Andrew and Jodie went to bed ten minutes ago, and Spencer turned the TV on. We’re sitting in silence on his parents’ sofa, like we have done a million times before.
But this feels different somehow.
Everything is different.
“What’s Ella like?” I ask.
His co-star is unfairly beautiful and seems super sweet.
He side-eyes me like we’re about to step onto a minefield. “She’s cool. Great at her job and genuine. You’ll like her when you meet her next week.”
I’m not sure I want to meet her. There has been a lot of speculation surrounding them. Are they just friends? He’s never mentioned her much, which either means there’s nothing there or that he’s trying to spare my feelings.
“She’s helped you a lot, huh?”
“Ella knows the industry. I’m the unknown guy from England with no clue how things work on set. She took me under her wing. I probably would have choked without her.”
I shake my head. “You wouldn’t. You were made to do this, Spence.”
“What about you? Who’s been your Spencer while I’ve been away.”
My face falls along with my heart. Ella is his replacement Indie?
His mouth parts, reading my expression perfectly. “That’s not what I meant. It’s different with Ella, of course it is.”
Different, like romantic?
“I have Wren and Mila.” The room feels several degrees cooler.
“Come on, you know I haven’t replaced you,” he says.
“I know.” I bloody don’t. Ella’s the one he hangs out with over there now. How is that not the same as us?
“Indie…”
“We’re fine, Spence. I’m kinda tired, so I’m going to head out. I’ll speak to you in the morning, okay?”
He grabs my wrist when I try to stand. “Don’t leave yet. I haven’t seen you in months. Please. I’ll put on one of those shitty budget romance movies you love.”
I bite my lip, torn. On the one hand, I want to run, but looking into his stunning eyes, I want to stay here until I die.
Okay, dramatic.
“If you complain about how cheesy it is, I’m going to elbow you.”
His face lightens with a smile. “Deal.”
“I get to pick which one, too.”
“I know the drill.”
He hands me the remote, and I flick through the romance movie genre.
“Jesus,” he hisses when I choose Love Against All Odds.
I jab my elbow into his ribs, and he chuckles. “I don’t know why you pretend you don’t like these movies.”
“They’re shit, Indie.”
“They’re romantic. Who doesn’t want to be swept off their feet? To be the most important person in the world to someone else?”
“You’re getting softer.”
“No, you’ve just forgotten how soft I already was.”
His eyes darken and drop to my lips. “I haven’t forgotten a single thing.”
I press my legs together against the throb his words have caused. There is nothing I don’t remember, either. The very brief moments we were more than just friends are engrained in my mind. The feel of his lips and hands on my body still makes my heart fly. We didn’t even have sex.
He turns his head and faces the TV. I suddenly wish I had left. Instead, I have to sit next to him for ninety minutes and pretend that my heart isn’t tearing apart.
We settle in and watch the movie. I squirm and reposition myself a thousand times. The movie doesn’t make sense because I can’t focus. The air between us is so thick I can barely take a breath.
He’s sitting so close to me; I can smell his subtle aftershave. It’s the same one he’s worn for years, and you have to get right up in his face to notice. It’s like he’s wearing a secret and only the people closest to him get to know about it. It’s my most favourite scent in the world. It means I’m home and safe.
About forty minutes in, I’m positive I’m going insane. Faking a yawn, I say, “Okay, this movie is rubbish. I should go before I fall asleep.”
Spencer’s eyes dart in my direction. “You think it’s shit?”
“Uh-huh, and I don’t fancy the guy at all so it’s not worth it.”
“Tall, dark, and handsome not your thing?”
He’s described himself, which means it’s definitely my thing.
“He’s not handsome to me but, hey, if you fancy him, keep watching.”
Spence laughs again, and the sound goes straight to my heart. He turns the TV off. “What is your type, Indie? You’ve not dated much.”
“I don’t really have a type. I just want to be someone’s priority.”
“So, a pimp who puts you first is okay?”
I stand up. “If he’s a very handsome pimp, yes.”
Spencer’s eyebrows pull together. He watches me with… annoyance? It sure looks that way. “You will not settle, Indie.”
Rolling my eyes, I grab my bag and head to the door with him trailing behind me. “I’m kidding. I’m not going to go for the first guy who tells me I’m his everything, okay?”
“Good. Are you awake enough to drive? I can take you home.”
“I’m fine. I’m not the one jet lagged. You look tired.”
“Thanks,” he mutters sarcastically.
“Oh, you’re still pretty, even when you’re exhausted,” I say, touching his cheek. The contact sends jolts of electricity through my hand. I remove my fingers from his face.
“Not sure if I want to be described as pretty,” he breathes, his gorgeous eyes alight.
“Well, you are, golden boy.”
He holds the door open for me. “Let me drive you.”
“Then my car will be here.”
“I’ll pick you up in the morning and bring you back.”
“Spence, I’m fine to drive. I’ll see you for golf tomorrow night.”
“Breakfast in the morning.”
I place my hands on my hips. “Why are you so obsessed with me?”
Shaking his head, he fails to withhold a grin. “Be here at nine.”
“Bye, Spencer.”
Leaving him is hard. The only time I feel settled is when he’s around. I hate being constantly on edge, but when I’m with him, all the
