The second kiss was just as earth-shattering as the first and lead me to desperately hanging around the front of the hall long after the show was over.

Spencer was holed up in a bathroom stall, changing and bickering on the phone. Bella had since gone, offering nothing more than a perfumed kiss to the cheek goodbye and a smirk. I had already wasted a solid half hour in the bathroom wiping off my make-up, hoping for a run-in with Spencer only to give up and pace the hall. There was only so long I could hang around the building without making my intentions obvious. I also had no plan of what do, no speech prepared, just the sole hope that he would be the one to break the ice and return things to normal. That we would slip back into our normal banter and the thrumming in my heart would just die off.

That didn't happen, because of course life never went my way, as the moment he strode out the door my heart was back to pumping blood like it was on crack. My entire back went ram-rod straight, feet tripping over themselves in embarrassment at being caught aimlessly wondering around.

"You need a ride?" were his first, non-scripted, words to me since the stilted hello's we exchanged prior the show. Surprised I gestured nervously to the glass doors behind me where my bike sat, still hooked up to the rack in front of the hall.

"Alright then, we should probably clear out before security mistakes us for intruders," He said, already making for the front doors. Hurrying behind him I forced down the sheepish smile attempting to spread across my face when he glanced over. Shouldering the door open, Spencer waited until I slipped past before searching his jacket pocket, pulling out a rumpled cigarette and an ashen set of matches. Lighting the end, he gestured at my bike with the cigarette and took a step forward, brushing my shoulder on the way.

"Want me to unlock the thing? I know butter fingers run in the family," he smirked, but the expression wavered slightly and my heart thumped a little harder as I squatted in front of it. It was probably grateful that I wasn't the only one a little nervous and uneasy with the shift of things.

"Yeah," I said, voice screechy as my Mom's old kettle currently busy collecting dust and becoming a fire hazard in our attic. Spencer laughed though, sounding as surprised as I was at the noise I made.

Clearing my throat, I nodded at the bike, motioning for him to take over. "Sorry, yes. Please unlock the stupid bike."

"Give the master some room," he smirked, waving me back and dropping down next to the death trap. I kept my eyes at a respectable level, tracking the smooth sweep of his hands as he yanked the lock free and tossed it in my general direction. Side-stepping just in time to catch it I shoved the chain in my jacket pocket.

"I swear I will invest in a new lock that I can actually open so I can stop relying on you and Tommo to do this for me," I promised, wheeling the thing out and onto the road. Spencer followed at my side, shrugging as he took a smaller drag, weighing up something in his head.

"I don't mind helping you out," he said, words measured as he veered towards his own car. The guy didn't say anything when I forced myself not to follow, rooting to the spot. "But it might be a good idea. I can't drive to your campus next year just to open things for you."

"Who says I'm moving away?" I called back and Spencer smiled.

"Who said I'm staying here?" He quipped back, stuffing the cigarette in his mouth as he dropped his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "I'll catch you tomorrow."

Rather than respond I mounted my bike, cheeks red but hidden by the weak light of the parking lot. Kicking off the ground I dragged the bike into some semblance of a u-turn and pedaled towards the main road

Only to be met with a loud creak as my bike gave out underneath me, sending me tumbling to the gravel.

"Fuck!" I yelped, barely slamming my palm out in time to catch myself against the ground, saving myself from landing face first. The harsh sound of brakes sounded behind me, followed by a set of heavy footsteps stampeding my way.

"Dude. What the hell was that?"

I cringed at Spencer's concerned yet awed tone, rolling onto my back. Squinting an eye as his face hovered directly above me, haloed by a nearby streetlight, I forced down my embarrassment and attempted to gesture with my hand at the rumble around me only to hiss in pain.

"Shit, shit, Beau. Don't move your arm, it looks wrecked," He winced in sympathy, kneeling at my side. Without warning, Spencer scooped his arms under my armpits, hoisting me into a sitting position.

"Why can't we ever say goodbye like normal people," I sighed, frowning as Spencer slipped away long enough to grab my right hand. Raising it to the light we both grimaced at the nasty gash along my forearm and the gravel embedded in my palm.

"Only you could make me develop a phobia of bikes. I am never riding one of those death machines," He shuddered, walking around until he was facing me again. "Think you can get up on your own or will I have to carry you?"

