“Good job, you caught on.”
I give him the Devil’s stare. “Excuse me, Levi, how dare you,” I say. “I protest—I’m going naked.”
Levi chokes on nothing but air. He hacks a couple of times, hand over his chest. His expression is one of complete surprise and…well, I immediately regret saying what I said.
“I take that back,” I hastily amend, because now he’s glancing over at me, probably imagining the scenario I so stupidly presented. I sincerely hope that, in the aforementioned imagined scenario, I am standing behind some strategically placed leaves. “I’m wearing my sweatpants, and you can’t stop me.”
“Don’t be difficult,” he says. His cheeks are pink with embarrassment.
“Too late.”
He laughs, making a smooth right turn into a parking lot that comes out of nowhere. It belongs to a fish and chips place, a tiny little shack nestled into the side of the mountains. There’s only outdoor seating, because in California (where it never rains and you’re across the freeway from the Pacific Ocean) you never want to sit inside.
“I found this place a couple of years ago when my dad moved up here,” Levi explains as we hurry out of the car and get into the line. After driving for two hours, I’m thankful for a minute to stretch my legs. “I’ve wanted to bring you here all summer.”
I don’t answer right away, just enjoying the view. He looks down at me, sudden panic crossing his face. “What?” I ask.
“Do you not like fish and chips?”
Oh, Levi. “Of course I love fish and chips! It’s seafood and French fries—who do you think I am?”
He puts a hand on his chest, as if in relief. “Oh good.”
Together we step up to the open ordering window. Levi orders our food, but when the lady asks for his name, he says, “You know what? Put it under Barbie.”
The woman in the window looks at me. I look at her. I challenge her to say something.
Levi walks away.
I smile my best fake smile, then hurry after him. “That’s it!” I yell—and in front of whoever happens to be watching, I run at his back, fling my arms around his neck, and lock my legs around his waist. “You’re not allowed to do that ever again!”
His laugh catches on the hills behind us. He hefts me up, walks a few feet, and plops me down on the last open table. “Then just tell me.”
When he turns around, I grab the front of his shirt and pull him in. “Maybe.”
He raises an eyebrow. “That’s the closest you’ve come to a yes.”
“Don’t press your luck.” I move to my seat, and he sits across from me, and I feel my chest constricting. For a moment I wish he would ask me why I won’t tell him, but then I’m thankful he hasn’t because I have no answer for him.
Suddenly, I feel small and young and a little bit helpless, because I’m head-over-heels for him and I still don’t know how to just open my mouth and say my name.
“Trust me, I’m not pressing anything.” His smile catches the sun, and he places his hand over mine, gently and with certainty. “I’m just thankful we can cross Barbie off the list.”
We arrive at the silent auction with just enough spare time to get ready. The house is massive, tucked into the hills above the cliffs, complete with a roundabout driveway, pillars, and land to spare. The valet takes Levi’s car (a freaking valet!) after Levi grabs his suit and my new dress from the trunk. (He put in a bag so I can’t see it. Rude.)
The man who meets us at the front door is younger than I’d expected, maybe in his early thirties. He looks as brilliant as John Legend at an awards ceremony, with his hair buzzed close to his scalp and his elegant beige suit complimenting his dark skin. When he smiles, it’s warm and kind and immediately puts me at ease amidst all this grandeur.
“My friend,” he says, and brings Levi in for a tight hug. “Good to see you.”
I step inside behind Levi, who puts his arm around my shoulder in that reassuring way of his. “This is my girlfriend, Bee. Bee, this is Felix.”
I pass my makeup bag from one hand to the other so I can shake his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“The pleasure’s mine. I’ve heard wonderful things about you,” Felix answers, and shuts the door behind us. The foyer is immense, with marble floors, columns, and two sets of stairs—one to the left and one to the right. Felix nods at the staircase to the right, and the woman who stands at the bottom. “Julia will show you to a guest room where you can get ready. I can give you the rest of the tour when you’re done.”
“Thanks, man,” Levi says, shaking Felix’s hand again. When our host disappears down the stairs into the rest of the house, we follow the maid up the stairs. She takes us down the grand hallway marked with huge paintings to one of the guest rooms.
“Let me know if you need anything,” Julia says, and closes the door.
It’s a huge room with wood floors, a massive king-size bed, and beautiful lace curtains. There’s a bathroom to our right, but all I can see of it is the giant porcelain tub. “Wow,” I muse. “Nicest guest room I’ve ever seen.”
Levi faces me. “You get the bathroom,” he prompts as he hands me the dress bag. “I’ll wait for you out here.”
I bite my lip, accepting his gift with hesitant hands. “Okaaay.”
He touches my shoulders and nudges me backward. “Don’t keep me in suspense. I’m freaking out.”
“You don’t look like you’re freaking out,” I say, but then I make eye contact. He is, indeed, freaking out. “Never mind. But you’re cute, you know.”
He growls. “Bee.”
I smile innocently. “Going, going, gone.”
And I shut myself into the silence of the marble bathroom.
For a second I just...stare. This bathroom is the size of my bedroom, and the bathtub is the size of my bed. It’s beautiful (like Michelangelo-painted-my-ceiling beautiful) and daunting. The same kind of daunting as opening this bag to see the dress inside. But I can’t let it stop me—not when so much of Levi’s happiness is riding on my shoulders.
I strip down to my bra and underwear first, taking my hair out of its messy bun, and remove any and all rubber bands from my wrists. Thing You Should Know About Me #48132: I’m the queen of procrastination when my nerves settle in. So I know I’m really and truly nervous when I’m staring at my mostly-naked self in the mirror for five minutes, deciding what to do. What if I hate the dress? What if it’s a beautiful cut but a terrible color? What if it doesn’t fit?