I remember he told Whit he had stomach issues and he was always in the bathroom, which is so gross, but it kept Whit away from us. At least for a little bit.
“You went back to Lancaster Prep and forgot all about me,” I say, my voice brittle. I didn’t hear from him for the rest of the school year. Not a single peep, and we even exchanged phone numbers.
The jerk.
“I didn’t. I swear.”
“What happened?” I know what happened.
I just want to hear him say it.
“I got a girlfriend,” he admits. “But you know this.”
I do. I’m just a glutton for punishment.
“She was blonde. With blue eyes.” He touches my hair, his fingers tangling deep. “And she wasn’t as good a kisser as you.”
“Please.” I roll my eyes.
“It’s true.” He tugs on my hair, keeping me in place. “We were a natural fit back then.”
“We still are.”
Spence lets go of my hair and I readjust myself, sprawling across the top of him, thrusting my face in his. I can feel every inch of him beneath me growing tense, including his cock, and just like that, I want him again. I lower my hips, dragging my pussy against his erection, and he rests his hands on my hips, stopping me.
“I have to ask you a question.” His voice is deadly serious. “And I don’t want you distracting me with sex when I try.”
“I’m distracting you with sex before you try.” I reach down, my fingers searching for his balls and he grabs my wrist.
“What happened between you and Earl? Why did you marry him? Did he treat you well? What happened when he died?”
“That’s four questions,” I tell him, vaguely offended.
There’s the scary thing I felt sitting on the horizon, just out of reach. Now it’s here, resting between us, and he’s not going to let me avoid it any longer.
“I need more information, Syl. If we’re really going to make a go of this, I have to know…everything.” His grip on my wrist loosens, his thumb stroking the spot where my pulse beats rapidly. “You fucked me up so bad when you married him. I was fucking broken.”
My heart cracks at his admission. Spencer bottles most of his feelings up inside. He doesn’t like to talk about them. Like me.
But he’s being real with me right now, which means I need to do the same.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I know what I did was wrong, and selfish. I just wanted one last chance with you. One last chance at us.”
“You knew you were going to marry him when you came to me that night, huh.” His voice is flat, tinged with devastation, and God, I am the worst human alive.
I’m quiet for a moment, the single word getting stuck in my throat before I’m finally able to croak it out.
“Yes.”
He doesn’t shove me away, and I’m grateful, I cling to him. I curl my hands around his shoulders and lie there on top of him, matching my breathing to his, savoring the feel of his bare skin against mine. He’s silent for so long, I start to think that’s it. He’s not going to say anything else about it, but I was wrong.
“Your mother made you marry him. Why?”
“She didn’t want me with you.”
“What the fuck, Syl? Are you serious?” He’s shouting so loud that, if we were outside, he’d send about a dozen birds flying from the trees from startling them so badly.
“She wanted me with someone of her choosing. Whit gave her the big fuck you by falling in love with Summer, and Carolina ran away to London, so no one could control her but dance, and that left me. Always me. I did what she wanted, because I was scared to go against her.” I feel like I’m repeating myself. “You already know this.”