wasted times- s.r

EIGHTEEN

"Hey, Nate, Sanchez actually wants to discuss in person so I'm going to head over there. I'll be back soon." You peek your head out of the bedroom, lacing up your sneakers on your feet and grabbing your purse. You feel bad for lying, but you don't want him to get all defensive on you again, so you'll tell him later. 

"Okay. You gonna be back for dinner?" You nod your head at him. "Could we talk when you get back? There are some things I've been wanting to get off my chest."

"Of course," you respond immediately. "Is everything okay?"

"It's not exactly something I want to get into right now. We can talk later." He sends you off with a small wave, and you don't question him any further. You make your way down to your car, driving to the agreed place for coffee with Spencer, and you're certainly more nervous than you'd like to admit. Your hands flex against the steering wheel, alternating between gripping it tightly and tapping your fingers against the leather wheel impatiently. 

You fiddle with your finger as you make your way into the small shop, glancing around your any sign of Spencer. You're hoping he's already here because you don't want to sit alone at a table waiting for him to come. Thankfully, you spot him in the corner in a booth, his jacket already off and a cup of coffee in front of him. His foot is tapping patterns into the tile floor of the shop, and he somehow looks more nervous than you do, which must be really saying something.

"I already ordered you a coffee before you came," he says with a sheepish grin as you sit across from him. He slides the cup of coffee in front of you, and you notice it's no longer steaming, meaning he's been here long enough. How long has he just been sitting here? You take a sip of the coffee, fully expecting it to not be prepared the way you like, and having to add more creamer or sugar. But much to your surprise, it's perfect. He notices the shock in your eyes as you glance over at him, he simply shrugs. "I pay attention."

"I never thought you payed any attention to me," you admit quietly, still kind of surprised. 

"I did, still do, actually. I pay more attention to you than I'd like to admit." His confession causes butterflies to erupt in your stomach, but also about a million questions arising as well. "I didn't know that. I thought you hated me."

He doesn't hesitate before shaking his head, "I didn't- I still don't. I just- I'm used to people coming in and out of my life constantly, and that's no excuse. I just thought that maybe if I created these defense mechanisms that it would hurt less when everyone leaves me." He hangs his head low in shame, "A-And with everything with Emily leaving, I wanted to hate you so bad because I told myself that if I got close to you, that's you'd leave, too. I wanted you to hate me so bad because I tried to convince myself it'd soften the blow."

You feel a small pull at your heart and you glance down at the table, tempted to grab his hand that resting right on the table in front of you. You don't, but you want to. "I'm sorry," you whisper quietly, and his head shoots up as he shakes his head at you. "I'm sorry that you thought I hated you, and I'm sorry that so many people have come in and out of your life. You didn't deserve that."

"You should hate me, though. I've been nothing but a terrible person to you since we met." He doesn't dare meet your eyes, so you finally reach over and grasp his hands in yours, giving them both a quick squeeze you bring his attention to you. "You aren't a terrible person. Sometimes even the best people do some not-so-nice things, but what matters is acknowledging it and owning up to it. You're still a good person, Spencer, but you're also human. People make mistakes."

You can tell that no one in his life has ever said that to him before by the way his eyes turn glassy, and how he nods his head like he doesn't truly believe it himself. "I don't understand how you can be so nice. I can't help but feel as though I don't deserve it."