Page 109 of Flipping the Script

“No, but yes.” I braced for what was definitely going to be the worst part. “Think warm thoughts,” I muttered. “Fire. Lava. The surface of the sun. Other things that burn really hot.”

Being as quick and thorough as possible, he rinsed the shampoo from my hair. We had to pause a few times when the cold was too much, but I thankfully didn’t get another blast of reverse brain freeze.

“Here.” He wrapped a small towel around my head.

“Thanks,” I grunted, using it to wring as much water from my hair as I could.

He had a bigger towel ready for me when I was done.

“Thanks,” I said again through chattering teeth, swapping towels with him and wrapping the bigger one around my shoulders. “Your turn?”

He nodded grimly.

We switched places, and I handed him a clean cloth to use.

Helping Jesse take a sponge bath with ice water while standing next to him in a fuzzy towel and nothing else was a strange experience. Another one of those moments that felt wrong, like we weren’t supposed to see each other like this.

“All done?” I asked, grateful for the distraction when he stopped scrubbing and gave himself a once-over.

“I think so. Good enough.” He dropped the cloth onto the tub floor, where it landed with asplatnext to the one I’d used.

“Do you want to wash your hair? I can help if you like.”

“Um, yeah. Okay.” He sounded almost shy.

Something in my gut twisted.

We repeated the same steps from before, only our roles were reversed. I was gentle as I got the worst of the rain and forest crap out of his hair, but I could see how much Jesse was struggling every time I accidentally splashed water on his skin.

“You okay?” I asked softly, lowering the showerhead and letting it rest against the side of the tub.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice gruff. “Fine.”

“Ready to wash it?”

“Yeah.”

I worked the shampoo into his hair the best I could. The freezing water made it so there was hardly any lather, and it was hard to not watch the thick strands of his hair moving through my fingers.

I’d never touched anyone like this, and the moment felt too intimate.

“I’ll go as quick as I can, but this part is going to suck,” I warned when it was time to rinse. “You good?”

“Yeah. Do it.”

I protected his head the best I could, but we still had to pause a few times before the water ran clear.

“Jesus,” he said through chattering teeth as I turned off the shower. “It really is like reverse brain freeze. Starts on the outside and just zaps your whole nervous system.”

“Yup.” I grabbed a small towel off the rack and wrapped it around his hair. “Like getting an icepick to the brain while someone pours acid on your scalp.”

“Say less.” He squeezed the water out of his hair, then stood up straight. “Whoa.” He rocked on his feet and pressed his hand against the tiles.

“You okay?” I grabbed his arm, steadying him.

“Yeah.” He blinked a few times. “Just got dizzy for a second. I’m never doing that again.”

“Hard same. Here.” I handed him a big, fluffy towel and traded it for the small one.

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