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A knock at the door startled me from my musings. Lola yelped and jumped up.
“I’m not dressed. Can you get that?” She slammed her door shut and I went to answer, but when I peered through the peephole, it was just Leon.
“It’s just Leon,” I called.
Lola didn’t answer.
I opened the door and saw he’d brought Spencer. My heart did a flip-flop. I wasn’t ready for this. It occurred to me I could slam the door in their faces, and when Lola asked me, I’d say it was no one.
“Hey, guys,” I said. “What are you doing here?”
Leon opened his mouth to answer, but Lola popped out. She bounded over and flung her arms around him.
“Lee! Who’s your friend?”
I caught Spencer’s eye. Lee? He shrugged at me, helpless, and Leon kissed Lola.
“So her Lee’s our Leon?”
“And Lola’s Delores.” Spencer shook his head, chuckling, but I thought he looked nervous. Lola pushed Leon off her.
“Wait, what’s going on?”
“We know each other,” I said. “Leon’s my other roommate.”
Lola stared, dumbstruck, at Leon, then me. Then she shrieked like a steam whistle. “So, you’re saying this whole time, you could’ve been spilling his secrets? Pointing him out in your high school yearbook? Did he wear glasses? Ooh! Was he hot? Was he most likely to?—”
“Nope! None of that.” Leon shot me a warning look. I did have our yearbook.
“How did none of us see this?” Lola’s eyes had gone round. “I’ve been seeing you months now, and it never came up?”
“I mentioned my roommates.”
“The secret sex bunnies?”
Spencer choked. “What?”
“You guys weren’t quiet.” Leon rolled his eyes. “And it’s not like I ever told her your names.”
“Well, the cat’s out of the bag. Secret sex bunnies…” Spencer rubbed at his temples. His ears had gone red.
“Let’s get out of here,” said Leon, and grabbed Lola’s hand. “These two need to talk, and we’re late for dinner.”
“Oh, yeah, I’m starving.” Lola glanced my way. “You okay on your own?”
My heart was stuck somewhere halfway up my throat, but I nodded anyway. Yeah, I was fine. Lola hugged me and whispered, remember, be honest, and then she was gone, and the door slammed behind her. We stood in her front room, just me and Spencer, and the tight space felt small and airless. I gulped a deep breath, and then another. I needed more oxygen. A breath of fresh air.
“We should sit down,” said Spencer. He made no move to sit. I stayed standing a moment, then my knees gave out. I plopped down on the sofa and sank into the cushions.
“This thing eats people. Ugh, my leg’s stuck.”
Spencer chuckled at that, and he sat down beside me. He sank in as well, and we both laughed, self-conscious.
“So, listen,” he said. “My coach said something a while back, and it’s been on my mind.”
I hid a grimace. “Your coach?” He wanted to talk about hockey?
Spencer looked at the ceiling, then down at his feet. He shuffled them back and forth on Lola’s worn carpet. “He says I reject myself. I think I’m a loser. I convince myself I can’t win, and that makes it true.”
