14. Izzy

CHAPTER 14

IZZY

S pencer's coach ordered him to take the next three days off; no gym, no training, no stress at all. I took time off too, to stay home and help him. Technically, I was on flex hours, working from home, but I did that while Spencer slept, and while Leon was with him. The rest of the time, it was like a mini-vacation, waking up late, watching daytime TV.

I cooked for Spencer, whatever he wanted, but after the first day, he insisted on helping.

"You're just in the way," I said. "You're spilling the sugar."

He brushed sugar off the counter. "You know what we should do?"

"What?"

"Marathon that show, the one Leon'll be on. We can't fully make fun of him if we haven't seen it."

I smacked him. "That's mean."

"You know you want to." He stole a strawberry from my mixing bowl and popped it in his mouth. "Actually, you know what? I don't want to do that."

I stroked his arm, sensing him getting antsy. "Well, we don't have to. You want to go swimming?"

He frowned out at the pool. "I can't with my stitches." His shoulders went tense and he blew air out his nose. He found a spot on the counter and scraped it with his nail. "Sorry. I hate this, just sitting around. Knowing the next game's coming, and I'm missing practice. I can feel myself getting rusty minute by minute. Losing my instincts, losing?—"

"You're not."

"You can't know that." He jiggled his bad leg. "It feels like, it feels… I can't even describe it. Like the longer I sit here, the more I go soft. Like I'm learning bad habits through, uh, osmosis."

I laughed. "You're absorbing them through your skin?"

"Don't laugh. I am. Or, I don't know. It's like when we were losing, and I couldn't break through. I was up in my head. Locked in this spiral. I kept overthinking, and if I sit here, just sit , where else can my thoughts go but up in my head?"

I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing again. Spencer's frustration was real, I could feel it, but where would his thoughts be if not in his head?

"It's not funny," he said, though I'd kept my composure.

"I know it's not." I set down my whisk. "Tell you what, why don't you text your coach? Say you're going a little stir-crazy and you want to go out. Ask him what's safe for you, that still counts as rest."

Spencer wandered off muttering, in search of his phone. When he came back, he was looking much brighter.

"Coach says a walk is fine, might be good for my leg. So, I was thinking…"

"Not a good sign."

He poked out his tongue at me. "Yeah, yeah, shut up. I was thinking tomorrow, we'll go for that walk. Around the zoo, maybe, or the aquarium if it's rainy. We could do all the tourist stuff we've never done."

I shook my head. "We're not tourists. And that's more than a walk."

Spencer came up behind me and slipped his arms around my waist. "Why should the fun stuff be just for tourists? We're the ones who live here. Shouldn't we have fun too?"

I twisted around to plant a kiss on his cheek. "It's still a whole lot of walking."

"So we'll take it slow." He pushed my hair to one side to trail his lips down my neck. "We'll see a few animals, then we'll have a picnic. Then we'll go do that, what's his name, Walter White escape room."

That got me chuckling. "Walter White escape room?"

"From Breaking Bad . Come on, it sounds corny."

"And that's supposed to convince me?"

"What, it's not working?" Spencer puffed a soft breath at the shell of my ear. I melted against him, skin rough with gooseflesh.

" That's working," I said. "That's working real nice."

"Then, screw this strawberry bullshit. Let's go to your bedroom."

"No, that's not fair."

Spencer pressed a kiss to the crest of my shoulder. His tongue darted out to tease at my skin. I leaned into his touch, and in that moment I knew whatever Spencer wanted, Spencer would get. Kangaroos, crocodiles, cheesy-ass escape rooms. I'd do it all for him, all that and then some.

"Come on," he said, and took me by the hand.

I let him lead me to my bedroom and to my bed.

Spencer's day out dawned bright and perfect, the sun slanting in through the gaps in my curtains. We'd dozed off together in a spill of my pillows and woke up together with my hair in his face. Spencer brushed it off and kissed me on the nose.

"Leon up yet?"

I yawned. "I doubt it. He came in around five, so I'd say he'll sleep late."

"Good. I'll just shower, then we can slip out."

"Wait, are we really?—"

He wagged his finger. "You promised."

I'd done no such thing, but I went along anyway. A day out sounded good after two stuck inside, and a whole day with Spencer? I wasn't complaining. I got showered myself and picked out a cute outfit, and we made a whole joke of sneaking past Leon. But as it turned out, he wasn't our problem.

