Spencer's house was a two-storey surrounded by an oak fence.

Sat on top of the mailbox was an ageing grey cat that glared at me as I tried to figure out how the gate worked. His Toyota was the only car parked in the driveway and few lights were on in the house, though the entire front porch was lit by candle filled lanterns. When the gate finally creaked open I slipped inside, not bothering to pull it shut behind me. The cat followed, seemingly amused by the nervous way I was wringing my wrists as I tried to figure out what the hell I was going to say to Spencer. We hadn't spoken, at all, since our goodbye in the deli. 

No calls. 

No texts. 

Nothing.

I was sure it was the longest we had gone without any form of communication and now I was a wreck trying to work out what I could and could not say to the guy.

Did I hug him when he opened the door?

Or just give him a simple hello in greeting?

Did I stay fully silent, let him make the first move?

Was I supposed to sweep the guy into my arms?

Confess my undying affections?

Jesus, I was starting to sound like April. 

Shaking it off I stepped onto the porch, eyes sweeping along the open space. A rocking chair was tucked to one corner, seat covered by a well-loved cat bed, and flowers wove around the porch's railing. I plucked one of them, a short yellow thing I didn't know the name of, and rolled it between my fingers. The petals ruptured immediately, dropping to the ground and I threw away the remaining stem when I realized its pollen stained. Dragging my hand down my sweats I groaned when the color sunk into the grey fabric but still hadn't come clean from my skin.

"I was going to wait to open the door until after you'd pulled yourself together, but that doesn't look like it will be happening anytime soon," Spencer called and I looked up, finding the front door wide open. I hadn't even heard it and blushed at his words, straightening up.

"Hey," I settled on, shoving my hands into my pockets and Spencer just cocked his head back. The glass on his nose tipped at the movement and I was a little startled by my first impulse to be wanting to right them again.

"Get inside before you wreck anything else," he said, stepping back to make enough space for me to get past. I snapped back to myself, fighting to keep my hands to my sides, and walked into the house. The living room was spacious, couches flooded with cushions, and covered in a carpet that all but swallowed my feet whole. I jumped when his cat brushed past me and made itself at home on the first step on the staircase leading upstairs.

"What's with people in this town and pillows," I mumbled and Spencer threw me a look that read confused, shutting the door behind him. The lock clicked on by itself and I fisted my hands, not entirely sure what to do. Whatever stressed out plan I'd made in my head leading up to seeing Spencer again had been blown out the water. Spencer had spoken first, offered no physical contact, and admitted to seeing me make an ass of myself. On top of that, the first thing I said after entering his house was that he had too many pillows. 

God, I needed to get my shit together and then some.

"You drink coffee?" Spencer asked, walking into an adjoining room my genius mind worked out to be the kitchen. I trailed behind him, not sure what else to do but not trusting myself alone in his living room. There was a glass vase sat on the fire place mantel just waiting for me to knock it over and officially end any chance I had with Spencer. 

"Not this late," I said, forcing my gaze his way and he nodded, shoving two cups filled with water into the microwave. I rested my forearms on the counter, letting the cool granite bleed out some of the stress heat I was emitting.

"Tea it is then," Spencer chuckled then sent me a look over his shoulder, questioning. "Unless you hate tea too?"

"Tea's never made me bounce off the walls," I replied, trying to sound casual, as he turned the microwave on. 

"Good to know," he said, and with the click of a couple buttons the beast roared to life. I watched as the microwave spun our mugs around in a mock waltz, backlit by a soft golden glow of the micro lamp inside. 

The imagery made my face grow hot and I drifted my gaze over to Spencer, bored gaze fixed on the ceiling above him and sighed as we collapsed back into silence. It was the kind of silence I hated. It crept inside you and constricted your heart, making you feel every agonizing moment that passed without a word shared. 

I felt every second I spent cataloging the ugly floral print against the wall behind Spencer's head. The time he spent absentmindedly trailing a finger along the countertop in front of him, eyes now trained on the microwaves timer. Just when I couldn't take it any longer and was ready to vault myself out the kitchen window, the microwave screeched and Spencer rushed to open it. Tucking a box under one arm, he grabbed a cup in each hand and nodded over my shoulder.

"Let's talk in my room."

Dangerous territory. Which was all the more reason for my traitorous brain to agree, following Spencer's quick strides out of the room without hesitation.

"You'll have to excuse the mess. I completely forgot to even try to put my things in order," he apologized while I busied myself in staring at the walls around us. They were lined with photo frames, most of a young Spencer and his parents. I paused on the steps in front of a pair with him in uniform. 

Military school. 

If things went well tonight, I would be sure to bring that up.

Remembering to speak I stammered out a reply to Spencer, taking the steps two at a time to reach him at his bedroom door. "No issue on my end. You should see my room at this point, looks like a hurricane ripped through it."

No response back.

