Page 10 of Spencer's Satisfaction
Ihavea date.
Ihave a date.
I have a date?!
I can’t wrap my head around the concept. I mean, I can’t even remember the last time I went on a real date. It must have been when I was just out of high school. I don’t even think that counts as an adult date. Everything else has been failed Grindr hookups and…oh, God, I’ve never been on a real date.
Shit.
I don’t know what the actual fuck I’m doing.
I’m sneaking around behind my sister’s back, for one thing.
I didn’t tell her about randomly meeting my favorite audiobook narrator whose voice I’ve had a crush on for a while now. I didn’t tell her that he asked for my number. I didn’t tell her that we’ve spent the last four days and nights texting back and forth like giddy teenagers. (Okay,Itext like a giddy teenager: I imagine Spencer’s just having a normal conversation on his end.) I didn’t tell heranyof it.
And I especially didn’t tell her that I’ve been listening to Spencer reading me the hottest, smuttiest romance stories in every spare second I get.
Is that weird?
It’s weird, isn’t it?
I mean…I’ve met him now. I know him now. I’m going on a date with him now. I shouldnotbe listening to the books he’s narrated anymore. I shouldn’t.
Not when I can only picture his handsome face as the sexy heroes in the stories. Not when I close my eyes and let the dirty, sexy words get me all hot and bothered, imagining that he’s reading them just for me, maybe even planning to re-enact some of them with me.
Ugh.Down, boy, I mentally hiss at my dick which is starting to take interest in the path my thoughts have taken. I willnotturn up to my first date with this man (or with any man, really) with a hard on.
I check my reflection in the full-length mirror which hangs on the inside of my closet door. I’m looking good, if I do say so myself. In dark denim jeans and a red button-down shirt, I look more confident and put-together than I feel. Glancing at my watch, the shiny silver one with the large, square face that Nonna gave me for my sixteenth birthday, I note with a start that I need to leave in the next five minutes if I don’t want to be late.
Like a gentleman, Spencer had offered to pick me up, but I’d refused. Partially because I don’t really know him, partially because I didn’t want to risk Tanya being…well…Tanya at him, and also partially because I like to pretend that I have some modicum of control over most situations.
Instead of taking the car, though, I’ve decided to catch the bus and then walk to the restaurant where I’ll be meeting Spencer. I’m not a huge fan of driving in the city. I don’t like searching for parking, or trying to maneuver through constantly heavy traffic, or getting lost because there are a bunch of ridiculous one-way streets which make zero sense. And, in taking the bus, I can put my earbuds in and listen to my books without losing concentration.
I probably shouldnotbe listening to Spencer’s narration on the way to our date, should I?
But I can’t help myself. It’s not just the enjoyment of listening to his talented voice acting, either. The plot in the book I’m listening to right now is great. And the author’s style is punctuated with humor that Spencer delivers with perfect emphasis and timing. I actually spend a good portion of my bus trip snickering to myself, uncaring of what the few other passengers might think.
I’m still smiling as I make the short walk from the bus stop through the bustling city streets, tucking my earbuds away into my pocket as I turn the final corner and spy my date leaning casually against the brick wall a few feet away from the restaurant’s door.
He straightens up as he sees me approach, a smile tugging up those perfect lips of his, bringing out his dimples.
“Tony,” Spencer greets me with warmth, walking a few paces in my direction as though he’s just as excited to close the distance between us. “Hi!” He bends to kiss my cheek, and I surprise myself by not flinching away when he enters my personal space so unexpectedly. “You look amazing.”
My face burns immediately. Whether because of the press of his lips to my skin or the compliment, I’m not entirely sure. I bite my lip and look him over. “Right back at you.”
It’s not even lip service. He’s wearing dark khaki pants and a blue polo shirt that seems to set off his dark gray-blue eyes. His hair is still a wild mess of waves, but it doesn’t look unkempt. He’s tall and lean, and even though he’s not the big, muscular bear type I’ve always joked about being interested in, I can see in the toning of his forearms and biceps that he’s probably stronger and sturdier than he appears at a glance.
Spencer offers me his arm and I loop mine in his, my heart beating faster at the innocent contact. I don’t usually let strangers touch me, but in my head he’s not really a stranger. Not with how long I’ve been listening to him read to me.
“Did your week improve?” he asks conversationally as he leads me towards the restaurant door. During our text exchanges during the week, I’d admitted that, with Jenny quitting and Jamie still being off sick, work has been more hectic than usual.
I don’t want to bring the mood down, even though it’s been a pretty stressful few days, so I just smile coyly and squeeze his arm, saying, “It has now.”
“Corny,” he accuses with a laugh, then tugs me against his side with unveiled affection, “I approve.”
We reach the maître d’ and Spencer says, “Table for two under Highland?”
I blink. “Highland?”
