by Mona Kasten
Slowly, I crossed the room to his desk. The last time I’d been up here I only saw Spencer, not the decor. Like the rest of his house, this room looked as if an interior designer had been given free reign: smoky blue walls, olive green curtains, and a sandy-colored rug on the dark wood floor.
Now at his desk, I leaned my hands on the back of his chair and looked around while the computer booted up. There were slips of paper and sketchbooks covering every available surface of the desk.
A photo of Spencer and his family caught my eye. It was the first time I’d seen Olivia. She was cute. Even though the picture was already kind of old, and she was pretty young—maybe seven or eight years old—she was strikingly similar in appearance to her brother. She had the same dark hair, and the same deep dimples when she laughed. In this picture Spencer wore an annoyed expression, torn jeans, and oversized Johnny Cash shirt. It looked like he would rather have been elsewhere and that he couldn’t wait to get away from the people standing next to him.
“With her humorous writing style, D. Lily not only manages to make me laugh, but always makes me wish I could marry one of her protagonists.” Spencer’s voice rocked me back to the here and now.
“In this work, the author has managed to take me to a world where everything is possible,” he continued. “I am currently going through a difficult time, and her novels—especially Tame Me—have helped me distract myself. So a huge thank you to you, D. Lily, in case you read this.”
“Spence, stop it,” I whispered.
“Ms. Lily, where can I find a guy like Jasper? I’ll pay you!” Spencer turned to me with a grin, grabbed my wrist and gently pulled me between his legs. I had no choice but to sit on his lap. Then he turned back to his computer.
“You see that? Dawn, what you do means something to them. You give them something to hold on to. Something that lets them escape their everyday life and makes it better. You show them that they can be strong and brave, too.”
My eyes were burning, and I looked down at his keyboard.
“Whoever wrote that negative crap, don’t let it get you down,” he continued, kissing me on the neck. “There are so many people out there who love your work. And that makes me pretty proud.”
I stared at Spencer and opened my mouth to answer him. But nothing came out.
All I could do was wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his shoulder.
Chapter 26
Tonight we were hanging out with the crew at Allie and Kaden’s place. First, we watched the new Avengers film, then ordered pizza, and played some Mario Kart. Kaden’s mom had sent him his old Nintendo 64, and the game cast a pleasant, nostalgic feeling over the evening.
It turned out Spencer was much better than me at pretending that nothing had happened between us. Whenever I thought he wasn’t watching I’d sneak a look at him. Things had gotten much worse since he’d taken such good care of me. The more I told myself not to want him, the stronger the temptation was. It was like going on a diet: the stricter the rules against eating candy, the more you wanted it.
I could hardly take my eyes off him, could hardly hear anyone else speaking to me. And whenever our eyes met, Spencer smiled slyly, as if he knew exactly what was going on inside me.
It was a long evening.
Finally, Spencer offered to take Scott and me home. On the way, I stopped counting how many times our eyes met in the rearview mirror.
When we stopped at Scott’s, I got out with him and hugged him goodbye. He looked at me a bit too long, then looked over at Spencer, sitting behind the wheel.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Scott said, before hugging me again and bounding up to his apartment.
Shoot. Scott really had a good nose for when you were hiding something. If he’d picked up on what was going on between Spencer and me, I’d have to be much more careful. Things were good the way they were. I didn’t want to change things by sharing it with the world.
Getting back into the car, I felt Spencer’s eyes on me.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“Great,” I replied and looked out the window as he turned the corner.
The drive didn’t take longer than one James Morrison song.
The car pulled to a stop, and I didn’t dare look over at Spencer.
“Thanks for the lift,” I mumbled and unbuckled my seatbelt.
Before I could grasp the door handle, Spencer put his hand on my arm. “What’s up?”
All I could do was swallow. “I’m just tired.”
He frowned. “Bullshit,” he whispered and began to stroke my arm. “Tell me what’s going on so I can help.”
I looked down at his hand, unable to speak as long as his gaze was fixed on me so intensely. It was too much. “You could help me by…” My voice faded to a whisper.
Writing about stuff? No problem. But to actually tell him I wanted him? It felt worse than writer’s block.
“Dawn…” was all he said. My name, soft and rough. Then he pulled me close.
Somehow I ended up in his lap; okay, I did bump my leg on the dashboard but it didn’t matter because he was pressing his lips on mine. Finally, I was exactly where I’d wanted to be the whole evening.
I buried my hands in his hair, and his moaning went right through me. His hands wandered over my body. Then he grabbed my hips, his fingers clutching at me to hold me tighter. I gasped. It was like my mind was swept clean. No thoughts were there. All I could do was move with him. Over and over, I rocked against his lap. A wonderful pressure built up inside me.
By now I knew what Spencer liked. His breath hitched when I nibbled his earlobes. He grabbed me tighter when I let my lips wander over his shoulders. When I tugged his hair gently, his kisses became hungrier and his deep moans spurred me on, faster and harder.
Our kisses were so fevered that I actually forgot to breathe. I leaned my forehead against his temple and gasped for air. Then, carefully I placed my fingers on his swollen lips. His breathing was as heavy as mine.
