Page 43 of Between Never and Forever
I watch as he cuts another perfectly bite-sized piece of boring vegetable omelet with his knife and fork. He puts the fork in his mouth, chews approximately twenty-four times before swallowing, then wipes his mouth gently with his napkin and places it back on his lap.
I snort. So polite. So dainty. Such a proper, well-mannered weenie.
A lot might have changed, but not everything, and that makes my cheeks warm and my heart twist up in my chest. I make sure my next forkful of chocolate chip pancake is extra big before I speak to him again, and from the way his lips twitch, fighting a smile, I’m pretty sure he’s thinking the same thing I am.
“Architectural engineering sounds cool,” I say. “You wanna do what? Build houses?”
“Yeah, maybe.” He shrugs with a grin, then his eyes grow wide with excitement. “But big houses. Mansions in Hollywood for celebrities, or giant beachfront summer houses in the Hamptons for those rich bankers and politicians and whoever else lives up there. Grand, sprawling art you can live in.”
My smile matches his, his energy and excitement fueling mine. I can see him practically buzzing with it. These plans, these dreams. He’s talking about building houses the way I talk about writing songs. It’s not just a future career. It’s a futurelife. One he can’t wait to begin.
“When I get famous—when I can actually afford your grand, sprawling art—you gonna build me a house?” I nudge his shoe, then shove another bite of pancake into my mouth.
“I’ll build you one anyway,” he says, and his eyes lock with mine. His smile softens. “Something special, with a recording studio for you to make music, and a closet for your skateboards, and a pool so you never have to go to the beach. A chef’s kitchen for making gourmet chocolate chip pancakes. Big windows so you get all the natural light. Maybe even a room with a pole so you can practice if you want.”
The last sentence is said playfully, and I roll my eyes with a shaky laugh.
“I’ll design every inch of it just for you, Sav,” he says, voice low and serious. “Only for you.”
My cheeks heat as he looks me over, and I pull my lower lip between my teeth. His eyes caress my face, his soft smile is so inviting that I can almost imagine his lips on mine again. My heart is racing, my fingers trembling. I don’t even know why I’m so emotional, except maybe the idea of a house built just for me, a real-life actualhomeof my own, means more than I let myself realize. And maybe the fact that he still knows me that well shocks me in the best way.
I swallow, lick my lips and force myself to speak. It’s a rasped, shaky whisper.
“And you’re going to be my neighbor?”
He waits, brown eyes boring into mine, lips twitching ever-so slightly. I can see his pulse thrumming in his neck. He taps his finger slowly on the table.
“Maybe. Or maybe I’ll live there with you.”
My heart squeezes in my chest, so tight that my lips part on a small gasp. God. I didn’t know I wanted that until right now.
A waitress startles us, and we break eye contact as she drops the check on the table and refills our waters.
“Can I get you guys anything else?”
“No, thank you,” Levi says, giving her a smile.
I return my attention to my food, but watch her walk away in my periphery, before taking a deep breath and changing the subject.
“So, I guess you have to get back to your friends soon.”
I say the words into my plate, forcing a lightness into them I don’t feel. I make work of using my fork to cut some pancake and I wait for his answer, but then his shoe nudges mine under the table. I look up and meet his eyes. He’s smiling at me. A stupid and lopsided smile that has my lips turning up to match.
“I don’t have to get back to them.”
That’s all he says, but it fills me back up with a giddy excitement I haven’t felt in a while. In three years, probably. Not since the night outside his bedroom window when he asked if he could kiss me. I swallow back my desire to dance in my seat, to giggle like an idiot, and instead, I tame my smile and nod.
“Cool.”
After we finish our breakfast, I call Jonah.
I have a few missed calls from him, and I texted him this morning that I was fine, and I’d call him later. When he answers, he sounds rough, like I just woke him up.
“What?”
“Ooof. D’you go hard last night?” I say with a laugh, but he doesn’t answer me.
Instead, he perks up and starts talking a mile a minute. The exhaustion in his tone is gone, and it’s replaced with panicked concern.
