Chapter Eleven

Holy shit .

Those are the only two words my short-circuiting brain can summon when I see it. The photo. The photo. The one of me and Levi dancing in Happy Shores is so unrepentantly, ridiculously steamy that I almost don't recognize my own self in it. Someone took it just after Levi spun me into him, the two of us suspended in motion, bright against the moody light of the club. My back is pressed against Levi's, my dress hiked up where it's pushed up against Levi's legs, his own shirt lifted and exposing a sliver of his lean, toned stomach. My face is tilted up to look at him, my eyes obscured, but his are fully visible and looking at me like he's about to take a bite right out of me. We look like something timeless, something iconic. Like two people so far in the throes of passion we've forgotten the rest of the world exists.

A Business Savvy fan account tweeted it with the caption Twitter gets it first!!! and a bunch of fire emojis about an hour ago. It's already blown up enough that Cassie, whose newest location is lit erally opening today , took a moment to text me, Um??? I need to fan myself. You two are too much!! and Mateo texted me in the middle of class to say, You broke my students. They'll never learn about the cultural diffusion of Alexander the Great's conquests now.

I'd probably liquefy on the spot if I could afford to. But Tea Tide is just as packed as it's been all week, so all I can do is go, go, go. By the time Sana wanders in, I've got the photo primed on my phone, holding it up to her accusingly.

"Fool me thrice ?" I demand.

"I had nothing to do with this," says Sana, raising her hands to gesture for peace. "I was extremely busy with Aiden, the hot pediatrician who was the designated driver both for his friends and for my human body that night."

"Okay," I say, "details about that, please. But also, how did this happen? "

"It might have had something to do with me pointing and yelling ‘Are those the Revenge Exes?' every chance I got, but otherwise, no idea," says Sana, helping herself to a chocolate chip scone and ringing herself up.

I set the phone down. "My parents are going to see this," I moan. I'm already dreading my next long Sunday afternoon call with my mom. So far, I've managed to skim the surface of the whole "Levi and I are dating" thing, but this is going to warrant an entire mom-sized investigation that will start with her asking what on earth I was doing in a club and end with her asking when Levi and I are getting engaged.

If she and Levi's mom haven't already called each other and skipped straight to that part, that is.

"And so are a whole bunch of potential Tea Tide customers," says Sana, wiggling her eyebrows.

She's got a fair point. We're in a rare lull right now in between the lunch rush and the afternoon snack rush, so for once, there isn't anyone immediately in line behind her. "Quick, tell me about this Aiden," I say.

Sana's eyes go all dreamy. "He makes his own cheese. The next morning, he brought me homemade gouda in bed."

I blink. "You're making that up."

"He's got an adorable puppy named Snickerdoodle."

I shake my head at her. "That absolutely cannot be real."

She leans in, putting a finger to my nose. "He's taking me out to that fancy winery with the chocolate fountain this weekend."

I wrinkle my nose. "Literally every Hallmark movie heroine written into existence is ready to fight you right now."

"You'll get there," she says, patting me on the back. "Just as soon as you and Levi drop this whole fake dating thing and realize you're madly in love with each other."

I glare at her as intensely as a woman who is subsisting mostly off scones and the fumes of four hours of sleep can manage.

"I'd write you a whole laundry list of why that's never going to happen, but I'm getting a call," I say, pulling my buzzing phone out of my apron pocket.

Griffin's name is lit up on the screen. Both Sana's eyebrows and mine fly up. I haven't heard from him in so long that I forgot that hearing from him was still a possibility.

Out of curiosity alone, I decide to take it, waving over one of the part-time employees to mind the register while I walk to the back parking lot.

"Hey, June," says Griffin, the warmth in his voice so honey-sweet that I almost pull the phone from my ear like the speaker made a mistake. "How are you holding up?"

I tense at that. Holding up . The words are choice, but so is his tone—it's the same one he'd use to push and pull me in moments he was trying to get me on board with wild stunts I didn't want any part of. Coddling, almost. Like he knew better than I did.

"I'm fine," I say flatly. I make a point of not asking how he is and jump straight to it: "Why are you calling?"

