Out of all the zombies and killers and demons this place has thrown in front of us, this is what finally gets him?
Does he even realize he is holding my hand right now? He doesn’t let go the rest of the way through the house. I hold my body so tensely that by the time we come out of it, I’m positive I’ve tripled whatever damage that goalie did to my back. It feels like pins are being shoved between all my vertebrae.
As soon as we step out into the crowd, Cauler lets go of me and puts at least three steps between us. I rub my hands together, trying to get rid of the feeling of his hand on me. Dorian doesn’t loosen his grip on my jacket until we’re out in the open middle of the building, away from the house and actors terrorizing the people still in line. He tries to smooth it out for me, but at this point it’d probably need a full-on dry-cleaning service to fix it.
Dorian and Barbie talk in Spanish behind me on our way to meet up with the rest of the team, and even though I only understand a few words here and there—mostly the bad ones—I get the feeling they’re making fun of each other’s reactions. They didn’t notice Cauler’s death grip, and he seems ready to pretend it never happened.
* * *
I STEP UP to Coach Hein in the lobby of the hotel with her hat full of paper slips and reach in.
Anyone but Cauler.
Please, for the love of god, anyone but Cauler.
I’d even take Colie’s snoring over the awkwardness that would be sharing a room with Jaysen Caulfield.
I unfold the little slip of paper, and written there in Coach Hein’s looping handwriting is Caulfield.
Why does the universe hate me?
One of the assistant coaches hands me a room key, and I look over to find Cauler already looking at me. Anxious heat creeps up my spine and I jerk my head toward the elevator, flashing him the paper before shoving it into my pocket.
I can feel his presence at my back. Hear him breathing next to me on the elevator to the fourth floor. My heart throbs as I unlock our door.
Stepping into a hotel room with him feels like crossing into uncharted territory, and I am being absolutely ridiculous. I’ve shared hotel rooms, even beds with plenty of teammates before. There is absolutely nothing different or special about this.
I need to stretch out my back, get it to crack or something, and relax enough to fall asleep so I’m ready for tomorrow’s game. But I can’t do any of those things when I’m so hyperaware of Cauler’s movements through the room.
Even he seems tense, practically tiptoeing as he gets ready for bed. Like he’s trying not to draw my attention. Which is weird because usually he fills every space he occupies like he owns it. It doesn’t work anyway, because he has my full attention, even if I keep my head down as I get my toothbrush out of my duffel bag.
I have to squeeze past him on my way to the bathroom, our chests inches apart, both of us holding our breath and leaning away with our heads turned. I brush my teeth slowly, glancing toward the door every few seconds. As if he’s gonna burst in here at any moment and shove me up onto the counter and make out with me and my mouthful of toothpaste.
My face burns and my stomach flips at just the idea of it.
I splash cold water on my face until my heart slows back to normal and my stomach settles, then head back into the room with my eyes on the floor. I wait for him to take his turn in the bathroom before pulling off my shirt and changing into gym shorts. I’m in bed with my laptop open, pretending to read for an assignment, by the time he comes out.
God, this is the most uncomfortable hotel stay ever, and I once had to room with an NTDP teammate a night after hooking up with his twin sister.
Cauler settles into his bed and opens his own laptop, popping in headphones without a word to me. Still, the weirdly tense silence is better than the bloodbath this would have been if we’d roomed together even a couple weeks ago.
Sitting hunched over my computer doesn’t help the stiffness in my back. I pull it into my lap and lean against the headboard, but it’s not much better. I’ve been holding my body too tensely since that collision on the ice and I know there’s nothing actually wrong with it, but if I don’t crack my spine in the next five seconds, I’m gonna lose it.
I set aside my laptop, sit up straight, and twist, using my hands on my hips to pull myself farther. It doesn’t work. So I push my fists into the small of my back and arch it. Still nothing. I feel like I’m eighty years old.
“Need help?”
I freeze with my back arched and my face strained, sure I’m hearing things. But when I relax and glance over at Cauler, he’s looking at me. I blink. “Huh?”
“I spent enough time at the chiropractor to pick up some tricks,” he says.
I just kinda … stare at him for a second. What, is he planning to break my back or something? Put me out of the draft running?
He raises an eyebrow.
“Okay?” I say.
Cauler pushes aside his laptop and untangles himself from the blankets, motioning to the floor between our beds. “Lie down.”
I get out of bed slowly, my heart rate picking up like something a lot more monumental than having my back cracked is about to happen. I wipe my hands on my shorts and swallow hard before lying on my stomach on the rough carpet, folding my arms under my head and burying my face in them so he can’t see the flush in my cheeks.
“Put your arms down.”
Shit. Okay. I straighten my arms by my sides and lay the side of my face on the floor. I keep my eyes open. Is that weird? Would it be weirder to close them? God, I hope I don’t have any bacne going on.
I hold my breath at the first touch of his hands on my skin. He rubs circles between my shoulder blades with the heels of his hands, then pushes down. The entire upper half of my spine pops like bubble wrap. I close my eyes and straight-up groan.
My eyes shoot open.
Cauler hesitates.
Kill me now.
But then he moves his hands and does the same to my lower back. I manage to hold it in this time. It feels like his fingertips linger on my skin for a moment before he stands up, but that’s definitely my imagination.
“Better?” he asks as I push myself to my knees.
I stretch, the pins and needles feeling in my spine gone for the moment. “Yeah.” My voice is strained. “Thanks.”
I stand up, but he doesn’t go back to bed. We face each other, crammed into a space the width of a bedside table for what feels like minutes but is really probably only a second and a half before Cauler clears his throat.
“I, uh…” He scratches his jaw. “I’m leeching off my brother’s Netflix. I was gonna fall asleep to Spider-Man if you wanna…” He trails off and avoids looking at me.
I swallow again. What is happening right now? “Tom Holland version?”
He rolls his eyes, smirking. “Are there any others?”
I ease onto the edge of his mattress and keep my arms crossed, legs hanging off so I’m not fully in bed with him. He unplugs his headphones so the sound plays from his laptop and sets it up between us. He actually gets into the bed, under the blankets and everything.
“You need the screen tilted?” he asks.
“No,” I say, even though the movie is shadowed when he hits PLAY. I really should go to my own bed. This isn’t comfortable, it’s probably undoing all the work he just did on my back, and it’s just plain weird.
“You can get in the bed,” he says after a few minutes. “It’s big enough.”
I hesitate for a second before slowly pulling my legs up, keeping them angled away from him. Arms still crossed and my back straight against the headboard. I’m not even paying attention to the movie, really. I’ve seen it so many times, I could probably act the whole thing out on my own. I’m paying much more attention to Cauler, with one of his arms behind his head and the other hand resting on his chest.
That’s why I see it when Zero sends him a mirror selfie in a white hotel bathrobe and slippers, a towel around his head and his foot propped on the edge of the bathtub, throwing up a backwards peace sign.