Page 77 of Breaking the Habit

“Nothing.” But her response was half empty, as if her true meaning had floated off into space.

“You’re acting weird.”

She shrugged, picking at his comforter now, gaze snagged on something that wasn’t there. “I’m trying to be logical.”

“Logical?” Levi sat on the bed next to her, but with a few inches between them. He pushed at her knee. “Can you logically explain what’s going on in your head?”

“Levi, when I got here, there were four photographers sitting outside your apartment building,” she said in a burst, as if the words had been waiting to tumble out. “Almost every day when I go to the gym, photographers are waiting for you. They’ve already followed you to my studio. It’s probably only a matter of time before they follow you to my house. Until my name gets dragged into something.”

“But—" Levi began.

“And the women. Oh my lord. The women.” Riley laughed bitterly. “I’ve been asked no less than ten times if you’re single. And mind you, these are random women who don’t know me. They see me anywherenearyou, and I become the info desk.”

“What do you tell them?” Levi asked, his stomach slowly forming an iron fist.

“I tell them I don’t know,” she said. “Because Idon’tknow. And the fact that they’re asking me kind of proves the answer I should give them, because they look at me and automatically assume ‘she’s not with him,’ which is kind of…upsetting.”

“Riley—” Levi started.

“I got lost in an internet hole today, Levi,” Riley said, covering her face with her hands. “And I’m questioning everything, and I hate that you’re famous and for God’s sake, why do you go out and get into so much trouble?”

Her words pulsed in the air between them as he rested his elbows on his knees.

Here it was.

The heart of it all.

Levi worked his jaw back and forth, contemplating his response. Laying it all out there seemed like too much. But then again…anything less would continue the confusion.

“Maybe I’m overstepping by asking,” Riley said, once the silence had grown deafening between them. He wasn’t good at talking about this shit. “I don’t know. I just…I don’t understand you. But I really, really like you, Levi. I never wanted to say that to you. I swear to God. I’m crazy about you, and that’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to admit.”

Her vulnerability made him twist back to look at her. Emotion creased her face, and all he could hear was “crazy about you.”

“Well, this got heavy pretty fast,” he cracked.

She sighed, flopping back on the bed, but didn’t say anything more. He rubbed a thumb over his knuckles as he considered how much to divulge. But it only took a few more seconds to decide.

He needed to lay it all out there. As much as possible, at least.

Otherwise, he’d lose her. That much was clear.

The silence practically hummed between them. Levi interlaced his fingers, clutching his knuckles.

“I drink,” he said, “so that I can feel like a normal twenty-something.”

“I don’t understand. Youarea normal twenty-something.”

He shook his head, staring at the carpet. “I’m not. I’ve been raising Gage by myself since I was twenty.” He paused, swallowing a knot in his throat. She sat up suddenly. He could feel her questions sizzling unspoken inside of her, so he went on. “Like, single-dad style. Except I’m not his dad. I’m his older brother.” He paused, drawing a labored breath. “Our parents died in a car crash when I was twenty and Gage was ten.” Levi frowned down at his fists, rubbing his knuckles together. “It’s not been easy for us. For me.”

Riley crumpled at his side, pressing her forehead to his bicep. “Levi.”

“I used to get into alotof trouble,” he said, more words bubbling up inside of him. “I mean…constant. But I was just so sad. Like, I had lost the two best parents anyone could have dreamt of. Plus, suddenly I was forced to be this responsible adult. I mean, I went from shotgunning shitty beer on the daily to being the sole caretaker for my brother in twenty-four hours.” He hefted, fisting the front of his hair.

Riley shook her head, wrapping her arms around him. “I’m sorry, Levi. I shouldn’t have—”

“No. You should know.” He shrugged. “I mean, why not? I’m a fuckup, but at least there’s a reason.”

“You’re not a fuckup.”

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