Wendy went into the kitchen and to the small side room where the washing machine and dryer were kept. She threw in Peter’s clothes and added a generous amount of detergent. Next, she raided the fridge and loaded her arms up with whatever she could find: an array of leftover Chinese food, two apples, and an orange. She doubted Peter would mind. What had he even been eating in the woods, anyway? That was probably a question better left unanswered.
When she went back upstairs, she dropped the food and some paper towels onto her bed. Now that there was food in front of her, she realized how starved she was, so Wendy dove into the cold noodles. She ate so much so fast, she quickly gave herself a stomachache. Brushing off her hands, Wendy stood up, staring down at her bed for a moment.
Where was Peter going to sleep?
She blinked. It wasn’t like he was going to sleep in her bed with her. No. Certainly not. The closet wasn’t big enough, nor under her bed. She wouldn’t make him sleep in the bathroom, even though it was less likely that her parents would walk in on him if he were curled up in the tub. He was too tall to fit, and her parents never barged into her room, anyway. Her mother always knocked lightly on the door, and her dad just yelled at her from downstairs if he wanted her.
The floor seemed like the best option—on the side of her bed farthest from the door, just in case.
The shower water turned off. Wendy angled herself away from the bathroom door and hurried over to the closet. She reached up to the shelf and took down her sleeping bag. It hadn’t been used in a month, but it still smelled like campfire smoke. Wendy rolled it out on the floor and was smoothing out the slick material when the bathroom door opened.
“I set my sleeping bag up for you.” She stood and turned to face Peter. “And I’ve got—” Wendy’s hands flew up to cover her open mouth. “Oh my god.”
Peter stood in the doorway, his hair wet and pushed back out of his face. He was scowling at her, lips pursed tight. On Wendy, the gray T-shirt with the purple fish on the front was too baggy for her to wear out in public. But it clung tightly to Peter’s shoulders, the fish taut and distorted over his chest. It was hardly long enough to cover his stomach. Then, there was the matter of the gym shorts. While they were technically big enough to fit his legs, they only covered about the top third of his thighs. Clearly he didn’t have the same proportions as her.
“How did you even get the shirt on?” Wendy asked, voice breaking from suppressed laughter. She clamped her hands tighter over her mouth as her shoulders started to shake.
Red bloomed on Peter’s cheeks. He threw his wet towel at her head. “Do you really not have anything bigger than this?” he asked, tugging uncomfortably at the collar of the shirt.
Wendy shook her head, fingertips pressed to her bottom lip. “I’m so sorry, that’s all I’ve got,” she told him. Her cheeks hurt from the smile on her face.
“I hope you realize how embarrassing this is,” Peter said flatly. He crossed his arms over the sliver of skin that peeked out from below the shirt.
“It’s just—” She cleared her throat and tried to regain her composure. “It’s just until the morning,” she reminded him. She couldn’t help looking him up and down once more.
The giggles started again.
“Stop that!” Peter scolded, trying to sound stern, but now he was starting to laugh, too.
“I’m sorry, I can’t help it!” Wendy said before covering her mouth again. She needed to be quiet or else she’d wake up her mother. “Ugh, okay,” she said, wiping tears of mirth from the corners of her eyes. “I grabbed some food.” She gestured to the assortment on the bed. “Help yourself. I’m going to … clean myself up.” Uncertainty started to creep up her spine again. Chewing on her bottom lip, she eyed Peter as he plopped down on her bed. He crossed his legs and immediately started opening the Chinese food containers.
Wendy grabbed some pajamas from her drawer and shut herself in the bathroom. She peeled off her clothes, which were sticky with stale sweat.
As she stepped into the shower, there was already a layer of dirt settled in the bottom of the tub. Peter must have been filthier than she’d thought. Wendy turned up the heat as high as she could stand. The water rushed down her body, taking the remnants of the woods along with it. She leaned her forehead against the cool tile and took a deep breath, letting the water wash along her neck and across her parted lips. The rhythmic pounding against her skin was comforting. Her muscles ached and burned, especially across her shoulders. She was thorough in scrubbing herself clean. She shampooed her hair twice. When she was done she stepped out of the water and pulled a dry towel from the rack. She rubbed it through her hair before wrapping it tightly around her body. The knots and tangles in her short hair were stubborn, but the conditioner and some rough handling with a brush smoothed it out.