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A door slammed up front, and I sat up with a gasp. My shampoo bottle went flying and the top popped off, glooping pearly pink liquid all over the floor. I squeaked out a curse and scrambled to get it. Footsteps tromped closer, down the front hall. Spencer called out.
“Leon? That you?”
I snatched up my robe and wrapped it around me. “No, no. It’s me.”
“Are you in my bedroom?”
“In your tub. That okay?”
Spencer made a low sound, kind of a chuckle. “Sure, that’s fine. I’ll be in the kitchen.”
I hurried to steal a towel from his closet and wrap my hair in it to catch the drips. Then I cleaned up the mess I’d made, let out the water, and shuffled out shamefaced to face my roommate.
“Sorry,” I said. “I thought you’d be out late.” I looked around. “Where’s Leon?”
“Ditched me,” said Spencer, and went to the fridge. He flung the door open, then slammed it back shut. “I mean, is it too much to ask for a text? First I’m stuck in hell traffic all through downtown, then there’s no parking and I’m walking six blocks. Then I get to the bar, and— Sorry. I’m yelling.” He massaged his temples and blew out a harsh breath. “I’m not yelling at you, but man, what a night. I walk into the bar and I swear I get booed, bunch of fans screaming I’m blowing the season. Then I hang around half an hour waiting for Leon, and after all that, he never shows up.”
“Lola bailed too,” I said. “But at least she texted.”
Spencer opened the fridge again and stared into its depths. “There’s nothing in here.”
“So let’s order in.”
He let the door swing shut and leaned his head on it. I came up behind him and set my hand on his shoulder. I could feel his tension, his muscles bunched tight.
“Let’s play some games,” I said. “Mortal Kombat?”
He relaxed some at that, and I felt him breathe out. “Yeah, we could do that. And order some pizza.”
Spencer fired up the games console while I ordered our pizza — pepperoni on his side, feta and artichoke on mine. Soon, we were both on the edge of the couch, screaming at each other and at the screen.
“No, no, no, get him! Come on, kick his ass!”
“Gonna rip your spine out!”
“Fatality! Yeah!”
Spencer dropped his controller and wiped his hands on his pants. “It’s the damn pizza grease. My thumbs are all slippy.”
“Or you just suck.”
“Last garlic knot says you suck harder.”
I laughed. “You’re on.” We grabbed our controllers and hit it again, and I sent his guy flying in a geyser of gore. He flopped back, groaning. “Those visuals and pizza sauce… man, that’s just wrong.”
I snatched the last garlic knot and dipped it in red sauce, but Spencer stole it before I could bite.
“Hey!”
“Yeah, who sucks now?”
I stuck out my tongue at him and fell back laughing, kicking my feet up into his lap. He rubbed at them absently, tickling my toes.
“Remember when we first met?”
“At Leon’s party.” I smiled at the memory. “He made all that food, and no one ate it.”
“Hey, I ate some! But, yeah, that was sad.”
