Petra's apartment was quiet and cold as she came home from a hard day of work. Who knew working at a kids' pizza place could be so exhausting? With a sigh she made her way to her bedroom, falling onto her bed and relishing the sweet relief surging through her feet and legs. Tomorrow was her day off and there were no words to describe how excited she was. I can sleep in tomorrow, she thought with a small smile. She dug into her purse and pulled out her phone, turning it on.

Hopefully Levi and I can go have dinner tomorrow night. It's been too long since we had a nice "going out" kind of date. Her phone screen flashed a few alerts. A text from Nifa. An Instagram alert from Hange. A few emails from Tumblr. And four missed calls and voice mails from Levi. Oh God, I hope everything's okay. He never leaves voice mails. Worry flooded her veins as she quickly unlocked her phone, bringing up her voice mail. Her phone beeped and Levi's voice came through the speakers.

"It's me. I was going to keep this a secret but I realized I fucked up so yeah. I'm going to that fancy-ass lingerie place you like and I realized I don't know your size. I mean, it can't be that hard to guess your size, but I wanted to know for sure so I wouldn't have to go back and deal with that exchange shit. Anyway, call or text me back when you can." Oops, Petra thought with a twinge of guilt, looking at the time it was recorded. It was four hours ago. She brought up the next voice mail.

"It's me again. What the fuck is wrong with bra sizing? Panties I understand, those make some sense. I'm just guessing you're a medium? I'm getting you that until you call me and tell me otherwise. But what the fuck is this bra sizing supposed to be? Thirty-four what? Inches? Centimeters? How the hell do you measure titties? And why the ever-loving fuck would you bring letters into this? What's the point of having numbers and letters together for sizes? This shit's fucked up and it doesn't make sense. Did the man who made bra sizes snort a shit ton of coke before writing this up? This is insane."

"So I got kicked out of the store for 'excess profanities.' Fuck them, their shit's overpriced anyway. I'm going to the fabric store and making you lingerie. It'll be one of a kind and way better than fucking Victoria's Secret can ever be. So I need your measurements. And a walk through of how to use a sewing machine."

"I'm borrowing a sewing machine from my mom and the internet isn't helping me. I don't know what to do. Call me."

By now Petra was laughing, rolling from side to side as she clutched her stomach. Poor Levi! I need to call him back and help the poor guy out! She quickly dialed him and he answered almost immediately.

"I called you four times -"

"I know, I was at work. I'm sorry."

"Tch. It's fine. I'm sorry I called you at work. If I knew I wouldn't have," he said. "But I need you help. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing."

"Are you at your mom's or are you home?"

"I'm home."

"Then I'll come over and help you out. It sounds like you've been to hell and back today."

"It just goes to show the lengths I go for love."

"God, I love you Levi. I'll be there soon," Petra laughed.