Page 7 of Spencer's Satisfaction
“Oh, shit, I didn’t get it all wrong, did I? I just thought…” He rubs the back of his neck and his expression turns sheepish. “I mean, you listen to…See, Rhodes is the name I perform under for…um…very specific kinds of novels. Obviously, if you’d said my mainstream name-”
“Oh, no, I’m definitely into in men. I mean, gay. I am gay,” I assure him, the words tumbling forth just as awkwardly as everything else I’ve said to him tonight.
But now Spencer seems to match me with his own blurted, “Oh, good. Me too. Into men, I mean. And women.” He pauses to wince and drag his hand over his face, his cheeks turning a bit pink. “I’m bi. But…yeah.” Clearing his throat, he sounds hopeful when he asks, “And are you, uh, available?”
I blink at him, struggling to comprehend exactly why he’d be asking that. “Are…are you asking me out?” My voice goes a little shrill with my disbelief. “Me? Dear God,why? I’m…” I gesture lamely at myself, “nothing special.”
Instantly, his expression shifts to something far more serious. “Whoever’s led you to believe that is an idiot. Or a series of idiots. There’s plenty special about you. In a good way.” He rushes to add the last bit, lest I choose to misinterpret him. Not that I could. Not with how earnest he sounds.
Wow. Tonight has taken a seriously bizarre turn.
I don’t bother telling him that there has not been a series of idiots. Outside of a few kisses and some dud Grindr experiences which didnotresult in hooking up as planned, there hasn’t ever been anyone. Most people find me too odd for friendship, let alone sex. Hence my sad little secret.
Andthatis why I’m convinced I’m nothing special.
Still, I’m not stupid enough to tell him any of it. Especially not while we’re loitering outside the bathrooms in the diner where I work, where anyone could overhear me.
“So…” he prompts when I continue to just gawk at him (yet another example of why I’m a painfully single virgin, I’m sure), “can I get your number?”
It’s a no brainer, really.
I smile, shyness warring with the bubbling excitement in my belly. “Sure.”
Chapter Three – Spencer
“Ican’t believe you chased him for his number,” Chance teases me long after we’ve settled our bill, leaving hefty tips for both the serving staff tonight, and have started slowly walking down the road to our parked cars. “Was it because he’sa fan?”
The way my best friend says those last words is more to embarrass me than it is to slight the cute server whose number is now safely saved in my phone under the name ‘Tony’ with a winky faced emoji beside it. Still, I feel myself prickling in Tony’s defense anyway.
“Chance,” I say with warning, in a tone I usually reserve for Daddy play, “don’t.”
Beneath his ginger facial scruff, his lips quirk, knowing that he’s hit a nerve. “Itwascute the way he got all stammer-y and starstruck.”
“Chance…”
“And he does seem kinda’ perfect for you. He’s got that whole ‘wide-eyed and innocent’ vibe. He practically screamsBoy, doesn’t he?”
It’s a little frustrating that he’s right. I don’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that, though, or he’ll lord it over me the way only a best friend can.
“I’ve never seen him at The Grove,” I shrug lightly.
“He listens to your kinky books,” my buddy counters.
“That doesn’t meanhe’skinky. Besides,” I offer with a sigh, stopping in my tracks to face him, “I narrate a lot of stuff under that stage name. From paranormal romance, to Daddy kink, to darker themed BDSM stuff, to MMMMM, to mpreg, to almost anything and everything in between. Even if heiskinky,” which I doubt, considering how much he’d blushed delightfully at the barest touch of my fingers against his when I’d handed him my phone to type in his digits, “who’s to say our kinks align?”
You know what Chance gets out of all that?
“What the actual fuck ismpreg?”
Arching an eyebrow at him, I ask, “What does it sound like?”
He crinkles his nose. “Dude. No.”
I shake my head at him, my wild mane of hair flying into my face with the action. Brushing it back and tucking it behind my ears with both hands, I say, “You know better than to judge others for their kinks, man. And some of those books are a hell of a lot of fun to narrate. Especially the shifter ones.”
“Shift-no. You know what? I’m not asking.”
Good, I think to myself with amusement as we start walking again,because explaining knotting might just push him over the edge.
