Mr Spencer (Mr. 2)

The late afternoon sun is warm on my face and I smile at the sky. We’ve been at Perissa Beach for hours. It’s simply too good to leave.

The boys are up the back somewhere, and we are down by the water on our deckchairs in our swimwear.

We’ve eaten, swam, drank, and I even had a little nap. Spencer has gone to the bar in search of some cocktails while I lie here in my bliss.

The sound of the waves, the seagulls, the laughter, and music in the distance… I think this may just be my most favourite place I’ve ever been to. And I’ve been to a lot of amazing places, but I think it’s because of who I’m here with.

Spencer is my favourite place. Anywhere with him is Heaven.

He reappears with two very pink and exotic looking drinks in his hands. I sit up with a frown. “Wow, what are these?”

He passes my tall glass, bright pink and bubbling with fancy straws placed in it. “A Pinky Sweetheart for my pinky sweetheart.”

I smile as I look at the glass suspiciously. It’s probably as toxic as all heck. “How am I a pinky sweetheart?”

He sips his drink and narrows his eyes. “Well, you’re my sweetheart, and your bits are a delicious shade of pink.” He shrugs. “Pinky sweetheart.”

I laugh and take a sip. He falls into the deckchair beside me. “This is delicious.” I nod. “Good choice.”

He raises his glass to me. “Not just a pretty face.”

Isn’t that the truth?

Spencer is so far from being just a pretty face that I don’t even notice he’s so good looking any more. It’s what’s inside him that I love. The two parts of him that make him so different to anyone I’ve ever met. He’s playful, honest, and sweet, but then he has this dominant side that only ever comes out properly when we’re in the bedroom. I remember how he was when he first met Wyatt and Anthony, and I know he’s no pushover to people who don’t know him.

>

Like Edward.

“Can I ask you something?”

He nods as he sucks through his straw. “This drink is lethal by the way. Don’t let us swim, we may die.”

I giggle. “You said that you went on a Triple P trip. What does that mean?”

“Oh.” He frowns. “Triple T?”

“Yes, that’s it. What’s a Triple T trip?”

“It’s a time to think trip. You know, when things get too much and you can’t handle it anymore, you have to escape life to have time to think.”

“So, what do you do?”

“I go away on my own for two to three weeks. Do nothing, speak to nobody, reflect.”

“Where do you go?”

“The Four Seasons in Maui. It has to be the Four Seasons in Maui.”

“You did this?”

“I’ve done it every year since I turned seventeen.”

My face falls. “Every year? You can’t handle things every year?” I ask, oh this is news…. what can’t he handle?

“The first time I went I was a hormonal teenager and my mother was at her wit’s end with me. She sent me to Maui in the hope that I would calm down.” He twists his lips. “I didn’t know anyone, and I didn’t talk to anyone.”

“Were you upset about your father?”