Chapter 17
SPENCER
“But how do I know if he likes me?”
It was an omega sprawled across Spencer’s bar this time. The guy wasn’t wasted so much as in some sort of crush-induced emotional state. But he’d come in with two others who were finishing up their drinks in the corner, so hopefully they’d be carting him off to safer pastures soon.
Spencer fiddled with his bar rag. He didn’t really have the juice for this tonight, but he needed to at least half-ass it or he was going to feel all guilty for shirking his holy bartender duties. “Well, how does he act around you?”
“What?” the omega asked sharply, as if Spencer had said something stupid, even though it had been a totally reasonable question. It almost made Spencer smile, it reminded him so much of Ash.
“I mean, does he flirt? Or get quiet? Or does he get kind of stupid, like …?”
Like getting emotional and weepy after getting fucked by two hotties in a row, developing very stupid feelings when there weren’t supposed to be any stupid feelings?
Spencer coughed, shutting himself up before he let any of the words floating around his head actually spill out.
The omega looked up from his sprawl, a little frown on his face. “You’re not very good at this.”
“Sorry.” Spencer shrugged. “Off night.”
At least he had tips enough, after a raunchy, middle-aged book club had sat for hours, ordering multiple rounds and flirting up a storm, then tipped Spencer generously for the pleasure. But yeah, Spencer was pretty off his game. Off his head, probably, considering … everything.
The omega gave Spencer one last frown and left the bar to join his buddies, leaving Spencer alone with his very stupid thoughts.
Well, his thoughts were always kind of stupid, but they’d become especially stupid lately.
He just couldn’t stop thinking about last weekend.
He’d been holding it together before then, he was pretty sure.
And even in the beginning, with Ash on top of him, he’d been …
pretty normal. Like, Ash fucking Spencer had been amazing, but Spencer hadn’t totally lost his head.
He’d been kind of flushed and embarrassed and pleased about the way Ash praised him, but he’d also thought Ash had been having fun experimenting, learning that being an omega didn’t mean he couldn’t dominate and dick down with the best of them.
But then it had been Ryder’s turn, and he’d been all … slow. And thorough. And sweet. That was the thing—he’d been all sweet to Spencer, giving him these long, deep strokes that had left Spencer hot and breathless, and then kissing Spencer stupid on top of it.
And the way Ash had watched them …
Spencer had caught glimpses, on the rare occasions Ryder had let him up for air. Ash hadn’t looked like someone who’d just gotten his rocks off getting a hot show. He’d looked—
He’d looked like someone who was watching something important. Like Spencer was important.
And then Ryder had said all those really nice things and …
It had left Spencer reeling, all of it. And feeling guilty as hell. Because he knew he’d crossed a line somewhere. And not just by letting Ash fuck him outside of a heat either. He’d crossed a line somewhere inside himself.
Spencer didn’t want it to stop, was the thing. He didn’t want Ash’s heats to stabilize and for them both to say, “Goodbye now. Thanks for all the cock.”
And what if they didn’t? What if they asked Spencer to stick around like some sort of alpha plaything for when they were in the mood?
Spencer wouldn’t be able to say no. He wouldn’t.
Not because of any expectations on their end, but because of how very, very badly he’d want to say yes.
Even though he’d know that they loved each other more than anything and that he was just …
fun, he’d still be hoping, somewhere deep down, that they’d like him. That they’d want to keep him.
Fuck. He was a terrible friend. To Noah, definitely. But to Ash and Ryder too.
Because Ash hated these heats. It was part of why he and Ryder weren’t here tonight.
Ash had been getting feverish and tired again this week, and he wasn’t up for a night at the bar.
Spencer had his phone on max volume just in case they needed him, but Ash had only texted something along the lines of, This better be the fucking end of it soon, or I’m gonna riot.
So Spencer should be praying for Ash’s heats to end, for him to stabilize the way he so desperately wanted to. Spencer hoping otherwise was just Spencer being selfish. As usual.
“Yo.”
Spencer yelped, clutching a hand to his chest.
When the hell had Chase gotten here? But he was here, standing in front of Spencer’s bar with his ever-present baseball cap in place.
Spencer tried for a smile and mostly managed it. “Chasey, boy. What’re you doing here?”
“Just thought I’d hang. We keep missing each other.”
They did. Chase and Noah had their guys, and Spencer had picked up some extra shifts to distract himself while Ash was feeling all poorly.
