He looks up at the sky and groans, all snark. “Ryan—”
But I keep going, needing to know. “I mean, I get the no feelings thing. I’m not in a position to offer anything real either. I’d have to ask someone to hide and I can’t do that. But kissing and cuddles? That’s just fun, right?”
He stops walking, turning to face me square on. “No, it isn’t. Kissing and cuddling leads to the feelings. I don’t want any part of that.”
I tilt my head, studying him. My voice drops, soft. “Who hurt you, Perfect?”
His eyes widen and I see the way he swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing. Oh yeah, someone hurt him bad. He blows out a breath. “He wasn’t the only one to hurt me, but he was the last.”
The pain on his face almost undoes me. I have to shove my hands deeper in my pockets to keep from reaching for him.
“Who was he?” I ask, teeth clenched.
Spence looks away, like he can’t bear to meet my eyes. “Just some guy in college. Travis. He was a star athlete. Closeted.”
I swallow, some pieces falling into place.
He keeps going, voice rough. “We snuck around for six months. Spent nearly every night in my dorm room—” He pauses, breath catching. “Kissing. Cuddling.”
The look on his face makes my chest ache.
He pushes on, “I thought we were the real deal, but the hiding started to bother me. Then, one night, he told me he was going to come out to his family by taking me to their annual gala. His family—you would recognize their last name.”
My hands ball into fists, every muscle in my body tense, but I don’t say anything.
“Anyway, when he didn’t show up to get me the night of the gala, I went to his apartment and watched as he left with some girl. Someone he wasn’t ashamed of.”
Red flashes behind my eyes. I take my hands out of my pockets, fists clenched at my sides. “Where is he?”
Spence snaps his head over, almost startled. “What?”
“Where is this Travis now?” I spit out his name like poison. “I’d like a fucking word.”
Spence actually laughs, sharp and a little bitter. “Fuck if I know. Even if I did—”
I cut him off. “What’s his last name?”
He sighs. “Ryan, leave it. That feels like a lifetime ago—and that Spencer? That was a person I don’t identify with anymore.”
I cross my arms, stubborn. “You may think that, but you’re still carrying that version of yourself. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have all these rules.”
He groans, breath puffing out. “Can we just be done with this conversation, please?”
“Fine. For now.”
There’s a beat. The tension could be cut with a knife, and I feel the need to break it. I let a smirk start to break through, drop my arms so I can step close, toe to toe. I grab him by the waist and haul him in, pressing our bodies together, cock to cock, daring him to let go, just for a second.
His eyes go a little wide, and I see the panic flicker there, but I don’t care. I lean in, lick a stripe up his neck, then whisper, “How about we talk about going back to your place and you getting that talented tongue and magic dick inside of me for a couple hours, hmm?” Then I nip at his earlobe, sucking gently.
He rumbles, low and hungry. “I think that can be arranged.” He pauses, then adds, snarky and surprisingly soft all at once, “As long as you cook for me after.”
I step back, laughing, shoving at his chest. “You asshole! You only want me for my culinary mastery.”
He shrugs, unrepentant. “I’d be a fool not to take advantage. You really are talented, Ry.”
That flutter in my chest comes back, bright and dangerous, but I push it down. Keep it playful, Butters. Keep it safe.
Spence grins, all teeth. “And I just had groceries delivered.”