We got to the zoo right around nine, and got out of the truck, and this goose strutted up. And I don't know what its problem was — maybe it was a Red Wings fan — but it caught sight of Spencer and puffed itself up.

"Check out that goose," he said.

"Why is it staring?"

It made a deep gronking sound and shook its tail side to side. Spencer reached out to it.

"Aw, I think it likes us."

"Uh, I'm not sure?—"

It honked again, louder, and stretched out its neck. Spencer crouched for a better look, and that's when it charged. It came at us honking, flapping its wings. Spencer jumped in front of me.

"No, buddy, hey?—"

I grabbed hold of him. "Run!"

"What? It can't hurt us. It's only a?—"

" Run! " I yanked on his arm and we fled the crazed goose. Its feet slapped the tarmac. Its wings beat the air. Its frantic honks reached a hysterical pitch. Spencer glanced back at it.

"Shit, damn thing's gaining!"

I dragged him on harder. "Shut up and run!"

We piled into the visitors' center and jerked the door shut behind us. The goose's soft body went bump on the glass. It stood glaring in at us, bobbing its head.

"Screw you," said Spencer. "You hear me? Screw you. You wanna go to the zoo? Is that what you're after? Well, I might've held the door for you, but you were a dick. You came at me honking, so no zoo for you." He stuck out his tongue at it. The goose fluffed its feathers.

"You know it can fly, right? It can meet us inside."

"Yeah, but it won't. It's just a dumb goose."

We paid for our tickets and headed into the park. Most of the animals were still inside, still sleeping, but the walk was nice anyway, just being together. We checked out the penguins all huddled together, and the sun conures shrieking in their warm enclosure. Then we looped up around the duck pond.

"Cute ducks," said Spencer. "Should've brought 'em some bread."

"I don't think that's good for them."

"How can it not be? I always see ducks eating?—"

HONK!

Spencer whirled. "Are you kidding me?"

The goose angled in for a wet, splashy landing, its big wings beating the pond. Spencer jumped back, yelling.

"That fluffy jerk splashed me!"

I backed away, groaning. "I knew it'd be back."

Spencer waved his arms at it. "Shoo. Go on, scram."

The goose didn't scram. It cocked its head for a moment, then paddled our way.

"Oh, lord, here he comes." Spencer grabbed my arm. The goose swam ashore and came waddling toward us, already honking low in its throat. We backed away slowly, but it just kept on coming, and first I then Spencer turned and ran. We raced back past the penguin chill, ruffling the penguins, and past a pink, grunting flock of flamingoes. I glanced over my shoulder.

"Man, he's still coming!"

"This way. The reptile house." Spencer gripped my hand tight. We flew past the flamingoes, past a stand of loose shrubs, and into the safety of the reptile house. The door bumped shut behind us. The goose hissed through the glass.

"He really hates us." I leaned, panting, on Spencer. "Did you do something to offend him? Chase his kids? Eat his eggs?"

"Me?" He bent to one side and massaged his sore leg. "Why can't it be you he hates? Didn't you hit a goose once, with your car?"

"Yeah, like ten years ago."

"Well, they live longer than that. Maybe he remembers. Maybe— hey, what?"

I was sidling away from him, shaking my head. The goose stayed locked on him, burbling deep in its chest.

"I took that goose to the vet," I said. "And it was a Canada goose. And that one hates you , so— Hey, you okay?"

Spencer hobbled to a bench and half-sat, half-crumpled. I darted to join him, the mean goose forgotten.

"Is it your stitches?"

He shook his head. "No, charley horse." He kneaded his thigh, teeth bared in a grimace. "Ow, ow, it's spreading. Damn it, foot cramp."

I stroked his arm. "Relax. Stretch it out."

"I'm trying. I… ugh." He jerked his leg up and down, sweat beading his brow. His eyes squinched shut and I did what I could, soothing him through it with my hand on his back.

"Breathe, yeah, that's good. In and out, let the muscles go loose."

Spencer groaned, then went limp. He wiped the sweat from his brow. I squeezed his free hand.

"Better?"

"Still twinging a bit, but yeah. Yeah, it's loosening." He leaned back on the wall, catching his breath. "I didn't stretch yesterday, or the day before. It's all this sitting around — it's weird sitting still." He rubbed at his leg some more, and the tense muscles twitched. "Sorry to worry you."