"Shut up, I can get up," I waved him off, using my slightly less grazed hand to hoist myself to one side. As soon as I put pressure on my right leg however I quickly toppled back over.

"Okay then, looks like Mr. Big and Strong needs help up," Spencer huffed, far too smug as he positioned my good arm around his neck. "I'll pull you up on three."

Scowling, I glared up at him. "I don't need a countdown–"

"Three."

"Jesus Christ!" I yelled as Spencer forced me upright. "Try not to pull my arm from its socket next time."

"Try not to be such a fat ass next time you fall on your face," Spencer sniped back. "Now don't panic, okay?"

Preparing myself to full-on panic I was lost for words when Spencer swept my legs into his grasp, full-on carrying me.

Princess style.

"You're truly beating my ego this evening," I groaned, praying there were no security cameras to capture Spencer waddling us to his car.

"Don't think that's possible. Your ego's pretty big," Spencer chuckled, bending enough to pull open his passenger door. "I will say your fall was pretty graceful. If it weren't for the squawk that left your mouth I would've thought you planned it."

"Yes, because I have always dreamed of fake falling off a shitty bike in the middle of a parking lot with you as my only witness," I said back, tone dry as he gently lowered me onto the seat. Reaching up, I flicked on the in-car light and glanced down at my still bleeding arm, picking lightly at the dried blood until Spencer slapped my hand away.

"There's a towel in the trunk, let me grab that before you ruin my interior," Spencer said, pushing my chair back as an afterthought so I could stretch my legs better. It also enabled me to take in the state of the right foot. It was a good thing I had changed out of my tights, my sweatpants scraped in some places but not significantly enough for me to throw them out. The swelling of my ankle against the edge of sneakers though gave me pause.

"Ice packs?" Spencer's voice called over my shoulder.

I glanced back at him through the rear-view mirror. "What?"

"At home. Do you have ice packs?"

"We have an old bag of peas April keeps promising to someday make use of. Will that work?"

Shaking his head, Spencer ducked back out of the car, dropping a towel onto my lap. I wrapped the thing around my arm, watching as he dragged the busted pieces of my bike into his trunk.

"Thanks," I said when he finally landed back inside the car with a pant.

"It's alright. You have a first aid kit at home?" he asked, turning on the engine before pointedly looking at my seatbelt. Pulling it across my chest I shook my head and Spencer groaned. "There are so many issues with that response. We've got one in the deli, we'll swing by there since it's closer and I'll check on your injuries, okay? Did you hit your head when you fell?"

"No, I got my hand down in time."

"Okay, good," Spencer said, nodding to himself. "Either way you should've been wearing a helmet."

"The one time I leave it at home this happens," I groaned, sinking further in my chair. Running a hand through his hair, Spencer signaled as he turned onto the road because even when flustered, and in the dead of night with no other cars around, the guy's mindset was always hinged on the idea of safety first.

Cutting off the stereo, Spencer strummed a hand against the wheel, clearing his throat sharply. "Uhm... Tell me about your day while I drive. Just to stay on the safe side. We don't want you to be concussed or anything."

"Not much to tell you," I lied. The last thing I wanted was to tell Spencer about how my entire family were currently walking on eggshells around me. Apparently, last night's outburst and coming home so late had them on edge. April had tried, and failed, at bonding with me, going so far as to drag Jenny into the mess, constantly bringing cups of tea to my room in the hope I'd fall crying into her arms.

Dad even offered to drive me to the hall so I won't have to bike, which I didn't even respond to. Part of me wished now I had taken him up on the offer, but when Spencer glanced over at me in concern a larger part took over, glad I didn't.

"Come on," Spencer goaded, punching my knee in a way that started my galloping heart again. It thudded hard enough that I gently pressed my palm to my chest, a little worried by the pace. "Watch anything interesting?"

"Not really," I shrugged. "Stayed in my room and slept most of the day. Called Tommo, we talked for an hour or so about exam stress. The guy's bouncing off the walls."

"I think we all are a bunch of nerves at this point," Spencer added.

I abruptly turned to face him, asking in a louder voice than intended, "What're you studying?"

"Jesus, Beau!" Spencer exclaimed jerking the wheel. Scrambling to right the car, he glared over at me. "Don't scare me like that."

