Page 7 of The Boyfriend Boycott
“Guess not anymore.” She starts to lift her leg over the back of the bike, and I put my hand out to stop her, letting it land on her outer thigh. “Let me help you down.” It takes everything in me not to let my hand linger there a little longer, but I climb off the bike and ensure that the kickstand is secure before extending my hand to her. She takes it and uses it to steady herself as she starts to lift one leg up and over the seat. The bike wobbles and a shriek escapes from her throat.
“It’s going to tip over, I’m going to get stuck underneath it,” she cries, her eyes pleading.
“I won’t let that happen,” I say, but I let go of her for a moment and move behind her, placing my hands on her hips and lifting her down in a swift motion. Spencer removes the helmet, her hair windblown, her cheeks pink from the breeze. She dusts off her ketchup-stained shirt as if any dirt is going to matter at this point.
“Thanks,” she says, her arm outstretched handing me back my jacket. “And thanks for the ride.”
“Sure,” I say, but I hesitate before turning back towards my bike to leave. Something in me doesn’t want this conversation to end. I want to stay in Spencer’s presence as long as I can. For every day over the last year I thought about having the chance just to talk to her again. “Are you sure you’re okay here, out inthe woods all by yourself? You know, there are legends about these woods … some pretty spooky stuff.” I let my voice trail off, but I don’t stifle my playful grin. I’m not trying to terrify her.
“Don’t freak me out! I’m the one that has to sleep here tonight you know.” She bounces on her heels and shakes her hands as if she can shake off the thought of anything in the woods around her camper.
“Maybe I should check the perimeter for you, just in case. You never know what might be lurking out there,” I suggest. She can’t possibly think I’m serious about there being monsters or whatever she’s imagining out here. There are bears though, and cougars. Even I wouldn’t be able to fight one of them off.
“Oh, fuck off, Grady!” Spencer whimpers.
“Better safe than sorry, right?” I joke as I stride past her and walk the edge of the gravel campsite pad, making an exaggerated show of peering into the woods, hunting for an imaginary threat. I round the back of the campsite, and a sound I was not expecting catches my attention. It’s a scratching, scraping sound coming from behind the van.
“What the fuck is that?” Spencer says, suddenly right behind me, trying to peek out from around my shoulder.
“Jesus, don’t sneak up on me like that!” I just about jump out of my skin. Okay, so I may have freaked myself out a little bit, too. Now that I know there’s actually something over there, my shoulders tense.
“A little jumpy, are we?” She digs her index finger into my bicep. “You’re supposed to be protecting me from monsters, remember? Go see what it is.”
I nod. I can’t really argue with her. I guess that makes me the first victim of whatever it is that could be lurking around back there. The Rockies are littered with grizzlies, and I might be about to come face to face with one. I lift a finger to my lips, indicating to Spencer to be quiet, and I creep along the backhatch of the van, stopping short of the corner and craning my neck to see around to the other side.
What I find, rummaging through some stacked-up boxes where Spencer keeps her trash, is worse than I was expecting. I back away slowly and turn to face Spencer.
“I’m going to need you to be very quiet, stay very calm, and back away from the camper, okay?” I instruct her, my voice no louder than a whisper, and her large green eyes go wider than dinner plates.What is it?She mouths, taking a tentative step back.
My heart is thudding in my ears. This could go very, very wrong. The last time I encountered this … thing, it did. I position myself in between Spencer and the wild beast, which I can tell by the increasing volume of the scratching, is growing nearer.
It pokes its head out from around the back tire, and Spencer lets out a bark of laughter behind me.
“A skunk?!” she shouts and I whirl around, just about smacking a hand over her mouth. “That’s what you were so afraid of?!” She cackles again. “I’m so sorry, Grady, but I cannot take you seriously right now. A skunk.”
“Be quiet, you’re going to startle it!” I say, remembering the absolute horror of the smell that made my eyes water and clung to my skin for weeks. Jett, Hudson, and I had been playing in the yard and the skunk that decided to wander through did not take kindly to Jett chasing after it. The spray aimed right for Hudson and I and, wanting to spare my little brother, I shoved him out of the way, taking the brunt of the gruesome stench. Jett never did apologize. Asshole.
“Look at it, it’s cute. What’s it going to do? Spray you?” Spencer admires the filthy animal that I despise so much for what one of its relatives did to me. I don’t hold many grudges, except for Carter Bouchard, and skunks.
“Yes, that’s exactly what it’s going to do,” I say, matter-of-factly. “Some people have never been sprayed by a skunk, and it shows. Do you know how many tomato juice baths it takes to get the smell out?” Spencer blinks back at me, a cheeky grin still toying with her supple lips. “No? Because I do. Approximately six. Even then, the smell still lingers.”
Her grin widens.
“Well,” she says, “it’s a good thing we’re both covered in ketchup.”
“I don’t think—” I start. “It’s not like skunk repellent. Just be quiet until it leaves, okay?”
Spencer puts her hands up in defeat.
“Okay. But I don’t know how to defend myself from a skunk. Are they the kind of animal where you have to pretend to be one big predator to get them to leave?” Spencer takes a step towards me, and I squint one eye, considering what she’s suggested for a moment.
“Yeah, I think they are,” I say, matching the step she took, closing the distance between us.
“Put your arms around me,” she instructs, and I do. Spencer’s head reaches just under my chin. “We have to get close. So, it thinks we’re one person.” I clasp my hands around her back to bring her tighter to my chest, and she rests her cheek on my peck. I just hope she can’t feel the way my heart is hammering against my ribs.
“Like this?” I ask.
“Yes, exactly. Now we wait,” she says.
