Page 26 of Extreme Romancing in Idaho

“Ew.” With her back to me, Angie continued to shuffle through her closet. “All men aren’t like that.”

“Last time I checked, I’m the one with the penis in this room.”

“You’re so gross.”

“You think penises are gross? No wonder you’re having issues.”

“You know what?” She turned and pushed her hands against my chest, attempting to shove me toward the door. I dropped one foot back and remained where I was. “Forget it. I can do this on my own.”

“And how will you avoid looking like a gaper when he tells you about a splitter morning in the epic pow, perfect to send into a gnarly jump, bro?” My guess was he’d spray all over the conversation like the conceited jerk I envisioned him being. No one climbed Mount Rushmore without an ego the size of Lincoln’s nose.

She stopped pressing against me and held her hand, palm up, toward her closet, then to the clothes on the bed. “Fine. Why don’tyoupick something out for me?”

I’d told her to stay in her T-shirt and pajama bottoms for the call, but she’d refused.

Angie turned her back to me and walked out of her room.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out, my eyes instantly scanning the screen.

Thinking of you. Hope your trip …

Damn. Yet another text from Kathryn.

Swiping the notification off the screen without reading the entire message, I grabbed a casual but fitted crew-neck tank from Angie’s closet and some jeans. I followed her into the bathroom. Whoa. This bathroom could be in an episode ofI Love Lucy, as it was complete with mauve floral wallpaper, beige carpet, a kitty clock over the vanity, and a pink toilet, sink, and bathtub. The brass fixtures left the bathroom with an elegantly dated touch.

It smelled of old electrical heating elements and pine air freshener. Standing in front of the vanity mirror, Angie unrolled each of her curlers and placed them back into the ancient relic they came from.

“I’ll only have like forty-five minutes for this call.” A clip fumbled out of her hands and clattered on the floor. She bent to get it and smacked her head on the edge of the vanity. The last roller in her hair came undone and skittered onto the counter. “Ow. Ow. Ow.”

“You okay?”

She shoved her hand where she’d hit the counter and pressed. “Shit. Shoot. Shit.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle at her lackluster attempt to swear.

Removing her hand, she turned to me. Blood poured from a gash in Angie’s head.

My ears started ringing, my world swayed, and I tightened my grip on her clothes in my hand.

“How bad is it?” She glanced down. “Shoo-it. It’s bleeding.”

The tips of my fingers tingled while black ate at the edge of my vision. Blood was okay as long as it stayed where it belonged, but once it escaped, I became sick as a dog passing peach pits. I took a deep breath through my nose, let it flow through my teeth, and leaned against the wall.

“Remi.” Angie’s voice was muffled through the continuous whooshing sound lodged in my ears. “Remi? You look pale.”

I risked a glance at her. In her concern for me, she’d let the blood continue to flow. It streaked down her forehead and onto her cheek like she’d secured a lead role in some slasher flick. I shut my eyes and placed my hands on my knees, on the verge of passing out.

I’d passed out once when Myles got a bloody nose while we were playing basketball. I shoveled out all this advice about extreme sports and how to get a manly man to Angie, and yet here I was on the brink of unconsciousness over a minor head wound. I couldn’t do anything about it now, with my weakness exposed for her to exploit as she wished.

“I think you need to sit down.” Her gentle touch rested on my shoulder, yet she firmly pressed me toward the bathtub’s edge. Obediently, I sat on its rim. “Now put your head between your legs.”

I did as she instructed with my eyes still closed. If I didn’t see any more of the red fluid, which shall not be named, pooling out her wound, I stood a chance at staying lucid. Sounds of the faucet running and toilet paper rolling against its holder penetrated my cocoon of hot and cold sweats.

“Did you cover it?” I squinted at the plush, pink toilet rug. The hem of her blue robe swung into my vision, exposing the long length of her smooth legs. I opened my eyes wider, appreciating the view she offered me.

“It’s safe to look.”

No, it isn’t safe to look.I told myself.Not at all.

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