Mr Spencer (Mr. 2)

“I will!” I call over my shoulder as Alexander leads me through the ballroom, over to the wall at the back of the room.

“What are you doing talking with Spencer Jones?” he asks angrily.

I frown. “What does it matter to you?”

“Do you know who he is?”

I twist my lip in annoyance. “No, why don’t you tell me who you think he is?”

“He’s the biggest womaniser in all of London.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Everybody knows that, Charlotte. Take a look at the tabloids. Is Edward aware that you know him?” he whispers.

“He’s Brielle’s friend.” I roll my eyes. “I don’t even know him.”

He stares at me for a moment, trying to work out if I’m telling the truth.

“I’m not stupid, you know?” I add.

“I know you’re not.” He rubs my arm. “Just… whatever you do, don’t mess with him.”

“Why not?”

“Because you will be the next bit of town gossip.” He holds two fingers in the air. “Spencer Jones dates two women in the same day. Two.”

My heart drops but I smile on cue—that fake smile that has been ingrained in me through my years of schooling. The same fake smile that I wear when Edward is scolding me in public for someone I have talked to who he didn’t approve of.

“Alexander, I have no interest in Spencer Jones. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to the bathroom.”

“Of course. I’ll go sit down and wait for you over there.” He gestures over to the table we are sitting at.

“I’ll see you in a moment.”

I walk out through the foyer and into the bathroom. I push into a cubicle and sit on top of the closed toilet seat.

Regret, annoyance, and disappointment curse through me, all rolled into one stupid lead ball that sits in the base of my stomach.

Part of me wants to go home right now. My night is ruined, all because of one snide comment from Alex, even though I know he was only trying to be a good friend and look out for me.

I hate that Spencer has this reputation. I hate that everyone knows it, and I hate that I enjoy his company as much as I do.

His friends were so nice.

I exhale heavily as I try to come to grip with the reality of who Spencer is. No matter how honest he is, everyone has already made their judgements on his reputation. I don’t feel that the two sides of Spencer correlate at all, at least not in my mind.

I finish up in the bathroom; wash my hands, and I stare at my reflection in the mirror, giving myself a silent pep talk.

Go out there and finish the night. Just put the information to one side and process it tomorrow once you’re at home.

I reapply my gold lipstick.

I wish I was here with Spencer… and that nobody else knew who the hell he was.

Spencer

I stare at her from across the room. She’s sitting with him, laughing, talking, completely in her comfort zone with the table full of London’s aristocratic society. She’s one of them, and I can’t seem to connect the sweet, innocent girl I’m attracted to to the Charlotte Prescott she is.