.jpg)
I lay curled in Spencer's bed, drinking in his scent and holding his pillow close to my face, wishing it were him I was holding instead. That is, if he'd even let me. If he hadn't gone missing, how would things have turned out? Would he have been able to forgive me for lying? Surely he'd forgive the rest of the Student Council. I mean, I don't know a lot about their history, but it seems like they've been friends for a while.
Finally, I drift off and let my dreams take me to a school that isn't this school, but you know, still is in that crazy dream-like sort of way. It has big white columns and murals that look nothing like the stone walls and wood beams of Adamson. Spencer is there, and so are the twins, all of them playing that stupid racing game in my dorm room. Church and Ranger show up later with golden retriever puppies in their arms, and that's when I know I've completely disappeared into la-la Land.
Then one of the dream puppies ends up peeing on me, and I find myself soaked; I start to wake up, feeling stupid for being so angry at a dream dog.
As I blink myself awake, I realize that there's someone climbing into bed with me, someone who's wet, thus you know, the dream about the peeing puppy.
“Whoa,” the person says as I push up through the fog of sleep. “What the hell are you doing in my bed?”
My eyes shoot wide, and I sit up ramrod straight, putting my back against the wall as I gape in shock at the silver-haired boy who's staring right back at me.
I’ll give you a hint: it’s not Eugene Mathers.
“What the … fuck?” I whisper, feeling myself start to shake. I feel like I'm looking at a ghost here, the ghost of Spencer Hargrove who just happens to be sitting warily on the edge of the bed, looking at me like he's not sure what to make of my presence.
Frankly, I'm sort of freaked-out by him, too.
“Why are in you in my bed, Chuck? Or should I say Charlotte?” He sounds mad at me, but tired, too. And he's all wet from the storm. His turquoise eyes are bright in the orange-yellow glow of the fireplace.
“Are you alive?” I whisper back, trying to swallow past the hard lump in my throat. “Please tell me I'm not dreaming. I can't take the disappointment.”
“Alive?” Spencer asks, looking at me like I've lost my damn mind. “Of course I'm alive. What sort of stupid question is—”
There's no stopping myself. I lunge forward and throw my arms around him, squeezing him as tight as I can, burying my face in the crook of his neck. Tears are rolling freely down my face, soaking him even further. And holy fuck, he smells so damn good. So good.
“What's going on?” Spencer asks, his voice tired and groggy. He stiffens up at first, but maybe there's something about the way I'm holding him that shakes loose some of that anger. Slowly, tentatively, he puts his arms around my waist and hugs me back. “What's going on? What did I miss?”
“Where have you been?” I whisper in a raspy voice. Ranger is out, doused in sleeping pills. I should probably try to wake him up. Church and the twins, too. But I can't seem to let go of this boy, no matter how hard I try. “This whole week has been hell. We all thought you were dead.”
“What? I told you guys I was taking a breather. My brother picked me up and we stayed at his place in Nutmeg.”
“Someone died in the woods, Spencer, a student in a gym uniform with silver hair. We all thought it was you. He was hanging from a tree. It was fucking horrible, the worst.” I squeeze him a little tighter, closing my eyes against the rush of fresh tears. Is this really happening? Or is this a dream, too? Please, please, please let it be real. What Micah said, about finding out that Spencer was dead all over again, it makes so much sense now. I feel like if I wake up and find out this isn't real, that I'll have a nervous breakdown.
“Wait, what?” he asks, trying to pull back from me. I stop him midway with a kiss, one that surprises even me with its ferocity. One minute, I'm desperate to hear his voice, to talk this whole thing through, just to make sure it's real. The next, I'm pressing my mouth to his, my tongue forcing its way between his shuttered lips.
For a split-second, he resists, pushing me back.
“Charlotte, what the ever-loving fuck are you talking about?”
I cut him off with another kiss, this punishing crush of mouths. There's a little too much teeth, but I can't help myself. This kiss needs to happen. Spencer groans and leans into me, his sweet-spicy scent overwhelming me and perking up all my senses. I feel like I'm coming alive in his arms, with this kiss, with the smell and warmth of him seeping into me.
