𝑆𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑟

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓

The next few days were quieter than usual, and I could feel it in the air between Spencer and me. He hadn't texted as much, and when he did, there was something different about the way he spoke, something I couldn't quite place at first. It wasn't obvious, not unless you really paid attention, but I knew him well enough by now to notice the subtle shifts.

He was pulling back.

Or at least, he was trying to.

And that bothered me more than it should've.

I stared at my phone, scrolling through the last few messages from Spencer. There was nothing explicitly wrong—he still responded to me quickly, still laughed at the things I said, still agreed to meet up when I suggested it—but there was a restraint in his words, a carefulness that hadn't been there before. It was like he was holding something back, keeping a part of himself out of reach.

I couldn't help but wonder if it had something to do with the other night. The teasing, the way I'd pushed him a little too far, called him out for being "clingy." Maybe it had finally gotten to him. Maybe he'd started to realize that I wasn't as invested in this as he was.

But he wouldn't say it. He'd never say it. That's the thing about Spencer—he never pushed back, never asked for more than I was willing to give. Even when I knew I was hurting him, even when I could see it in his eyes, he'd just smile and pretend everything was fine.

I should've been relieved that he wasn't demanding anything from me, that he wasn't calling me out for the way I treated him. But instead, I felt something unfamiliar gnawing at me, something that I couldn't quite name.

It was like the silence between us was growing, expanding into something bigger than I expected. And for the first time, I started to wonder if maybe—just maybe—I'd gone too far.

We met up again that Friday, this time back at the park. Spencer had suggested it, which surprised me a little. Usually, I was the one dragging him into my world, pulling him along to wherever I wanted to go. But today, he wanted something quieter, something familiar.

I found him sitting on our usual bench, the one where we'd first met, and for a moment, he looked almost like he had that day—calm, peaceful, with his book resting in his lap. But as I got closer, I noticed the way his fingers were fidgeting with the pages, the way his eyes kept flicking around, like he couldn't quite focus on anything.

"Hey," I said, sliding onto the bench beside him. I gave him a small nudge with my shoulder, a casual gesture, but he barely reacted. Just glanced up at me with a half-smile before looking back down at his book.

"Hey," he replied softly.

The energy was off, immediately. It wasn't like him to be so... distant. Usually, he'd light up when he saw me, start talking a mile a minute about whatever was on his mind. But today, he was quiet. Reserved.

And I didn't like it.

"You good?" I asked, trying to sound casual, like I wasn't actually worried. Like I didn't care as much as I did.

"Yeah," he said, though it didn't sound convincing. He shifted slightly on the bench, his fingers still tracing the edges of his book. "Just... thinking."

"About what?"

He hesitated for a second, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "I don't know. Just... stuff."

I waited, giving him space to say more, but he didn't. He just stared down at the book in his lap, his eyes unfocused.

"Come on, Spence," I said, nudging him again, this time a little harder. "You're being weird. What's going on?"