Page 29 of Game Over

“Never, lover boy. You could never ruin my evening.”

I took Dolly in and let her out once more before showering. Spencer stayed outside, insisting he would keep an eye on her. Even though I assured him she’d be fine, he just shooed me toward the bathroom.

I went and turned the shower on so it could heat up. While it did, I turned on some music, and “Who’s Crying Now” by Journey started to drift through my speaker. Yanking a brush through the bird's nest that was my hair, I made a mental note to put more hair ties in my car to prevent this from happening again. Once I was tangle-free, I put a hair mask on for the ultimate self-care night.

Stepping into the shower, I let the hot water wash over me, loosen up my muscles, and wash away the lingering nerves. I washed and shaved while the hair mask sat for another few minutes, before rinsing it out, followed by a double shampoo of my hair and conditioning the ends. By the end of my shower, I was completely relaxed.

Wrapping the giant fluffy towel around me as I stepped out, I realized I forgot to bring my pajamas into the bathroom with me. Quickly peeking out to see if Spencer had made it back to the room, and with no sign of him or Dolly, I quickly dried off, threw my pajamas on, and walked to the kitchen to find them.

“Hello?” I called because I didn’t see them anywhere.

“Out here!” Spencer's voice rang out from the backyard.

Stepping through the opened French doors, I was met with the lingering humidity of the night. Spencer had the fairy lights on and was throwing a ball with Dolly, looking every bit at ease and at home.

“You’ve done it now. She’ll never want to stop playing fetch. It’s her favorite game.” I walked up next to him, and he wrapped his arm around me as I snuggled into his side.

“Feeling better after your shower?”

“Yes, much better. I needed that. Do you want to see what sweets I have in the kitchen?”

“Good, I’m glad, and umm, yes, I do. My sweet tooth is massive, so let's go find a treat. Dolly, come on, girl, it's time to come in.” She barreled her way inside, and I went and looked in the pantry while Spence looked in the fridge.

“Hmm, I don’t have much. I have some of these pre-made brownies from the bakery?”

“Works for me. I’ll grab some plates.” We stood there next to each other munching on our brownies, just talking about the evening and how he liked seeing how me and my family interacted with each other. I knew it was hard on him, even if he didn’t say it. I could never imagine that type of pain of having no one. Especially after all he told me on the drive home. My father, and I use that term loosely, may have been an abusive piece of shit, but at least I had my mom, who would drop anything for me, and my little sister, who would possibly take someone’s kneecaps out if I was upset enough.

When we were done, we worked together cleaning up, putting the plates in the sink, and putting away the pizza boxes too. I grabbed some cleaner and did a quick wipe down of the counters while he made sure all the trash was thrown out. He did what needed to be done without me having to ask or say anything. It was refreshing compared to what I was used to—to have help with even the simplest task instead of having to do it all.

All of the overhead lights were off, and the kitchen was lit by the various lamps I had on. The smell of lemon from the cleaner we used mingled with the scent of summer that floated in from the open window above the sink. I was washing my hands when Spencer walked up behind me and ran his fingers along my arm and then up through my hair, playing with the damp strands there. He ran his nose along the curve of my neck, “You always smell so fucking good.” He moved my hair to the side and peppered kisses down my neck and onto my shoulder. “I know I said I wanted to be a gentleman, but my restraint is hanging by a thread that unravels more and more every second we’re together.”

Turning around so I could see him, I leaned back against the counter, my voice coming out husky, “I never said I wanted you to be a gentleman.”

War waged between his eyes of wanting to do the right thing and take this slow, or to say to hell with it and do what he wanted to do. I gently nibbled on my bottom lip and looked up at him, and I saw the moment that the thread unraveled a little more.

“Fuck it. Come here.” He said as he quickly bent down and lifted me onto the counter. My heart caught in my throat as he moved me. What in the world was he thinking?

“Oh my god, what are you doing! I’m going to break the counter or something!” I swatted at his shoulders and arms, trying to get away.

“No, you’re not, but you are going to hurt yourself if you don’t sit still.” He gave me a pointed look. “Now explain. What’s this all about, sweetheart?” I nibbled on my bottom lip, looking everywhere but at him. This was not a conversation I wanted to have.

“It’s nothing, seriously, Spencer. It’s fine, I'm fine.” I tried to scoot forward so I could hop off the counter, but Spencer planted both hands on either side of me. Those giant hands splayed across the counter, caging me in so I couldn’t move an inch. My mouth dried at the sight of them and what I’d like them to do.

“Allie. Look at me.” His tone was firm, but his touch as he tilted my chin up was soft. “You’re beautiful, you know that, right?”

“I—in theory, yes? I don’t know? Can I plead the fifth?” Part of me knew it wasn’t fair to not talk about my self-esteem issues after all he shared, but it terrified me to do so. What if he saw the cracks in the perfect mask I’ve created, and that was finally what sent him packing?

But what if he stayed?

Taking a calming breath, I decided to trust my gut on how I was feeling about Spencer and his actions thus far. “I’m not a small girl, that’s obvious.” I waved my hand up and down my body. He went to talk, but I covered his mouth with my finger and cocked a brow at him in a are you going to let me finish way. Spencer raised his hand and zipped his lips, even going as far as to throw away the keys. I rolled my eyes and continued.

“Being big isn’t a bad thing, but growing up in the 90s and early 2000s when every fad diet known to man was being shoved down your throat does little to help with how you view yourself and how others treat you. You're made to feel like some hideous weirdo. All because you’re not what society deems as skinny and pretty. Now pair that with never being in the latest fashions, and well, I was easy pickings.” Thinking back, I remember all the times I’d catch the other girls pointing and laughing at me for no reason. Boys coming up to me and asking me out on a dare cause that’s all a fat girl was good for. Shaking my head, I zoned back in and went on. “Now pair this with my lovely daddy issues, and finding shitty men who always had comments to say about my body once I was older and well. Recipe for low, low self-worth. Cameron, the last guy I dated, always had something to say about what I ate, what I wore, basically anything I did, now that I think about it. I was too much. Too loud. Too wild. Anytime we had sex, the lights were off, or I kept my shirt on.” Thinking back, I realized how detrimental that last relationship was to me. Future me wishes she could slap some sense into younger me right now. You know what they say, hindsight is twenty-twenty.

Spencer traced his finger along my cheeks, my jaw, and then my bottom lip. “Allie, you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Every bit of you is perfect.” He kissed me deeply and placed his hands on my hips. His tongue stoked the fire building within me. “These curves? Fucking phenomenal, and if the boys you were with before couldn’t appreciate them, then it’s their loss and my gain.” His words settled in me like a comforting weight. I ran my fingers through his hair, and he let out a low moan as I raked my nails against his scalp. The flames inside burned brighter and brighter.

He pushed my legs apart and hooked his thumbs into my pajama shorts and went to pull them down.

“No, no, it’s okay, you don’t have to do that. I promise it’s okay, you don’t need to feel obligated to do something you don’t want.” Fear and embarrassment made my skin heat and my throat feel tight. I tried to scoot off the island again, but he grabbed my thighs and held me in place again.