Spencer gives a curt nod. “You’re right. We have to make sure she doesn’t overheat. Get a wet towel. Actually, make it two. Fast!”
I jump to do as I’m told as he continues speaking.
“We’ll wrap them around her body,” he says. “The water will evaporate and take some heat from her skin. We’ll keep her wrapped up until the paramedics arrive.”
***
Everything goes by in a blur. The paramedics come and take Katy away. They say we did the smartest thing we could wrapping her in cold towels. I give Spencer all the credit for that. I wouldn’t have thought of it. I would have given in to panic.
Spencer, on the other hand, stayed level-headed and took control of the situation.
He and I ride to the hospital in the back of the ambulance. Once we’re there, we show the DNP to the doctors. They count the pills. There are ninety left in the bottle. The label says it contained a hundred. Spencer tells me that even four is an extremely high, extremely dangerous dose for professional body builders—the guys who weigh over three hundred pounds.
Katy weighs a third of that.
All we can do is hope and pray. Spencer stays with me in the waiting room. We don’t speak. In the silence, I start to blame myself. If only I’d have paid more attention, maybe I would have noticed something amiss with her. If only I hadn’t shut myself in for three
weeks, maybe I would have noticed Katy was having problems. But, she was always so cheerful and happy…
“Hey.” Spencer nudges me gently with his elbow. “It’s getting late. They’re going to ask us to leave soon.”
“What? They expect us to just… to just…
abandon
her?”
“We’re not family, so we can’t stay in the ICU,” Spencer says. “I’ve been here before. They don’t like visitors in this hospital overnight.”
“She doesn’t have anyone else!”
“I know. But we don’t have to go far. My place is only a few block away, and—”
“You expect me to stay with
you
?” I exclaim.
“If you’re as worried about Katy as I think you are, yes. But I promise, no games tonight. Our friend’s life is on the line.”
***
We walk out the front doors of the hospital. It’s gotten colder since I was last outside. At least the rain has stopped.
Spencer notices me hugging my arms around my body. He takes off his jacket and places it over my shoulders.
“Thanks,” I mumble, wrapping the leather garment around myself. It smells like him: A mixture of cologne, aftershave, and just a musky hint of his own personal aroma.
My mind flashes back to the night after the frat party. To the kiss we shared in the corner of my room. To the sinful way he made me feel.
I push those thoughts down with a shudder. I’m looking for comfort in the face of a bad situation. Memories of Spencer are not what I should be turning to. Not with him right beside me.
We walk the first block in heavy silence. I glance at Spencer out of the corner of my eye. His hands are stiff in his jean pockets. He’s looking straight ahead. His features are carved with hard lines. I can see the tension in his neck, the repeated flexion of his jaw.
He’s worried.
Spencer’s heavy jacket feels like a barrier between me and the world. Somehow, hidden beneath the thick leather, I feel protected. It gives me the strength needed to verbalize the thoughts running through my mind.
“Spencer?” I say softly.
He takes a few seconds to break out of his reverie. He looks over at me. “Yeah?”
“I’m… sorry for the way I’ve been treating you. What you did tonight, for Katy, showed me that you’re actually a pretty good guy.”
He grunts and gives a half-nod, then turns his attention forward and keeps walking.
“The doctors said that without the wet towels, Katy might have died before we got to the hospital. That was all you, Spencer. You saved her life.”
He grunts again, but doesn’t respond. I keep trying.
“It’s just,” I continue, “my life hasn’t exactly given me the greatest amount of experience in the intentions of men. I know I probably seem cold to you most of the time. I…” I take a deep breath. This is harder than I thought it would be. “…I’m not really like that. I like to think that I’m a nice person. Most people see that in me, once they get to know me. But I haven’t even given you a chance. For that, I am sorry.”
Spencer stops and turns to regard me. His eyes are hidden in the shadows of his face. I can’t imagine what they look like. He doesn’t say anything for a long moment.
I roll my shoulders uncomfortably. “What?”
“I think,” he says slowly, “that that little speech might just be the most genuine string of words you’ve ever directed at me.”
I laugh a little and shake my head. “I think you’re probably right.”
