Chapter 35
SPENCER
EIGHT YEARS AGO
The glaring F on my paper stares up at me like a blinking red light. There’s a note from the professor telling me to see him after class.
Great.
I swallow thickly.
This isn’t good. Especially since it’s not the only paper I’ve gotten an F on this week.
It’s safe to say I’m struggling and it’s not even the coursework that’s the problem.
It’s my head—my state of mind. It’s not just missing T.J.
I miss home. I miss Harlow. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I hadn’t chosen a college that’s in Santa Monica.
I didn’t even need to live in the dorms after T.J.
died, but I wanted the privacy. I couldn’t handle my mom’s hovering anymore.
I’m fine. Not great, but fine, and that’s good enough for now.
The class empties out, and I head up to the front.
Professor Grant is glued to whatever he’s reading on his computer.
Clearing my throat, I say, “Professor? You asked me to see you after class.”
“Ah. Yes.” He shuts his laptop and scoots back. Plucking his reading glasses off his face he sets them on the desk. “This is two failed essays in a row. The writing is poor to say the least.”
I wince, but he plows on.
“I did some digging and your grades in high school were good. Great even.” He laces his fingers together and stares me down. “But toward the end of your senior year things started dipping. Why? Drinking? Drugs? Be honest, I’ve seen it all.”
I bite down on my tongue hard enough to taste blood.
I don’t want to tell him. I don’t want to make T.J. some sort of excuse for my failures.
Professor Grant arches a brow. “Mr. Shaw? An answer any day now would be great.”
I close my eyes. “My best friend died. Drunk driver.”
The way the professor rears back I can tell that’s not the answer he was expecting.
“Oh.” He laces his fingers together and rests them on the desk. “Have you spoken with a therapist? We have resources here that—”
“I’m fine,” I cut him off, my words biting. “I don’t need a therapist. I’m … I’m getting through it.” And I am. I’m doing better. I’m just having trouble focusing is all.
He gives me a doubtful look. “Due to the nature of the situation, I’ll offer you the chance to redo the essay for a chance at a passing grade. This isn’t something I normally do and don’t expect the offer to come again.”
I nod, clutching my paper tightly in my fists. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
He slides his glasses back on. “I expect it next Friday.”
“Got it.”
He waves his fingers lazily toward the exit in the back and I book it out of there before he can change his mind.
I have enough time before my next class to pop into the cafeteria and grab a bite to eat. My phone rings just as I’m sitting down at an empty table in the cafeteria.
I answer the FaceTime call and prop my phone up on my bottle of soda.
“Hey, baby,” I greet, happy to see her smiling face.
“Hey,” she says back, the sun shining behind her. “Looks like you’re eating lunch too.” She points to the sandwich in my hand.
“Yep. Getting an F on a paper makes me shockingly hungry.”
“Spencer.” She frowns and her eyes fill with sympathy.
“It’s okay. The professor is giving me a chance to write a new one.”
“Do you need help? I mean, I know I’m still a high school student, but maybe I could—”
I shake my head. This isn’t hers to worry about. “I’ll figure it out.”
I can tell from the downturn in her lips that my answer doesn’t fully appease her, but she thankfully lets it go.
“Are we still going to the pier this weekend?” she asks, and I’m thankful for her change in subject.
I swallow a bite of the dry turkey sandwich. “Yeah, of course, baby.”
She smiles, but concern still darkens her gaze. It feels like everyone these days is worried about me, and Harlow is the last one I want doing that. I need her to treat me like I’m normal, like I’m not still grieving.
“Good.” She tucks a piece of blond hair behind her ear, but it’s pointless because the breeze outside immediately blows it free. “I can’t wait.”
“Me either,” I say, and I mean it.
“Come on, this way.” I let Harlow tug me into a photobooth after we get off the Pacific Wheel. It’s the end of October, and there’s enough chill in the air that the pier is nearly empty thanks to tourist season dying down.
We do some silly poses and kiss for the camera.
“I’m keeping this forever,” she declares, clutching the strip of photos to her chest.
“Forever?” I ask, pulling her over to another one of the games. I hand the guy cash, and he passes me the rings for the ring toss game. “That’s a very long time.”
“Don’t you think our kids will want to see us young and in love one day,” she teases, turning the photos my direction.
