Page 22 of Next to You

“You’ve been frustrating me for years, Lucy.”

“Me?” My eyebrows shot up in shock.

“Yeah, you.” He laughed lightly. “You drew me that picture after my mom died. Do you remember that? You’ve been in my heart ever since.”

“Oh, Spencer. Oh my god.” I closed my eyes, letting the memory of that time in our childhood wash over me as I settled into the change this conversation was heading into.

“Is that too much?”

“No. I love it. I’m so glad you told me. I—I didn’t know what to do. You were so sad, and I wanted to help you somehow. It was all I could think of. Drawing is what I always do when I have too many feelings and can’t figure them out.”

“You drew her,” his whispered voice grew hesitant. Gone was the self-confident flirting of only a few seconds ago. “It was moreherthan any of our photographs in my house. I still have it.”

My heart melted, turning over in my chest. I was thrilled because I already knew I wanted it all. Every emotion, every feeling, I wanted all the pieces of him.

Tears filled my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.

“I loved her, Spencer. She was my favorite teacher—ever. I’ll never forget her.”

His mom had taught first grade, and I was one of her students. It was the only year Spencer and I weren’t in the same classroom. She was diagnosed with cancer near the end of the school year and passed away over the summer break. It shook our small community; everyone loved her. She was one of those people who spread sunshine wherever she went.

“I’ll be her age soon, and it gets to me sometimes. I don’t know why she crossed my mind right now.” He let out a rueful sigh and my heart broke for him.

“I’m so sorry. Why does life have to be so unfair? She was a wonderful woman, and you deserved more time with her. You all did.”

He looked away, frustrated. “I ruined the mood. We were talking about dating and prom and fun things and?—”

I gaped at him, shocked. “You did no such thing. I’m sick ofmoods. I just want to be real for a change. What you said was real. It was honest. It was how you felt in the moment and I’m honored you told me. I loved it.”

“What do you mean? Real?”

“I’m tired of small talk, aren’t you?”

His brows flickered a little as he nodded. “Yeah. Everything is always a game, it seems.”

“Good. I’m sick of dating apps and meetings in bars. I’m sick of playing games too. I’m also tired of seeing where things go while he’s talking to five other women. If I see the letters WYD in a text one more goddamn time, I’ll lose my mind. And I’ll probably drop dead or end up in prison for murder if I get one more dick pick. I’m over it all.”

“Tell me what you want.” A look of determination settled on his face as he waited for my response.

“I want honesty. I do not want to be a hookup or a booty call ever again. I want to watch TV in bed on a Saturday night after going to dinner or for a walk in the park or whatever. I want goodmorning texts that lead to goodnight kisses. I don’t want friends with benefits. I want friends with possibilities and intentions and real, honest-to-god feelings. I want—I think I want the impossible, and that’s why I’m done with men and dating and putting myself out there. No more. I’m honored you told me how you feel about your mom because it made me feel something. Thank you for sharing that with me because it was real.”

“You’re welcome.” He looked as if he were in shock.

I’d blown it. Obviously.

Ranting Lucy was really good at chasing men away. Only this time, there was nowhere for this one to go.

Chapter 8

Spencer

Isat there, frozen. That was everything I wanted, but I didn’t say it. Mostly because I found myself wanting it withher.Each word that came out of her mouth made me want her more, and I didn’t want to put pressure on the situation. If she didn’t feel the same way about me, or as strongly as I did, it would get awkward between us really fast, and neither of us could escape. On the other hand, if we started something and it was good, that would be another kind of pressure.

I was torn.

A declaration like she’d made demanded reciprocity. Only an asshole would leave her hanging, and I would rather die than hurt her feelings.

“I’m processing.” I finally said. I needed a moment to decide how to proceed.

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