Page 65 of Prime Time Romance

“You haven’t said a word in fifteen minutes. It’s starting to creep me out a little.”

“Really?” I shake my head to clear some of the fog. “Sorry. Just thinking, I guess.”

Josh nods. “Anything you want to talk about?”

I don’t think he wants to hear that I’m craving the feeling of his hand on my waist again. Or that my concocted fantasy of him looming above me has been burned into my eyelids. Or that every time I bump into him, I think a part of me is secretly hoping I’ll trip and have to brace against his chest again. Or that I like his sweaty smell.

I lock my eyes on the road and try to clear away the thoughts I should not be having about Josh and his glistening body. Part of me is thrilled that I’m once again feeling that stir of desire, which confirms that I’m not, in fact, broken. But there’s a very real problem in that those feelings are aimed at Josh and not Spencer, and as enjoyable as it is to lust after Josh, doing so isn’t going to get us home.

The monotonous stretch of dust and gravel is a welcome distraction until a speck appears up ahead, then, as it gets closer, grows into the form of a bike.

Its rider’s familiar pale arms are almost reflective in the sunlight.

“Spencer?”

Josh, who hasn’t yet noticed the biker, shakes his head. “You want to talk about Spencer?”

“No. Spencer.” I point to the bicycle, panic rising in my throat. “He’s coming. Quick! We need to hide.”

I search the roadside for any sort of cover. There’s a large flowery bush. But when I attempt to dive into it, Josh blocks my way.

“Wait. Why are we hiding?”

He doesn’t understand.

I told Spencer last night that there was nothing going on with Fletcher and me, and if he sees us together out here, early and alone, with Josh all sweaty and looking like Josh, he’s going to think I lied to him.

“He keeps finding us together. He’s going to think something is going on.”

“I’m sure it’s fine—”

“No!” I get my second adrenaline rush of the morning. This one is exponentially more powerful. I mean to push Josh out of my way, but I’m hopped up like the Hulk and make firm contact with his shoulders. He takes a step backward, but the road gives way to a slight slope and it’s enough to keep the momentum going. I swear I hear a hard and true “Shit” as he lands in the middle of a bush, flowery branches engulfing him.

It was not what I intended, but it’s the outcome I was looking for. As Spencer cruises up, it’s as if I’m completely alone.

“Sloan, hey. I thought that was you.”

Spencer takes off his red bike helmet. It matches his red-and-black spandex biking onesie perfectly. He pulls his mirrored wraparound sunglasses from his face and hangs them in the deep V created by his half-zipped zipper. I can’t help but compare the sickly white of his clammy skin to Josh a few moments ago in all his bronzed glory.

Spencer sees me checking out his chest and puffs out like a preening peacock. He leans over the handlebars of his bike so that we’re perfectly at eye level and gives me the Spencer Woods half smile he’s famous for.

“I really shouldn’t be stopping.” His voice seems intentionally low. “I like to get to ninety percent of my optimal heart rate for at least six miles to really get into my pinnacle fitness zone, but I had to tell you that I haven’t stopped thinking about you or our kiss since last night.”

This declaration surprises me in a way that I can’t explain. “Really?”

The bush starts to move. Spencer turns his head to investigate, but I jump in front, blocking his view. “There’s a raccoon in there.” I attempt to contort my body into a shape to achieve maximum bush coverage. “I saw it earlier. Pretty sure it’s hibernating. Possibly rabid. Definitely doesn’t want to be disturbed. We should ignore it. You were saying something about our kiss?”

Spencer blushes. “I’ll be honest. I thought it might be weird. We’ve been friends so long. I didn’t expect it to be so, so, so…”

I brace, expecting the worst. That he slept on it and came to the same realization that I did last night. It was terrible.

“It was epic!” Spencer says. “I think it may have been the best kiss of my life.”

I ignore the epic and let his sweet words run over me. This moment is exactly what I’ve been waiting for.

My stomach should be swooping right now. My heart should be hammering hard against my rib cage. I should be feeling things. Picturing our future children. Or our matching rockers on our wraparound porch. But the moment Spencer said kiss, I pictured the roof last night. And kissing Josh.

“Ahhhhh.” Spencer reaches up and cups my cheek. “Are you picturing it too? Well, I’d suggest we try again right now just to make sure it wasn’t a fluke, but I’ve got numbers to hit.” He points at an elaborate fitness watch. “And you,” he says, reaching out a finger and bopping me lightly on the nose, “have a pageant meeting to attend.”