts to cover the phone, but I can still catch a decent number of words. Then, a small back-and-forth begins between the couple.
Deciding not to hang up, I put my phone on speaker, entertained by what I catch.
“Shit. No, of course not. I love you, baby. You’re beautiful. Don’t make fun of my tight shirts, guys can pull them off too! If I recall correctly, you weren’t complaining last night.”
A loud laugh leaves me at those last words.
I’m still not sure why they called, but I know they don’t argue often.
They’re a surprisingly stable couple, considering everything they went through to get to where they are now.
If someone had asked me a couple of months ago what I thought the outcome of these two was going to be, I would’ve said something along the lines of nothing short of a fucking disaster.
Now, these types of conversations are practically foreplay for them.
I put on my crewneck long-sleeved shirt, and realize that the line has gone silent.
They can’t keep it in their pants for a minute. Grabbing the phone, I raise my voice.
“Cameron, Kamila, I’m still here!”
There’s some shuffling, and Kami’s voice filters through the small speaker. “Sorry, Levi.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I’m definitely not,” Cam says from what sounds like across the room.
“Shush. I called to say we’ll be a few minutes late.”
All of that for a simple sentence that she could’ve texted me.
“More than a couple of minutes!” Cam yells, and I can hear the douchey smile in his voice.
“I will wipe this lipstick off if you don’t let me talk, Kahlo.”
Silence follows, and I decide to ignore that last comment. Kami and Cam go at it like rabbits, as we unfortunately learned last semester. I sometimes wonder if we know too much about each other’s personal lives, which concerns me.
Clearing my throat, I respond to what she’d said before. “That’s fine. Em too?”
“Yeah, we’ll all be at King’s Wolf in an hour.”
“No problem, I’ll see you then.”
“Sounds goo—” A happy, surprised screech comes out of Kamila, and thank fuck my phone is on speaker because that would’ve blown my eardrums if I had answered while wearing headphones.
“Kami’s no longer available,” her boyfriend says.
“Cameron, put me down now!” More screeching comes from my best friend.
Cam laughs diabolically. “We’ll see you in an hour.” And he hangs up.
Shaking my head, I check the time. Eight thirty p.m. It’s extremely early for a Friday night out in town, and I’m already dressed and groomed.
Why not watch some TV? The last time I did was with Stevie a couple of days ago, when she got surprisingly more comfortable around me.
We managed to finish two more episodes of Gilmore Girls before calling it a night.
We sat in comfortable silence, making comments here and there about the dramatic characters.
Although I was taken off guard by how much she told me about her condition, I answered with the first thing that came to mind, which was a simple “thank you.” She seemed to like that response.
I can only imagine what other people have said about her story in the past, and she looked so tired that I wanted to give the poor woman a moment to rest. Of course, I did my own research on the subject—
Walking into the living room, I pause when I see Gilmore Girls playing and Stevie eating a bowl of popcorn in what seems to be her workout clothes.
It’s one of the few times I’ve seen her in semi-tight clothing since she usually sticks to oversized sweaters and jeans.
My eyes roam the side of her figure, seeing toned long legs, her warm fair skin peeking out from under her workout shirt…
Nope. Not a good idea.
Her head whips to me, and a smile appears. She sticks the bowl out. “Want to join?”
Her voice is nothing but open and inviting, like usual. Nodding, I grab a handful of cheesy popcorn, careful not to get any on my shirt.
After a moment, she speaks up. “Are you going out?”
I turn to face her and see her head tilted to the side, waiting for a response.
“Yeah, I’m headed out with a couple of friends.”
Stevie nods. “Cool. That sounds fun.” She smiles, but her eyes do the opposite.
This doesn’t feel like the Stevie from a couple of days ago. Then again, she’s never mentioned one friend she might have from Driscoll—only someone named Jenny who lives in Georgia. I’m not saying the girl doesn’t have any friends, but by the looks of it, maybe not many to hang out with.
Shit, should I invite her? Kami, Em, and even Jake invite random people to tag along all the time, so why shouldn’t I? But Stevie’s in her workout clothes, maybe she’s too tired to go out.
When I look back over, she’s no longer staring at the TV, but now at the bowl on her lap with a frown on her face while she picks at the kernels.
