“Do you want to take a shower or something?” Wendy suggested. “I have my own bathroom, and you’re kind of a mess.” Peter looked down at himself. His clothes were covered in dirt, as were his legs and arms. There was a dark smear on his cheek, debris from the woods stuck in his hair, and spots on his shirt from where her tears had landed. At least the swelling of his lip had gone down, but there was still that small cut. “I can throw your clothes in the laundry and give you an old shirt. I, uh, probably have a pair of gym shorts that would fit you?” she offered.

Peter narrowed his eyes at her. A grin twitched at the corners of his lips. “Are you trying to tell me I stink?” he asked, his humor starting to come back.

Wendy nodded, unable to keep herself from smiling. “A bit, yes.” Wendy cleared her throat and moved to her dresser. She dug out an oversized shirt along with a pair of gym shorts her mom had bought her that were too big to be practical. Wendy handed them to Peter and showed him into the bathroom. “Give me your dirty clothes when you’ve got them off,” Wendy said through the door once he was inside.

She pressed her palm to her temple and huffed out a breath.

This was weird. This was very weird. She jumped when the door cracked open and Peter’s arm reached through, dropping the ratty clothes into her arms.

Peter looked through the crack of the door. She could see his bare arm and chest. “Be careful with those,” he told her in mock seriousness. “They’re very delicate.”

Wendy rolled her eyes. “You’re not funny,” she told him.

Peter laughed. His toothy grin peeked around the edge of the door before he closed it. She was about to walk away when he asked, “Wait, how do I turn this thing on?”

Wendy tried not to laugh. “Turn the knob,” she told him. She heard the water turn on. “Oh, and don’t—”

Peter yelped.

“—turn it all the way to hot,” she finished. She pressed her hand to her mouth as laughter bubbled.

“Right, got it!”

She heard the shower curtains slide shut. Wendy was left by herself, standing in her room, holding Peter’s clothes. And Peter was here, in her room. In her shower, using her spare towel, and she was holding his clothes.

Peter Pan was in her shower and was going to stay the night in her room.

And he was naked.

Wendy’s face burned red hot. No, she would not start thinking—absolutely not. She tried to will her face to cool down. Nope. Not okay.

Wendy hurried out of the room and went downstairs.