Charlotte, slow down, my subconscious mind whispers, but Spencer's kissing me back now, his tongue taking over the wild tango of our lips. He kisses me with this barely suppressed need, this searing heat that feels like it's been building forever. It hits me like a train, and I find myself suddenly on my back.
My hands slide down his back, pushing his hoodie and shirt up, so I can run my palms across his damp, warm skin. Spencer's hard, hot body is between my thighs, dressed in sweats and unlaced boots. He grinds his pelvis against mine as we kiss, and I groan against his mouth.
There are so many emotions in the air right now that I know I should probably step back and evaluate things. My logical brain seems to be going one way while my emotional side is pulling in the opposite direction.
When he tangles his fingers in my hair, I really lose my shit, yanking his hoodie and shirt up and breaking our kiss just long enough to toss the items aside.
Spencer maintains this undulating rhythm against my core that has me squirming and digging my fingernails into the muscles of his back. He fumbles around with something in the nightstand, and then comes back with a condom.
He lifts up just enough to look down at me, silver-ash hair falling around his face. I can see all the delicious variation in his turquoise eyes, those flecks of green and blue and teal, as he searches my expression. That white-hot chemistry we’ve been entertaining for months is thick and heady in the air between us, my breath coming in sharp pants. It’s almost too much, all this feeling inside of me; I need an outlet.
“What are we doing?” Spencer whispers, but he's got the condom in his hand, so he must have some idea. Looking up at him, I feel the tears again and wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him close again.
Relief mixes with lust, creating this potent potion of emotion that takes over my whole being. My only thoughts are about getting as close as I can to him, to reassure myself that he's really here.
We work together in a frenzy to shed my pants, leaving my underwear in place. Spencer's hand frees his cock easily from his sweats, and there's this tense moment where he's opening the condom wrapper and struggling to get it on.
I pull my panties aside, heart thumping, and realize that I'm not nervous at all, not like I was when Cody and I fooled around. With him, I felt tentative, unsure, almost scared. It's not like that with Spencer. There's no hesitation, no fear.
He looks me right in the face and then opens his mouth to ask something that I cut off with a kiss, curling my fingers against the back of his neck, feeling the fine hairs tickling my skin. Spencer lines himself up with my opening and slowly works himself him.
A gasp escapes me, stifled by the hot press of his lips, as my body adjusts to the new sensation. It's a little tight, a tad uncomfortable, but it feels so good. Doubly so when he begins to move, slow but strong movements of his hips pushing us closer and closer together.
Spencer's right hand slides up under my shirt, and finds my bare breast. I didn't bother with a bra tonight; it didn't seem to matter that much in the face of his possible death.
“Holy shit, how did you hide these for so long?” he whispers against my mouth, making me shiver. The sound of his voice is surreal, like a dream made reality. I've never wanted anything so badly in my entire life.
“A wing and a prayer?” I whisper back, but I could care less about the secret girl issue right now. All I want is his lips on mine. With a firm but gentle grip, I put pressure on his neck and bring his mouth down to min
e, tasting the faint burn of mint, like maybe be brushed his teeth before stumbling in here.
Spencer kneads my breast with his hand, rubbing his thumb over the hardened point of my nipple. It's like he's lit a sparkler inside of me, sending these bright, beautiful colors shooting through my body.
A sound escapes my lips, half-whisper, half-groan, as I wrap my legs around him, holding him as close as I can get him. Being together like this, it makes me want to never be apart again. I told you, Chuck, that you’d fall for all these guys. I warned you, didn’t I? Day one. Day one I warned you. My subconscious calls out to me, but I push it aside, tangled up in lovesick heartbreak and new hope.
Spencer Hargrove is alive.
It’s not often that life throws a curveball, and then lets you hit a homerun.
I’m reveling in it.
“Spence,” I whisper, calling him by a nickname that doesn’t rightfully belong to me. But … it feels like it does. It feels like he does. He responds by groaning against my ear, this soft, sweet sound of male satisfaction. We’re fucking, maybe, but I think we might also … you know, be doing something else, too.