"What are you going to do when high school ends?" I tried again and Spencer worried his lip, pulling the car to a slow roll in front of the deli.

"I'm applying for a scholarship at Bishop Academy of Fine Arts. They have a campus in Bay Harbor, only a nine-hour drive so not too far from my Mom. But Tony's been talking about retiring the shop, passing it down to me. Which is crazy since I haven't been working there all that long, but since Debbie's the only other alternative I figure I'm the safer bet for him. Either way, I'm a little torn since– Actually, it doesn't matter, you're bleeding through the towel so we gotta move," Spencer cut himself off, stopping the car and bounding out to my side.

I checked the towel, alarmed to find he was right, barely reacting when he pulled me up and into his arms again. The princess carry was no less humiliating the second time. Kicking the door shut Spencer shoved his keys between his lips after locking the car and headed to the side alley. I pulled the things free from his teeth when we reached the door, passing them over.

"Thanks," Spencer smiled and I swallowed hard at how close our faces were. I could make out every dip in his skin, the freckles on his nose, the faint scar at the curve of his jaw. His eyes were their usual grey, a thin ring around widened pupils as he hip bumped the door open. Tossing the keys to the emptied countertop, Spencer slapped on the lights and guided us over to a table.

"Prop your leg up on the other chair," he ordered, disappearing into the back room. I did as instructed, going to pull my phone from my back pocket only to find fabric greeting me.

"Hey, I think I left my phone back at the hall," I called as Spencer walked back into the main room, a large red box tucked under one arm and a pile of paper towels in the other.

"I picked it up, don't worry," He said, placing the items on the table and removed my phone from his pocket. "Was vibrating the whole way over. You're very popular tonight."

"What can I say, the people love me," I said, unlocking the thing as Spencer opened the first-aid kit. I eyed him dubiously when he pulled out a clear box filled with sterile thread and needles.

"Don't be a baby. I'm trained and certified in first-aid. I'll even let you choose the thread color: We have black, and we have black," he smirked, dragging a chair to my side and gingerly lifted my wrapped arm onto the table.

Spencer pulled the material away slowly, face impassive as he revealed the oozing wound. Pieces of dirt and gravel clung to the edges of torn skin and I got a little dizzy watching the slow guzzle of blood leaking.

"Do I need to go to the emergency room?"

"Believe it or not, the wound is not even deep. You just have crazy thin skin, Beau," he frowned, ripping open a pack of sterile wipes, looking at me. "This is going to sting. Distract yourself with cute puppies or something."

I pulled my gaze away from him, turning my phone on to skim over the texts on my screen. Most were from my Mom, the first from hours ago wishing me a good show and a promise that dinner would be on the table for me, the latest asking when to expect me home. I cleared the notifications, placing my phone face down then rest my chin in my free hand.

"I can handle it," I told Spencer, watching as he cleaned the wound and forcing myself not to react.

But, fuck, that shit hurt.

It felt like he was dragging sandpaper down the open wound, my foot beginning to throb at the mere threat of his ministrations.

"Blood's almost finished. No stitches needed but I'll have to gauze it then bandage the rest. Can I trust you to replace these yourself or will Doctor Fox have to step in?"

"Doctor Fox. Very kinky," my brain supplied, out loud, giving me no time to veto the thought out of existence.

Spencer's hands shook, dropping the roll of bandage onto the floor as he stuttered for a response. My mouth was busy trying to swallow my own tongue so the pair of us stared at each other in silence before Spencer came back to himself.

"Oh, shit, you're bleeding again," he sputtered out, pressing a sterile wipe to the grazed cut and I hissed, pulling away.

"Don't be a baby," Spencer huffed back, bringing my arm back towards him and applying a lighter pressure.

"Don't be such a shitty nurse and I won't complain."

"Oh, so now I've been demoted," he laughed, a little hysterical and uneasy but it was better than nothing.

"If I wanted to be maimed, I would've asked April to take care of me."

Spencer rolled his eyes at that. "Okay, first-class health care coming up right now, sorry. Let me finish cleaning the area and I'll put the gauze down."

