Ghost

Chapter One Hundred Forty Eight

Spencer POV

All I am seeing is red right now. Which is almost surprising. At least I didn't spiral like I would have thought I would do.

But the rage.

"Why the fucking hell are you here?" I grit out.

"I believe I was actually invited," she doesn't have as much bite as me, but it's there.

I scoff, "yeah I don't think I would EVER invite you to my engagement party."

Her face softens a little bit. I don't give a fuck. I'm not letting my guard down around this bitch.

"You're.. you are the one engaged to Nat? You're the one Groot can't stop talking about?" She speaks softly.

It does nothing to soothe my anger.

"I don't see why the fuck any of that matters. I want you out of here. Now," I'm practically growling at her right now.

She tries again softly, "Spencer.."

And that's when some dude tries to step in between myself and Gamora. I don't let him.

"Listen, buddy, if you know what's best for you, you wouldn't get involved."

He holds up his hands. "Um, sorry. Hello. Uh, I'm Peter, otherwise known as starlord. I was just hoping you could stop pointing your gun at my girlfriends head."

"Wow. You even got a boyfriend now, Gamora? I don't know if I believe it," I spit at her.

This time she doesn't retaliate.

"Ya know what, why don't you take yourself and your.." I look at him, "Boyfriend, and get the fuck out of here."

She doesn't move. Neither do I.

     "Spencer," Nebula takes her turn trying to get me to move. I won't.

     I have no idea what everyone else is doing around me. I don't care. I won't take my eyes off of her.

"Spence.." Nats voice reminds me where I am, it eases some of the tension.

I still don't feel safe enough to move my gun.

Nat then places her hands around my arm with the gun.

I'm still a statue breathing like a dragon.

"Bub.. please," this time her soft plea pulls my attention away from Gamora. Well, my head. Gun is still at her forehead.

I see the worry in her eyes.

And I realize I probably look crazy to everyone in this room.

Shit.. Clint's kids.. Nadia and her grandma.. Peter..

     They didn't ask for this.

But I still don't trust her.

I clench my jaw, frustrated with the situation and unsure of what I should do.

     "Bub, please talk to me. What are you feeling?"

     I can't help but scoff. I know she's trying to help, but I kind of figured the gun being pointed at someone's head was a give away.

     I won't answer her with that kind of attitude, though.

     "I'm not exactly walking on sunshine," I say through my gritted teeth.