White Washed

Chapter Five | Coincidence

The next day when I woke up, it was to a sharp rapping at the door. I picked my head up lazily and scowled at it before dropping my head again.

“If you don’t open the door, I’m going to break it down.” Spencer called from the other side.

I groaned and pulled a pillow over my head. Suddenly there was a click and then a rush of icy air that I took to mean that he’d come in. I jumped up, shoving the pillow off me and staring at him in shock. The door locked automatically when it shut and if he’d knocked the door down, I’d have heard it right?

“Wotcha, Amelie.” He said. We had a short staring contest before he held up his hands. One held a bobby pin, the other a butter knife. “My mum taught me.” He explained.

I sighed and rolled over, going back to bed, deciding to ignore him until he left. After a few seconds I felt the covers being lifted and then he slid in next to me, placing one arm over my middle and one arm pressed against my back.

I turned over and glared at him. “Get out.”

“No, my roommates are being loud.” He stuck out his lips in a pout.

“Go sleep with Jess.” I ordered, trying halfheartedly to shove him away.

He became serious, frowning. “That would be awkward.”

I snorted. “How do you figure?” Jess probably would have been in girl heaven and I would have bet all the money I had left that he wouldn’t have minded that much. Awkward was the last thing it would have been.

“Well...It’s okay with you, because you’re my friend. But I fancy Jess. I can’t just go jump into her bed. She’d think I was trying to bonk her.” He explained.

I giggled, not sure if I had heard him right. “Bonk her?” I muttered.

He hit me with my pillow and scowled. “Shack up, shag, get off, fiddle.” He tried. I still stared at him with a blank expression so he sighed. “Have sex, fuck. Either of those work for you?” He asked, slightly mockingly.

I slapped him on the arm. “It’s not my fault you talk funny.”

“Just shut up and let me have a kip.” He said, closing his eyes. I’d learned that one in British Literature class so I knew what he meant. I closed my eyes too, cuddling up to him.

After a while, he opened his eyes and became the normal, talkative Spencer that I knew. “So, who’re you arse over elbow for now? Or is it too soon?”

I stared at him for a minute, trying to figure out if he was making a joke. “What?”

He raised his eyebrows before realizing his mistake. “Ugh, sorry! I forget you don’t know half of the expressions we use back home. Jess always refers to it as ‘head over heels’ or something like that. That sounds stupid, if you ask me.”

I rolled my eyes at him. Stupid Brits. “No one.” I said. He raised his eyebrows and I tried again. “No one.” I said more slowly. I frowned when I still sounded defensive. I repeated it in every tone and voice I could think of, trying not to sound defensive. I even tried an English accent, at which point Spencer laughed and slapped a hand over my mouth.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

I licked his palm, making him quickly withdraw his hand, before answering. “I’m trying to say it in a non defensive way. I think maybe it’s impossible. You try.”

He said it and then frowned. “It’s only because you’re already thinking of it in a defensive way.” He decided.

Just then my phone rang and I picked it up. “Hey, love.” It was my mom.