“If they haven’t decided to disown us for being grossly in love, then maybe.”
She laughs and moves aside to give me more room to toss the rings.
I don’t win the grand prize, but I do get a tiny green monkey with a t-shirt on that says Santa Monica.
“For you, milady.” I pass it to Harlow.
“He needs a name,” she declares.
I cock my head, taking in the green monkey in her hand. “Lucky?” I suggest.
“Lucky,” she repeats, staring at the stuffed animal. “I like that. Lucky it is.”
“Are you hungry?” I ask. “We could get hot dogs or something.”
“Yeah.” She tucks the photo strip and monkey into her purse.
Ten minutes later, with hot dogs, fries, and sodas in hand, we sit down at one of the tables. She shivers from the breeze coming off the ocean and I quickly remove my hoodie and pass it to her. She has a sweater on, but if my girl is cold then she’s getting mine too.
“Thanks.” She tugs it on over her head.
We’ve only eaten a few bites when she says, “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”
My eyes widen with worry. She’s not breaking up with me, is she? I rack my brain for any memory of feeling like she acted strange today and come up empty.
“And what’s that?”
Her cheeks pinken. “Well, we’ve been seeing each other a while now and I…” Her gaze drops to her lap, and she pushes her food away. “We … I…” She covers her face. “I don’t know how to say this.”
“Say what?” I’m panicking now. I can’t lose my best friend and my girlfriend in less than a year’s time. That would be too cruel.
She reluctantly brings her eyes to mine, her whole face the color of a tomato. “We’ve never talked about sex, but I was thinking maybe … we could.”
“Talk about it?” I ask, my voice octaves higher than normal.
She shakes her head. “No, have it.”
Now I’m blushing. I haven’t brought the topic of sex up to her, because it hasn’t been important to me.
Harlow is important, not the act of sex.
I’m very much aware that I’m two years older than her, that she’s only a junior in high school.
The last thing I want to do is take advantage of her in that way.
I know most guys would jump at the opportunity to have sex with their girlfriend, so maybe that makes me crazy, but Harlow is special in so many ways. I don’t want sex to ruin things.
“Harlow, I…”
“I know we’ve never talked about it before.” She drops her gaze, and I resist my desire to press my finger beneath her chin and have her look at me. If she needs privacy to sort her thoughts, I’m going to give that to her. “But I … we’ve been together a while now and it’ll be a year soon and…”
I find her rambling adorable and can’t help but smile.
Blowing out a breath, she says, “I want it to be you.”
I cup her cheek, pulling her in for a kiss. “Are you sure?”
She nods quickly. “I’ve thought about it a lot.” I’m still not so sure, and she must be able to read me, because she asks, “Do you not want me that way?”
Fuck.
It hurts that she would even think that.
“Harlow, of course I do.”
“Then what’s the problem? Is it … are you worried it won’t be good for you?”
I gape at her. “No, God, no. I’m worried about you. I love you, Harlow. I don’t want to do anything you’ll regret.”
She freezes, mouth parted slightly. “You love me?”
Crap. This is not how I intended to tell her, but maybe it’s better it just slipped out and I didn’t have the chance to overthink it.
I wrap my fingers around the back of her neck, rubbing my thumb against the spot where her pulses races. “Yeah, baby. I love you.” A grunt flies out of me when she all but tackles and kisses me. I laugh into her kiss. When she releases me, I ask, “I take it this is a good thing?”
“A very good thing.” She brushes my hair back from my forehead. “I love you.”
Hearing the girl of my dreams tell me she loves me, means more than I could’ve ever anticipated. I swear I feel my heart double inside.
“Does this mean…?” she hesitates, batting her eyes at me
I shake my head. I know I must be crazy turning her down, but I want it to be perfect for her when it does happen. “Not yet.”
She pouts her bottom lip. “Spencer, seriously?”
“If you still want to in a few months then we’ll talk about it again.”
She heaves a sigh. “Fine. For my birthday?”
I think about it for a moment. It is months away like I asked for, so it seems like a good enough concession. “Okay,” I agree.
She smiles. “I won’t change my mind.”
She might, though, and that’s why I want to give her time. I know I’ll never have any regrets when it comes to loving her, and I want the same for her when it comes to me. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if she ever felt like I had taken advantage of or used her.