28. Spencer
CHAPTER 28
SPENCER
We’re both soaked by the time we make it back to the camper. I rummage around until I find a couple of towels to dry off, and once we do, Grady and I hunker down in the van, both warm and dry in our sweats. The rain is still bucketing down, pelting the metal roof.
“What did you do to pass the time on the road?” Grady asks, leaning against the wall across from me on my bed.
“I did a lot of reading. A lot of stargazing,” I answer. Then I add, “I found … companions along the way.” I leave out the fact that they were male companions, and that they almost always agreed to the rules. They normally obeyed, staying on the other side of the boundary line. Except for Grady. He snuck through all my defenses, and I realize I may have underestimated him. Perhaps I made the same assumption about him that the rest of the town seemed to. That he wouldn’t fight for this. But he did, and here I am, my heart completely, wholly, utterly his. Had I known the feelings I’m having now would be so goddamn tangled around my heart, I would have built bigger walls. Stronger walls.
Grady’s jaw flicks at the mention of my other romantic dalliances. We’ve never talked about them, or how many there have been. There’s never been a reason to since those are the types of conversations you have before getting into a serious relationship. Grady, thankfully, focuses on the original topic of conversation.
“No stars out tonight. We’ll have to find something else.”
I jump up from where I’m sitting and climb up onto the small kitchen table to reach the cupboard up above. I pull out a worn, flat box, and bring it back over to the bed.
“I have scrabble,” I offer. Grady wrinkles his nose as if I’ve just put stinky cheese and not a very popular board game in front of him.
“Scrabble is kind of boring, isn’t it? Isn’t it a game that old people play?” My lips curl into a playful smirk, unable to hide my amusement.
“Oh, no, no, no. You clearly haven’t played Scrabble the way I play it,” I say, cocking a suggestive eyebrow. “Dirty, with strip Scrabble rules.”
“Strip Scrabble?”He leans forward towards me, his curiosity piqued, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hand over one wrist in between them.
“You can only use dirty words. Feel free to exchange your letters, if need be, but also get creative. The words count as long as you can justify how they would be used in a dirty context,” I explain. “Strip rules means that if you don’t get more points than the last person’s turn, you remove one piece of clothing. Easy?”
“Easy.”
I let Grady pick his letters first, and we start the game. A competitive grin tugs at Grady’s mouth as he places his first word.
L-A-B-
“Labia? You chose the word labia as your first word.” The laugh that erupts out of me would be better described as a cackle. “It’s not exactly dirty. Though it is anatomically correct.”
“It’s the best I had!” he says defensively.
“Okay, okay. Well, it won’t be hard to beat your points, I’ll say that.” I mark down eight points for labia.
“Hey, you didn’t count my double-word score.”
“Fine.” I cross out the eight and put down a sixteen instead. Then I place my letters.
“Candy,” Grady reads as I place each letter down on the board. “I’m going to need you to justify that one, Rebel.”
“Candy has multiple dirty connotations,” I argue. “You can call someone a piece of eye candy. You can wear edible underwear. Don’t forget about the popular 50 Cent song where he uses the candy shop as a metaphor for an erotic experience,” I say as if I’m citing the 50 Cent Wiki page. My chin tips up in victory.
“Alright, that tracks. Fifteen points. Well done. But not good enough, I’m afraid.” Grady clucks his tongue. “Take off some clothing.”He says it as a command and butterflies roar in my gut. But I have a competitive edge, so I purse my lips at him, scowling as I remove my sweatpants, now sitting in nothing but a T-shirt and my underwear.
The next word Grady places is “licked”, which earns him nineteen points. Better than my last word by three. Fuck.
“What the hell, Grady?” I groan. “Am I going to be the only one stripping here?”
“Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you. I’m fucking amazing at Scrabble.” His eyes twinkle as his mouth curves up into a lopsided grin.“I used to play all the time with Winnie and her friends.”
