𝐔𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝐀𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫 (1)

eight

Spencer had fallen asleep many hours ago. I had gently detangled myself from him and turned off the TV. I was sitting at the kitchen table, a glass of water in my hand to serve as an excuse if he were to wake up. From my view in the kitchen, I watched his chest rise and fall. He looked so much younger in his slumber and it only made me feel worse. Not only was I lying to him, but I'd slept with him for God's sake. I never intended for things to go that far but I hadn't stopped it. I had been reckless and at the expense of Spencer's feelings. I wanted to leave but even I knew that was a cowardly move.

It wasn't that I didn't like Spencer. Hell, tonight proved that I very much did like him. It was because I liked him that things were so complicated. One thing I knew for certain was that Spencer didn't deserve to get hurt, not like this. I drummed my fingers on the counter anxiously, trying to decide what to do.

I couldn't sit still.

I tiptoed around the apartment, locating the crumpled mess that was my shirt. At least it was dry. I located an ironing board that evidently  hadn't been used in some time. Then I set to work, returning the fabric to its usual smooth state. Afterwards, I sheepishly retrieved my underwear from the kitchen floor and got changed into my own clothes. By six o'clock, I was so anxious that I resorted to making pancakes which, only when Spencer woke, I realised may have given the wrong impression.

It's too late for that, Adeline, I scolded myself.

Spencer stirred on the sofa, "Is that pancakes I smell?"

"It is indeed," I said, avoiding eye contact as I plated them up.

When I heard the pad of his bare feet, I busied myself with the arrangement of a few blueberries to buy myself some time. But his arms were quick to snake around my waist.

"Good morning," He said, his voice thick with sleep, as he kissed my neck softly.

I leaned into him momentarily, allowing myself to focus on the feeling of his lips on my skin.

Abruptly, I pulled away, "I wasn't sure how you liked them."

I placed both plates on the table at a substantial distance from each other which Spencer, being a profiler, couldn't help but notice.

We sat in silence as I pushed the food around my plate until Spencer sighed and put down his fork with a clash, making me jump.

"Do you regret last night?" He asked me outright.

I looked him in the eyes because, at the very least, I owed him that, "I really like you..."

"Then what is the problem?"

"You don't know me Spencer —and you deserve better than that."

"Let me decide what I deserve, Addy." He pleaded.

"Spencer, I'm a mess. I can't make promises to you."

"I'm not asking you to," he took my hand in his, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles firmly, "I'm not your father Addy, I'm not going to abandon you."

I put my head in my hands, not meeting his eyes, "I'm not worried that you're like him, I'm worried I'm like him."

"We are not our parents."

I shook my head, pulling away from his hand, "For someone I've never met, he's got a lot to do with who I am." I disagreed,  "I'd better get dressed."

I went into the bathroom, closing the door behind me and breathing a sigh of relief. I stepped out of Spencer's hoodie and into the shower, letting the water wash over me. I used his lemon-scented shampoo in my hair and his mint body wash on my body. My chest tightened at the scent which made me long for Spencer but I breathed deeply until the feeling passed.