"Much better," I smirked and Spencer went back to wiping the skin of my forearm in kitten-lick soft motions. I was lulled into the soothing notion of his movements, the sound of packets crinkling, that I didn't notice he'd moved my arm until warm heat hit the side of my wrist and I glanced down to find my arm resting on his lap. My eyes widened as Spencer kept his own focused on picking out tiny pieces of gravel from my palm with a ridiculously small pair of tweezers that were dwarfed even further in his grip. If I dared twitched even slightly, my fingers would graze something I had no business touching.

Flustered I turned focus to my leg as a means of distracting myself. I wiggled my toes, getting back nothing but mild discomfort until I turned my foot and a shooting pain ran up my calf.

Not bothering to look up, Spencer nodded down at my leg and muttered, "It's bruised, at most a grade one sprain. Won't take longer than a week or two to sort itself out."

"How do you know that?" I said, snapping my attention back to Spencer, accidentally swiping the inside of his thigh with my thumb. The muscles jumped, tensing, then settled back in place. I steadfastly ignored the warmth coming into his cheeks as he spoke.

"You seem more concerned with the arm than anything else. Your torso is fine, the bike didn't land anywhere on your leg to cause a break. I'll have to check to make sure the shock and embarrassment of the fall hasn't attributed to the lack of symptoms, but I'm fairly confident it's fine."

"Who said I was embarrassed by the fall? I'm sure someone at one point called it graceful. Not sure one should be embarrassed by that."

"Very cute, Beau," Spencer said, condescending as he reached across me to pull out a dented tube from the kit. I watched as he smeared it onto my palm, wrinkling my nose at the almost minty scent then immediately attempted to wrench my hand back at the sharp and sudden sting. Spencer had calculated for such a mood, loosely interlocking our fingers to stop me fully jerking away.

"Give it a couple seconds to cool down then the pain will stop, alright?" he promised, only letting go when I reluctantly nodded. As he said the stinging stopped by the time he was wrapping my forearm. Pining the bandage in place, Spencer set aside a few sheets of gauze and a thick roll of bandage, he shut the kit and returned it to the back room.

"Let's check the foot," he called, tossing an ice pack wrapped in a small red towel between his hands. Dumping it on the table, he took a knee by my raised foot, gently untying my laces and pulling the sneaker free. "Nice socks."

"Shut up, they were a gag gift," I said, uncomfortably.

"I'm not shaming, Courage the Cowardly Dog was the shit... when I was seven," Spencer chuckled, rolling the sock off and grasping my heel.

"Let me know what hurts." He instructed, rolling my foot in various directions. Pressing the ice pack to my ankle, which was growing a deep purple bruise, Spencer looked over at me. "Not broken or sprained. You've just bruised it, I guarantee if you ice it a couple times a day for the next three or so days it won't give you any problems."

"Thank you, Doctor Fox," I sighed out, sinking in my seat.

"My status has upgraded?"

"That it has," I mumbled through a yawn.

"Don't fall asleep now, I doubt I can carry your literal dead weight," Spencer groaned, standing up and stretching out his back.

"Fuck you, I'm light as a feather," I scoffed back, pressing my wrapped arm to my chest as Spencer reclaimed his seat beside me.

"Tell that to my arms, they practically fell off carrying you," He chided back, making a show of flopping his arms limply.

I blushed at the action, scowling myself internally for it. "Shut up, it's not like I asked to be princess carried."

"Right, because you were totally able to walk yourself to my car," Spencer scoffed as he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms smugly against his chest.

"You never gave me a chance," I replied, running a hand through my hair as my phone vibrated on the table.

"I'm going to hazard a guess that's your parents? It is getting pretty late."

Thumbing the silencer I rolled my eyes at him. "It's the weekend, I'm allowed to be out late."

"Without checking in with them?" he asked, eyebrow raised and I bristled.

"Never seen you ask for permission."

Spencer snorted, shaking his head.

"Whatever, Princess. Time to get into the carriage that is my arms so we can get you back to the castle," He announced, standing and spreading his arms in waiting.

"Are you expecting me to jump into them?" I asked, cocking a brow.

"If that's what you're into then sure," He shrugged, stepping aside to grab my discarded shoe and sock while I attempted to cool down my cheeks.

"I'm not into jumping into your arms!" I shouted and Spencer paused in tying my shoe around his wrist.

"That was a very explosive and defensive answer."

"I think any other would be a little weird, wouldn't it?" I said, heart racing as Spencer shrugged.

