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｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆LILAC EVANS
MY EYEBROWS FURROWED deeply as I looked around Spencer's spotless apartment. His home was exactly how I'd imagined it to be—like an antique store and grandma's basement combined. It was freakily neat, his little nicknacks placed on his drawers in perfect rows, books organized and filling the shelves almost too perfectly. It scared me a little, realizing I had expected the man to be a total slob because he was just a little too perfect on the outside. But he wasn't, so what was up? Did Spencer have an eleventh toe on his right foot? There had to be at least something wrong with him.
I glanced over at the man, who was awkwardly lingering around, patiently watching me. I flashed him a teasing smile. "So how the hell did you get your apartment this clean in barely a minute, Spencer?" I asked, crossing my arms and giving him a weird look.
I was confused as to why he lied—I knew he did, because he seemed nervous—that was one thing I had learned from the man in the short time I've spent with him—he's looking guilty 24/7, constantly shifting from one foot to another.
But Spencer merely shrugged, flashing me an artificial smile. "It actually wasn't that bad. There was just dirty laundry on the couch and in my room...and I didn't think you wanted to see my underwear." He deadpanned, and I nodded, both my eyebrows lifting.
I beg to differ, Spencer.
"I see..." I smirked with a nod, walking around his place. It was surprisingly large—there was a main area with several bookshelves aligned on the walls, all the way to the ceiling. He had a stool placed by them, probably so he could reach the top shelves.
"Your place is cute." I told him, picking up a photo on a drawer. It was of him and an older woman—who I figured was his mother. The two were holding hands and smiling happily at the camera, and I felt my heart flutter in adoration, suddenly missing my own mom.
"That's my mom, if you couldn't tell." Spencer said behind me, his voice close against my ear. I smiled softly, placing it down and turning to face him.
"What shall we do now, Spencer?" I asked him haughtily, raising my eyebrows.
"Movie?" He asked. "Are you hungry?"
"Ah yes, I'm ravenous, Spencer." I said sarcastically, but his eyebrows furrowed in soft concern.
"I-I think I have some food left—"
"Spencer, I'm joking. The joke was that we just ate like thirty minutes ago, and yet I'm asking for food still."
"And I can get you something—"
"No, that's the joke."
"What joke?"
"Spencer." I deadpanned, my face going blank. "I'm not hungry, please relax."
