The Birds & The Bees | S.R.

Ch. 2 | Another Statistic

Summary: Spencer and Reader are forced to remember that the world is not only made up of the two of them.

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Every year I eagerly waited for the first day when the weather dipped below 65. There was just something about the way the air nipped at your skin and tickled your lungs, urging you to find something soft and warm to wrap yourself in.

This year, I had a few ideas of what to start with. Or rather, who. Although, judging by the quiet, almost imperceptible chatter of her teeth, she was anything but warm.

"You do have the forecast available to you, right?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" she laughed, clenching her jaw and turning to me like the stillness would prove that the wind whipping between her bare legs didn't burn.

"How are you not freezing?"

But to my surprise, she didn't deny it.

"Oh, I absolutely am," she said. I waited for some kind of explanation, but she gave me nothing but a smile that further stoked the fire inside me.

"Why? Why torture yourself?"

"The things we do for beauty, Professor," she sighed, waving me off despite stepping closer, "I don't expect you to understand."

"Yeah, right. Sure."

I knew, or at least hoped, that it was a cry for help. A desperate attempt to share my body heat that was growing exponentially higher with every second I heard her voice. I wondered if she knew just how much my body burned for her. How I wished I could bring her into the warmth of my embrace, bringing my skin and lips to hers until the heat broke through.

But I couldn't think about it too hard when she was right there, watching me from the corner of her eyes with something resembling shyness.

There were many things I wanted to do. I wanted to offer her the safety from the cold; to wrap her in my arms and protect her from the whistling wind and the eyes of others. I wanted to keep her close against me, and I would hope that eventually we would graft and grow together like the dogwood trees that had already long ago rid themselves of their blooms for the fall.

I couldn't put my arms around her, but nothing was stopping me from giving her my scarf. As I came to a stop on the side of a busy walkway, she followed suit, watching me with the same curious eyes that drew me to her in the first place.

"What are you doing?"

My answer came before my explanation. I looped the fabric around her, pulling her just one step closer to me in the process. I hoped she wouldn't notice, but I saw the way she bit her lip and averted her eyes.

I didn't let that dissuade me, though. I continued to wrap the long cotton accessory over her shoulders, deeply enjoying the way the fabric covered her lips. I reminded myself that it was silly to be jealous of a scarf, but I felt it, nonetheless. I longed to be the thing pressed against chapped lips so I could feel the way they trembled.

"I am ruining your fashion sense and lending you some actual sense," I finally replied once I was able to see the fruits of my labor.

"It's so warm!" she mumbled, holding the scarf closer to her face. My heart nearly stopped as I saw her chest puff, knowing that she was breathing in the scent of my cologne. I could almost feel her hands holding me, but I knew deep down it was nothing but a cruel, sadistic fantasy created by a touch starved mind.

"It's important to keep your neck warm. Traditional Chinese medicine viewed the back of the neck as the most susceptible place for wind cold invasion, which they claimed to be responsible for many ailments."