"No, it's okay."

"I'll be riding the bench for a while, till my stitches come out." He frowned at the goose, still patrolling outside. "That's probably what's getting him, my pent-up frustration. Animals sense these things."

"Or he's just an asshole."

We both laughed at that. Spencer tested his leg. Once his cramp had quit twinging, we got up and moved on. I got a jump scare from a sneaky green snake. Spencer got into a staring context with a thin-lipped brown lizard. We snuck out the back while the goose wasn't looking, and managed to stay clear of it all the way round the loop. It didn't catch us again till we were ready to go, heading out through the visitors' center arm in arm. Spencer jerked at the first honk.

"No way. Is that?—"

"Run!"

We raced for his truck, breathless and laughing. The goose trumpeted, thwarted, as we piled inside, then strutted around with his wings spread wide. I leaned back, watching, hand on my heart.

"What do you think he'd have done if he'd caught us?"

Spencer shrugged. "I don't know. Goosed us, maybe?"

I groaned. "Oh, that's bad."

He laid on his horn so the goose cleared our path. "I don't know about you, but I could skip that escape room. I feel like with the goose and all, we've been there, done that."

We went for coffee instead, then for a stroll round downtown. I showed Spencer where the condos would be I was building with the douchebros. He showed me where he broke his arm when he was a kid.

"Right there," he said, pointing at a stone fountain. "That wasn't there, or this whole little garden. It was a park, with a swing set right there. This kid Gerald Pugh dared me to jump, only not the normal way. I had to jump backward."

I raised a brow. "You had to?"

"It was a double-dog dare." Spencer rubbed his right arm. "But you can't jump off backward. It doesn't work. Your legs get caught and you drag, and you break your arm. And your mom comes and yells at you, how could you be so stupid?"

"That was pretty stupid." I leaned in and kissed him. "I remember that park, though. I went there as well. Isn't it weird we didn't meet sooner?"

"Maybe it's a good thing we didn't." Spencer took my hand. "If we'd gone to the same schools, we might've been rivals. Like me and whatzername, Veronica Clemens."

I shot him a narrow look. "Veronica Clemens? Did she do debate club?"

Spencer's eyes widened. "You knew her?"

"I hated her! She beat me out for this scholarship?—"

"Me too!" Spencer pumped our linked fists. "We were neck-and-neck for valedictorian, and I thought I had it, but then she won that debate prize, and?—"

" That was my scholarship! "

We screamed at each other, and half-collapsed laughing. He kissed me again, and it felt good, so good, giggles still bursting out through our joined lips. When our laughter died out, we were still clumped together, holding each other up, weak-kneed with mirth.

"I didn't know you were smart," I said. "I mean, not that smart. Valedictorian smart, or almost, whatever."

"Oh, yeah. Huge nerd." Spencer flashed me a grin. "Mom made me study, plus if I hadn't hit my growth spurt, I'd have had zero chance of a sports scholarship." Our eyes met, and he tipped me a wink. "So, yeah. We'd have hated each other. I'd say it's lucky we met when we did."

I cuddled up close to him as a cool breeze blew in. Spencer felt me shiver and draped his jacket around me. A sudden pang hit me, a bolt through my heart — if I went for that New York job, I'd leave all this behind me. All of my memories, my childhood, my home. I might not see these streets again, or the zoo, or that goose. Or Spencer, maybe. I'd be leaving him too.

"Hey. You okay?" Spencer drew me in closer. "It's getting cold out here. Let's find somewhere to eat."

I nodded and we headed back for his truck, but I couldn't help stealing one last glance behind us, at the spot where the swings were, where Spencer had fallen. I had my own memories of that park, that swing set — skinned knees, dropped ice creams, little-kid heartbreak. This whole town was like that, full of my past, but was it the memories that hurt to move on from? I'd still have those wherever I went. What I wouldn't have was Spencer, if I left this place.

He opened my door for me and our eyes met. His smile was bright, warm, and I smiled back.

Was it this place that felt so much like home, or was it Spencer?

I pushed the thought aside. That wasn't our agreement. We were friends, was all, with some sweet benefits — but once those were done with, we'd still be friends. I wouldn't lose that , wherever life took me.

So why did it hurt so much when I thought of saying goodbye?