Chapter Seventeen
Spencer opens the door to his apartment and motions me in. I step over the threshold. I can’t see much in the dark, but that changes when Spencer closes the door and flicks on the light.
I’m greeted by an unexpectedly normal décor. There’s a black futon situated against the far brick wall. A small coffee table sits in front of it with a smattering of books on top.
I pick out the title of the thickest one.
Infinite Jest,
by David Foster Wallace. I walk over and hold it up.
“I didn’t take you for much of a reader,” I note.
Spencer chuckles. “I imagine most girls wouldn’t.”
“David Foster Wallace, huh? Isn’t he that genius writer who killed himself a while back?”
This time, Spencer’s eyebrows go up in surprise. “I didn’t think you’d have heard of him. He writes pretty complicated stuff.”
I shoot him a look. “Maybe I’m a complicated girl.”
“I think we’ve both got that figured out by now.” He nods at the book still in my hands. “So. Have you read that, then?”
I shake my head. “No. But I’ve been meaning to. I’ve read some of his essays in
Consider the Lobster
.”
“Pretty brilliant, huh?”
“Yeah.” I nod and put the book down. I don’t want things to be awkward between us. “So. Are you going to give me the grand tour, or should I just crash on the couch?”
Spencer’s eyes narrow. “Hell no. You’re sleeping on my bed.”
I exhale and start to walk out. “Spencer, I thought we went over this. You promised—”
“No games,” he finishes. “And I meant that. You sleep on my bed, and
I’ll
sleep on the couch.”
“Oh.” I frown. “You don’t strike me as the chivalrous type.”
Spencer smiles. “Most girls don’t.” He points down the hall. “The shower’s that way. You probably want to clean up before going to bed.”
“A hot shower sounds like a great idea, thank you.” I hand his jacket to him as I pass. Our fingers brush for a second, and that damnable spark of electricity shoots up my arm.
I’m five steps away before either of us can do anything stupid about it.
“In here?” I call out as I turn toward a closed door.
“Yeah,” Spencer answers.
I nod and open the door. I hear his voice ring down the hall as I turn the light on. “Paige? Don’t forget to lock the door. I don’t want to be tempted.”
I smile to myself, shake my head, and press in the lock. Spencer really can be a good guy when he tries.
***
Thirty minutes later, I emerge from the bathroom. My skin’s a healthy pink from the treatment of hot water and vigorous scrubbing I’ve given it. I’m caught by surprise when I find an Iron Maiden t-shirt and black boxers on the floor.
Spencer must have heard me come out, because he yells, “They’re both clean!” from the living room.
“Oh?”
“I just got them back from the laundry,” he continues. “I figured you’d like something fresh to wear.”
“That’s very considerate of you.” I pick up the clothes and duck back into the bathroom to put them on.
I bring the shirt to my nose and take a deep breath. It smells like laundry detergent. I’m disappointed. I wouldn’t have minded a little Spencer on it.
The shirt falls past my knees, so there’s no real need for the boxers. I put them on anyway. Something about wearing boys’ underwear has always been exciting to me.
“You look so fucking adorable,” Spencer says when he sees me. He’s set up camp on the couch, complete with a white sheet and down cover.
“Thanks,” I say. I look around the room. “Your bedroom is…?”
“Right there,” Spencer tells me, pointing to an open door. “I changed the sheets for you. I didn’t want you feeling uncomfortable.”
“Wow, Spencer. That’s actually really nice of you.”
He grins. “I know. Probably because I haven’t slept with you yet.”
“Hey!”
“Kidding,” he defends. “Sort of. Anyway, you’ll be happy to know the bedroom door has a lock, too. So you can sleep easy tonight.”
“Why does your bedroom door have a lock?” I ask.
He shrugs. “The place came with it there. Though I won’t argue against its usefulness. Comes in handy when my roommate’s entertaining and all I want to do is sleep.”
I jump, startled, and start looking in all directions. “
Roommate
? You mean we’re not alone in here?”
Spencer laughs. “Relax. He moved out last summer. Tonight, it’s just you and me.”
“Oh,” I sigh, relieved.
