I have no idea. “For sure.”
It’s dark, but we manage to wrap toilet paper around the bars. When did being immature provide so much entertainment? It takes me a minute to realize I can see my task better and another minute to realize it’s because someone is shining a flashlight. The flashlight holder clears his throat. “Ladies. You enjoying yourselves?”
“Yes, very much,” Skye says, and we both turn around to a security personnel of sorts giving us a disapproving stare.
“How cute. It’s a rent-a-cop,” Skye says.
He lowers his brows. “A rent-a-cop who knows the number for the police station. Let’s go have a word with Mr. Spence, shall we?”
This news should’ve introduced some somberness into the evening but it doesn’t. Maybe because it didn’t seem real when we were standing there holding toilet paper in the dark. It seems a lot more real standing on Mr. Spence’s porch with him scrutinizing us. Then how come I still can’t stop laughing?
“What would you like me to do, sir?” Rent-a-cop asks.
Mr. Spence looks at me again and tilts his head. I wonder if he’ll remember having met me before. Why would he? I’m just a name he met weeks ago. So when he says, “Caymen? Right?” the smile is shocked from my face.
I nod. Of course he remembers me. I am the symbol of his son’s rebellion. I am the last girl on earth Mr. Spence would approve of. My name and face are probably ingrained in his memory.
“Are you pranking my son?”
I nod again.
He laughs. “I’ll be honest. None of my kids have ever been toilet-papered. Is that what it’s called?” He turns to the rent-a-cop. “We’re fine, Bruce.” Then back to us he says, “Why don’t you girls come in?”
My chest tightens in panic as I look at the toilet paper rolls still gripped in my hands. “No. That’s okay. We’ll go now. If you loan me a trash bag we’ll even clean up the mess.”
He waves off the suggestion. “No. We have grounds-keepers for that. And I insist. You must come inside.”
“It’s late. We—”
“Caymen?”
Xander’s voice is like an instant heat wave. My cheeks go warm. He comes to the door wearing pajama bottoms and a T-shirt. Even his pajamas look expensive. He looks at the toilet paper in my hands and then over to Skye and her toilet paper.
“It was a dare,” I blurt out. “We weren’t supposed to get caught.” Skye starts to giggle and I join her.
His eyes twinkle with a held-in laugh. “Come in. Tess made hot chocolate earlier. I think there’s some left.”
I’m not sure if I’m supposed to know who Tess is but I don’t ask. Holding toilet paper is enough humiliation for one night. “No, thanks. Really, we were just leaving.”
“I insist,” he says.
Skye gives a snort laugh and I’m pretty sure it’s because Xander just sounded exactly like his dad. I can tell she’s holding her tongue to let me decide how this is going to play out. I look between Xander and his father, who are both staring at me expectantly with the same crossed arms, the same tilt to their brows. Seeing such an obvious resemblance makes me wonder if I’m anything like my dad. I may look like my mom, but I’m nothing like her.
“Fine. Just for a minute. It’s late. We honestly didn’t mean to intrude.”
The kitchen is huge. Marble countertops in a neutral shade. A massive island. The fridge is bigger than any fridge I’ve ever seen in a house. It almost looks like a grocery store freezer section.
His dad follows us into the kitchen. “Tess has actually left for the night, but I’m sure you kids can find your way around.”
Tess must be the cook.
“Good night. Alexander, don’t make it too late,” he says, then leaves.
Xander goes to the stove, where a kettle sits, and picks it up. “Empty.”
“We’re fine.”
“No, I got this. I think there is the powder stuff somewhere around here.” He looks through cupboards. He’s obviously not going to stop until we are drinking hot chocolate, so I go to the stove and grab the kettle, fill it with water, and then stare at the knobs. Skye comes over to help me decipher them. After turning several and pushing a few buttons, we get one of the burners’ flames on.
Xander is still searching for the hot chocolate. He looks like a stranger in his own kitchen, opening doors he obviously has no clue what’s behind. Finally he snatches the container out from behind a cupboard with a loud “Aha.”
“Have you ever looked inside these cupboards in your life?” I ask.
“Of course.”
“Let’s play a game, then. Skye names a kitchen item. Whoever finds it first wins.”
“Wins what?”
“Bragging rights.”
“This is my house. I think I’ll win.”
“Prove it, rich boy. Tess isn’t here to make your bottle for you.”
“Oh, you are so on.”
I smile. I know my way around a kitchen. And if a cook set it up she would be smart and practical. Cooking utensils by the stove, glasses by the sink. I have this. I nod to Skye.
She smiles. “Okay. We’ll start easy. Spatula.”
Xander runs to the island and starts tearing through the drawers. I go to the stove and pull open the drawers on either side of it. Right away I find the spatula and turn around holding it up.
“First round to Caymen,” Skye says, and Xander snaps his head up to look at me. He growls.
“Okay, second item. Cereal bowl.”
I give a grunt of indignation. “So not fair. You knew he’d know where that is.” And of course he does. Cupboard beside the pantry.
“Tiebreaker,” Skye calls out. “Find me a strainer.”
I laugh at the look on Xander’s face. It’s a look that says, I don’t even know what that is. I race toward the sink. It will be underneath one of the cupboards there. When I reach for the cupboard a pair of hands grab my waist and pull me back. Then he cuts around me and yanks open the cupboard I was going for. I jolt forward and settle in next to him, trying to push him aside with my body.
“Cheater,” he says.
“Me? You’re the cheater.” He’s standing firm. I can’t push him over and he’s searching the shelves.
“It’s like a bowl with holes in it,” Skye calls out.
“My own best friend is against me.” I wrap my arms around Xander’s waist and try to pull him back. The kettle on the stove whistles and Skye removes it from the burner.
“Got it!” Xander holds the strainer in the air. I jump up and try to grab it and he keeps it just out of my reach. When I try to pull his arm down, he puts his free arm around my shoulder, pinning me against his chest. “And the winner is Xander.”
“Cheaters! The both of you!”
He clears his throat. “I’d like to dedicate this win to my supreme knowledge of the kitchen layout and tools therein that I have used on many occasions. If it wasn’t for—” He stops mid-sentence and then says, “Oh, hi, Mom.”
I immediately drop my hands that are pushing against Xander’s chest and try to twist out of his hold. He sets the strainer on the counter and secures me with both arms. “Mom, this is Caymen Meyers and her friend Skye.”
I turn my head toward her because my body is still trapped in Xander’s grip. I’m afraid of what I’ll see on her face. Afraid this will be the moment when I finally meet the resistance to this relationship on his end. But she has a pleasant look on her way-too-young-to-be-Xander’s-mother face. Her hair is blond. Her eyes are blue. Now I see where Lucas gets his looks from. Xander didn’t inherit a thing from his mother. But then she smiles, perhaps because I start struggling against Xander, and I see that he inherited his best feature from her.
“Good to meet you, girls. Caymen, I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Hello, Mrs. Spence. Your son won’t let me go because he’s a cheater, but it’s good to meet you.”
Xander releases me, and I back away from him a few steps, trying to keep my explosion of giddiness to myself.
Mrs. Spence picks up a roll of toilet paper from the counter and scrunches her nose.
“Ask Caymen about that,” Xander says.