something to do with the fact my jaw is now making friends with my shoes.
I know I’ve got a reputation, but no one has ever had the guts to say it to my face. Not like that. April just about smothered me with the words, leaving me numb, but more than that, ashamed.
Of all the people to throw it at me why did it have to be her? Should I just leave? Is she going to rip me to shreds? Are we over before we even really got started?
Fuck.
“Get your pretty boy arse in here, Spencer,” she says, her lips moving from a scowl to curl ever so slightly.
I slowly enter, trying not to make any sudden movement.
I wanna know who the fuck said something. Was it Aidan? Billy? If that little shit Billy dared to spill any of the details he regularly pumps me for, I’ll kill him. No question . I know he doesn’t get much action, and living vicariously through me is sometimes the closest he gets. Did Billy spill so he’d look like fucking Prince Charming next to me? So he could take a shot? I don’t fucking think so. April is mine.
“Aren’t you even going to say hello?” she asks. The door closes and she stands with her hands on her hips.
“Hey,” I manage.
I move closer and link my arms around her waist and kiss her softly on the lips. Her stiff stance relaxes, but not as much as I’d like. I lean into her ear. “Am I gonna need some sort of protection?” Maybe one of those padded suits the police use when training their dogs?
“I’m not sure yet,” she says, leaning back and taking my face in her hands. “Depends how good you are at talking, and if I like what you say.”
“Fair call.”
“Come on, I made burritos. Let’s eat.”
There’s hope yet. She hasn’t kicked my arse. Or maybe she’s just decided to feed me first. I might not put up the same fight on a full stomach. Especially if there’s a dose of chilli involved.
I let out a long breath through my nose, and wipe my hand across my forehead. Damn. She’s literally making me sweat. I follow her into the kitchen.
“And then my little manwhore is gonna do some talking,” she says with a nod. Half a grin tickles at her soft lips, lips I wanna ravish until the early hours of tomorrow.
A low chuckle escapes my mouth. At least she’s talking about me like I’m hers.
“Okay. Whatever you say.”
****
We barely say a word to each other over dinner, but it looks like we’re just as hungry as each other. I give April the occasional soft smile. I just wish I knew what was going through her head. Some clue.
“What are you thinking, April?”
“A fair bit.” She rubs her hands on a napkin and sits back in her chair. Her scrutinising gaze has me pinned to my seat. It’s like I’m a puzzle she’s trying to solve. “If you want us to work, you’ve gotta spill. And I mean spill. The you’re-not-done-talking-until-you-fall-asleep-from-exhaustion kinda spill.”
“Okay. Let’s talk.”
****
I pass April a glass of wine, and sit back into the lounge and take a sip from my glass. That bottle isn’t gonna be enough. I can tell this is going to be a long night.
“You didn’t even tell me you could ride a bike, for God’s sake,” April says, wriggling her painted toes under my leg.
I’ve got to get my arse into gear. She’s right, I’ve gotta spill, because I want this to work.
“I know. I’m sorry. I wanted to. I just held onto it … longer than I should have.”
“You always asked things of me, listened to me, but never volunteered anything about yourself unless I specifically asked.”
“I wanted to get to know you .”
“What are you afraid of, Spencer?”
Many things. Losing you, top of my list. If I’m completely honest with her, will she want to have anything to do with me? I can’t lie to April; I don’t want to. I want to be honest with someone, and share things. I no longer want to be alone.
I take in a deep breath.
“That people won’t see me. See Spencer. For so long, girls have just seen me as Jones,
I know I’ve got a reputation, but no one has ever had the guts to say it to my face. Not like that. April just about smothered me with the words, leaving me numb, but more than that, ashamed.
Of all the people to throw it at me why did it have to be her? Should I just leave? Is she going to rip me to shreds? Are we over before we even really got started?
Fuck.
“Get your pretty boy arse in here, Spencer,” she says, her lips moving from a scowl to curl ever so slightly.
I slowly enter, trying not to make any sudden movement.
I wanna know who the fuck said something. Was it Aidan? Billy? If that little shit Billy dared to spill any of the details he regularly pumps me for, I’ll kill him. No question . I know he doesn’t get much action, and living vicariously through me is sometimes the closest he gets. Did Billy spill so he’d look like fucking Prince Charming next to me? So he could take a shot? I don’t fucking think so. April is mine.
“Aren’t you even going to say hello?” she asks. The door closes and she stands with her hands on her hips.
“Hey,” I manage.
I move closer and link my arms around her waist and kiss her softly on the lips. Her stiff stance relaxes, but not as much as I’d like. I lean into her ear. “Am I gonna need some sort of protection?” Maybe one of those padded suits the police use when training their dogs?
“I’m not sure yet,” she says, leaning back and taking my face in her hands. “Depends how good you are at talking, and if I like what you say.”
“Fair call.”
“Come on, I made burritos. Let’s eat.”
There’s hope yet. She hasn’t kicked my arse. Or maybe she’s just decided to feed me first. I might not put up the same fight on a full stomach. Especially if there’s a dose of chilli involved.
I let out a long breath through my nose, and wipe my hand across my forehead. Damn. She’s literally making me sweat. I follow her into the kitchen.
“And then my little manwhore is gonna do some talking,” she says with a nod. Half a grin tickles at her soft lips, lips I wanna ravish until the early hours of tomorrow.
A low chuckle escapes my mouth. At least she’s talking about me like I’m hers.
“Okay. Whatever you say.”
****
We barely say a word to each other over dinner, but it looks like we’re just as hungry as each other. I give April the occasional soft smile. I just wish I knew what was going through her head. Some clue.
“What are you thinking, April?”
“A fair bit.” She rubs her hands on a napkin and sits back in her chair. Her scrutinising gaze has me pinned to my seat. It’s like I’m a puzzle she’s trying to solve. “If you want us to work, you’ve gotta spill. And I mean spill. The you’re-not-done-talking-until-you-fall-asleep-from-exhaustion kinda spill.”
“Okay. Let’s talk.”
****
I pass April a glass of wine, and sit back into the lounge and take a sip from my glass. That bottle isn’t gonna be enough. I can tell this is going to be a long night.
“You didn’t even tell me you could ride a bike, for God’s sake,” April says, wriggling her painted toes under my leg.
I’ve got to get my arse into gear. She’s right, I’ve gotta spill, because I want this to work.
“I know. I’m sorry. I wanted to. I just held onto it … longer than I should have.”
“You always asked things of me, listened to me, but never volunteered anything about yourself unless I specifically asked.”
“I wanted to get to know you .”
“What are you afraid of, Spencer?”
Many things. Losing you, top of my list. If I’m completely honest with her, will she want to have anything to do with me? I can’t lie to April; I don’t want to. I want to be honest with someone, and share things. I no longer want to be alone.
I take in a deep breath.
“That people won’t see me. See Spencer. For so long, girls have just seen me as Jones,
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