Rather Spencer busied himself clearing a nightstand to place the cups down, dropping the box on his bed. I surveyed his room, frowning to myself with how little of a mess there was. Yeah, a few shirts were on the floor and a pair of sneakers half tucked under his bed, but otherwise, the place looked spotless. A down-trodden looking duffle bag hung off the back of his desk chair, covered in paint splatter and what looked like burn marks. I threw my eyes up to the desk, littered in pencils, and frowned at the dripping towel slung across an open notebook.

"You might want to move the towel," I said, pointing it out as Spencer moved to re-shelf a collection of broken spine books. "Though, I'm not sure how legible your notes are at this point."

"Oh, shit," he cursed under his breath, ditching the books to pick at the towel. His grin was sheepish, creasing his cheeks in way I could've spent hours staring at, as spoke. "Showered before you came, wasn't even thinking. My mind's been all over the place."

Feeling awkward stood in the middle of his room I slowly lowered myself onto the end of his bed as Spencer dumped the towel down on his chair. The mattress deflated under me, soft enough that I felt some tension in my gut leak out. It was a struggle not to just fall back and hope the mattress swallowed me whole at this point.

"I get that. I've been the same way," I admitted and tried not to look too panicked when Spencer made his way over. He bypassed me entirely and settled against the headboard, forcing me to turn around to face him. On impulse, I made to take off my shoes then paused. Just because he sat there didn't mean he gave me permission to just climb into his bed.

"It's cool," Spencer said, as if reading my thoughts, opening the box and revealing a staggering amount of tea bags seemingly arranged by the color of their tags. "Make yourself comfortable. Just know, if you get sneaker prints on my blankets my mom will have my ass for it."

My shoes hit the ground the moment the words left his mouth and I shifted closer to him, making sure to keep a good amount of space between us. I couldn't tell if things were going well or not, but so far there was no yelling and I hadn't been banished from his presence so I was beginning to count this as a win.

"They're mainly fruit teas, hope you're cool with that," He said, picking up on my lack of speech. Clearing my throat I shrugged, taking the cup he handed me and tried not to spill it when he nudged the box my way. "Leaf through it."

"Was that a pun?" I chuckled, doing as he asked. Frankly, I didn't care what I was drinking, just glad to have something to keep my hands busy. There was no distinctive smell coming from the box, rather everything blended together into an aroma that basically said just choose something already, you big idiot.

"Shut up," Spencer said and I had to look up to gauge whether or not the words were teasing, a little disappointed to find his mouth covered by the cup. Winnie the Pooh's face glinted back at me and I fought back a comment on the childishness of his mug choice. I wouldn't sink that low, enough though he had insulted my socks only weeks earlier. He drank slowly, seemingly unbothered by the hot water and I sighed, dunking the first tea bag I could grab.

"Why am I here?" I said, thumbing at the clipped lip of my cup, finally asking the million-dollar question. "Obviously it wasn't to drink tea in your room and side-step the elephant living in it."

"Maybe it is," he shrugged, to an unimpressed Winnie and I. "I just said to come over, no reason given as to why."

"Spencer," I said, growing a little irritated. I didn't like being kept in the dark. I didn't like the panicky feeling that was building in me. All I wanted to do was smacked the drink out of Spencer's hands and shake him until he told me every little thing he had been thinking about since we kissed. And if all that ended in more kissing, well, I wouldn't have been too mad about that.

"My mom hates you, you know," Spencer said and it wasn't at all what I was expecting. I pressed my lips tightly at the words, leaning over to place my cup on the floor.

"Yeah, I figured as much. Most parents don't like their precious children running around with neighborhood riff-raff."

"I think she's more concerned with the idea of me sleeping around with said 'riff-raff'," Spencer admitted, perfectly poised as he sipped on his drink, as if talking about the fucking weather. I choked on air, coughing harshly into the crook of my elbow as my entire face heated up.

"Jesus, Spencer," I wheezed, mortified that my coughing fit had almost produced tears. "Warn a guy before dropping stuff like that into the conversation."

"What? It's true. She's pissed at you. My mom really liked Gillian, was rooting for her, then you came along and bulldozed everything," he said clinically, making me feel like the Anti-Christ reincarnated.

"Well, I'm sorry about that, I guess." I shuffled on the bed, truly feeling like I was in quicksand and not getting out of this situation nearly as fast as I was wanting to. "I wasn't really intending on getting in the way of things for you two."

"Well, you did, Beau." The bluntness in Spencer's voice made me want to curl further in on my self but somehow I remained upright, watching as he placed his cup down on the nightstand.

"This the part where you yell at me for corrupting you?" I asked, trying to hedge at what the fuck was happening and where Spencer was going with all this.

"No."

I waited for a follow-up to his words, but none came.

"Alright then," I said, pursing my lips and tapping a hand on my calf in discomfort. "Is that it? Should I go now?"