“This game is rigged!” I reach behind me and throw a pillow in his direction, which he easily deflects with his hand.“You never told me you were secretly a seventy-year-old woman inside that sexy, tattooed body of yours.”
“Oh yeah, I almost always have a pocket full of Werther’s, too,” he says with a smirk. “I’m going to enjoy stripping all those clothes off of you.”
“Don’t get too cocky. You’ll have to do it fair and square,” I say, and I spell out the word “quickie”, right over the top of a double word score. “Forty-four points please.”
“Fuck me.”
“Yeah, I’ve also played a lot of Scrabble. Sometimes I play it against myself when I’m alone. Take something off, Grady. That’s how the game works.” He groans, but he does as he’s told and removes his T-shirt, baring his firm pecks, his abs flexing as he leans back against the wall.
My eyes stay fixed on Grady’s face as he places his word. Wet .
“Justify it,” I say. It’s an obvious one, but I’m waiting expectantly for Grady’s explanation. His eyes flick up to mine and hold my stare.
“Wet,” he starts, as if he’s about to spell it for a spelling bee. “As in … I hope you’re already wet for me.”His voice rumbles through me, and if I wasn’t wet before, then I sure as hell am now. I swallow hard.
“You have to take something else off,” I say, eagerly awaiting his next move. I chew my lip, and my knee bounces. I’m impatient. Watching Grady take his clothes off may just be my favourite sport.
“I have to beat forty-four points, so I may as well just strip naked now.”
I twirl the end of a lock of hair around my finger.
“I wouldn’t complain,” I say.
“Well then let’s just declare you the winner, Rebel.” Grady’s mouth lifts at the corner as he swipes the letters off the board, and they get lost in the blankets. He’s pinning me with his gaze as he crosses the short distance between us on his knees.
“What’s my prize?” I ask, using every ounce of self-control not to jump Grady right now. I love this part with us, the anticipation, the tension. It’s exhilarating in a way that doesn’t feel scary. It’s fun without feeling like we’re playing mind games with each other.
“Whatever you want it to be,” Grady says, his lips just grazing mine. His eyes flick down to my mouth, and before I can say anything, his lips have captured me in a kiss so intoxicating I let out an uncontrollable moan as I lose myself to it.
Grady tastes so fucking good. So fucking good that I think no matter how long I get to kiss him, no matter how many times he kisses me, it will never be enough.
His lips move from my mouth down to my jaw, to my neck, and before I know it, Grady is peering up at me from between my legs. Heat radiates through me, settling between my thighs and I’m pulsing with need, swollen and ready for him. I’ve never felt this before, this burning need that flickers to life like a flame that’s almost gone out but just needs one breath to rekindle it. The need that flickers to life because I know what it feels like already. I know what it feels like to have Grady, and now my body anticipates what’s coming.
“You’re already so wet for me.” Grady’s lips twitch up from where he strokes my slit through my underwear. I’m practically panting at the sensation. “Come to my candy shop and let me taste your labia .”
I bark out a laugh that takes me by surprise.
“Don’t ever fucking say that again while your face is between my legs,” I warn.
“What, labia? I thought I might get extra points if I used all the words in a sentence.”
“Nope. You get docked fifty points because my vagina just slammed shut. Closed for business. Dried up like the Sahara Desert.” I chuckle, but Grady slides the fabric of my thong to the side, and I can tell by the look on his face that he knows it’s a lie.
“Doesn’t look like it to me.” He peers up at me, fixing his eyes on mine as he places a flat tongue on my slit and sweeps upwards towards my apex. “Doesn’t taste like it either,” he adds, before swirling his tongue around that concentrated bundle of nerves once, and then closing his lips around it to take a long, deep suck.
I inhale a sharp breath in between my teeth as the suction verges on a delicious type of pain as I swell to the point of throbbing.
He releases and makes slow, languid circles around my clit, the sensation of his soft, slick tongue soothing me. My head drops back, and I close my eyes, letting the feeling of his mouth on me take over my body, each nerve ending connected to that one spot.
