Fangirl

have to start at the molecular level, with some sort of Big Bang in your head.”
    Cath pressed her nails into her palms.
    “Maybe for this story,” Professor Piper said delicately, “you could start with something real. With one day from your life. Something that confused or intrigued you, something you want to explore. Start there and see what happens. You can keep it true, or you can let it turn into something else—you can add magic—but give yourself a starting point.”
    Cath nodded, more because she was ready to leave than because she’d processed everything the professor was saying.
    “I want to meet again,” Professor Piper said. “In a few weeks. Let’s get back together and talk about where you are.”
    Cath agreed and hurried toward the door, hoping she wouldn’t seem rude. A few weeks. Sure. Like a few weeks will fix the hole in my head. She pushed her way through a mob of gaudy English majors, then escaped out into the snow.
    *   *   *
    Levi wouldn’t put her laundry hamper down.
    “I can carry it,” Cath said. Her head was still in Professor Piper’s office, and she wasn’t in the mood for … well, for Levi. For the constant good-natured game of him. If Levi were a dog, he’d be a golden retriever. If he were a game, he’d be Ping-Pong, incessant and bouncing and light. Cath didn’t feel like playing.
    “I’ve got this,” he said. “You get the door.”
    “No, seriously,” she said. “I can carry it.”
    Levi was all smiles and fond glances. “Sweetheart, get the door. I’ve got this.”
    Cath pressed her fingertips into her temples. “Did you just call me ‘sweetheart’?”
    He grinned. “It just came out. It felt good.”
    “Sweetheart?”
    “Would you prefer ‘honey’? That reminds me of my mom.… What about ‘baby’? No. ‘Loveboat’? ‘Kitten’? ‘Rubber duck’?” He paused. “You know what? I’m sticking with ‘sweetheart.’”
    “I don’t even know where to start,” Cath said.
    “Start with the door.”
    “Levi. I can carry my own gross, dirty laundry.”
    “Cath. I’m not going to let you.”
    “There’s no let ting. It’s my laundry.”
    “Possession is nine-tenths of the law.”
    “I don’t need you to carry things for me. I have two functioning arms.”
    “That’s not the point,” he said. “What kind of creep would I be if I let my girl carry something heavy while I walked along, swinging my arms?”
    Your girl? “The kind that respects my wishes,” she said. “And my strength, and my … arms. ”
    Levi grinned some more. Because he wasn’t taking her seriously. “I have a lot of respect for your arms. I like how they’re attached to the rest of you.”
    “You’re making me feel fragile and limp. Give me the laundry.” She reached for it.
    He stepped back. “Cather. I know you’re capable of carrying this. But I’m not capable of letting you. I literally couldn’t walk next to you empty-handed. It’s nothing personal; I’d do this for anyone with two X chromosomes.”
    “Even worse. ”
    “Why? Why is that worse? That I’m respectful to women.”
    “It’s not respectful, it’s undermining. Respect our strength.”
    “I do.” His hair fell in his eyes, and he tried to blow it away. “Being chivalrous is respectful. Women have been oppressed and persecuted since the beginning of time. If I can make their lives easier with my superior upper-body strength, I’m going to. At every opportunity.”
    “Superior.”
    “Yes. Superior. Do you want to arm wrestle?”
    “I don’t need superior upper-body strength to carry my own dirty laundry.” She put her fingers on the handles, trying to push his aside.
    “You’re deliberately missing the point,” he said.
    “No, that’s you.”
    “Your face is flushed, did you know that?”
    “Well,” she said. “I’m frustrated.”
    “Don’t make me angry-kiss you.”
    “Give me the laundry.”
    “Tempers rising, faces flushed … This is how it happens.”
    That made Cath laugh. And that was irritating, too. She used most of her inferior upper-body strength to shove the hamper into his chest.
    Levi pushed it back gently, but didn’t let go. “Let’s fight about this the next time I try to do something nice for you, okay?”
    She looked up at his eyes. The way he looked back at her made her feel wide open, like every thought must be closed-captioned on her face. She let go of the hamper and picked up her laptop bag, opening the