"Well—partially because I'm worried about you. I know you and Levi have a past."

My fingers tighten around the phone. I'm not na?ve enough to think nobody caught on to my crush on Levi in high school, but this is the first time Griffin's come close to bringing it up. I think a part of him always resented that he didn't ask me out until after it was clear that Levi and I weren't going to be a thing.

"You don't have to worry," I say, my voice breezy and even. "We're happy."

"Oh," says Griffin, his own voice too bright. "I'm so glad to hear it."

I don't say anything, waiting for him to get to the actual point of this call.

"And I bet—I bet other people will want to hear it, too," he says. "Actually, I was wondering if you'd want to come do a special for Business Savvy ."

I blink, the words so preposterous that I'm not even sure if I can entertain them. If Griffin is really inviting me back to the same show that quite literally turned a profit on my snot-filled tears. But he must have some kind of angle if he has the audacity to ask this, so I can't help my curiosity.

"What kind of special?" I ask warily.

"One about you and me, about our relationships with Lisel and Levi."

"Why would you need us for that?" I ask. "We're not part of the show."

"But you're part of the story now, and—everyone loves you. Which is great. But it's kind of painting me like the bad guy?" Griffin says it like it's both an apology and an accusation. "So I was just thinking—if you hopped on and told them we were still good, it would, you know. Shift the narrative."

The humiliation is searing, immediate—it feels like the summer I first learned to surf and still couldn't anticipate those sharp, biting waves that knocked you under from behind.

"Shift it," I repeat. "Into… what?"

"You know. Just—clear the air. I'm happy, you're happy. It was a mess how it went down, sure, but no harm done."

No harm done. Like all the years we spent together could be boiled down to those three words and let loose on a breeze. Like making a public spectacle of me in my own home and humiliating me on a global level could be so easily dismissed.

I'm almost worried I'll start to cry again in that big, sloppy way I did when he broke up with me. But whatever I'm feeling, it's already crystallizing. Curling in my fingers, stiff in my bones.

I don't want to yell at Griffin. I don't want to feel this way at all. Not about someone I once considered my best friend—not about someone I gave so much time and energy to that being angry with him feels like being angry with myself.

I clear my throat. "I'll think about it."

"Yeah?" Griffin's voice perks up on the other end of the line. "When do you think you'd be able to—"

"I'll think about it," I say, my voice stronger this time. "But right now I have to go."

"Of course. Well—let me know. And thank you, June. It means a lot."

I hang up, mad at myself for even leaving the door open to the possibility. But that's the thing. I can move on from Griffin, but I can't erase our past. I can't erase all the years our lives re volved around each other, the way we know each other's rhythms and hopes and insecurities. The way I still feel obligated to him as a friend, as the keeper of all those parts of him, even if I want nothing to do with him romantically ever again.

Levi is settling into the back room when I let myself back into Tea Tide, his hair tousled from today's unusually strong breeze, his blue eyes focused on his laptop screen. That is, until he looks over at me and immediately asks, "You okay?"

"Yeah." I hold up the phone still in my hand. "Griffin called."

Levi's brow furrows, and he pulls his hands from the keyboard. "What did he want?"

I laugh, the absurdity of it settling in. "He wants me to go on some special for Business Savvy . He's upset because he's getting ‘painted like the bad guy.'"

Levi's voice has that edge to it again. "What does he expect you to do about that?"

"Play nice for the camera. So the world sees we're getting along or something," I say with a dismissive wave. I lean into the counter, not just tired in my bones, but tired all over.

Levi closes his laptop and walks over, leaning on the counter beside me close enough that I can feel the warmth of him near my bare arm. His eyes search my face. I resist the urge to lean in closer, to search his right back—the curve of his jaw, the slight smile line at the edge of his lips, the sudden softness in his eyes.

"You haven't taken an actual break in ages," he finally says. "The front doesn't seem too busy right now—do you maybe want to go for a quick run on the beach?"

I haven't been able to go on a proper run since this whole Revenge Exes thing began. "Yeah," I say, perking up. "Actually, that sounds great."

