Chapter 21 Spencer
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
SPENCER
Tate has pretty much avoided me since he got home from New York. It’s been five days, and he hasn’t texted me other than a simple thank you for the flowers and finally agreeing to meet up.
I’m not sure what’s going on with him, or why he’s trying to push me away, but I can’t deny the uncomfortable ache in my chest that’s suffocating my every breath.
We weren’t supposed to get this close, and we weren’t supposed to fall for each other beyond sexual attraction.
I broke the arrangement, and now I’m afraid he’s going to end it. For good.
It’s Friday night, and that means Tate is coming over for dinner and to talk. I’m anxiously hoping he gives me a chance to plead my case before he shuts me down completely. I can’t lose him.
A light knock on the door interrupts my brooding thoughts, and I jump up to open it. “Hey. Come in. I waited to order until you got here. Wasn’t sure what you were in the mood for. Hope you don’t mind a little wait,” I ramble, holding the door open for him.
Tate steps inside and heads for the living room. “I’m not going to stay long,” he says rather curtly, and the jab to my heart is sharp and fierce. His sweet and spicy scent lingers in the foyer, and I take a deep breath, committing his smell to memory.
“Oh? I thought we were going to have dinner together.” I try to play it cool, but I can’t hide the disappointment in my voice.
“I think we should cancel the arrangement,” Tate blurts out, cutting to the chase but unable to make eye contact with me.
And there it is, my biggest fear coming true within the first minute of seeing him. I stare at Tate as he focuses on the floor, arms folded tightly across his chest like he’s protecting himself.
“Did you meet someone in New York?” I ask, my stomach twisting painfully.
“No. I was with my best friends the whole time.” He looks up with a scowl, and I hate seeing it directed at me. “Do you really think I’m that much of a slut? Like I can’t go a few days without sex?”
“Tate,” I breathe out in pure anguish. “Of course not. I’ve fucking missed you, princess. What’s going on? What’s wrong?”
“We need to stop all of this,” he spits out, flapping his hand between us.
“All of what?” I ask, unable to accept what he’s saying. Unable to fathom it.
“No more fucking,” Tate says with zero emotion in his voice. His blank stare is focused on the rug again, as if he can’t even stomach looking at me when he says it.
“Stop pushing me away,” I beg desperately. “I thought we had a good thing going.”
“We did, but good things don’t last forever.”
“Tate,” I plead, wanting to wrap him in my arms so fucking badly. I could have proven him wrong. I could have shown him what it’s like to be taken care of. To be loved.
“It was never gonna last,” he whispers.
“You didn’t even let us try.”
Tate winces at my words as if they’re a slap to the face.
The silence is deafening, and the tension is thick. He’s slipping between my fingers like a handful of sand, and there’s no stopping it.
“Look, Spencer,” he finally murmurs. “You need to move on. Get a girlfriend or something, because you and I always had an expiration date, honey.” His shimmery blue eyes contradict his words as he stares back at me like the idea absolutely guts him.
“I don’t want a girlfriend. I want you,” I divulge, needing him to understand.
“I don’t do relationships. They never last. Ever,” he says matter-of-factly, like it’s true without a doubt. “You knew that from the beginning, Spence.”
Yes. I did. But things change. Feelings change.
Did our time together truly not mean anything to him?
“Tate.” I don’t know why I keep uttering his name so helplessly.
We still haven’t sat down, both of us on edge, so I hold a hand out and motion toward the couches.
“Sit down with me a minute, please?” He can’t leave like this.
I hate to see him silently hurting, and I really need some more information so I can fix this.
What’s really going on with him?
Tate lets out a loud, defeated sigh, but he nods and takes a seat on the opposite sofa from me.
“Talk to me,” I whisper gently, leaving it up to him how much he wants to share. Leaning forward, I rest my elbows on my knees and wait patiently. It’s hard not to reach out and touch him; he looks so vulnerable and small sitting there by himself.
“Freshman year, I was with a guy who pretended to care about me, but really just used me. Took all of my firsts and then publicly dumped me like I was nothing but trash. He used me for his own pleasure, and he made it clear that’s all I’ll ever be worth in his eyes.
Since then, I’ve built walls around my heart.
