Fangirl

know?”
    “No.”
    “I’m usually the good guy. That was the whole plan for winning you over—”
    “There was a plan?”
    “There was…” He thunked the back of his head against the wall, and his hands fell to his lap. “It was more of a hope. That you’d see that I was a decent guy.”
    “I saw that.”
    “Right. And then you saw me kissing somebody else.”
    Cath wanted him to stop talking, she’d heard enough. “The thing is, Levi…” Saying his name out loud finished the destruction inside of her. Something, maybe Cath’s spleen, gave up the ghost. She leaned forward and pulled on the sleeve of his sweater, squeezing a few inches into her fist.
    “I know you’re a decent guy,” she said. “And I want to forgive you; it’s not like you cheated on me—I mean, it’s only kind of like that. But even if I do forgive you…” She pulled on his new sweater, stretching it. “I don’t think I’m any good at this. Boy–girl. Person–person. I don’t trust anybody. Not anybody. And the more that I care about someone, the more sure I am they’re going to get tired of me and take off.”
    Levi’s face clouded over. Not grimly, she thought—thoughtfully. In thoughtful clouds.
    “That’s crazy,” he said.
    “I know,” Cath agreed, feeling almost relieved. “ Exactly. I’m crazy.”
    He reached his fingers back and hooked them inside the cuff of her sweater. “But you still want to give me a chance, right? Not just me, this? Us?”
    “Yeah,” Cath said, like she was giving in.
    “Good.” He tugged on her sleeve and smiled down at their not-quite-touching hands. “It’s okay if you’re crazy,” he said softly.
    “You don’t even know—”
    “I don’t have to know,” he said. “I’m rooting for you.”
    *   *   *
    He was going to text her the next day. They were going to go out when he got off work.
    On a date.
    Levi didn’t call it a date, but that’s what it would have to be, right? He liked her, and they were going out. He was coming to get her.
    She wished she could call Wren. I have a date. And not with an end table. Not with someone who has anything in common with furniture. He kissed me. And I think he might do it again if I let him.
    She didn’t call Wren. She studied. Then stayed up as late as she could writing Baz and Simon— “‘The Insidious Humdrum,’ Baz groused. ‘If I ever become a supervillain, help me come up with a name that doesn’t sound like an ice cream sundae.’” —and wishing that Reagan would come home.
    Cath was mostly asleep when the door opened.
    Reagan shuffled around in the dark. She was good at coming and going without turning on any lights. She almost never woke Cath up.
    “Hey,” Cath rasped.
    “Go back to sleep,” Reagan whispered.
    “Hey. Tonight … Levi came over. I think we might have a date. Is that okay?”
    The shuffling stopped. “Yeah,” Reagan said, practically in her normal voice. “Is it okay with you?”
    “I think so,” Cath said.
    “Okay.” Reagan’s closet door opened, and she kicked her boots off with two heavy thumps. A drawer opened and closed, and then she was climbing into bed. “So fucking weird…,” she murmured.
    “I know,” Cath said, staring up into the darkness. “I’m sorry.”
    “Stop apologizing. Good for you. Good for Levi. Better for you, I think.”
    “What does that mean?”
    “It means that Levi is a great guy. And that he always falls for girls who are a complete pain in the ass.”
    Cath rolled over and pulled her comforter up tight. “Better for me,” she agreed.
     
    “You’re finally going on a date with Agatha?” Penelope’s voice was soft, despite the surprise in her face. Neither of them wanted Sir Bleakly to hear—he was prone to giving ridiculous detentions; they could end up dusting the catacombs for hours or proofreading confiscated love notes.
    “After dinner,” Simon whispered back. “We’re going to look for the sixth hare in the Veiled Forest.”
    “Does Agatha know it’s a date? Because that just sounds like ‘Another Tuesday Night with Simon.’”
    “I think so.” Simon tried not to turn and frown at Penelope, even though he wanted to. “She said she’d wear her new dress.…”
    “Another Tuesday Night with Agatha,” Penelope said.
    “You don’t think she likes me?”
    “Oh, Simon, I never said that. She’d have to be an idiot not to like you.”
    Simon grinned.
    “So I guess what I’m saying,” Penelope said,