“Has this happened before?”

“Couple times. Carter usually just pops it in and I ice it.”

I traced the bump on her back. Her inflamed shoulder was peppered with goosebumps, but relaxed where I touched it. This was no “pop it back in”–looking injury, but if that’s what she wanted, I could try.

“Lift your arm, like you’re trying to touch the ceiling.” She stretched it and I pushed down. The curve of her back tensed, then flexed. Getting there.

“I really shouldn’t be doing this,” I said. “You should get a physical therapist. I don’t want to mess anything up.”

“No,” she said as I started to release her arm, “this is helping.”

“Can you reach your arms behind you? Interlace your fingers.” I pushed the top of her back away from me. “I’m going to pull.”

Eliza followed my directions. I’d hardly touched her arms before she gasped, wincing. I let go, but she shook her head.

“Keep going. It’s starting to feel normal, hold it there.”

“Fifteen seconds,” I said, rubbing her hand with my thumb.

Eliza nodded. Her cheeks flushed as I counted.

After about six seconds came a tiny crack.

“I think that did it,” she said.

Her arms shook back to her side.

“That was awesome, Nick. Thanks.”

I examined the tops of her shoulders. Less swollen, but her right shoulder was still dangerously contracted. I slid my hand from the base of her neck to the small of her back, checking to see which part of the shoulder might be her issue.

The more lightly I touched her, the more still she stood, until it didn’t seem like she was breathing.

“Sorry,” I said, “my hands are probably cold.”

“That tickled.”

I brushed the arc of her back, testing her tight muscles, trying to ignore her cinnamon scent. Trying to ignore what I wanted to do.

“You really should get that checked out.” I finally stepped away. “I’m not sure if the swelling’s going to go down before the fashion show either. Forty-eight hours of rest can do a lot, but not if you’re really injured. Also ice and keep stretching, yadda yadda.”

“Thanks. I guess we’ll see.” We locked eyes, her reflection watching mine. I had to restrain myself from tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I have one more dress to try on.”

“Right. I’ll be right outside.”

“Thanks, Nick.”

When she came out the next time, she wore a red dress with a decoration thing-y on the front. And without any straps. It made her shoulders, which had just been uneven and injured, look like they’d been painted and airbrushed for the cover of a magazine.

“That’s the one.” Heat flooded into my cheeks. Stupid rom-whatever-they’re-called.

I forced myself to stay cool as she looked at me, trying to decide if she believed me. “Dude, if you don’t get that for yourself, I will.”

She gave herself another twirl in the mirror, and I wondered if she’d heard the sincerity in my voice.