Page 99 of Puck My Stepbrother
Levi savored another bite of his steak. His nonchalant attitude didn’t surprise me. I wished I knew how to adopt that mentality for myself.
“You know how I got as far as I have in life?” he asked.
“Being seriously hard-headed?”
He laughed. “Close. I don’t care what other people think. It doesn’t matter.”
“But what other people think can still have influence.”
He shook his head. “I’m Levi Dunn. That’s all they need to know about me. Anytime you have doubts, just remind yourself that you’re Quinn Standish.”
My boyfriend’s words resonated with me and, all at once, everything made sense. I was the guy who’d survived Levi Dunn as a kid only to fall in love with him. The guy practically worshipped the ground I walked on. What the rest of the world thought of me didn’t matter. In fact, I’d cared about that crap for way too long.
Sure, they’d rag on our family situation, but I couldn’t control that. I also understood that I couldn’t control who I fell in love with.
I didn’t have to tell Levi that I understood his point. He already knew.
When the check came, Levi snapped it up.
“I’ve got this,” he said.
“Are you serious? I know I don’t have a lot of money, but?—”
He waved me off like he wouldn’t have it any other way.
“This is how it’s going to be once I’m a rich and famous hockey player,” he said.
After dinner, we strolled hand-in-hand through the theater district. I’d stopped glancing over my shoulder to see if anyone was looking at us funny. It didn’t matter anymore, remember? I was Quinn Standish, and he was Levi Dunn. We brought out thebest in each other, we were meant to be together, and we had no need to feel ashamed.
“So what’s next?” I asked. “You told me you wanted to play the rest of our special evening by ear?”
“That’s right. But what’s next is coming up right now.”
He pointed straight up at the Shea’s Buffalo marquee that read: HAMILTON.
“Yeah, so?” I asked.
“I’ve always wanted to see that play.”
“What, you? Seriously?”
“Haven’t I done enough to show you there’s more to me than you ever would’ve thought?”
“Good point.”
“So why don’t we go see that?”
“What, like someday?”
“No, I mean like right now.”
“But, Levi, we don’t have tickets.”
“Actually, we do. Come on.”
He all but dragged me to the theater door. Once inside, he approached a ticket-taker with his phone. The ticket-taker pointed us in the direction of our seats.
“Trust me,” Levi said, “these seats are really good. Come on.”