"I'd just chalk it up to the usual amount of weird that comes with being around you," he admitted, chuckling as he took the icepack and pressed it into my free hand. "Alright, up you get."

"Hey!" I slapped his hands away as they hooked under my knees.

"Okay then. Try walking towards the back door Beau," Spencer said, moving away.

I sent him a look, placing an elbow onto the table as I placed my foot onto the floor. The ice had helped numb the area that I barely felt it when my foot hit the ground, which probably explained why I almost immediately listed over, Spencer catching my shoulder just in time to shove me back into my chair.

"Shut up," I warned him and Spencer smiled.

"Princess want up into my arms?" He smirked and I couldn't stop my entire face from burning as Spencer pocketed my phone and quickly lifted me against him. My face slammed into his chest at the movement and I couldn't bring myself not to take advantage of the moment, wrapping my arm around his neck and holding closer.

"Jesus Beau, have some faith in me. I've carried you twice, I'm not going to drop you now," Spencer grumbled, dipping to collect the ice pack as I closed my eyes.

"I know you won't," I muttered into his chest, missing whatever Spencer called back as I drifted off.

My head hitting something soft brought me back to the present and I blinked slowly as everything came into focus. I rubbed my face as my room's light blue walls filled my vision, suddenly blocked when a head popped out in front of me.

"Go back to sleep, Beau," someone whispered, a hand pressing to my forehead and I smiled at Spencer's hushed voice. Across the room, Flemming's snores were incredibly audible and I raised myself up enough to glance over at my cousin, Spencer moving out of my space.

"Your Dad wasn't too happy with the eyeful he got when I brought you in. I swear you drooled a small river down my chest," he chuckled, pulling the damp edge of his sweatshirt away from his skin.

"Sorry," I croaked out, throat dry. Spencer waved off the apology, settling on the edge of my bed and I shifted a little at added weight.

"How's the arm? Is the bandage too tight?" Spencer asked and I automatically pulled it closer to me for fear he was about to go full, prodding, Doctor mode again.

"Calm down, I'm fine," I rolled my eyes and Spencer relaxed. "Sorry for passing out."

"It's been a long week," Spencer said, shrugging a hand through his hair.

I watched the movement, the way the end of his sleeve exposed the flex of his wrist. Licking my lips I spared a glance to Flemming then turned my attention back to Spencer, who had taken to looking around the room as if he'd never been there before. "The tape deck."

Spencer's focus snapped back over at me, expression confused. "What?"

"Every time I'm in your car the same three songs play," I explained and Spencer scratched the back of his neck, a soft red blossoming across his face. "There's no CD player so I figured it must be a tape. What is it?"

"You sure have a lot of questions," Spencer smiled, slouching against my headboard enough that I didn't feel weird moving up to meet him. "My Dad used to make mixtapes for me. It would always be just a couple demos from bands he liked, sent them on my birthdays. That was the latest one, some songs by the Killers, his new girlfriend's favorite band. I hate all the songs, but I feel shitty if I don't listen to it since I never see the guy."

"That's pretty sweet," I told him and he shrugged. "I doubt my Dad has the emotional range to do something like that for me."

"He got you a bike, didn't he?"

"As punishment."

"Hey," Spencer chided me, punching my knee. He sighed, rolling his head back and up at the ceiling as he spoke, "I better head out soon. I'm close to passing out myself."

"I'm sure my parents wouldn't care if you stayed the night. Another body to the pile that have moved in," I said, not fully catching the grasp of my words until Spencer fixed me a sad look.

"What are we doing, Beau?" he asked and I stared back, blank and confused.

"I don't know what you mean," I told him and Spencer's face crumbled in disappointment.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he whispered and before I could catch myself, I fell forward, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. Spencer jumped at the contact but didn't move.

"Goodnight, Doctor Fox," I said, pulling only to have Spencer's hands grip my face tightly. I froze, like a deer in the headlights, at his hold, staring back at him in the limited space between us.

Without another word Spencer moved closer, eyes dropping to my mouth then back up again. I steadied my breathing and gave a slight nod that Spencer obviously interpreted because his mouth brushed mine in something that was barely a kiss before he drew back entirely. Thumbing the corner of my slackened lips, he smiled at me and softly murmured, "Goodnight, Beau."