Except when we hit the beach, we both fall into a quick walking pace, neither of us initiating the run. It's a little too crowded on this stretch anyway, tourists and locals alike stretched out on towels and throwing beach balls and building castles close to the water's edge.

"So are you going to do it?" Levi asks, pitching his voice above the wind. "The special, I mean."

I blow out a breath. "Probably not."

We walk another few paces, Levi angling his body closer to mine so the words don't carry beyond us.

"If you don't mind me asking… why would you?"

I press my lips together as the wind gusts my hair behind me, lifts the tops of Levi's curls.

"I know what he did was awful," I settle on, "but we still have this whole history together."

Levi opens his mouth as if to protest, but before he can, I add, "That, and it's just a TV special. Not anything serious."

I glance at him and my expression must be more pointed than I think it is, because Levi tilts his head down like he knows what I'm about to ask. Part of me is already kicking myself for asking it. I've managed to avoid it for so long. But I can see the blatant concern in Levi's eyes over the situation with Griffin, can see the way it looks so much like the concern I have for him, that I know I'll regret it if I don't.

"You don't have to explain if you don't want to, but I've been wondering—why do you still want to make things work with Kelly?" I ask, keeping my voice as even as I can.

Levi's quiet for a moment, almost withdrawn. I brace myself for that openness in his face to give way to something steely again, for him to close himself off the way he did for so long. But instead, he takes a breath and says, "Because I know what drove Kelly to cheat. I'm not excusing what she did, but—I can see it from her point of view."

I stay quiet, waiting him out as he sorts through how he wants to say it, staring at the sand just beyond our feet.

"Annie always told me I wasn't really living, that I was just waiting for my real life and stalling for it. I knew she was right. But a few months after she died, I actually started doing something about it."

He still isn't looking at me, but not in a guarded way. More like he's buried in a memory and can't decide whether to pull it up.

"I proposed to Kelly around then," Levi admits. "It was earlier than we'd planned. But I told her I wanted us to be happy together, really happy, and to her, that meant staying on the path we were already on. Our ten-year plan wasn't over yet. But then I talked about quitting my job. I talked about writing instead, and encouraged her to pursue her painting."

"And that upset her?" I ask.

Levi is careful to take a few beats before he shakes his head. "I think it was just the suddenness of it. It was like I'd become Annie—I was pushing her too hard and too fast. We had all these plans we'd agreed on. We trusted each other. We came from the same kind of families, wanted the same things. And then suddenly we didn't."

He runs a hand through his hair and shakes his head again, rueful this time. "I'd never liked my work, and in the beginning, neither did she. But that changed, and I was so wrapped up with shifting our time line that I didn't even see it," he says. "I didn't even see it until she was working so many hours that we were barely seeing each other, and then she met someone else. Someone who probably had a lot more respect for what she was doing than she thought I did at the time. Someone who was settled in who they were in a way I'm just not anymore."

We sidestep the fact that the someone was none other than one of the most famous men in the world, because it doesn't really matter in the scheme of things. Our viral, public breakups, or even this blown-up fake relationship we've schemed. It's all just noise, and underneath it is the real mess. The real hurt. Things that must have been brewing between Levi and Kelly the same way they had been for me and Griffin, and were only waiting for a catalyst to explode.

"So if you guys get back together," I say, the word if thick on my tongue, "do you think things are going to be different?"

Levi nods, and then says the next words almost rotely, like he's turned them over in his head more than a few times. "I could get a less demanding job in my field and keep trying to write. She'll probably stay at hers. We could compromise on the old plan. I think a lot of our issues started because I felt like a question mark to her, and we've just never been equipped for that."

He says "question mark" so deliberately that I can't help but wonder if that's something Kelly called him herself.

Levi's voice is lower when he speaks again, like he'd be self-conscious saying it in front of anyone else. "Now that I have enough distance to look back, we've been unhappy for years," he admits. "Like, at first we weren't on the same page, and then we just stopped trying to be altogether. Like, we knew each other so well, but were practically strangers in our day-to-day, and just decided that was normal."

I know what he means only because I felt the opposite about Griffin. We were with each other practically every moment for years, but it turned out I didn't know him nearly as well as I thought I did.

