Page 75 of Levi Bailey has Butterflies

“Hey,” I say, squeezing her fingers—and completely overflowing with wrong ideas. “Are you free tomorrow morning?”

“I am. But you’re not. You have to work. Unless you’re already tackling number one on your list and finding some help.” She bats her lashes at me, almost daring me to hire an employee and free up some of my time. It’s so darn tempting.

“Nope,” I tell her. “Not yet. I’m gonna open late tomorrow. I have somewhere to take you.”

“Late?” She gives a wry grin.

“Yeah. The manager’s pretty cool. He won’t mind.”

30

Meredith

I’ve only had an Instagram account for three days. I have seven friends—Bob, Levi, Owen, Miles, Cooper, Coco, and Nikki.

I have no intention of spending my life scrolling to see what people are doing, knowing I’m not doing it. But Coco told me about connections she’s made and showed me how it can be a nice way of journaling too. Besides, I like seeing Levi’s bike posts and Coco’s baby. It’s nice. So, I’m sticking to my seven people and I’m using the app to text Coco.

@merry.bess23:Do you know where your brother is taking me this morning?

@coco.crisp.99:No idea. What about the shop?

@merry.bess23:He’s opening late.

@coco.crisp.99:Hmmm… interesting. I have to go nurse a baby and change a diaper, but I expect a full report later. Yeah?

@merry.bess23:I’ll let you know.

Coco feels like a friend, not just Levi’s sister. I think she is a friend. My very own female bestie. I love Nikki and she is dear to me—however, she’s thirteen. Not to be all crazy-over-age-Levi, but this feels different. I greatly like my friend Levi… a whole heck of a lot, in fact… most likely more than I should. But he’s a man. I have watched a hundred movies and dozens of TV shows with female bonds and friendships that mean something.Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, Fried Green Tomatoes, Designing Women, 9 to 5—yep, going back to the 80s—Oceans8, Captain Marvel, Little Women, Charmed—and many many more.

Coco has been so kind to me. Even when she was trying tosort ofset me up with Owen—her intentions were good. I think she could be arealfriend, aLittle Women, Fried Green Tomatoeskind of friend.

Telling Coco about liking Levi just felt right, like tossing a weight from my chest. Uncle Bob’s been pretty great about listening to me too. I’m lucky. I have every kind of friend possible.

I stand in front of the mirror, tracing the stitch along the V-neck of this dress. It’s pale pink and stops just above the knee. Tiny muted daisies, just a shade darker than the main coloring cover every inch—so much so that it’s hard to tell that they’re even there. This is such a happy dress. I turn, watching the bell-shape flounce at the hem. Yep, I like this one. This feels like a great dress to be kissed in—not for the first time, technically Toby Nelson got that. Sort of.

Hopefully, Levi agrees.

I don’t know where we’re going but I’d bet any amount of money—and I have quite a bit of that—that it has to do with my list.

There’s a knock at the front door, and I snag my denim jacket from the bed, my Keds from the floor, and jog to the front room. No need for Uncle Bob to get up. Mornings are his favorite time to write. I don’t want to interrupt him if he’s in the groove.

I slide across the hardwood floors, sliding right into the rug next to the front door. Uncle Bob is typing, so I don’t say a word. He’s always telling me I don’t need to inform him of where I’m going. So, I’ll text him later.

I open the door and slip out before Levi can even say hello. My chest bumps into his and I tip my head up to see him better.

“Hello,” I say, squinting in the sun.

“Ah, hi there.” He grabs a hold of my upper arms, steadying me. “Are we in a hurry?”

“Bob’s writing. I didn’t want to disturb him.”

“Oh, cool. Ready?” Levi’s mouth lifts at the corners as if they were controllers to my heart. Warmth spreads out from my chest and into all of my other limbs.

“Ready,” I say, feeling a little like a warm bowl of Jell-O. I am ready in every possible way, Levi Bailey. He knows that, right?

His black truck sits on the street behind us, the engine still running.

“Wait, no bikes?”

---