“Chuck,” he purrs back at me, kissing down the side of my neck and curling his fingers in my hair. When his fingertips touch my scalp, they make me shiver. My entire body reacts to his touch, holding tight to him. My fingertips trail through the sweat on Spencer’s back as this pressure and heat builds low in my belly, making me feel tense. “Relax,” he commands, taking my wrists and holding them above my head.
Spencer bites my lower lip and then swirls his tongue over it, releasing me so he can brace himself above me, moving his hips harder and faster, driving that intense feeling in my stomach into my limbs.
My lips part and my head tilts back, but I can still see him in the crackling light of the fire, moving above me, the rain a staccato rhythm outside the window.
I’m not expecting to have an orgasm—most first-timers don’t—but it hits me anyway, this fierce fire, this fervent rush that explodes through me in a bright wave. This time, when I throw my arms around Spencer, I’m shaking for a different reason.
I feel light, weightless, airy.
He keeps moving, adding these little aftershocks of pleasure to my starry-eyed relaxation. Spencer comes, too, still buried deep in me, nuzzling against the top of my head as his body quivers and tenses up.
“Christ, Chuck,” he murmurs, and then he rolls off onto his back, panting and staring up at the ceiling. I can't move. Pretty sure my legs have turned to jelly. I can barely breathe. That, and I feel empty now that Spencer's moved away from me.
My cheeks heat, and I turn on my side, just to make sure he's really here.
“That was … unexpected,” he whispers, glancing over at Ranger's sleeping form, buried in blankets, and lightly snoring.
“Unexpected,” I start, still struggling to find the right words to say. Spencer gets up to throw the condom away in the trash can at the end of his bed before climbing back in and curling his arm under my waist.
“Unexpected, but fucking amazing,” he adds, leaning forward to kiss me. It doesn't just end at that, a single press of lips. No, pleasure shoots through me and I curve into him.
I realize that for a good portion of my life, I've been sort of an entitled brat. Never has it been more obvious than in this moment. Maybe I'm actually learning to care about someone other than myself?
“Although I'm still pissed,” Spencer adds, frowning slightly as he pulls back from me, his eyes searching my face. I get that he probably does this a lot, hook up with random girls. He doesn't know this is my first time, and I'm sure as hell not going to tell him. If you don't expressly tell the twins not to, they will though. Fuck, even if you do expressly tell them no, they'll probably spill the beans anyway. “I can't believe you guys lied to me.”
My eyes water, and Spencer's widen.
“Are you okay?” he asks, blinking rapidly. He leans in closer and presses a kiss to my forehead. “I don't want to ruin this moment. I shouldn't have even brought it up; I'm sorry.”
“It's not that,” I choke out, curling my fingers around his arm, just to anchor him in place. “We all thought you were dead, Spencer.”
“I'm so confused right now,” he says, sitting up. I sit up, too, and then notice that his eyes have wandered down. One of my boobs is hanging out of my shirt. Flushing, I tuck it away and cross my arms over my chest. I'm shaking, but that's not surprising. There are so many emotions swirling around inside of me, it's practically a storm. “Some guy killed himself you said?”
“A student with silver hair, wearing a gym uniform, was hung from a tree in the woods.” I look Spencer dead in the face. “This whole week, nobody's been able to find you, and the police won't release the student's name. We all thought it was you.”
He just stares at me, like he has no idea how to respond to that. Guilt creeps up in his expression and he runs his fingers through his hair.
“I threw my phone at a tree in a rage and broke it … and then I figured I was better off without it. Sometimes when I get pissed off, I do stupid shit.” Spencer lifts his head to look at me, and I feel my heart thump in response. I just lost my virginity to this guy, I think, and end up licking my lower lip. He notices, and gives a small half-smile. It only lasts for a second before it fades away, like he's finally realizing how serious this is. “Are you okay?”
“I just spent, like, a whole week thinking you were dead,” I whisper back, and Spencer's lips purse. He scoots closer to me and pulls me into his lap, reminding me of Tobias. “Your friends, too. I've never seen Micah so … fucked-up.”
