“Happens all the time,” Spencer said, even though it obviously didn’t.
Wren paused in the doorway. Spencer felt him looking at her and quickly looked down to make sure her boob wasn’t hanging out and there wasn’t a glob of Icy Hot on her neck.
“So, um, how’s the barn?” Wren asked.
Spencer grinned, then self-consciously covered her mouth. Last year, she’d had her teeth whitened at the dentist and they’d come out looking a little too white. She’d had to purposely dull them with tons of coffee. “Awesome. How’s my sister’s old bedroom?”
Wren smiled wryly. “Um. It’s rather…pink.”
“Yeah. All those frilly curtains,” Spencer added.
“I found a disturbing CD, too.”
“Oh yeah? What?”
“Phantom of the Opera.” He grimaced.
“But aren’t you into plays?” Spencer blurted out.
“Well, Shakespeare and stuff.” Wren raised an eyebrow. “How’d you know that?”
Spencer paled. It might sound sort of weird if she told Wren she’d Googled him. She shrugged and leaned back on the counter. A shooting pain exploded through her lower back, and she winced.
Wren hesitated. “What’s the matter?”
“Um, you know.” Spencer leaned against the sink. “Field hockey again.”
“What’d you do this time?”
“Pulled something. See the Icy Hot?” Holding her towel in one hand, she reached for the jar, scooped some into her palm, and slid her hand down her pants to rub it into her hamstring. She groaned slightly, and hoped it was a sexy-sounding groan. Fine, so sue her for being a teensy bit dramatic.
“Do you need some help?”
Spencer hesitated. But Wren looked so concerned. And it was excruciating—well, painful, anyway—to twist her back that way, even if she was doing it on purpose.
“If you don’t mind,” she said softly. “Thanks.”
Spencer nudged the door a little more closed with her foot. She smeared the Icy Hot goop from her hand onto his. Wren’s large hands felt sexy all slimed up with balm. She caught sight of their figures in the mirror and shivered. They looked awesome together.
“So where’s the damage?” Wren asked.
Spencer pointed. The muscle was right below her butt. “Hang on,” she murmured. She grabbed a towel from the rack, wrapped it around herself, and then slid off her pants under the towel. She motioned to where it hurt, indicating that Wren reach below the towel. “But, um, try not to get too much on the towel,” she said. “I begged my mom to order these special from France a couple years ago, and Icy Hot ruins them. You can’t get the smell out in the wash.”
She heard Wren stifle a laugh and stiffened. Had that come out way too uptight and Melissa-ish?
Wren slicked back his floppy hair with his goop-free hand and knelt down, slathering the Icy Hot on her skin. He reached his hands under her towel and began to rub slow, gentle circles across her muscles. Spencer relaxed and then leaned into him slightly. He stood but didn’t back away from her. She felt his breath on her shoulder, and then on her ear. Her skin felt radiant and fiery.
“Feel better?” Wren murmured.
“Feels amazing.” She might have said it in her head, she wasn’t sure.
I should do it, Spencer thought. I should kiss him. He pressed his hands more firmly on her back, his nails digging in a little. Her chest fluttered.
In the hall, the phone rang.
“Wren, dear?” Spencer’s mother called from downstairs. “Are you upstairs? Melissa’s on the phone for you.”
He sprang backward. Spencer jolted forward and pulled the towel around her. He quickly wiped the Icy Hot off his hands onto another towel. Spencer was too panicked to tell him not to. “Um,” he murmured.
She looked away. “You should…”
“Yeah.”
He pushed the door back open. “I hope that worked.”
“Yeah, thanks,” she murmured back, closing the door behind him. Then she draped herself over the sink and stared at her reflection.
Something flickered in the mirror, and for a second, she thought someone was by the shower. But it was only the flapping shower curtain, lifted by a breeze from the open window. Spencer turned back to the sink.
They’d spilled a few globs of Icy Hot on the counter. It was white and gooey, sort of like frosting. With her pointer finger, Spencer spelled out Wren’s name. Then she drew a heart around it.
Spencer considered leaving it there. But when she heard Wren stomp down the hall and say, “Hey, love. Missed you,” she frowned and rubbed it out with the heel of her hand.
20
ALL EMILY NEEDS IS A LIGHT SABER AND A BLACK HELMET
It was just getting dark as Emily slid into Ben’s green Jeep Cherokee. “Thanks for convincing my parents that my punishment starts tomorrow.”
“No prob,” Ben answered. He didn’t give her a hello kiss. And he was blasting Fall Out Boy, who he knew Emily hated.
“They’re kinda pissed at me.”