“I hope so too.”
“But why are you wearing his sweatshirt? That seems like an awfully couple-y gift.”
I blush. “I’ve wanted this for years. He probably got sick of me trying to steal it.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Like I said, it seems very couple-y. It reminds me of how your dad gave me his college ring.”
“It’s just a sweatshirt.”
She smiles knowingly. “Whatever you say, Tadpole.”
After mooching dinner from the sample Americana food Dad is proposing for the Woods-Henry wedding, I walk down the street to my house. It’s finally that time of year when the sun doesn’t go down before I get home. As I walk, I stare at the pink and purple cotton candy sunset, and bring Levi’s sweatshirt to my nose. It still smells like him. At some point I will have to wash it, but I’m not ready to yet.
Later that night, Levi texts me when I’m already in bed. It’s only eight o’clock, but I’m exhausted from lifting weights today. Coach Josh is so evil I often discover muscles I didn’t know I had. Like, why is my left inner thigh on fire?
Levi’s message reads: Can you come over? Need to show you something.
I climb out of bed, wincing at my sore hamstrings. A month ago I would’ve fixed my hair, put on cute underwear and a lacy bra, and slathered lotion on my body. Maybe I would’ve even worn a little lip gloss. Tonight I pull on his sweatshirt and ripped jeans over my cotton underwear and sports bra.
When I get to his place, I expect to find him out front waiting on me, but he’s not there. His mom is on the front porch, though, drinking a glass of red wine while flipping through a file folder. Country music softly pours out of a speaker. Pepper is lying on the stoop secured to her leash. I’m surprised the dog’s not with Levi, wherever he is.
“Maggie, hi,” Ms. Lucassen says, setting down her glass and standing to give me a hug. “Levi’s out back by the lake,” she says. Pepper lumbers to her feet and barks and wags her tail, itching to tag along with me.
“No, baby,” Ms. Lucassen tells the dog. “You have to stay with me tonight.”
Okay, that’s weird.
I edge around the side of the house and make my way across the green grass toward the water. I try not to think about the first time we kissed out here. If I had a time machine, I would go back to warn myself not to start something that wouldn’t end well. Our kisses—our hookups—they felt like winning races, but they weren’t worth almost losing my best friend.
They weren’t worth my heart feeling this broken.
I find Levi down by the lake. He’s wearing a ball cap turned backward, a gray, long-sleeved tee, athletic shorts, and sneakers. It’s warm enough he doesn’t need the tights anymore.
“Mags,” he calls. “Watch where you step.”
Huh?
He points at the sand, where I see tiny shadows shuffling in the moonlight.
Turtles!
“Martha’s babies!” I squeal.
They emerge covered with sand, poking up their little heads. They are so tiny! Like the size of a sand dollar. They make their way down to the water, crawling over pebbles.
We watch as they continue to emerge one by one from the sand, entering the great big unknown that will either carry you or let you sink, unless you learn to swim and master it.
“Thanks for inviting me to come watch,” I say, and we settle into a nice silence with the brand new turtles. It’s funny to imagine one of these little guys becoming a resident terror turtle like Martha one day.
“Maggie,” he says quietly, turning toward me. “Can we talk?”
“Of course.”
He takes off his cap and drags a hand through his hair. “I realized something in Atlanta.”
“Yeah?”
“I wasn’t as happy as I thought I’d be after I got my cuts in 100.”
“What’s wrong?” I rush to say. “You’ve been working toward this your whole life!” After winning first place at Junior Nationals and qualifying for a second event at the Olympic trials, his name was splashed all over the Tennessee papers, and the major swimming websites mentioned his name as a serious swimmer to watch in the NCAA when he goes to college. Even USA Swimming tweeted about him qualifying in a second event. Everything is coming together for him. Is he starting to feel pressured like Jason?
But what comes out of my best friend’s mouth is not about feeling pressured. It’s not what I expect at all.
“I miss you.”
I touch his arm. “I’m right here, Leaves.”
“I made a serious mistake. I shouldn’t have tried to push you away… I was scared. I’ve never had a girlfriend before and wasn’t ready to deal with the idea of fitting that into my schedule. But the truth is, I want…I want you more than anything.”
I gasp.
“I know I was an ass,” he goes on, stepping closer to gently touch the frayed hem of my sweatshirt. My body begins to tremble all over. I can’t breathe.
“Do you like Noah?” he asks.
I shrug a little. I do like the idea of going out with a guy and just having fun. Where there’s not much risk involved. But is love without risk really love at all? Or is it a shortcut to nowhere?
My heart hurt so much after Levi broke it. To be honest, it’s still cracked, and it’s been hard work piecing it back together. I’m glad our friendship survived, but I am not sure I want to risk it again.
Plus, I don’t have my cuts yet. I need to stay focused. Now is not the time for more emotional ups and downs. I only have bandwidth to focus on one thing—swimming or this thing with Levi—and right now, swimming comes first.
“I want to see how my date with Noah goes, I guess,” I say quietly.
He grasps my hands. “Before the state championship,” he starts, “you said we should talk after the race. I wasn’t ready then, but I am now.”
A tear drips down my cheek. “Levi, I love you.”
His eyes flare. “I love you t—”
I interrupt him before I start bawling. “You’re my best friend, but what you did to me sucked so much. It was the most important race of my life, and you hurt me so you wouldn’t have to deal with your feelings.”
“And I told you. I know I was a dick that day. I’m asking for another chance.” His eyes are bright blue and shiny like the sparkling stars above.
I stare out at the beach. Another baby turtle pokes his head out of the ground. He emerges from the hole, gangly and dirty with sand. He walks purposefully down to the water, where little waves lap over his shell and clean him up.
I turn and reach for Levi. He swallows me in a hug. His body fits perfectly against mine. It would be so easy to tilt my chin so he can kiss along my jaw. But I’m trembling worse than I did at my driver’s test.
I’ve lost races in my life. Quite a few actually, and every single one hurt. Not one race—not even losing that state championship race to Roxy—hurt as much as Levi deliberately trying to push me away. How bad would it hurt if I let him back in and he left me again?
What happens when we leave for college?
“I need some time to think,” I say, pulling away. “And some sleep.”
His face is sad as he nods. “I’ll pick you up in the morning.”
I squeeze his hands. “Good night.”
After one last look at the tiny turtles, I head home.
• • •
“Maggie! Why don’t you own anything cute?”
“They’re pajamas,” I reply. “Not a prom dress.”
Georgia came over to help me plan for my date next weekend, and digging through my pajama drawer frustrates her to no end.
“You need something sexy!”
“No, I don’t. These red pajamas are fine.”
She gives my plaid pj’s a horrified look. “My granddad wears those.”
At first I was excited about having a date to the pajama party. Then Levi told me how he feels. Part of me wonders if I should cancel on Noah, but that seems rude. And probably premature, because I have no idea what to do about Levi.
Georgia opens my laptop and types “sexy pajamas” into the search engine. “Oooh, what about this leopard print?”