Ryder and Ash had tried to get him to spend the night a few times this week, but that had seemed like …
not a good idea, so Spencer had blamed work and bowed out.
Chase was looking at him expectantly, so Spencer nodded, hoping he hadn’t been staring into space for too long. “Yeah. Cool. Thanks, bud.”
Chase took a seat on one of the barstools, and Spencer got to making him a gin and tonic. He knew what his beta bestie liked.
“Dude, are you okay?” Chase asked after a minute.
Spencer nodded again. “Sure, sure.” He set Chase’s drink down at the bar. “Hey, have you ever done anything unforgivable?”
Chase blinked at him as he brought his straw to his lips. “Um …”
“Like, what if you’d banged …” Spencer tried to think of an appropriate substitute for his situation. “… Eli’s sister.”
Chase choked on his drink, coughing into his elbow. When he caught his breath, he gave Spencer an incredulous look. “You mean if I cheated on Killian?”
He said it like Spencer had asked if he’d murder a nice old lady for funsies.
“What? No. I mean, if you were single.”
Chase didn’t look any less scandalized. “Faith is married. And Liz is, like, the nicest.”
Spencer nodded. He couldn’t stop doing that. It was like he’d turned into a bobblehead. Chase was going to think he’d lost a circuit somewhere “You’re right. You’d be scum.”
“Spencer, what—”
And suddenly Spencer couldn’t keep it inside anymore. He just couldn’t. He wasn’t made for subterfuge and secrets and big fucking emotions he had to keep deep inside.
“I’m fucking Ryder,” he blurted out.
Chase’s eyebrows rose. “What? What about him and Ash?”
Spencer winced. “Ash too.”
Ah, fuck. He’d done it now. But he wasn’t technically telling Ash’s secret, was he? He wasn’t saying anything about heats or presentations, just dicks in holes. That was maybe okay, right?
Chase’s face seemed frozen in an expression of alarmed dismay. “Um …”
“I know. Fuck, I know. Noah’s never gonna forgive me. Not ever.” Nausea roiled through him, and Spencer slumped down over the bar. “Oh god.”
“Hey.” Chase set his hand over Spencer’s, squeezing tightly. “You don’t know that. Just …” He nibbled on his lower lip, like he was considering his words. “I mean, what were you thinking?”
“I don’t know.” Spencer wasn’t allowed to explain the circumstances, couldn’t go on about pheromones and temptation and how they’d needed him, if only temporarily.
How he felt so good when he was with them, like maybe they really, actually liked him just as he was.
How he was clearly getting his head and his heart all confused and needed to fix it before he ruined all of it.
But he couldn’t say any of that. He settled for, “It just … happened.”
“And now, what, they want more?”
Spencer almost laughed. Of course that would be the expected scenario here. “No. No, they’re good. It’s me. I’m the problem this time. I’m all … mixed up.”
Something flashed across Chase’s face, something that looked an awful lot like pity. “Spence …”
For some reason, Spencer thought of his omega mom.
How she could be so fucking cold and aloof, but how she’d still fall so hard and so fast for these alpha dickbags.
And how no matter how good it seemed, or how quickly they decided to play house together, those guys would always—always—leave her out in the cold again in the end.
Ash and Ryder weren’t dickbags. Or, they were, but in the best way. But still … Spencer was still going to be left out in the cold, wasn’t he?
Spencer straightened, taking his hand out from under Chase’s. “No, it’s cool. We don’t have to talk about it. We shouldn’t, actually. Not until—not until Ash tells Noah.”
Chase looked like he wanted to say more, but a big group swept into the bar, already calling out their orders, and Spencer was mercifully too busy to talk.
In retrospect, telling Chase right before one of Eli’s pool parties had probably been a terrible idea.
The party was a last hurrah before things started to cool off in November (not enough to be cold, of course, but cool enough for a dip in Eli’s backyard pool to feel like a brisk wake-up call instead of sweet relief).
Normally, Spencer loved this shit. Eli’s house was great, all homey and welcoming, and his parties were a clear effort to make time for Noah’s social life despite his and Noah’s …
unusual dating circumstances. It was part of why Eli was just the fucking best. The way—despite being older and a tenured professor—he didn’t mind having Chase and Spencer around and in his business.
But today Spencer didn’t know what to do with himself, or where to fucking look, for that matter.