Loved By Levi

Twenty-Six

Mylee

Every time I sat in the coffee shop on campus and just watched the people go by, I was amazed to realize that not everyone wore clothes covered in fringe and sparkles. There were actually people out there in the world, in my world, that got up in the morning and decided to wear a romper to class. It blew my mind.

For as long as I remembered, I'd been the girl running around in jeans and boots and a cowboy hat. There were even photos of me as a baby wearing the tiniest little wranglers in existence, smiling underneath my dad's dirty Stetson. I had to admit, those pictures were precious. The ones of me in tulle and lace dresses at the daddy-daughter dances my elementary school put on were, too, though. Even though I owned a lot of western-style clothes, my dad had always been good about buying me pretty much any outfit I wanted, as long as it was appropriate.

That had all changed once I made it to junior high, though. Once the headstrong cowgirls figured out I was pretty dang good at rodeoing, they adopted me into their friend group. I'd never really minded, especially since there were so many other girls in my grade that got left out. It felt good to be included, even though there were times where those stubborn cowgirls weren't very subtle about using me for my talents. Junior high was when my individuality was replaced with the fringe and rhinestone armor that every rodeo cowgirl seemed hide behind. So far, college had just been a repeat of that.

Meeting Levi on one of the rare days I'd had enough courage to dress the way I actually wanted had really opened my eyes to a lot of things. If he liked me when I wasn't all kinds of made-up and powdered over, and sad to boot, then something about what we just had to be genuine. And the way he'd looked at me while we sat together on the couch with our beers... I had never experienced anything like it.

I rolled my eyes as the door opened, making the 'rustic' cowbell that hung over top of it ring. That was the problem with nearly everything and everyone that claimed to be country; even though they looked tough and well-worn, it was all just a façade. Hell, even the 'barnwood' furniture you could buy in stores was literally just hard plastic that had enough grooves and discoloration to pass as rustic. It wasn't until a familiar drawl met my ears that I snapped out of my mental rant and looked around to find the person that had just walked in.

There, standing at the counter, was my dad. He held his dirty hat up with one hand and tried to smooth down his wild red hair with the other. "Do you people make any coffee that ain't all kinds of sugary?"

I hurried to stand up and help the young barista who was staring at him like he was some kind of alien. Technically, she wasn't wrong. My old man was certainly one of a kind, and definitely not the variety that college students with purple hair and septum piercings were used to dealing with. "He'll take a large Americano, extra hot. Thanks."

"There's my girl." He gave me a quick, awkward hug and followed me back over to the tall table I'd been people watching from. "Remind me again why I had to meet you at this coffee shop? I 'bout hit a few of those damned college kids on my way in."

I just smiled and rolled my eyes. Even though he was a good driver, the brakes on my dad's old farm pickup should've been replaced about fifty thousand miles ago, making it hard to stop as fast as a college kid on a bike could come flying into the road.

"Baby, is this about Camille again?" He rubbed his frizzy red beard with a large, calloused hand. I nodded.

"What the hell did she do now? Or are you just being all sensitive again?"

I giggled, grateful that my dad and I were close enough to be straight with each other. Somehow he'd always been able to call me out on my drama without actually hurting my feelings, even when I was a moody teenager. "It's a little bit of both this time."

"Alright, then tell me what happened."

My stomach turned at the thought of telling him everything I'd said and done over the last few days. I waited for him to reach up and accept a steaming cup of black coffee from the purple haired girl who still looked more than intimidated by him. He took a sip, made a face, and set it down on the slightly wobbly table.

"C'mon, sissy, shoot. You know I don't go all day," he winked, tapping the spot on his wrist where a watch would be if he could go a week without breaking one.

"Dad, can you promise me you won't be mad?"

His bushy eyebrows drew together and he set both hands face down on our table. "Mylee Jo, you know I can't promise you that. I can promise that I'll love you no matter what, though."

I sucked in a deep breath, knowing he was right. "Okay. Dad, I quit the rodeo team yesterday. And yes, I know most of my scholarships were riding on that, but Camille just pushed me to my breaking point and I couldn't handle it anymore. And no, I'm not being dramatic, you can even ask Boone. Him and Marnie got a bone to pick with her, too." Around most people, I tried to keep my grammar as correct as possible, but I found myself using the familiar vernacular of my childhood. That was a phenomenon that only happened with the people I was most comfortable with. So far, that list only included my dad, the Boones, and Levi.

The thought of Levi cut my rant short and I felt my cheeks go from pale and freckled to a bright pink, which effectively shut me up.

The wrinkles around my dad's mouth deepened and he chuckled softly. I blushed even harder. "Dad, it's not funny! And you're not mad at me?"

He slid off his wobbly barstool and came around the table to clap me on the back. "Mylee Jo, I'm not mad. Do ya feel better now?"

I stared at him, confused. How in the world was he not mad at me, or at least disappointed? I had literally quit the one thing that had been consistent throughout my entire life, and he wasn't even remotely upset? That didn't make any sense.

"You make me proud, baby girl."

"But dad, I'm quitting! How does that make you proud?" I was blushing so hard that even the tips of my ears felt hot. It was infuriating.

He shot me another deep-wrinkled smile that seemed to hold some kind of secret. "Let me tell you something, sissy. I've been waiting a long damn time for you to realize that some things in your life will make you happy, and some things won't. The ones that don't make you happy don't need to be there anymore, and I think you're finally starting to see that. That's why I'm proud of you." Taking one step back, he motioned to my clothes. "I mean, look at you. You're finally starting to look like yourself."

For the first time since my day at the lake with Levi, I'd actually chosen an outfit that was feminine, if not slightly trendy. I felt beautiful in it, more beautiful than I had in a very long time. I turned a little more red but felt my chest puff with pride. "Thanks, dad. I'm trying."

I watched his mouth convert from a smile to a smirk. "How's that boy doin', by the way? What's his name, Lonny?"

"Levi." At the mention of his name I wondered if it was possible for a person to blush hard enough that they just burst into flames or started melting.

My dad held up one large hand and turned his face away, as if to stop me from saying anything else. "Now I don't know if he's the one that's got you re-thinkin' your life and all, but if he is I'd sure like to meet him."

I took a second to wish, maybe even pray, that I could just disappear instead of telling him the truth, but no such luck. "Actually, he's living with me right now."