The pleasure builds and winds tighter, my core contracting around Grady’s fingers. Just as I feel my release close, he removes them and moves up, meeting me at eye level. He pushes his boxers down, releasing his hard length and slides into my opening, stretching me, filling me until all I feel is him. Every perfect inch of him.
“You’re so fucking tight for me,” he rasps, and it’s my undoing. I feel my muscles clench around him more. “That’s it. That’s my girl. Just like that.”
I don’t want to consider why his praise feels so damn good, why it just about sends me over the edge every goddamned time. He thrusts into me, his girth almost too much as I quiver and shake around him. God this feels so good. I cry out as the wave within me crests, pushing me over the edge.
“That’s it, Rebel,” Grady groans again, and I feel him pulse inside me. “Take. Every. Last. Drop.”
I want it. I want every drop of him. I want to be filled with him, consumed by him.
His body shakes as his pleasure collides with mine, and he comes to rest on his forearms over top of me. Neither of us makes a move away from each other. I don’t want this moment to end. Grady and I move like one, perfectly in sync, perfect together.
When he pulls away from me, he takes the air right out of my lungs with him. My body feels cold without him near me, but he doesn’t leave my side. He doesn’t do what most of my hook-ups do after sex. Get up, go to the bathroom, get dressed, and leave. He lies next to me and pulls me onto his chest, back into his warmth.
“This is nice. I like this.” I like you, I think . I love you. I get a satisfied mmm in response. “Hey, sorry you had to see that conversation between my mom and I earlier,” I say, tracing a finger over his chest, tracing the outline of his tattoos. “Those are things that I don’t like to talk about or show anyone. Kind of an ugly part of me, I guess.”
“It’s not ugly if it made you into who you are today,” he says, and I can tell just by hearing him that he has his eyes closed. His voice is slow and soft, like butter. He’s still enveloped in the post-orgasm haze. I love him this way. I wish I could bottle this feeling and keep it forever.
“It is ugly. There are parts of me that aren’t glamorous or cool no matter which way you slice it,” I say. “I was always kind of the cool, aloof, untouchable girl to everyone else. My mom didn’t give a shit what I was doing half the time so it meant that I could do things other kids weren’t allowed to do. I always put on this mask so that nothing could bother me. You can’t be bothered about things if you don’t care.”
“And who were you, really?”
“I was scared. All the time. Terrified. I never knew what I was going to go home to. There were large chunks of time when I didn’t even have a home to go back to. That was my mom’s doing, and she has no excuse for it. She left me to fend for myself and look at what good that did. I’m a fucking mess. The closest thing to a long-term, monogamous relationship I’ve ever had has been with that one Uber Eats guy who always picked up my order.” I feel Grady nod, but he doesn’t say anything. There are unspoken words there, at the end of my sentence. And us. But I leave them unsaid … I’m still terrified of us. “Honestly, fuck Marla. I’m so done with her right now. I made it this far in my life without a father, what’s one more relationship down the drain, right?” I say, but I catch myself when I feel Grady flinch. “I’m sorry,” I say, a pang of guilt stabs at my chest. My mom may be a piece of work, but at least she’s alive.
“Don’t apologize, Spencer. Your hardships and struggles are valid. It’s just different from mine. My parents were wonderful parents when they were around. I grew up in a home that made me feel secure and protected. I never had to wonder where I was going to sleep at night. Our home was full of joy and love. Even until her dying breath, my mom made sure it felt that way for us. Now that she’s gone, I get to hold onto the good memories of her, the happy ones. Having an absent parent is a different kind of struggle. I never doubt how much my parents loved me, how worthy I am of having that same kind of love that they shared. But I can imagine that having a parent who is physically here but not emotionally would fuck with your psyche.”
Grady’s words ring true in some deep, primal place within me. As if awakening a beast that has been lurking in the dark. Do I not think I’m worthy of love? Maybe. I do know that I believe I’m worthy of the life that I’ve been working towards. It’s just that all my life I’ve grown up thinking that the two don’t exist in the same reality.
