Uncovering You: The Complete Series (Mega Box Set) (225 page)

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.

“Yes,” I say, taking his hand. “Haven’t you ever had a female friend before? Pretend it’s a sleepover, and I’m your sister. Or your cousin.”

“A damn sexy cousin,” Spencer mutters, low enough that he probably thinks I can’t hear him. I let it slide. The remark makes me smile.

I lead him to the bedroom and point out the midline of the bed. “That’s my side,” I say. “You take the other. No crossing allowed.”

Spencer runs a hand through his hair. “I never thought I’d see the day when a girl tells me how I get to sleep in my own bed.”

“I’m glad I get the privilege,” I quip. I bend down to reach for the pillow I’d dropped when I got out of bed. I toss it to my side, then turn around. “So…”

The words die on my tongue as I’m greeted by a very shirtless Spencer standing across the room. I forget myself and just stare.

His body is all hard, lean muscle. It’s been a while since I’ve seen it. When he moves, his muscles dance under his skin like a greyhound’s. His chest, arms, and abs tighten slightly as he lobs his balled-up shirt into the corner behind me.

He notices me looking and a crooked smile appears on his face. I swallow. Suddenly, the room seems too small, the air too hot, and
he
too close.

A longing I’ve kept repressed since our midnight kiss struggles to break free. It is punctuated by my overwhelming desire to act. I want to run my hands all over his skin, feel the ripples of his abs beneath my fingers, taste the salty tang of his shoulders and chest and—

“Paige?” Spencer’s voice interrupts my thoughts. I nearly jump. “I hope you don’t mind. I always sleep shirtless.”

“Mind? Me? No. No.” I shake my head, then nod, then—confused—shake it again.

Spencer’s grin widens. When he speaks next, his voice is apologetic. “And, I always sleep on the left side of that bed. I like to be close to the window. In case someone breaks in.”

“Oh.” I swallow again. “Oh, uh, yeah. Sure. We can switch.”

After a moment, he lowers his head and focuses on me. “Paige?”

“Yes?”

“You still haven’t moved.”

I jump. All of a sudden, I’m short of breath. “Right,” I mumble, flustered. I take a wide berth around him as I make my way to the other side of the bed. I keep my eyes glued to the floor, away from his magnificent body. I don’t want to be tempted.

“Paige?”

Again, Spencer’s voice rattles me. I look across the bed at him, making a point to keep my eyes squarely on his face.

“I was kidding.”

“What?”

“About the break in. I’m not really that paranoid.”

“Oh.”

He snorts a tiny chuckle. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? You seem quite jumpy all of a sudden.”

“I’m not jumpy,” I defend.

“You are.”

You would be too if I stripped down to the waist in front of you
, I think sourly.

“Let’s just go to sleep,” I say. “It’s late, and we don’t have much time before morning.”

“Right.” Spencer crawls in under the covers. Taking his cue, I do the same.

A part of me wants to sidle up closer to him, to feel his warmth, his strength, and the security that those things promise.

Instead, I perch as close to the edge as I can without falling off.

A few anxious minutes go by. My mind is consumed by thoughts of the sexy, half-naked man lying an arm’s length away.
Why on earth did I think inviting him to bed would be a good idea?
I muse.