She Penned my Dreams

Moving Day

Katie

It was a week after they broke the news to me. I wasn’t angry anymore, I was just sad. Spencer profiled it out for me, and it helped me understand better, just like my writing did. They loved each other, I could see that now. But that didn’t mean I liked to look. That’s one of the reasons I spent nearly every waking minute at Spencer’s.

It was a Sunday, and Spencer and I had the luxury of being able to lie in bed as the morning wasted away. The room was filled with soft, bright yellow light and the sheets were cool on my mostly bare skin. Spencer lay on top of me, his waist between my legs and his head resting on my chest. His long forearms were braced against my sides and his fingers brushed back and forth over the lace of my bra. His chin was planted on my sternum, and he seemed to be studying me.

“I think you have the most perfect boobs I’ve ever seen,” Spencer said very neutrally, like it wasn’t even a compliment, but merely a fact.

“Well, thanks Spence, you most say that to all the girls,” I said. I felt my face getting hot.

“You’re blushing,” Spencer teased, poking at my cheek        .

“Oh, says you!” I laughed. “Two months ago you would’ve blushed at the idea of saying that. No, you would’ve blushed just from thinking it!” I accused. “And if you ever did say it, you would’ve stuttered so bad, it would’ve been like hearing Morse Code.”

            “Hey! I wasn’t that bad!” Spencer defended, indignantly. I gave him the “you know I’m right” look. “Fine,” he sighed. “Okay, maybe I was that bad.” He looked away from me, leaning his face against the inside curve of one of my apparently perfect boobs.

“And I dated you still,” I said, smiling at him, running my fingertips down the side of his face.

“Why?” he asked suddenly, pushing up on his elbows so he could watch my face closer. Damn profiler. But I just laughed it off.

“What do you mean ‘why’?”

“I mean, look at you, and look at me. Why did you even agree to go out with me?” He asked seriously. “I’ve always wondered, but I didn’t want to bring it to our attention, in case you decided you didn’t have a good answer and left.” He frowned slightly, a worry line creasing between his brows. I brought my hand up and smoothed the wrinkle out, lightly tracing my fingernails along the curve of his brow.

“That’s why,” I said simply, gazing into those caramel eyes I loved so much.

“What?” he asked, confused.

“That. You. You’re so honest. And open. And just, different. Different from anyone I’ve ever met,” I assured him, my thumb following the curve of his lip.

“Different how?” he asked, eyes closed, leaning into my hand on his cheek.

“You’re kind, you’re so ridiculously smart. You know exactly how to make me laugh. You’re the only person who can make me stop crying. You put up with all the crazy shit I do, and yet you still act like I’m the normal one. You’re the best man I’ve ever known. That makes you different. That makes you better.” As I spoke, his eyes had opened, and he watched me carefully. Probably looking for what he called micro-expressions. But I know he didn’t see any. Because the only thing I felt right now what complete and boundless love for him.

He didn’t say anything. He simply held my gaze as he leaned down and kissed me gently. Then he buried his face in my shoulder, kissing that freckle he was so obsessed with. Sometimes I wondered who he loved more; me, or the freckle on my collarbone. I didn’t have to wonder long though.