"But before all that, it worked between us for so long, I just…"

"Don't want to feel like those years were wasted?" I ask.

Levi shakes his head, and I feel embarrassed for saying it, knowing it's more of a reflection on how I feel about the past few years than he does.

"I don't think it's a waste, either way. We got each other through so much. I wonder if this is just another one of those things we need to help each other through," he says. "Maybe it won't work out, but after everything we've been through, I have to try."

There's another question I want to ask. One I was really looking for the answer to from the start. Not just the question of why he wants to make it work with Kelly, but why he still loves her at all.

But that's not fair of me to ask. He built an entire life with her that I've never seen. She must have been there when his mom was sick. She must have been there when he was learning the ropes at new jobs and working ridiculous hours and making the hard choices everyone in their twenties makes along the way. She must have had a hand in so many moments that shaped him, and I have to respect that, even if I don't like it.

"I don't think you're a question mark, Levi," I say, because that much I can tell him. "It sounds like you both changed, in your own ways. It isn't just your fault."

He considers this. "Maybe we did both change. But I think I was the one trying to change her."

I nod, trying to imagine it, trying to put myself in Levi's shoes. But I walked a completely different path than his. I was never trying to change Griffin. I was always the one changing to make myself fit.

"I always wondered about you and Griffin, though," says Levi unexpectedly. "I was surprised you dated for so long. You two seemed so different."

I laugh, glad that it's something I feel like I can laugh about now and mean it. "Yeah. The breakup was a long time coming, probably."

"Yeah?" Levi prompts. There's something tentative in it, almost vulnerable. Like he's wanted to ask for a while.

"Yeah," I say easily. "Looking back, I think he really resented this place. He hated that he only got into the local university, that he felt stuck here. All he wanted to do was get out, so that's what we did." I gesture vaguely toward the ocean. "But it didn't matter where we went. It always felt like he had something to prove. Like he wasn't just going on all those trips for fun, but to show off how adventurous he was, or something." I glance at Levi, my eyes full of mirth. "I guess I shouldn't be too surprised he ended up on a reality show."

His own eyes are steady on mine. "You were both gone for a long time."

I lose some of the bravado at that. "I didn't want to be. I think even then I had the sense that if I didn't, I'd lose him. And that really scared me back then."

I feel my shoulders loosen, like the wind is knocking them down. Levi's gaze is still so steady that I feel something else loosen in me, too. Something I've held so close to my chest that I haven't ever said it out loud before.

"I know you might not get it, because you never liked him very much," I tell him. "But we started out as friends. And it's really, really hard for me to consider dating someone or even feel attracted to someone I don't know really well first. I was worried that might not happen again."

There's another worry just underneath that, of course. The worry that it could happen again, and it would break my heart. The way it happened with Levi all those years ago, when I was so stupidly, earnestly certain that he felt the same way I did. It's strange—Levi and I never actually dated, but losing him felt like the biggest heartbreak of my life.

"Of course it will," says Levi, without missing a beat. "You're you. I can't imagine anyone meeting you and not wanting to get to know you."

I feel my face flush against the breeze. It means more coming from him than I can say, but it's not as simple as that. The truth is, it's almost impossible these days to meet people in a way that gives you time to be friends first, to feel each other out. Most people expect to know whether you're attracted to them on the first or second date. But it's never been like that for me. I've always had this strange feeling of not being able to keep up. I can't run headfirst toward something without knowing there's a solid foundation under my feet, and judging from all my friends' stories about the dating out in the wild, I worry there aren't a lot of people willing to wait for me to find it.

"We'll see," I joke, trying to brush his words off even when I know I'll be spinning them back and forth in my head tonight. "Anyway, all that's to say—I was right. Once I came back to Benson Beach to run Tea Tide and couldn't jet off with Griffin anymore, I could sense him getting restless. He said I wasn't the June he knew. That I wasn't adventurous anymore."

Levi lets out a derisive noise, but I just shake my head.

