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Spencer
The drive to my place is quiet. My hand rests on her thigh, and it feels normal. Good. As if we’ve made this trek from her place to mine hundreds of times. There’s an ease between us today that I hope stays with us.
“Here we are,” I tell her as I pull into the driveway, releasing my hold on her to hit the button for the garage door opener. “There’s an extra bay,” I say as I pull inside. “I can hook your car up to it, so when you drive here, you can park inside too.”
“That’s… a big deal.”
“Did you not get the memo, Charlie girl? We’re kind of a big deal.” Her wide smile lights up her face. She shakes her head as if she’s not quite sure what to do with me.
“You’re too much.”
“But I’m yours.” The line is cheesy as fuck, but that doesn’t make it any less true. There’s also the fact that I’ve never been this way with anyone I’ve ever dated. No way in hell would I tell them they could have a spot in my garage, in my home. Everything is different with Charlotte.
Different.
Better.
All-consuming.
“How are you still single, oozing all of that charm?” she teases.
“I was waiting for you.” I don’t know if that’s true, but I do know that no one has ever made me want more. Just Charlotte.
We climb out of the car, and she stops and bends over, pretending to do something with her ankles. “What are you doing?”
Still bent over, she turns her head to look up at me. “Shit’s getting deep. I figured I should roll up my pants legs.” She chuckles, barely getting her reply out.
“Come on, funny girl.” I smile, offering her my hand. I’ve never seen this side of her before, and I love it. I feel like the real Charlie is here with me, and I want more of her.
“I need to get my bag.”
I hold it up. “Already got it.”
“You know it’s not good to spoil me like this. I might get used to it and start depending on you.” There’s teasing in her tone, but it also holds something more. Concern, maybe a little fear.
“Good.”
“Good?”
“That means I don’t have to fight to keep you. I just need to spoil you.”
“Fight to keep me?”
“Yeah. I feel like I need to prove myself. To be honest, it’s hard for me to wrap my head around the fact that you’re here. Too many nights I’ve sat on that couch”—he points to the couch in the living room—“and thought about our interactions over the years, among other things.”
“What kind of other things?” There’s a glint of teasing her in eyes. She wants me to say it, and I’m not going to. I’d rather show her.
“Just you, Charlotte.”
“Fine. Don’t tell me.”
“If I have my way, we’ll have lots of time for me to show you.”
“We have all night,” she replies.
“I need more than tonight. You know that, right? This is the long-haul, end game, a game of Monopoly kind of deal.”
“Monopoly?” She chuckles.
