Page 66 of Levi Bailey has Butterflies

“Of course I want to go. She’s my friend.” I walk into the garage, Levi on my tail, and pull my bike from its corner. “Wait. If you’re in charge of Alice, where is she?”

“Mom came home to rest for a bit. Alice is asleep.”

“Okay,” I say, hopping onto my bike. “So, where are we headed?”

Levi runs a hand over the scruff of his chin. “I don’t know. I just wanted to talk to you.”

Maybe Levi Bailey does like me back. His sister is in labor, but he couldn’t wait to talk to me?

Either way, I know Levi. He’s stressing over his sister. He’s worried and he needs a distraction. Maybe that’s what this trip to my house is—a diversion. But I don’t care about that. I care about him. And I can help distract from his worries. I know I can.

“You say you want to help me complete my list. That lousy Shakespeare attempt doesn’t count.”

He smirks. “Okay, it doesn’t count. But I do—and I’m trying.”

I swallow. “I know. How much time do we have?”

He gives one shoulder a shrug. “We have time. Mom will call if I’m too long.”

All right then. I think it’s time to test Uncle Bob’s theory, to test this feeling I get every time Levi’s near.

“Follow me,” I say, kicking off and riding down the street.

It’s after eight and the sun has already gone down. We ride by the light of the street lamps. This road is quiet. When we pull up to Magnolia Park, it’s silent. There’s one dim lamp post lighting up the area and no one in sight. No cars, no bikes, no dogs.

My breathing is short when I stop my ride and park Lilac next to the large pine.

“What are we doing?” Levi asks, right behind me.

I am not afraid of asking a boy to dance. Fear forces us to play out the worst possible scenarios, but hope gives us the best.I am not afraid. The worst possible outcome doesn’t compare to what the best might give me.

“Number sixteen,” I say, tilting my head up and watching his expression. Does he know my list that well?

Levi pulls in a breath, his wide chest expanding with the action. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. He doesn’t answer me, but I’m patient. He taps on the screen—maybe texting Lucy. Maybe we don’t have time for this.

But then—a slow ballad plays through the small speaker of his phone. He slips it back into his pocket as The Righteous Brothers sing about hungering for her touch and needing her love. Pins and needles prick over every inch of my skin with the words. I stand there, heart thumping. All I can think is—that song. He chose that song.

Levi holds out one hand and I take it. Warmth travels through my fingers to my elbow, to my shoulder, to my heart. He wraps the opposite arm around my waist. I remember back to all those movies that filled my time and head. I’ve watched people dance on a screen for years. I can do this. I rest my arm on his bicep, the fingers on my left hand moving to the back of his neck.

Levi gives me a soft grin before pulling me in closer, his heart beating next to mine. He sways us side to side and in circles beneath this tree. I rest my head on his chest, breathing him in as if he were my own personal, tailor-made scent.

The song ends and begins again, and then again. Levi doesn’t let go, and I decide that dancing is my favorite list item yet. He brings our hands close, hugging them to our bodies. His head tucks near mine and his breath warms my temple and cheek. If there had been any space between us before—it’s gone now.

I am in a cocoon of Levi bliss and I don’t plan to ever leave.

That is until Levi’s phone rings like an old-fashioned telephone, ending our fifth or sixth time through this song and the spell it’s put me under. His soft hold stiffens and he’s grappling for the phone in his pocket. All at once, we are separated and the cool evening air attacks every inch of my skin.

“Mom?” he says, brows pinched and forehead wrinkled. He listens for only a minute. “No, that’s fine. I’m on my way.” He lifts his bowed head, phone in hand. “Time to go. Mom’s ready to head back up to the hospital.”

“She’s so pretty. Are all children this pretty?” I say, staring at little sleeping Alice.

“When they’re asleep?” Levi whispers. “Yes.”

I smother a laugh, not wanting to wake up Alice. I just wanted to check on her, and Levi had to tag along. She’s sleeping soundly on her grandmother’s bed, right next to her pup.

I’m still staring at her when Levi’s warm hand tangles with mine. The touch sends sparks and electricity up through my arm. What a strange, beautiful sensation. That doesn’t happen when Uncle Bob or Miles touch me. I am certain I could be blindfolded and I’d know Levi’s touch by the fireworks exploding over my skin.

“Come on,” he says, pulling me from the room. Max is at our feet, circling, but he’s quiet too. He doesn’t want to wake Alice either.

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