Why is she so sad?
Fuck it. It doesn’t matter why.
“Do you want to join us?”
That seems to knock her out of whatever trance she was in. Her green eyes meet mine, and she shrugs. “Crap, you don’t have to invite me because you feel obligated to, Levi.”
“That’s Mr. Hotshot to you, and it’s not a pity invite.” Stevie shakes her head and bites her lip. “I think my friends are going to like you. A slight warning, though, they’re a little crazy.”
She’s silent for a beat and then another. Looking down at her clothes, she scrunches up her nose. “If that’s the case, I need to shower and change.”
Satisfied with her answer, I say, “You have time. We don’t have to leave for another forty minutes.”
“Then I’ll head to the bathroom now.” As she stands, her eyes widen. “Shit, I have no idea what to wear. What do your friends usually wear? Probably dresses and heels. Oh, I cannot wear heels, nope, my feet will hurt in seconds. And oh God, what kind of shirt do I put on—”
“Stevie.” I cut her off.
She stops her pacing. “I was blabbing again, wasn’t I?” Her hands cover her face. “Save yourself the humiliation and go without me.”
Taking a couple of steps toward the dramatic woman in front of me, I gently wrap my hands around her forearms and lower them. “Why don’t you go shower, and I’ll help you pick out an outfit?”
Her eyebrows knit together. “You promise to stay out of my underwear drawer?”
That makes me chuckle. “Yes, I promise.”
She tilts her head, and I mimic the action like a dog would. Stevie pushes me away while I grin. “All right, all right. I’ll see you in a few.” Stevie reaches the bathroom door and does one final turn. “I don’t own any dresses.”
Shooing her away, I reassure her of my capabilities. “I’ll find something. Go shower.”
She nods and finally closes the door. Taking a deep breath, I reach her room, which has bohemian-style decorations everywhere.
Very Stevie of her. I open her closet door, and if I had to take a wild guess, Stevie’s never been to King’s Wolf before, which is odd since she’s twenty-one and is almost a senior.
Then again, she doesn’t seem like the partying type, and if I had any doubts about that before, her weird reaction from a couple of moments ago confirmed it.
Most of the clothes in the closet consist of her daily wear.
Cardigans, jeans, loose tops, and patterned sweaters.
All resembling some sort of seventies clothing style.
It takes me ten minutes to find something suitable for the bar.
I’ve been going to college bars for years, have two girl best friends, and grew up with two women.
All four of them have their unique sense of style, making it easier to identify and help me with Stevie’s.
I just have to ask myself, “What the fuck would Kami and Em do?”
Once I’m done, I head toward the couch and wait for Stevie in the living room.
I’m scrolling on my phone when she practically sprints out of the shower in a towel, making me do a double take.
She shuts the door loudly, and I wait for her reaction to my choice.
There’s shuffling in the room, but no other sounds.
The clock hits nine twenty, and I start tapping my foot.
She probably hated the outfit or panicked and no longer wants to go out with us.
As nine twenty-five hits, around the time I want to leave, since we’re still five long blocks away from the bar, Stevie steps out of her room.
Her eyes remain on the floor as her long frame comes into view.
She’s wearing what I laid out for her, and it looks as good as I thought it would. Better, even.
“Stop staring at me. You’re making me second-guess the outfit.”
Stevie finally meets my gaze, and I smile. “You look great.”
She grins uncomfortably. “Are you sure the shirt isn’t too tight? It’s something I use for in-house stuff only. Not that I don’t like it, I’m just not sure if it’s too revealing. Not that that’s bad either—”
“It looks good,” I interrupt. “Change if you want to, although I highly recommend you don’t. I love the band as well.”
The outfit I chose is simple: the tightest jeans I could find in her closet, which, of course, were flared.
A black Beatles T-shirt, which is, yes, tight, allowing her slim figure and curves to be seen, but doesn’t show any skin other than her arms and neck.
I threw a random belt along with some boots she uses often, and she decided to keep her hair in a braid and put on some very light makeup.
Nothing more than mascara and lip gloss.
She looks casual and nice enough for a college bar.
Stevie lifts her chin a little higher, grabs her purse off the coat rack along with her lightest baggy jacket, and goes over to the door. “Are you coming or not, Hotshot?”