Take Two... Part 2
Part 1
Spencer watched you for a few beats before he backtracked. He saw your shoulders stiffen. He heard the emotion creep back into your voice. Your cockeyed stance and the way you mindlessly fiddled with your left ring finger told him everything he needed to know, and he felt a pang of hurt rush through his chest. He'd seen divorce eat away at his former boss. At a man he admired. And as he grabbed your doorknob to close the door, he was reminded of that same hell he watched his boss--and good friend--dredge through.
He wondered what kind of an asshat left someone without so much as a bed to sleep on.
He stood in the hallway for a while, wondering if he should interject. Wondering if he should leave you alone. He wanted to help. It was simply in his nature. But he didn't want to overwhelm you, or worse. So, he settled for heading across the hall to his apartment and closing the door.
Until he heard you whip yours open.
He stood there, his hand on his own doorknob while he listened to your footsteps. His brow furrowed with every step you took down the stairs. Did you close your door? He hadn't heard it latch, or even slam. He placed his ear to the door and listened carefully. He listened as your footsteps continue down the stairs. And the entire time, he couldn't shake the feeling that you hadn't closed your door. So, when your footsteps disappeared, he decided just to take a peek. Just to make sure everything was okay.
And he was met with your open apartment door.
He perched there for a moment, figuring you would come back. Maybe you had more things to bring up. Surely, you had more than a little bit he had clocked when he inched his way inside. A few suitcases and a couple of boxes. Even he didn't live that sparsely.
But when you didn't come back, he found himself heading back across the hall.
"What are you doing, you idiot?" he murmured to himself.
Easing your door open, he found himself face-to-face with the mirror representation of his apartment. A living room connected to a kitchen, a bedroom and a bathroom on one side, and a bedroom and a bathroom on the other. He studied the same dark green walls with the same black trim and the same built-in bookshelves, bare and lifeless. He studied the suitcases, six of them. Tattered, with broken wheels that he was certain made it hard to lug them around. Even the two cardboard boxes that had been flipped open were worn on the sides, practically falling apart at the seams.
He grinned to himself when he peeked inside and saw your books.
Your romance novels.
"Huh," he murmured as he reached for one.
The black cover was decorated in bright colors. He didn't recognize the title, nor the author. He flipped the book over and began reading the synopsis, only for the skin on the nape of his neck to pucker. The synopsis alone made him blush. He quickly put it back down before finding his fingers gravitating to another one. And when he picked it up, he flipped open to the first page.
Before finding himself immersed in a fantasy world that made his mind run wild.
"What the hell?"
Your voice startled him so badly that he slammed the book closed. His eyes widened as he looked over at your haggard form, lugging bags from the Walmart up the road on your arms.
Your eyes hardened on him. "What are you doing, nosy neighbor Spencer?"
He dropped the book back into the box before reaching toward the dangling bags. "Here, let me--."
"No," you say as you take a step back from him, "what I want to know is why you're in my apartment."
He cleared his throat and shoved his hands into his pockets. "You left your door open."
Your face fell. "Oh."
He scratched the back of his neck. "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't be here. You just left your door open, and I went to close it, and I just--."
You watched him carefully. "You just...what? Decided to dig into my measley book collection?"
His cheeks blushed. "They're...interesting books."
He wasn't sure what he expected. Things looked bad. They looked very bad. But the second your lips crooked up into a grin, the laughter started. What began as a giggle grew into a belly laugh, and pretty soon the bags from your arms were dropping to the floor because you doubled over at your waist.
Laughing so hard that you had to lean against the doorframe.
"I'm so sorry," Spencer said through his chuckling.
"Oh, my God," you said breathlessly as you kicked the bags into your place. "Jesus, my life."
"Please, let me help you with those," he said as he gathered his breath.
You snorted as you tried to catch your breath. "You might as well go ahead since you let yourself in."
And that was all the introduction he needed.
He scooped up the bags, one by one, and heaved them into the kitchen. He set them on the countertop, evenly dispersed, so that you could get to whatever you needed. He couldn't help but eyeball some of the things in the bags. Some frozen foods. A rotisserie chicken. Toiletries.
An air mattress...
"You know," he said as he turned toward you, "I've got some extra plates and things that never even made it out of boxes when I moved in a while back."
"Oh?" you asked as you reached beside him, snatching the bag the air mattress was in.
"Yep. I mean, they're mismatched and everything. But, you're more than welcome to them."
You shook your head. "No no, you keep your things. I'll be doing more shopping over the coming weeks."
"It's really not a problem," he said as he watched you from the kitchen. "I never unpacked them or anything."
"When did you move in?" you asked as you unboxed the mattress.
Is she seriously going to sleep on that thing? "Around 10 years."
Another bark of a laughter fell from your lips. "So, you're really not using them then, huh?"
His smile grew. "No, I'm really not."
And to his surprising shock, you nodded your head. "I suppose if they've been collecting dust for the past decade, I could put them to use. Thank you."
He leapt at the opportunity to help. "I'll go get them. They're just in some boxes in my room."
"I'll keep my door open for you."
"That seems to be your thing, yes."
And as he backtracked across the hallway to go get those boxes, your laughter followed him all the way into his apartment.
Laughter that tugged at his heartstrings.