I’ve only engaged in meaningless hookups with curious guys that want nothing more than to use my body. ”
“Princess,” I whisper hoarsely. His words are a punch to the gut, sending painful shockwaves to my heart.
He never talks about his ex, and since Tate’s a year older than me, I wasn’t at CBU his freshman year to know anything about it.
“First of all, fuck that guy and all the others. You are the prize, baby. I like you so much. I’ve liked you far longer than you’ll ever know.
You’ve become my happiness. I can’t lose you. ”
Tate’s bright blue eyes bore into me, while his hand covers his mouth like he’s shocked by my words and holding back tears.
“Say something,” I urge softly, careful not to spook him.
Tate runs his fingers through his blond curls, tugging on the ends. “I can’t get hurt again,” he whimpers.
“I would never hurt you,” I insist. “Ever. I’d rather punch myself in the face.”
“Maybe not on purpose,” he smiles sadly, his watery blue eyes piercing me to my core. “Things between us are getting too serious, Spencer. We need to end it before someone gets hurt. It’s what’s best for both of us. I won’t put myself in a vulnerable position ever again.”
I growl, rage toward his ex bubbling up inside of me. “Look, Tate. I don’t know what exactly that fucker did or said to you, but I will beat his fucking ass if you ever point him out to me in a crowd. Consequences be damned.”
Tate scowls and hops up from the couch. “I wouldn’t want you to! I’m leaving.”
I jump up after him, opening my mouth to speak, but he cuts me off quickly.
“Please don’t follow me, Spence.” Angry tears stream down his cheeks, and he swipes at them fiercely.
My heart breaks for him. Absolutely shattering. It can’t end like this. And he can’t leave like this. It’s not right. Nothing is right.
“Tate. Baby. Please don’t do this,” I implore, ready to get on my knees and beg. “Don’t leave like this. You’re too upset, and you shouldn’t be driving.”
“I’m fine!” he shouts before rushing for the front door.
“Tate, please.”
“Spencer! I said I’m fine, okay? God!”
With a frustrated sigh and a tight jaw, I don’t stop him, helplessly watching from the porch as he reverses out of the driveway and disappears down the street.
Fuck.
I never should have let him leave like that.
After staring at the empty road for far too long, I head back inside and flop down on the couch listlessly. Running a hand through my tangled locks, I close my eyes and try to think for a second. I need a plan.
Despite the fact that I know I’m interrupting her date with Jake, I text Daija. I hate to do it, but I’m worried about Tate. I don’t know where he’s going, but I’m sure Daija will know.
Do you know where Tate’s going tonight?
Luckily, she texts me back quickly.
I’m not supposed to tell you, but I’m kinda worried about him too. He’s alone and probably drinking. He’s been going through a lot lately.
I don’t like the sound of that. At all.
Daija, where is he?
I don’t know if I should say. It’s kinda breaking bestie code.
Taking a deep breath, I calm myself down the best I can before I reply to her.
Don’t feel bad. He knows you care about him. I do too. You know that, right?
Three dots appear, disappear, then appear again.
Yeah, Spence. I know you do.
Okay, now that that’s established. Where is he?
Daija, please.
I’m not above begging. I really need her help.
Bumz. They’re having a bonfire on the beach and half-priced beers.
That’s it. I’m fucking going out tonight. He shouldn’t be alone on the beach at night with strangers. Especially when he’s upset and drinking his problems away. I’ve seen far too many missing person documentaries to know that isn’t a good combination.
Besides, I won’t give up on what I want that easily.
We have a conversation to finish, and he needs to stop running away before I tie him up and make him listen.
He’s too stubborn for his own good, hiding from what’s right in front of him.
I quickly text Daija back, so I can eat something and change for the bar.
Thanks, Daij. I’m headed there shortly.
Me too. Be gentle with him, Spence. He’s fragile right now.
Is there something else he isn’t telling me?
Fuck. Another reason we need to finish our talk.
Always. Is something else going on?
She completely ignores my question.
Let’s meet up at Bumz. I’ll be there in forty-five minutes to an hour.
I’ll be there sooner, I’m sure, but I appreciate the back-up.
I’ll text you when I get there. Bring Jake.
I’m even more worried about Tate now. I wish he’d just let me be there to help fight whatever demons are haunting him.