Spencer chuckles as he taps the picture. “Sorry, buddy. You’re looking at me with dreamy eyes here. Hate to break it to you, but it’s cute.” He realizes how much he’s leaning in my personal space and eases back. “You’re very good at faking the dreamy eyes, by the way.”
I’m definitely not faking the eyes in that photo.
And nothing seems fake about how much I want to reach out and touch Spencer right now.
This isn’t just an impulsive desire to give my heart away. This is a desire that’s been growing for weeks, tempered by time, and it feels harder to bury it.
Maybe I should just let him break my heart.
The thought hits me out of nowhere, so strong it practically stuns me. When Spencer seems to catch the funny look on my face, I recover.
“Everyone likes that you and Everett seem to get along,” I add as I set my phone down. “That was smart thinking from your teams. It’s giving you good buzz ahead of the season.”
Spencer nods. “Good, I guess. Although buzz doesn’t make my defense any better. Are you working on the song you’ve been humming lately?”
It’s nice that he wants to hear my music even though he hates the genre.
He’s sweet. And kind. And terribly cute today.
It’s really starting to do a number on me.
“No. Something new,” I answer, not offering more.
Spencer holds his hands up. “I get it. I won’t push.”
“Shame I don’t write love songs. Evo seems to have a new hit every couple months.”
Spencer sticks his chin out. “You’re saying your husband isn’t inspiring enough for a love song?” he jokes. “Maybe after I win in Paris.”
I laugh and lean toward him. “Trust me,” I say, dropping my voice. “If it were about you, all I’d have to do is remember your ass and I’d have a thousand hits.”
“Shameless,” he says, but I can see he likes it. “No love songs. Makes sense for a guy who never fell in love.”
“Who said I’ve never fallen in love?” I ask.
He blinks, surprised. “You have?”
I stare at him for a moment. It’s not too late to take it back.
But maybe the way I’m feeling for Spencer has those old heartbreaks back in mind.
Or maybe I just want to share with him. That’s possible, too.
But for whatever reason, my mouth opens, and the word tumbles out. “Yes.” Uncomfortable, I try to make a joke out of it. “I’ve fallen in love three times. And I’ve had my heart broken three times. And I’ve written three hit albums. Coincidence?”
Spencer’s face crumples with empathy. “Oh, Gabriel. I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
I stand and walk over to the window. Definitely did not intend to drag this story out with Spencer today. I’m acting impulsive with him.
“Those relationships happened years ago,” I tell him. “I’m really over it.”
Spencer crosses behind me. “Even so. Why didn’t you ever mention that? Hell, why haven’t I read about this online?”
I turn to face him. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s like you and that asshole who interrupted our aquarium date. I’d just prefer to not give the bullshit any more of my time.”
The excuse sounds weak. Maybe I did owe it to Spencer to tell him about those old relationships, except I quickly remember that I don’t. That this thing between us is just an arrangement despite how it feels.
Spencer purses his lips, thinking. “Your albums,” he says to himself, and his eyebrows pop up. “Oh god. I was right. You were sad when you wrote those albums.”
