Most of the FarmHouse guys were Ag majors from outstate Nebraska. Jandro was from Scottsbluff, which was practically Wyoming. “I didn’t even know there were Mexicans out there,” Wren said, “but he claims there’s this huge community.”
Jandro didn’t say much besides, “It’s nice to finally meet you, Cath. Wren talks about you all the time. When you post your Simon Snow stories, I’m not allowed to talk to her until she’s finished.” He looked like most of Wren’s boyfriends—short hair, clean-cut, built to play football—but Cath couldn’t remember Wren looking at any of them the way she looked at Alejandro. Like she’d been converted.
*
It was ten o’clock by the time Levi got back from Arnold.
Cath had already showered and put on pajamas. She felt like the weekend had been two years long, not two days. Freshman days, she could hear Levi say.
He called to tell her he was back. Knowing they were in the same city again made the missing him flare up inside her. In her stomach. Why were people always going on and on about the heart? Almost everything Levi happened in Cath’s stomach.
“Can I stop by?” he asked. Like he wanted it. “Say good night?”
“Reagan’s here,” Cath said. “She’s in the shower. I think she’s going to bed.”
“Can you come down?”
“Where would we go?” Cath asked.
“We could sit in my truck—”
“It’s freezing out.”
“We could run the heater.”
“The heater doesn’t work.”
He hesitated—“We could go to my house.”
“Aren’t your roommates home?” It was like she had a list of arguments, and she was going through them one by one—and she wasn’t even sure why anymore.
“It doesn’t matter,” Levi pushed. “I have my own room. Plus, they want to meet you.”
“I think I met most of them at the party.”
Levi groaned. “How many ground rules did Reagan give us?”
“I don’t know. Five, maybe? Six?”
“Okay, here’s seven: No more talking about that godforsaken party unless it’s absolutely relevant.”
Cath smiled. “But what will I have left to needle you with?”
“I’m sure you’ll come up with something.”
“I won’t,” she said. “You’re incessantly good to me.”
“Come home with me, Cath.” She could hear him smiling. “It’s early, and I don’t want to say good night.”
“I never want to say good night, but we still manage.”
“Wait, you don’t?”
“No,” she whispered.
“Come home with me,” he whispered back.
“To your den of iniquity?”
“Yes, that’s what everyone calls my room.”
“Gah,” Cath said. “I’ve told you. It’s just too much … your house. Your room. We’ll walk in, and all that will be in there is a bed. And I’ll throw up from nerves.”
“And desire?”
“Mostly nerves,” she said.
“Why is this such a big deal? All your room has in it is a bed.”
“Two beds,” she said, “and two desks. And the constant threat of my roommate walking in.”
“Which is why we should go to my house. Nobody will ever walk in on us.”
“That’s what makes me nervous.”
Levi hmmmed. Like he was thinking. “What if I promise not to touch you?”
Cath laughed. “Now I have zero incentive to come.”
“What if I promise to let you touch me first?”
“Are you kidding? I’m the untrustworthy person in this relationship. I’m all hands.”
“I’ve seen no evidence of that, Cather.”
“In my head, I’m all hands.”
“I want to live in your head.”
Cath covered her face with her hand, as if he could see her. They didn’t usually flirt quite like this. Quite so frankly. Maybe the phone brought it out in her. Maybe it was this weekend. Everything this weekend.
“Hey, Cath…” Levi’s voice was so soft. “What exactly are we waiting for?”
“What do you mean?”
“Did you take an abstinence pledge?”
She laughed, but still managed to sound affronted. “No.”
“Is it—” He exhaled quickly, like he was forcing something out.”—is it still about trust? Me earning your trust?”
Cath’s voice dropped to almost nothing. “God, Levi. No. I trust you.”
“I’m not even talking about sex,” he said. “I mean … not just sex. We can take that off the table completely if it will make you feel better.”
“Completely?”
“Until further discussion. If you knew that I wasn’t pushing for that, if that wasn’t even on the horizon, do you think you could relax and just … let me touch you?”
“What kind of touching?” she asked.
“Do you want me to show you on a doll?”
Cath laughed.
“Touching,” he said. “I want to touch you. Hold you. I want to sit right next to you, even when there are other options.”
She took a deep breath. She felt like she owed it to him to keep talking. To at least reciprocate this conversation. “I want to touch you, too.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she said.
“What kind of touching?” he asked.
“Did you already give the operator your credit card number?”