"The truth is, I was relieved. To have an excuse to stay here, I mean. It felt like—for a long time like he was leading, and I was following, and for the first time I finally had a solid reason not to follow." I take a breath, gearing myself up for what I say next. "What he did sucked, but I'm weirdly not upset with him. I'm upset with myself for not breaking things off much earlier. I would have come home sooner. Had more time with Annie. Avoided this whole mess."

Levi shakes his head. "I think—we don't have control over what happens. But we control how we react to it. And losing Annie changed us both."

"Or maybe it just reminded us who we actually are," I say quietly.

I can tell from the way Levi's brows loosen that the words catch him by surprise. That the words don't quite know how to settle in him. For me, I think it comes down to this—there was a person I was pretending to be when I was with Griffin. Someone who took too many risks and stayed too far from home. And losing Annie didn't just bring me back to Benson Beach. It made me appreciate that life is both too short and too long for being something you're not.

I can't speak for Levi, but this much I can say: "I know you're worried about how it affected things with Kelly, but—I'm really glad you're writing again."

Levi's lip quirks. "Well, for what it's worth, I'm glad you're home again. Partially so I don't have heart attacks hearing the stuff you were up to anymore."

I offer him half a smile, my eyes teasing. "Did you really check in on me?"

But Levi's eyes are suddenly solemn on mine. "June," he says, and hearing him say my name like that, low and urgent, tugs at something deep in my chest. "Of course I did. I asked Annie about you every time we talked. And sometimes it scared the shit out of me, knowing you were out in the world doing things that just seemed—dangerous. I worried all the time."

His gaze is holding me like a hook, the blue in his eyes dark enough to brew a storm. For a moment all I can do is stare back until I find my voice.

"I didn't know," I say, the words quivering.

I cast my eyes at my feet. I want to tell him that I worried about him, too, because I did. I don't think a day has gone by in my whole life that I haven't wondered about Levi.

But I didn't check in on him. The guilt of that churns in my stomach, especially knowing what I know now—that he was clearly lonely and out of his depth when he moved to New York. That he was dealing with his mom getting sick and the burden of keeping it secret, of taking it on himself to help with the debt. And I couldn't see past my own hurt to even ask how he was doing.

When I lift my head again to look at him, I realize there's a part of our conversation still weighing on my chest, one that I can't let sit.

"Levi—you shouldn't have to feel settled for someone to love you. I know it might not mean a lot coming from someone who spent most of their twenties decidedly unsettled, but I mean that," I tell him. "I don't think anyone ever gets to be settled in life. I think you just find people who weather it with you."

I don't know Kelly beyond what Levi's told me, but I know Griffin wasn't that person for me. That if it hadn't been losing Annie, something else would have shaken us down the line. I only hope that if Levi wants this, that he has that perspective, too.

And just like that, the storm clouds are gone from his eyes, and he's staring at me again so openly that I feel like I can see all the way down to the core of him. Further than I've ever seen. So far down that if I peer close enough, I'll have answers to the questions I can't bring myself to ask. Ones that have the power to hurt me more than I thought they ever would again.

"It means a lot coming from you," he says, his voice so quiet it almost gets swallowed by the wind.

I feel raw all of a sudden, standing under his gaze, realizing how much we've said. How much we've exposed. I glance back, feeling untethered, and see we've wandered far past the boardwalk and the crowds.

I seize on the only solid thing I can think of—an old pattern. A version of the two of us that's already set in stone.

"Well," I say, squaring my quaking shoulders, "if we're going to get back in time for the next rush, I think a race is in order."

It takes Levi a moment to process what I've said, still standing in place with his eyes on me. Only after I dig my heels into the sand does he shift to get next to me, easing his legs into a stretch.

"We don't have any scores to settle, do we?" he asks.

I tilt my chin toward the boardwalk. "Sure we do, pistachio."

We ran our flavor options for the sheet cake past Mateo and Dylan over text. Mateo responded with Either sounds good to me! and Dylan responded with a series of unhelpful thumbs-up and party emojis, so we still haven't given a final flavor to Cassie.

Levi's shaking his head at me with that same exasperated affection. "How do you solve problems with people you can't demand beach races from?"

"In boring ways," I say easily, priming myself to run. Levi settles next to me, resigned, as I say, "On your mark… get set…"

And Levi takes off.

