Spencer just looks so damn cute when he’s smiling. And that hint of dimple when he’s really grinning does me in.
The beginnings of new songs swirl in my head lately, almost taking shape. I keep coming up with cheesy placeholder lines,Smile, smile, let me earn your smile, that echo in my mind.
After the workout, we head to our separate rooms for showers and meet back up in the kitchen. I guess I was humming to myself, trying to work out a melody, because Spencer immediately asks about it. I’m still not ready to share anything new. I’ve only even given Fox a few chord progressions and rhythms to tide him over. So I deflect and instead share the chorus from something old, a new version of “Burn It Down Again” with the guitar subdued and the vocals picking up the slack.
He sits on the end of the couch, staring at me with those gray and silver eyes that have appeared in a couple of my cheesiest lyrics. When our gazes lock, I let my voice roll, growling through the lyrics.
“Damn, you made that song new,” he says when I’m done, his steady voice low and close to a whisper. “Very nice, Gabriel.”
I shrug it off and set the guitar aside, but it sure does feel good to hear him say that. Spencer is far from my typical audience, but I want him to like my new sound.
“Thanks.” I push a hand through my hair. “Date time?”
It’s late afternoon on Saturday, and today’s date has been much more heavily curated by our teams than last night’s motorcycle ride. We’re going to the aquarium because that’s something Spencer has mentioned in interviews before. It’s his go-to answer for what he likes about Boston. There’s a burger joint nearby that’s achieved some kind of weird cult status, and a couple friendly members of the press tipped off to our plans. With the staff prepared to expect us and a little commotion, it should go smoothly.
I’d totally go to the aquarium and to get burgers with Spencer regardless of this fake marriage stunt, so it doesn’t feel like an obligation. It just feels nice.
But not too nice, I remind myself. Definitely not going to let this go and feel too nice. I’m nearly past the point where, if I were younger, I would give my heart away. But I can still feel an itch there, a desire that I’m walling off and shoving away.
Spencer changes into a Henley and jeans, and I go for an old black hoodie and Chucks. It’s what I’d wear if this were real and I was trying to sneak under the radar, since we don’t want the date to look too staged. He makes me go back and put on my boots for the weather, though.
We both shrug on our winter jackets and head to the aquarium.
“This is something fun you do,” I point out as our car arrives. “How often do you visit this place?”
“Once in sixth grade when my class went,” he says as he steps out and offers me his hand. “I’ve thought about coming back, though.”
I take his hand and climb out. “You strike me as the kind of kid who would love marine biology.”
Spencer shrugs. “What’s not to love about marine biology?”
As expected, there are phones on us immediately. I take advantage of the moment and lean close, placing my lips an inch from Spencer’s mouth as I touch my forehead to his.
His eyes get wide, and I can feel his heart accelerate. “Gabriel,” he says softly.
“Fake kiss,” I say, burning with the need to slam my mouth over his, but I turn away as I flash a smile at the fans instead.
We take a minute to say hi, making some Boston high school kids and a couple grandmas extremely happy. Our teams left us with clear instructions to optimize the exposure and drive home the wholesome vibes today, so we don’t rush, and luckily, everyone we greet seems supportive. Soon enough, we’re in the aquarium, and after another round of photos, we finally receive a moment of semi-peace.
Blue-green light dances around us, and an octopus floats by behind a glass wall.
“Cool place,” I tell him. “I understand why you liked it.”
“My family lived outside Boston,” he explains. “If we had lived in the city instead, I probably would have come back.” He nods toward the glass across from us. “Visit the turtles at least.”
“They’re so old,” I say. “Did you know scientifically all turtles are old?”
“I think I saw that on the placard when I was a kid.”
We catch eyes and both laugh.
I point at the turtle. “That probably is one of the ones you saw as a kid, though. She looks old. Even for a turtle.”
Spencer smiles to himself as he looks at the turtle. “Old friends,” he says.
Fuck. How is he such a tough fucker and also so damn precious at the same time? It really does me in.
“What about you?” he asks. “You’re close with your parents. What did you do growing up?”