“You guys really thought I was dead? All this time?” I nod, and Spencer curses under his breath, holding me close. Ranger was so right: I should've told him sooner. What was I so afraid of? This? Because I'll admit: it's a lot.
Spencer and I have an undeniable connection, one that, if I'm honest with myself, scares the crap out of me. It's so intense, so raw. I've never felt like this around anyone before.
“I was attacked in the shower that night by two people in hoodies. They took off into the attic, and climbed through a whole in Mark Grandam’s room. Then they lured us into the tunnels beneath the school before locking us in.” I look up to find Spencer gaping at me, both of his dark brows raised. He's all sweaty, and so am I. To curl up in his arms right now and fall asleep, that'd be heaven.
But we have to wake the other boys up. They deserve to know their friend's alive. “Ranger almost died. Twice, actually. He almost drowned. I had to give him CPR …”
“Who are you talking to?” Ranger mumbles, rolling over and sitting up. He puts his head in his hand, fingers threaded in his dark hair before he finally glances over, eyes bleary and heavy with sleep. When he sees whose lap I'm sitting in, his eyes go wide and he bolts up out of bed with a roar. “Where the fuck have you been?!” he snarls, yanking Spencer up by the arm. I tumble off his lap and remember that I'm not actually wearing pants …
Ranger doesn't notice. Instead, he's got a hand on either of Spencer's bare arms, and he's shaking as he stares his friend down with those intense sapphire eyes of his.
“I … broke my phone, and I was just trying to chill out. I had no idea shit was going down here. I was at Jack’s house getting stoned—”
“You've been getting baked all week at your brother's house while we fucking died for you?! Are you insane? Do you know what you put us all through?”
“Chuck was just saying … Fuck, I'm sorry, I didn't know. I didn't know.” Ranger drops his hands from Spencer's arms, leaving red marks. And then he hugs him, one of those tight, squeezing hugs that I like so much. A real hug. No fragile masculine bullshit is keeping Ranger Woodruff from hugging his best friend. My heart swells three sizes, like the Grinch or whatever.
Then Ranger glances up and sees me sitting there in my underwear. My very, very wet underwear. I shift uncomfortably, and his brows go up. He stands up straight and looks at Spencer then me,
then back at Spencer again.
“Did you guys … just fuck?”
“Your sleeping pills make you dead to the world, man,” Spencer says, trying and failing to laugh. He looks like he's about to be sick. Ranger stares at me again, and gives me this … I don't know, look.
Crap.
I give Ranger a responding look that says please don't say anything, and he bends down to pick my pants up off the floor, tossing them to me.
“I'll go get Church, and the twins. Stay here.” Ranger opens the door and pads down the hall to wake the other guys up. I don't like him going out there by himself, but it's just a few doors down, so I figure I better get my damn pants on.
“This is insane,” Spencer whispers, turning back to look at me again. “I still can't believe you're a girl.” He narrows his eyes on me. “Do you know how much gay porn I watched in preparation for our first time? I was researching how to suck a dick.” I smile, but there are tears again. I'm just so fucking happy he's still alive. “No snappy retorts or witty comments?”
“I'm … I just …” For once in my life, I'm literally speechless.
Spencer pauses, and then flicks his eyes to the side, like he's thinking really hard about what he wants to say next. When he looks back at me, I just know it's going to be profound.
Then, of course, the door flies open and the twins come barreling in.
They knock Spencer onto Ranger's bed, and I can't tell if they're laughing or crying.
“You piece of shit,” they wail in unison, rubbing their cheeks against his. He's laughing and trying to push them off, but to no avail.
“We should kick your ass for making us think you were dead,” Micah says, and Tobias frowns.
“We should beat the shit out of you.”
“Aww, look, you guys really do love me,” Spencer says, sitting up and doing his best to untangle himself from the McCarthy twins' long limbs. They've glommed onto him like red-haired koalas or some shit. I smile, even though I'm crying again. Ugh, that'll get old fast. I should go back to my bitchy Valley Girl self, huh?