"Hey!" I protest, springing to my feet.

He turns his head just enough to say, "You got a head start last time!"

And I can't argue with that, only because I can't afford to waste my breath. I pull myself forward with the kind of speed I didn't know I had in me, managing to catch up to him within a few seconds.

Then we run and we run and it feels less like we're racing each other but more like we're chasing off something else. I feel it slip away for a moment, the weight of everything lifted off my shoulders. The lingering hurt of everything that happened with Griffin and the realization that the years I spent with him were built on something flimsier than I ever knew. The constant ebb of guilt and panic about the state of Tea Tide. The uncertainty I've felt ever since Levi came back to town, wondering if I can trust him, wondering if I can trust myself.

The weight of all of it is gone, and without it, I feel like I'm flying. Untethered again, but in a way that doesn't scare me—in a way that leaves so much more room for a future I haven't let myself consider yet. One where I turn things at Tea Tide around. One where, after this whole Revenge Exes thing is over, I might be able to open my heart up to someone else again. One where Levi and I are finally settled in our friendship, and I can feel the kind of peace I think I've been waiting to feel since I was seventeen. It all seems as wide open and vast as the ocean beyond us, close enough to touch.

Levi gets ahead of me by half a foot, and another burst of power surges through my body. I pull forward, a lopsided grin stretching over my face, and yank off the sunglasses he had propped on top of his head.

"Hey!" he says, skidding to an indignant stop.

Then I do something I haven't done since we were kids at the end of one of our grueling cross-country runs—I pivot sharply and run straight for the ocean, clothes and all. I get in as far as my knees before I turn back to see Levi at the edge of the water, half incredulous, half impressed.

I dangle his sunglasses in the air before I secure them on my face. "If you want these, you better come get them," I taunt, diving straight into the next choppy wave.

The next moment, everything is the murky, deep green and blue of ocean floor and rushing water, the cold jolting my bones, electrifying me. I'm giddy by the time my head bobs back up over the surface. I shake the long, wet strands of hair out of my face and there's Levi, bobbing up a few feet away. He turns his head to the side, his wet curls plastered to his head, glinting dark gold against the sun.

"I demand a rematch," says Levi, breathless and grinning. "And my sunglasses."

"You're right," I say. "You'll need them to hide your shame when I kick your ass."

Levi shakes his head, his hair dripping salt water at the edges. "I'll need them to enjoy the view when I kick yours."

My grin sharpens. "Or you could enjoy this view."

I reach my arms out and plant them on his shoulders, pulling myself up to dunk him underwater. In an instant, his hands wrap around my waist, his fingers pressing against the sharp, gasping laugh in my ribs as he pulls me down with him.

For a few moments everything is still—just silence and weightlessness, just our hands anchoring each other against a quiet vacuum. It's just us. Nobody watching, nobody posting, nobody expecting. I open my eyes against the salt water and make out the blurry edges of Levi, and this moment feels like it has a strange kind of infinity to it. Like we can be whoever we want down here, and it won't count. But with my body half tangled in Levi's, my heart beating against his fingertips, his shoulders steady against my hands, all I want is to be myself.

A wave pushes us back to the surface, pressing our bodies together so close that my hair, freed from its ponytail, sticks to his arm. I can smell brine and sweet summer wind and Levi's still-distinct earthy sweat. His smile broad and contagious, his blue eyes studying my face like he's accounting for every freckle, every angle and curve. There's salt water slipping down his cheeks, catching on his lips, gleaming in the late afternoon light. We drink each other in, our ankles knocking into each other as we tread under the surface, but neither of us making any attempt to part.

He takes his hands off my waist but comes even closer, carefully untangling the strand of wet hair caught on his sunglasses and pulling them off my forehead. The current nudges us closer still, almost like it's got an agenda of its own—so close that our knees are grazing, that it feels like any moment, our noses will skim each other's, like we're both one small tilt of our heads away from something more than that.

Once the sunglasses are off, Levi searches my eyes, his own gleaming. "I think you're plenty adventurous," he says.

And right now, I feel it—electricity in my skin, vibrating in my body, humming in every place Levi and I have touched.