“Although probably not in the way I prefer,” he adds.
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” I say, “only because you’ve been such a gentleman all night. Goodnight, Spencer.”
“Goodnight, Paige.”
***
I go into the bedroom and close, then lock, the door. I look at the giant bed in the middle of the room. The sheets are fresh, the pillows fluffed.
As I tuck myself under the covers, I wonder why Spencer did all this for me. It doesn’t fit with the impression I have of him in my head. He’s supposed to be cocky, callous, and absolutely immune to the feelings of others.
Except that tonight, he’s not. Maybe the severity of what happened to Katy affected him. Maybe he’s looking out for me because he knows how worried I am about her. I don’t know.
But it’s more than that. He
saved
Katy’s life. I panicked; without him, I wouldn’t have known what to do. The doctor’s words stuck: ‘
Without the towels, your friend would be dead.’
I close my eyes and try to rest. Sleeping in an unfamiliar bed, all alone, is a strange sensation. It’s hard to get comfortable. My mind keeps going back to the scene in the bathroom after Spencer broke through the door: Poor Katy, lying in the bathtub, the water splashing over her unconscious body. If Spencer hadn’t suggested I get a jacket, we would have been gone when she fell. I shudder to think what could have happened to her then.
I flit in and out of sleep. My dreams are just as bad as the thoughts that run through my head when I’m awake.
Eventually, I give up trying to rest. I sit up. The stress pulsing through my body makes me feel grainy and stretched. I hug my knees to my chest, and rub my eyes.
That’s when I notice the faint light coming from beneath the bedroom door. Spencer’s still awake. Suddenly, I feel incredibly guilty about taking his bed. He’s probably just as worried about Katy as I am. I have no right to kick him out of his own room when I’m a guest.
I sneak to the door and carefully pry it open.
Spencer’s lying on the futon, facing away from me. He has a book in his lap. I watch as his hand moves to flip the page. The rustle of paper is the only sound to break the silence.
I debate turning around and returning to bed—then think better of it.
“Spencer?” I ask meekly. The mood in the apartment seems suited for soft voices.
He turns his head at the sound of my voice. “Paige,” he says, looking over his shoulder. “I didn’t think you’d still be up.”
I wrap my arms around myself, nestling into his t-shirt, and emerge from the doorway. Spencer sits up when I walk to him. I take a seat to his right.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I whisper.
“Me, neither,” Spencer says. He looks me up and down. Normally, I’d expect that look to be full of hungry desire, but right now, it’s just… compassionate. “Worried?” he asks.
“Yeah.” I nod and pull my feet onto the couch, stretching the t-shirt so it covers my legs.
“She was lucky we were there,” Spencer says. “There’s nothing else we could have done for her.”
“I know.” I look ahead, into the distance. My next words come out in a tiny breath. “Do you think she’s going to make it?”
Spencer exhales, then scooches closer to me. When I don’t shy away, he lifts his arm. I give an imperceptible nod. He puts his arm over my shoulder, and I lean into him.
“I don’t know,” he says finally.
I nod again. The truth may be bitter, but it’s better than hearing lies.
A yawn escapes my lips. Spencer notices.
“You should get some sleep,” he says. “We can go back to the hospital around seven tomorrow.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll try to sleep a little, too.”
“Are you okay out here, on the couch?”
He gives a light chuckle. “I gave you the bed, didn’t I?”
“That’s not what I asked.”
He shrugs. “I’ll manage.”
“Okay.” I start to get up, then hesitate. “Spencer?”
“Yes?”
I take a deep breath. “Come with me.”
His eyes widen. For a second, I see that fire erupt behind them again. I know it should alarm me, but it doesn’t. It makes me feel wanted. Secure.
“Paige,” he says, his voice straining. “Are you sure that’s such a good idea?”
“No.” I laugh. “But I don’t think it’s a terrible one, either. If you can remember your promise from earlier, we’ll be all right. I feel crummy making you sleep out here. There’s more than enough room for both of us on your enormous mattress.”
“You’re asking me to sleep with you… but
not
sleep with you?” Spencer seems to be struggling with the concept. I find it adorably cute and funny.