They began the trip back to Chicago, Patrick taking one final look at the country.
“I have to tell you something,” Spencer said. “I’ve never carved a pumpkin.”
Patrick looked around to make sure nobody was looking. “Me, too.”
Spencer clamped a hand on his chest as if he were having a heart attack. “What?”
“Growing up, my parents said it made too much of a mess, so I never did it.”
“We are going to change that. They sell pumpkin carving kits at the grocery store. We’ll have to carve some. We can also roast the pumpkin seeds.” Four minutes after saying this, the sugar hit Spencer, and he passed out for the rest of the car ride.
We this, we that. It was out-of-tune music to Patrick’s ears. He wanted all these “we” moments with Spencer. He didn’t think it was possible to want to spend this much time with one person. His heart continuously fluttered around Spencer. But he couldn’t let himself get too excited because once Spencer got his cast off, things would change. He would revert back to his old self. Everyone always did. Patrick tried to be hopeful, but history had taught him otherwise.
People were predictable in all the worst ways.
7
Spencer
Never in his life would Spencer ever take for granted the ability to walk with two feet. Finally, his foot was unleashed from its jail cell. He wiggled his toes and rolled his ankle at the doctor’s office after they removed the cast. His ankle tensed with some pain, but mostly from being stiff for nearly three months.
The doctor said his ankle had healed nicely, one of the benefits of being young. Spencer made a mental note to not break any bones once he hit forty. He would have to go to physical therapy twice a week for October, but he was expected to have a completely clean bill of health by Halloween.
When he left the doctor’s office, he snapped a picture of his two feet in a normal pair of sneakers to show the world. He would spare the internet an image of what his foot looked like - pale, skinny, and sweaty.
He thought about sending the picture to Patrick first, but when Spencer scrolled down to their existing text chain, his thumb stubbornly hovered over the send button, refusing to budge.
Something felt off this past week between them. Ever since their amazing fall day, Patrick seemed distant. He wasn’t his chatty, bubbly self on the train. He was too tired to want to hang out after work. Spencer wasn’t sure what had changed or if maybe this was all in his head.
He sent the picture to Ryan.
DUUUUUUUUUDE, he texted back seconds later.
Spencer smiled to himself.
He walked down the sidewalk with a new lease on life, head up and saying hello to random strangers too ensconced in their iPhones to notice.
We’re throwing you a party, Ryan texted him with a gif from The Office.Time to celibate.
*Celebrate.
Spencer shook his head. Both were true. He and Patrick hadn’t fooled around since the corn maze. Patrick said he was stressed working on a case and had to catch up on depositions at night.
God, that session in the corn maze was hot. Patrick fighting to keep control as he melted under Spencer’s touch, whispering his name in begging gasps. It was a memory Spencer cashed at the spank bank multiple times this week. Good thing he didn’t break his hand.
Spencer and Ryan settled on a gathering at Spencer’s apartment tonight. Ryan, ever the dutiful friend who liked to be in control, took the lead in texting their friends. Spencer went to text Patrick, and again, his thumb hovered.
Was this all in his head?
Where had things gone sour? They had an amazing, for-the-record-books day in Wisconsin, and now Spencer was jerking off in his apartment alone.
Were things sour? Was Patrick really that busy with work or was he blowing him off?
This was why Spencer didn’t fuck with relationships. Because anything remotely serious fucked with your head. He shouldn’t have talked about the fucking pumpkin carving and other shit he wanted to do with Patrick. That was too couple-y. It was now clear that Patrick just wanted to have fun. That’s what Spencer was all about, too.
Right?
He stopped when he reached the stairs up to the Roosevelt El stop, his thoughts traveling back to all the times Patrick cleared a path for him during their commute, making him feel like the El was their own private shuttle service. All the times they squeezed in close on crowded cars, Patrick looking up at him with those gleaming green eyes. And all the times Spencer slipped his fingers through his when nobody was looking.
