Love on the Brain by Ali Hazelwood

            He scowls. “That’s a bad ending—”

            “It’s not—it’s mer-mazing!”

            “—and long-distance relationships are not a lie.”

            “Happy-ending long-distance relationships sure are. Just like all other happy-ending relationships.”

            He pins me with a look. The corners of the pancake are darkening dangerously. “And ours will end poorly, too?”

            “Nah.” I wave my hand. “We’ll be fine, because we’re casual.”

            He stiffens, lips thinning. “I see.” He relaxes with visible effort, and . . . there’s something odd about his expression.

            “What’s that face?” I ask.

            “What face?”

            “That one. The one you put on when you’re about to try to convince me that Nirvana is better than Ani DiFranco.”

            “I’m not going to try to convince you.”

            “Ah. So you admit that I’m right.”

            “You’re not right. You’re stubborn, and misguided, and often wrong—about music and other things. But there’s no use in trying to reason with you.” He leans closer and kisses me—lingering, soft, deep. I lose myself a little. “I’ll just have to show you.”

            “Show me wh—?”

            Levi’s phone rings. He takes a moment to turn off the stove before picking up. “Yes?”

            The voice on the other end is almost familiar—Lily Sullivan.

            “Hey. I’m with Bee.” I give him a curious look. Why would Lily know who I am? “Sure. Of course . . . I’ll ask.” He presses his phone against his shoulder, looking at me. “Any interest in spending a few hours hanging out with a six-year-old who wants to be a spider vet and has strong opinions on Pokémons?”

            I’m briefly confused. Then I realize what he’s asking and my face splits into a grin. “Lots of interest. But, Levi?” I whisper as he puts the phone back to his ear. “Pokémon is uncountable.”



* * *



            • • •

            LILY SULLIVAN IS warm, personable, and sweet in a delicious Southern way that has me instantly liking her and feeling welcome in her beautiful Early American home. Penny Sullivan, though . . . I fall in love with Penny the second I lay my eyes on her.

            Not true. I fall for her when she looks up from lying facedown on the living room rug and moans with wide, pleading eyes, “My kingdom. My entire kingdom for a Twinkie.”

            “She’s on her fourth day of Keto,” Lily whispers. “For her epilepsy.” She gives me the doleful look of a mother who’s been feeding her kid eggs and avocados for too many meals. “I don’t think she ever asked for a Twinkie before today.”

            I remember the cravings of nine-year-old Bee, who was brutally informed by her cousin Magdalena that gummy bears are made with animal bones and didn’t find out about vegan alternatives for years. “Yeah, diets are funny like that.”

            Though Penny seems fine now that Levi’s here, laughing uncontrollably when he picks her up, throws her over his shoulder, and starts making his way across the house. “Penny Lane and I will be in the backyard, if you want to join us.” It’s clear that they have a routine, which consists of Levi pushing a long swing that dangles from the branch of a tall tree, and Penny yelling, “More! More!” as Lily sits on the patio and smiles fondly at them. I take the chair next to hers, and thank her when she pours me a glass of lemonade.

            “I’m so glad you came over. Penny was supposed to have a sleepover tonight, but we postponed after the seizure earlier this week. She didn’t take it well.”

            “I’d be grumpy, too. And it’s no problem at all—your home is so lovely, thank you for having me.”

            She smiles, covering my hand with her palm. “Thank you for not thinking that”—she gestures vaguely to herself, the house, Levi, and even me—“all of this is weird. Having this woman who’s always calling the man you’re dating—”