“You’re driving me crazy,” I whispered.
He bit my finger. “It’s a good thing I’m into crazy women.”
I smiled. “Would you like to…”
His penis was vibrating.
Then a shrill ring came from the same place.
Confused, I looked down. The illuminated screen of Spencer’s cell phone was shining through his pants.
Before I knew it, I was on the passenger seat again, this time bumping my head on the roof of the car. Spencer cursed and twisted to get at the phone in his pocket.
The ringtone was familiar, from that call in the vacation house. It was a ring you couldn’t ignore and that promised nothing good.
“Yes?” He was still breathing hard. Spencer pressed his lips together and his eyes began to dart. “For how long?”
I reached out for his free hand but before I could touch him he pulled it away. My heart stopped for a second.
“Okay. No, no problem. I’m on my way.” He hung up, stone-faced. For a few moments it was dead quiet in the car. Spencer grasped the steering wheel with one hand and let his head drop back against the headrest. He forced himself to breathe calmly and deeply.
“Go inside,” he suddenly said. He straightened up again, shoved the cell phone back into his pocket and started the car.
“But…”
“Go inside, Dawn.”
He wasn’t looking at me, just at the road ahead. His face was stiff and blank.
“Spence…”
“Please just go, Dawn!” He turned abruptly toward me with an angry expression.
“I won’t let you go alone,” I insisted, and buckled my seatbelt for emphasis.
We stared at each other stubbornly for a few very long seconds.
Finally, Spencer squinted slightly. “All right.” He pushed the gas pedal so ha
rd that the tires squealed.
Reflexively, I braced myself against the dashboard. Spencer sped through the streets of Woodshill like a madman, and I fervently wished I’d reacted faster and taken the damn car keys from him.
He didn’t speak. For the whole ride.
Spencer did the trip in one and a half hours; it usually took two. I didn’t relax until we reached the driveway of his parents’ house.
On the way to the door he didn’t even look at me. I understood that it wasn’t about me, but about what was going on inside the house. Still, it hurt.
I followed him through the foyer, past the abstract statue, the expensive furniture, and up the stairs. This time there was no screeching; the house was surprisingly quiet. It was early evening and the hallway was brightly lit. Again, Spencer’s steps were quick and confident; it was hard to keep up with him. Reaching Olivia’s room, he disappeared inside without looking at me once. It was like I didn’t even exist.
As if frozen, I stood in the hallway. A murmuring came through the door. By now I recognized the voice of Spencer’s mother, and his father’s as well. And the quiet, slow voice must be Olivia’s.
I leaned against the wall next to the door to her room and let myself slide to the floor. It didn’t take long for Spencer’s parents to leave the room. Mr. Cosgrove looked down at me, his face distorted with pain.
“Hello, Dawn,” Mrs. Cosgrove said. I looked from her husband’s face to hers. “Do you want to come downstairs with us?”
“If it’s okay with you, I’ll stay here,” I said softly.
Somehow I felt, I don’t know—safer—with only a wall between Spencer and me. I wanted to be near him. As near as he would let me.
“Of course. Just tell us if you need something,” Mrs. Cosgrove said. Then she took her husband’s hand and led him down the hall to the stairs.
Time passed. I heard Spencer’s voice and Olivia’s soft sobbing. I pulled up my knees. At some point, Mrs. Cosgrove came back upstairs with a cup of hot cocoa. I smiled gratefully, but had the feeling she needed it much more than I did.
“Thanks for coming with him,” she said and patted my shoulder. “He probably won’t admit it, but I think it’ll do him good to have someone to talk to about this.”
With these words, she left me alone again. I stared at the whipped cream and shook my head.
If she only knew.
Spencer did talk to me, but not about his family. We talked about everything except Olivia. In the last few weeks I’d forbidden myself from pestering him. It was an unspoken agreement.
I drank the chocolate and let myself be warmed. My legs were getting stiff and my bottom was sore from sitting so long on the floor, but I didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was that Spencer didn’t have to go home alone.
It was late that night when Olivia’s door opened again. Spencer’s legs came into view. I looked up at him, unsure of how he was doing now. Of whether he needed me… or not.
“You’re still here,” he said softly. His eyes were somber. He looked hopelessly tired. Where there usually was at least a hint of a smile, there was… nothing.
“I waited for you,” I whispered, not wanting to wake Olivia.
Spencer’s expression was unreadable. Without another word he continued down the hall. I scrambled to my feet, following him. He descended the stairs to the living room to say goodbye to his parents. The atmosphere between him and his father was chilly and there was tension in the air, which his mother tried to smooth over. How much like Spencer she was in this way! Among our friends, he was always the one who tried to make things better whenever there was a problem.
Mrs. Cosgrove gave me a hug as we got ready to leave.
After we exited the house, Spencer stopped for a moment at the curb, crossing his arms behind his head. His eyes were closed and he breathed deeply. I saw his chest rise and sink.
