"you're on air with phoebe!" most days on the radio i get calls from people asking for my advice on things, usually about love, but i still attempt to help. getting calls makes my days go faster, but lately, due to the weather the days drag on. or maybe it's because i haven't angela or spencer for weeks.
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it's around 9:30pm now, i've since wrapped up the talk show and made sure that my music queue would last until the morning. i made my way out of the booth to lock the stores front door and began counting the money earned today. when suddenly there's knocking at the door, to which i ignore hoping they'd take the hint that we're closed, but they are persistent and continue knocking. i sigh opening the doors shocked to see a distraught looking spencer. "spencer?" i asked the man, concerned why he's here past 9:00pm. "hey, phoebe. do you mind if i come in? the rain's beginning to drown me." i step back, opening the door wider, "of course, let me run upstairs and grab you a towel." as im coming back from upstairs i can't help but laugh at spencer awkwardly standing on the small doormat, trying to wring his clothes dry without making a mess. "here you go. can i ask why you're here so late?" i question as i hand him the towel. "uh, so my car broke down a block away and apparently there's no towing places open at this hour. i'm also too far to walk home." he continues, "i'm sorry i thought you might've still been open." "you're lucky i live here then!" i laugh. "i think i might have clothes that could fit you, and we'll throw your clothes in the dryer. i say as i motion him to follow me towards the stairs to the loft. i go to my dresser and rifle through the drawers to find a pair of old sweats and a t-shirt that i stole from my brother. "these should fit you, feel free to use the shower and i'll warm up the soup i made earlier." "thanks phoebe." spencer says, shooting me a shy smile. i turned to the kitchen and busied myself with reheating the chicken noodle soup i made for supper. 10 minutes later i heard the shower shut off, so i began setting the food and a pitcher of water onto the table. spencer steps out of the bathroom holding his soggy clothes at an arms length from himself. "here, i'll go run these through the dryer. your soup is on the table." i say giving him a reassuring smile as he hands me his clothes. i see him gingerly cross the room, quickly giving my cat a pat on the head before settling at the table, as i head downstairs to the laundry room.
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"so how's the soup?" i ask as i scale the last step up to the loft. spencer takes another bite, his eyes closing in bliss, he says, "amazing! i might have to come around more often. i don't know how to cook quite this well." i can feel my cheeks heat up, a light pink dusting my face. why was i blushing from that? i thought to myself. "well, i've never cooked for anyone before." i say grabbing a blanket off of the couch, wrapping it around his shoulders. i sit next to him at the table, reaching over to grab his hand as i say, "you're welcome here anytime, spence." i see him look down at our entwined hands, a pink hue gracing his features. "thank you, phoebe. i mean it."
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ry speaks! here's the inspo pictures i looked at when imagining the loft:
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