He pauses before finishing his task of filling my glass to the brim. “Hopefully they put us on opposite ends of the hotel then.”
“Oh, wow, we agree on something,” I counter. I take another sip and realize I should pace myself around this man.
In a bizarre twist, I trust the man in a "he would keep me safe" kind of way, but I don’t trust… myself around Spencer Crews, star pitcher of the Bluelights.
“You know there was a stop sign,” he mentions.
Aggravation seeps through me that he wants to go down memory lane, starting with the time I was arriving at Spencer and my uncle’s street once and nearly had a car accident.
“Yes, there was. You probably didn’t see it because of the bush by the sign. So I was right with my traffic skills, and I had the right of way.”
“No, you didn’t,” he insists.
“You nearly hit my car in the process!”
He tilts his head to the side. “A little dramatic.”
“Really? And what about my uncle’s BBQ a while back? What is your explanation for your asshole tendency there?” I slam the glass onto a table.
“Oh, that’s easy. You walked around all holier than thou, and your boyfriend at the time is the kind of jackass that will cheat on his future wife and only look out for himself.”
The air in the room evaporates, and he instantly seems to regret his words, as his cocky demeanor fades into almost remorse. He's close with Hudson and Piper, which means they must update him on my life.
A twinge below my heart ignites as my eyes fall to the floor. “Well… joke is on me then, right?” I say softly.
Spencer steps closer. “I’m sorry. That was… out of line.”
I peer up. “It’s the truth, isn’t it? If only I had known then what you so wisely figured out. I mean, I could have saved myself an entire engagement.” I fake a laugh.
I walk past him and straight to the window overlooking Lake Spark; the sun is setting which casts an orange and purple hue across the sky.
Time seems to still as I try to forget the fact that I would've had a wedding coming up if it weren't for Jeff deciding that I’m not what he needs.
A tap on my shoulder causes me to look down, and I see a glass of champagne held out in a firm hand. “Here.”
“Did you add poison?” I wonder.
“Nah, to have me in your company is probably agonizing enough.”
I straighten my posture and take the glass. “Right. We irritate each other.”
The corner of his mouth curves, and I seem to notice the five-o'clock shadow around his lips more than I care to admit.
“So, what’s with the dancing earlier?” He looks into his glass.
“Old habit.”
A long breath escapes his mouth before he leans against the window and seems to be casting his gaze on me. “You were a ballerina?”
“Somewhat.”
His eyes go wide, as if he's waiting for more. “Care to elaborate?”
“No,” I answer bluntly. In truth, it’s nothing special. I only danced until I was fifteen, then turned in my point shoes for the swim team. I wasn’t very good at that either.
Spencer bites his inner cheek before his jaw slides side to side. “Do you always act like a child, or do I just bring out the best in you?”
My hand finds my hip. “Forgive me for having a zero-tolerance policy for jerks who play baseball.”
