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“White, please.”
I watch as he pours our wine and then hands me mine. We clink our glasses together and we smile stupidly at one other. “I like having you here,” he says.
“I like being here.” I reach up and drag him to me. We kiss and my eyes close to absorb every second of it. I really am pathetic when I’m around him.
He pulls out of our kiss. “Stop distracting me, I’m about to pass out from lack of sustenance. Do not kiss me again unless you have a defibrillator in your possession.”
I giggle. “Always so dramatic.”
He takes the Indian food out of the refrigerator and grabs a few saucepans.
“Why don’t you just microwave it?” I frown.
“You must be kidding. Have you ever had reheated Indian food that way?” He frowns.
“Many times.”
He rolls his eyes. “And here I was all this time thinking you were cultured.”
I giggle against my wineglass and watch on as he pours the food into the three saucepans.
“Have you thought about where you are going to live when you move to London?” he asks.
I shrug. “Not really. I guess I’ll have to start thinking soon, though.” I watch him for a moment. “What are your thoughts?”
He continues stirring. “I have a few.” He sips his wine. “The Spencer Jones in me wants you to get your own kickass apartment and decorate it however you want. To have your own things and come and go as you please.”
I smile and wait for him to go on.
“He wants you to gain your independence and live life without the restraints from your family.” He thinks for a moment. “I mean you should. That’s what you should do. That’s the smart thing to do.”
It’s clear he has something else on his mind, though. “And what do you want?” I ask.
His eyes find mine.
“That’s what Spencer Jones wants me to do,” I say. “What do you want me to do?” I ask. “The selfish little boy inside of you… what does he want?”
“Well…….” He pauses, his eyes hold mine as he decides whether to share. “The selfish little boy in me can’t stand the thought of spending even one night without you, and he wants you to move in here.”
15
Charlotte
What?
“I mean…” He shrugs as if embarrassed by my shocked reaction. “That’s only if you wanted to, and I’d completely understand if you didn’t.” He’s speaking way too fast, tripping over his words as he tries to recover.
I smile and remain silent as I watch him.
He continues to stir the pot, shaking his head as he thinks. “That was…” His voice trails off. “That was a bad idea, forget I said anything.”
“Spence?”
He keeps stirring with his head down, unable to look at me.
I get off the stool and walk around in front of him, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Spence?”
His eyes meet mine.
