Thank you for the reviews everyone :) I'm really glad that I'm capturing the qualities of a first crush (or any crush) that you guys can connect with. I know I'm not so suave in the love department myself :P SweetP: Haha yes, we have. I knew you would notice that ;) Sorry for the wait on this chapter, here you go!


Chapter Seven - Serendipity

(Levina's POV)

The first place we hit is just across the street- Lizzie's Curio Shop. I push open the heavy wooden door and the ding of a bell sounds from above our heads. I always feel like I'm walking into a whole new time era when I step into this abandoned shop, and today is no different. It's like the bell signals our arrival to a land full of antique remains from another world. And really, it does. It is a world I never had the chance to live in, a world where this sleepy town was actually known.

I plop myself down on the front counter and watch as Damian uncertainly moves around the cluttered shop. I've been in here enough times; I think it is his turn to explore. Who knows, maybe he'll find a little piece of treasure like I did a few years ago.

Damian scuffs his shoes along the floorboards as he cuts through the dust-filled air. There isn't much sunlight in the shop, only what can squeeze past the grimy glass of the windows, and he has to focus harder to see the ancient trinkets and touristy items. I let him wander the shop in peace until he comes across the old photo corkboard.

"Do you know any of these people?" he asks from the right side of the shop. He's running his fingers over the glossy photographs, probably searching for one of me.

My heart skips a beat. What if by some chance there is a picture of my father up there? There can't be. I confiscated that photo years ago and stashed it in my top drawer. I think my mother has every other of him tucked away too.

When I'm convinced that there is no evidence of my father, I hop off the counter and walk over to gaze at the board with him. It is an entire collage of black and white, making it more difficult to immediately recognize anyone.

I point at a picture near the middle. "That's Lizzie, the woman who owned this place, and Stanley, her husband. He pretty much founded this place. He's the old guy monument at the end of the street, if you noticed."

"Hmmm," Damian says, "I think I know what you mean." Then he rests his palm flat against the wall and leans his weight on it. The way we're standing, it would be the perfect opportunity for him to casually slide his arm down onto my shoulders.

I'm so wrapped up in the thought that I'm caught off guard when he bends towards the board, his head hovering just above the crook of my left collarbone. Suddenly, all I can smell is the intoxicating scent of cologne. I want to inhale it as deeply as possible, but instead I breathe shallowly, so my inhale and exhale hardly makes a sound.

"Who's that? I feel like I've seen him before…" Damian trails, his eyes stuck on one picture in particular.

His voice is so close to my ear, I feel like I can hear every vibration of his vocal cords. I want to shiver, but I stay frozen. I wonder if he's trying to make his voice sound seductive or if it is like this naturally.

"Oh," I start to explain, my words coming out much softer than I expected, "That's Ramone. He's Flo's husband, you know, the one who runs the café."

Damian rises back up and replies, "Ah, yes, he asked me if I wanted some body work on my car when I first arrived."

He walks away from me and continues his scavenge through the store. His powerful eyes scan around the shop as if he is searching for something.

Then a question occurs to me, a question that had flown over my head in my blind attraction to this mysterious stranger.

"What are you doing here?"

He stops where he is and slowly puts down the snow globe he'd been examining. His back is to me, hiding his facial reaction. He's probably embarrassed that he accidentally turned on to this part of Route 66. I know guys never like to admit that they sometimes need directions too.

Finally, he turns and approaches me. "Lightning McQueen."

I give him a look of confusion. Sure, my father was a legend, but he died more than fifteen years ago. It seems silly that Damian would be here now.

Damian sighs. "I was a huge fan of his growing up. Unfortunately, he died so young that I never got the chance to enjoy much of his racing. I've wanted to visit this place for years, but my parents wouldn't allow it. Once I finished school I bought a new car and saved up some cash to come out here as quickly as I could. So, here I am." He shoots a shy smile at me.

My heart feels like it is breaking in desperate sympathy for this dedicated fan. He never knew my father in person, and neither had I, but we both had an undying love and admiration of him. I feel an urge to make some kind of gesture to comfort him. I want to tell him that I know exactly how he feels, just like he'd known how I'd felt after that fight with my mother.

I slide off the counter and grab hold of his left hand. I don't even think about it, not until I actually felt the warmth of his fingers. Then I feel the warmth spread into me, especially toward my cheeks.

"Come on," I whisper gently, soothingly. I hold tighter to his hand and pull him out of the shop and into the golden sunlight outside.

I lead him across the street, further and further away from Radiator Springs' only civilization. The walk to Willy's Butte has always felt long, exhausting and hot. But today it feels entirely different. The only temperature I feel is that of Damian's flesh on mine, like his heat is fueling all the energy in my body. I could be in this moment forever and the feeling would never dull.

The moment ends though, and it ends with us in front of two gravestones. To the right, Lizzie's and to the left, my father's. Damian squeezes my hand lightly, but I hardly feel it now. Looking at my father's headstone makes me numb. This must be what my mother feels like, all the time.

The sun somehow manages to disappear behind a cloud, as if it is hiding its tears. Damian lets go of my hand and walks over to the grave. He squats down and rubs at the stone until the name 'Lightning McQueen' is more visible. For a few minutes we both just stare at it in silence.

Then I drop myself to the ground and study the dirt in front of me. I don't know why I brought him here. I don't know why I accompanied him. The tears are starting to prick at my eyes and I'm worried that they'll fall in front of Damian.

He can't know who you are, my brain demands firmly. He's just another fan.

But if he can't know me, then how can I ever become friends with him? Or anything more than friends? I can't keep secrets and pretend to be someone I'm not. Because if I do, then he'll never really know me at all. I'll be a ghostly memory like my father, and that's not how I want to be.

Damian stands back up and regards the butte for a few seconds. After he's gathered himself, he throws his head over his shoulder and asks quietly, "Did your mother know him?"

He can't know who you are. He can't know who you are. The phrase screams over and over in my head.

"Yes."

It's a three-letter word, with so much more lying behind it. But as I gaze into Damian's keen eyes, I know I don't need to say anything else.


Don't worry, Sally will be returning to the story shortly. The last story was more about her, so this one is more focused on Levina. Thank you for reading, reviews would be great!