𝑆𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑟

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟔

Spencer was quiet as we walked back to my place. It had been his idea to hang out tonight, which wasn't unusual, but the way he'd suggested it felt different—like he was nervous, like he wasn't sure if I'd say yes. Normally, he'd just shoot me a quick text, and I'd decide whether or not I felt like seeing him. But tonight, he'd seemed hesitant, like he was walking on eggshells.

I wasn't sure what to make of it.

The air between us had been weird since that day in the park, since he'd let his doubts slip. He hadn't brought it up again, hadn't asked any more questions about how I felt or whether I was really as invested in this as he was. But I could tell he hadn't forgotten about it. There was still that distance between us, that silence that hadn't been there before.

And honestly? It was starting to get to me.

As we got closer to my building, I glanced over at him, trying to gauge his mood. He had his hands stuffed in his pockets, his shoulders hunched against the cool night air. His gaze was fixed on the ground, and he hadn't said much since we left the café we'd been hanging out at. Normally, he'd be rambling about something—whatever music he was listening to, some book he was reading, anything. But tonight, he was quiet. Too quiet.

"Hey," I said, breaking the silence. "You good?"

He looked up at me, startled, like he hadn't expected me to speak. "Yeah, I'm fine."

But I didn't believe him. His voice was too soft, too uncertain.

"You sure?" I pressed, my tone casual. "You've been kinda... off lately."

He hesitated, and I could see the conflict in his eyes. He wanted to say something, but he wasn't sure if he should. It was like he was afraid of pushing me too far, afraid that if he said the wrong thing, I'd pull away completely.

"Yeah, I'm just... I don't know," he muttered, glancing away again. "I've been thinking about a lot of stuff."

I rolled my eyes, though I made sure he didn't see. Here we go again. More "thinking," more second-guessing. I didn't know why Spencer couldn't just go with the flow, why he always had to analyze everything, look for meaning where there wasn't any.

"What kind of stuff?" I asked, keeping my voice light, even though I was starting to feel a little annoyed.

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he stopped walking, turning to face me with this strange, almost vulnerable expression. There was something in his eyes—something I hadn't seen before. A mix of fear and hope, like he was on the verge of saying something that could change everything.

"I just... I don't want to mess this up," he said quietly.

I raised an eyebrow. "Mess what up?"

"Us." He swallowed, his gaze flickering between my face and the ground. "I feel like... like maybe I'm being too much. Or maybe I'm asking for too much, and I don't want to scare you off. I just—"

"Spence," I cut him off, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice. "You're overthinking this again. I told you, everything's fine. You don't have to worry."

But he wasn't convinced. I could see it in the way his hands fidgeted at his sides, the way his breathing was just a little bit too shallow. He was still waiting for something—some kind of reassurance that I couldn't give him, not really.

"I know you said that," he murmured, "but sometimes... it feels like you're not really here, you know? Like you're somewhere else. And I don't know how to... get closer to you."

His words hit me harder than I expected. He was right, of course. I wasn't fully "here." I never had been. Spencer had always been the one reaching out, the one trying to make something real out of whatever this was. And me? I'd just been playing along, letting him fall deeper into this thing without ever really caring where it went.

But now... now he was starting to catch on. And part of me hated that.

I didn't want to have this conversation. I didn't want to deal with his doubts or his fears. But I also didn't want to lose him—not yet, anyway. Not when he still had so much left to give.

So I did the only thing I could think of.

I kissed him.

It wasn't planned. It wasn't some romantic, thoughtful gesture. It was just instinct—an impulsive decision to shut him up, to stop him from spiraling any further into his doubts. I leaned in, closing the distance between us, and pressed my lips to his before he could say another word.

For a moment, everything was still. I could feel Spencer freeze, his breath catching in his throat, his body going rigid under the suddenness of it. But then, slowly, he relaxed into the kiss, his hands lifting to grip the front of my jacket as if he was afraid I might pull away.

His lips were soft, warm, and I could feel the tension in his body melting away the longer we stayed like that. He was kissing me back, and there was something almost desperate in the way he held on, like he'd been waiting for this moment, hoping for it. Like this kiss was the answer to all of his questions.

But for me? There was nothing. Just the sensation of his lips on mine, his fingers digging into the fabric of my jacket, the faint taste of coffee lingering on his breath.

No spark. No rush of emotions. Just... nothing.

I pulled back after a few seconds, watching as Spencer's eyes fluttered open. He looked dazed, like he couldn't quite believe what had just happened. His lips were slightly parted, his cheeks flushed, and for a brief moment, there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something like hope.

Spencer let out a small, shaky laugh, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "I wasn't expecting that. I mean, I... I wanted it, but I didn't think... you'd actually... you know."

I shrugged, keeping my tone light. "I figured it was about time."

"Yeah," he agreed softly, though his smile still didn't reach his eyes. "Yeah, it was."

There was a strange silence after that, the kind that felt like it was teetering on the edge of something bigger, something we weren't ready to confront. Spencer was still standing close, his hand brushing against mine like he wanted to reach for it but wasn't sure if he should.

And me? I just wanted to get out of there. The weight of the kiss, the weight of his expectations—it was all starting to feel suffocating, like a pressure I didn't want to deal with.

"Anyway," I said, clearing my throat, "we should probably head inside. It's getting cold."

Spencer blinked, as if he'd forgotten where we were for a second. "Oh. Yeah, right. Of course."

I turned and headed toward the door to my building, not waiting to see if he was following. My mind was already racing, already trying to figure out what the hell I'd just done and why. The kiss had been a distraction, sure, but now that it was over, I couldn't help but wonder if I'd just made everything worse.

When we got inside, Spencer stayed close to me, his shoulder brushing against mine as we took the elevator up to my apartment. He wasn't saying much, but I could feel the shift between us, the way he was watching me out of the corner of his eye, waiting for me to say something.

I didn't. I couldn't.

Later, after Spencer had gone home, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, the memory of the kiss still playing on repeat in my mind. I'd thought it would fix things, thought it would shut down his doubts and make him feel closer to me. But instead, it had only made everything more complicated.

Because now, Spencer would think we were something more.

And I wasn't sure if I could give him that.