No way was I letting him drive home. I stood in front of the driver’s side door with my arms crossed until he handed me the keys. He didn’t even have the strength to be annoyed with me. And just like the last time, he closed his eyes for the whole trip. Either he was sleeping or pretending to, but I didn’t care. The main thing was that he found some peace.
It was nearly 3 a. m. when I pulled up to Spencer’s house and parked. He was already unbuckling his seatbelt.
“You can take the car home,” he said. “I’ll pick it up tomorrow. Or the day after.”
Taking the key from the ignition, I shook my head. “I’m not leaving you alone now.”
Spencer’s mouth opened. He hesitated. “I’d rather you went home.”
“And I’d rather you stop sending me away all the time.” I leaned over the center console and this time left him no way to avoid me. Placing a hand on his cheek, I forced him to look at me. He seemed nearly overcome with the emotions that he usually kept hidden.
“You’re always giving, Spence. I’m not going anywhere until you’re feeling better,” I said softly but firmly.
“I want to be alone now. What’s so hard to understand about that?” he replied coolly.
“Why?”
He frowned. “Because I don’t deserve your comfort, Dawn.”
“Why do you say that?” I asked, in disbelief.
“You don’t understand.”
“No. You’re right. I really don’t.” I opened my door, walked around the car and headed toward his house without looking to see if he was following. Unlocking the door, I entered the hallway. But before I could even take off my jacket, Spencer had grabbed me by the shoulders and whirled me around.
“Go, Dawn,” he said, his voice dangerously soft. He grabbed my hands and prevented me from unzipping my jacket.
“Forget it. I’m staying,” I growled.
“I don’t need your fucking help,” he yelled.
I flinched. Spencer instantly took his hands off me. He retreated backward until he hit the dresser in the hallway and it wobbled dangerously. He covered his eyes with his hands and his shoulders began to shake.
I didn’t care if he tried to keep me away. A few steps later I was reaching for his hands. Holding them tightly, I pulled them from his face so he would look at me. My eyes said it all: Not just compassion and worry, but everything.
“Please, let me in,” I whispered.
He buckled. I saw something break in his gaze and then in his posture. Spencer Cosgrove, who was always there when you needed him, whose zest for life was contagious and who always gave more of himself than he got, crumbled into in my arms.
Chapter 27
With my back against the headboard of his bed, I held him tight. He lay with his upper body resting on me, one arm around my waist and his head somewhere between my belly and the crook of my arm. I stroked his shoulders and back.
“I was a real asshole,” Spencer began. “It started around age 15. I was sick of being the model son. I started hanging around with the wrong crowd and smoking weed.”
“At 15?”
Spencer turned on his back and looked up at me. His cheeks were spotted and flushed, his gaze clouded by memories.
“My father hates me. He always has, but it’s gotten worse. I’ve never been good enough for him and he made sure I knew that since I was little. It…” He looked at the ceiling. “It hurt. I was looking for a distraction, something to stop me from feeling.”
I ran my fingers through his hair, and he closed his eyes.
“Olivia was eight at the time. By comparison, Dad worshiped her. She was always his princess. From the day she was born, she was his favorite and he gave her everything she wanted. At family reunions and when friends would visit, he gushed about how wonderful she was. I, however, was a disgrace to the whole family. And… I hated her for it.” He said the last words so quickly that I almost didn’t catch them. His eyes were squeezed shut and a line deepened
between his eyebrows.
“I got involved in lots of shit. At some point it wasn’t just smoking pot but dealing, too. I didn’t need the money, I just got a kick out of it. Mom noticed that something was off and tried to draw me in to family activities. She always wanted me to do things with Olivia, but we weren’t really close. She didn’t like how I was acting, how I made our parents unhappy. Sometimes it felt like I was an intruder when I came home at night and saw them eating dinner together at the table. Without me. But it was my own decision. I’d been acting like an ass.”
“Everyone pulls some bullshit during puberty, Spence,” I said, trying to sound comforting.
For a while Spencer was silent. I didn’t want to push him, so I just stroked his hair and waited.
“It’s my fault, what happened to Olivia, Dawn,” Spencer said finally.
I held still. “What happened?”
He opened his eyes and the pain in them stabbed my heart. “I was supposed to be watching her because the babysitter was sick and our parents had an important event to go to. But I also had plans for the evening and had to cancel them to watch her. I was so pissed off. I took Olivia to the playground and smoked a little weed to calm myself.” His eyes had a far away look. “She was such a pain in the ass, always trying to get my attention and wanting me to watch her climb. Instead, I just played with my cell phone. Until she suddenly screamed.”
I gasped, and Spencer’s eyes focused on me again.
“In the movies these kinds of scenes are always in slow motion, but Dawn, I swear it all happened so fast. She screamed, I looked up, and she was already on the ground. I heard her head crack.”
My hand flew to my mouth.
“I thought she was dead. Her body was totally limp. And that cracking sound kept echoing in my mind. The rest of my memories of that day are spotty. I don’t remember running to her, just being on my knees with my hands covered in blood. Then the ambulance arrived. We went to the nearest hospital. My parents came. My father hit me.”
Tears were coming to my eyes. I felt for his hand and laced my fingers together with his. His skin was cold.
