New Girl in Town

Chapter 19

I could open her cupboards and see what secrets are inside. I know her peony shampoo now, and the array of body washes that's so varied, it's amazing she can fit them all along the edge of the tub. Her razors are the expensive ones that are like twenty-five dollars for the cartridge packs—I'm still cutting myself with Lady Bics—and there's an honest-to-God shower cap hanging on a hook near the tub. That makes me smile, because I've never seen anyone but old ladies wear those, and the idea of her piling her hair on top of her head and putting that thing on her head to shower is just plain cute.

I am so fucked if I think Jennie in a shower cap is cute.

"I've got it!" Jennie bursts back into the bathroom without even knocking, holding a few trash bags, a packet of gloves, and a big bottle marked TECNU.

"Hey!" My arms fly up, clutching at my bra like that's going to hide anything. They're not. I'm down to my underwear.

It's like a bikini bottom, I tell myself. It's just like that.

It's not. It's not at all, because there are little daisies stamped on my underwear, and the daisies have little smiley faces on them, and she's looking at them, her eyes crinkling.

"Don't you dare laugh at me," I warn her.

"At least you don't have juicy on your ass," she says.

"I hate you."

Fuck, Lisa, what happened to It's just like a bathing suit?

She looks at me, and I don't think it's an oh-my-God-I'm-awestruck kind of stare. More like a Wow-Lisa's-a-freak kind of look.

Fuck. Me.

"I can do it," I say, reaching for the bottle. "I don't need your help."

"We were knee-deep in a gully of poison oak for over an hour," she says in hushed tones. "Trust me, you're going to want to put this everywhere just in case."

"I can reach," I say pitifully, even though I can't.

"Oh my God, Lisa, why do you make it so hard for people to help you?" she mutters, exasperated. "Turn around! I'm going to need your help in a few minutes to do my shoulders anyway. I cannot get a rash. My mom will kill me."

She's still in her clothes, and the idea of her peeling out of her shorts and sweater in front of me makes me want to unravel like a ball of yarn.

I seriously contemplate bolting. But then she'll know for sure. I just need to get through this. Get through it, take a shower, and then bolt.

I turn around, reaching back and unsnapping my bra. I let the ends fall away from my back, but I keep the front pressed against me. I feel rather than see her rustle up behind me, the snap of the lotion bottle, the sound of her shaking it, and then her fingers smoothing it over my back in gentle and then stronger strokes.

"You have to rub it in for two minutes," she says, and I have to close my eyes when her voice cracks, her hands dipping to my lower back. I let out a huff of breath, twisting away as I try to hide the giggle.

"Sorry, ticklish," I say, and I can hear the smile in her voice as her words follow.

"Don't you dare come near the backs of my knees when you do this for me," she warns.

"Noted."

Her hands move up my back, tracing the line of my spine, and it makes everything I've heard about being weak in the knees suddenly make sense.

"You have a birthmark," she says softly, her fingers circling over it on my shoulder. The feeling spreads out from her touch, the warmth that spreads to the tips of my fingers, pooling in my stomach into a steady throb, like a second heartbeat.