Men have always left. They’ve always taken. They’ve always torn apart whatever scraps of security I had left. I watched them do it to my mother over and over again. I’m sure there are exceptions to the rule. Grady feels like an exception. But that beast has poked its head out of the cave only to whisper it’s not worth the risk.
“I’m leaving in a few days. Whether I get the job or not, Grady.” I change the subject, hoping that the words remind Grady of what I’ve been trying to tell him all along. Relationships don’t have a place in my life. This doesn’t have a place in my life. “My landlord told me my rent is going up, and that I’m no longer allowed to sublet it. So, I’m going back, or else I’m going to lose it. Even if I don’t get this job, I need that place.”When I say it now it almost sounds as if I’m trying to make the words sound sincere. The way Grady has shown up for me the past few weeks, there are cracks in my argument, and I know it. But the thought of giving up everything I’ve worked for still makes me feel like a skittish horse about to bolt.
I don’t look back up toward Grady, because seeing the hurt on his face will be more than I can bear.
“It’s okay, Spencer. I understand,” he says, his voice soft but steady, even. I thought that seeing his disappointment would be worse, but it’s not. It’s this. This calm and gentle understanding. The way he has heard everything I’ve told him, and despite the fact that I know Grady would want nothing more than for me to say fuck it and stay, he doesn’t push it. “You know you always have a home here, too. No matter where you end up, know that you can come back to Heartwood. Know that my feelings for you are never going to change.”
He says the words that deep down, I want to hear, but they’re not realistic. Even Grady can’t promise that. Life happens, people make mistakes, people change. Nothing is constant, as much as you might want it to be.
I turn to look up at him, and he hugs me tighter, his lips meeting mine in a firm, steady, confident way. I let myself pretend that it’s true. That I can believe him, and trust him, and that I’m not going to leave.
I am going to leave, I have to. That shitty little apartment isn’t much, but it’s mine. I pull out of Grady’s kiss and find his eyes.
“Fuck me like it’s the last time,” I whisper into the thick, heady air between us. For the first time since I met Grady, those words feel true.Like this could be the last time, and it makes me feel sick.
Grady’s eyes search mine, but they darken as he furrows his brow.
“No,” he says, tone firm, jarring, coming from him.
“No?” I’m taken aback by the confidence, the surety with which he says the word. Like it’s a whole goddamn sentence.
“No,” he says it again, the same way but somehow even more solid, concrete. “Whatever you need to do, Spence, you do it. If you need to travel the world, go back to Vancouver, I’m on board. I will love you from over here like I have done for the last year. I’ve waited before, I can do it again. Don’t for one second believe that this thing between us is over once you leave.”
I let Grady’s words sink deep into my marrow, expanding and taking up the spaces between the fibres of my being. The words are something solid within me, immovable, concrete, just like the way Grady is peering into my eyes. They take up so much space that it feels like they are blotting out any previously held beliefs I had about relationships, that I had about myself.
Here is this person who is so confident, so sure, that I am what he wants. So convinced that I am worth waiting for. Not in some possessive way, in a way that makes space for the person that I need to be, too.
It’s the first time I’ve ever considered not ending it with someone when I’ve left. The first time I’ve considered not saying goodbye but see you later. The first time that I would leave and call him from my phone to say that I landed safely at whatever destination I was going to next. That I would make plans for coming back.
Maybe this could work.
Maybe is a dangerous word. It’s admitting that you are taking a risk. It’s not a sure bet, but if there’s anyone I would bet on, it would be Grady. Dependable, reliable, unshakeable, Grady. Grady, who puts the needs of other people before his own. Who doesn’t back down from a challenge for the people he loves.
So, I answer him with a kiss, tender and soft, the way my heart feels in this new, unsure territory. When Grady fucks me, it’s with all the messy, uncharted, unknown future laid out before us.