"Drink your tea." Spencer gestured at my cup, most likely burning a hole in his fancy carpeting. I picked it up cautiously, placing the rim at my mouth. He crossed his arms, obviously waiting for me to do as he said.

"Fucking Alpha," I mumbled at him, earning a bored look back. Dropping my eyes to the murky liquid I took a sip, immediately burning my tongue and hissing at the bitter taste. Pulling the cup back I flicked over the tag. Grapefruit and Guava. 

Disgusting.

"Ugh, what the fuck?" I spat, jerking the cup out for Spencer to take. "I'm not drinking any more of that garbage."

Reading the tag himself, Spencer threw his head back laughing. "You grabbed one of the diet teas. They're designed to give you the shits, not taste good."

"Fantastic. Remind me to never accept a drink at your house again," I muttered, automatically placing a hand on my stomach as Spencer sent me a look of sympathy. He placed my cup back down on the floor slowly then offered his own.

"Here. It's strawberry and mango. Nothing nasty, I swear it. Consider it an olive branch," he promised.

I took the cup from him cautiously, hugging my fingers around it. The smell wafting my way was wonderful and I couldn't help but tip my face more towards it, inhaling slowly. Blinking down at the pink liquid I took a small sip, then a longer one once I confirmed it was, in fact, not poison.

"Wasn't aware we were in conflict," I told him honestly, trying to keep my tone neutral. Trying give Spencer some leeway for wherever he was attempting to drive this conversation. So far it felt like into the ground.

"We aren't," He said, picking at his bedsheets. They were purple, an unusually light shade by choice not from loss of color due to constant cycles in the washing machine. It was the last color I expected Spencer to have. "But I wasn't kidding when I said I needed time to think."

"And I get that–" I started but Spencer cut in.

"And I still think I need more time, though I would be lying if I said I didn't want to see you already. Even though I'm still a little shaky over all this," Spencer admitted, voice small as he drew his legs up to his chest and tipped his chin on top of his knees.

"Shaky's fine, I can work with shaky. If it makes you feel better, I am too," I whispered into the cup, taking a slow sip to let Spencer reply. When he made no attempt to, I continued, "You gotta know this is my first time dealing with all... this. Telling someone – telling a guy – that I like them. Getting shut down while still being given hope after it. Being given poisoned tea by the same guy who just pseudo-rejected me. This is all very new to me too, and hassling Tommo and Iris for help can only get me so far."

"I had this whole speech for you," Spencer confessed and my eyebrows raised at that. He grinned sheepishly, ducking his head and nearly sending his glasses clean off his face. "Before I broke up with Gillian, back when everything was so fresh. I was so pissed at you for making me feel this way. All I wanted was to drive to your house that night we kissed for the first time and just punch you in the face for making my life so complicated."

"Thanks for not doing that," I commented dryly, clenching the cup a little tighter while Spencer pulled off his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"None of this is coming out right. I'm making myself sound like an asshole, I swear that's not my intention, Beau," he groaned and I shrugged.

"I'm used to it," I said, relaxing enough to stretch my legs out on the bed.

"Cute," He said curtly.

"I know I am," I hummed and Spencer didn't even attempt to counter it. I forced down the smile that threatened to rip across my face, pulling myself together just as Spencer began to speak again.

"I'd been walking down such a narrow path before I met you. I mean I had goals, and expectations, all of which you clash with," he started, not willing to meet my eyes now. "And I was pretty happy with it. I liked having a direction, a checklist. It was something my old school instilled in me, one of the only things I tried to continue with after the move. Just a basic list, easy enough to follow, you'd think. Do well in public school. Reconnect with family. Make my mom proud. Be the perfect boyfriend for Gillian. Don't fall for anyone I shouldn't. You see where my path went a little off course?"

"You didn't do well in school? Lolita harder to decipher than you expected?" I teased and Spencer rolled his eyes hard enough I was sure the guy popped a blood vessel, punching my leg.

"Jerk," he said, words softened by the smile on his lips. "You showed up. Literally crashing in from the sky and making me fall on my ass. Beau, Jesus, you just had to be such a moron around me, and a charming one at that. Had to make me care about you when literally everything about you screamed insecurity and trouble–"

"Rude."

"– You made me want to get to know you, to be your friend. You made me jump into the deep end of all my crazy shit that I didn't want to think about, that Bella knew would be the thing to hurt me the most and humiliate me in ways I don't think even she fully understood. You made me want to do things that made you happy even when I figured out you had your heart set on someone else which, by the way, nearly fucking broke me when I realized just how far in the deep I was for you, Beau. You made me want to eat gelato in freezing cold weather and buy rye bread out of pocket for the deli and drive you around wherever you needed to go just so you would never have to use a bike again... Fucking hell, Beau, you're the only person I'd ride a bike for, literally and metaphorically. You make me want to throw eighteen years of planning down the drain just for another couple months in your presence. Do you understand that?"