𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐲 | ✓

47

The rest of the night goes by remarkably shitty. Spencer doesn't show up. Kristian keeps on touching and feeling me at any given chance, and after a painful eternity, I excuse myself to my suite.

Well past midnight, after I've changed to my nightie, rubbing moisturizer on my arms and legs, a soft knock halts me.

Confused, I grab my robe and slip into it, meanwhile two more knocks follow until I reach the door and unlock it.

With a barely suppressed gasp, I step back, taking in Spencer's disheveled appearance. His hair is tousled, his shirt with the first three buttons undone, one side of its hem is falling over his trousers, and the other side is tucked in. Too many fingerprints smudge his glasses and his eyes are bloodshot.

He raises his index finger. "We, need to talk," he announces, slurring each word.

"No, you're drunk." I'm about to shut the door when he leans to the doorframe, planting his palm on the door.

A lazy grin spills over his face and I glare at him despite my heart squeezing at the sight. "Come on, you wanted me to talk. Here I am!" He stumbles past me and almost falls headfirst to the floor but I catch him, steadying him as he drapes his arm around my shoulder.

"Not like this," I grumble, shutting the door and stepping away from him once he's stable enough.

"Why not!" he spins and faces me, stumbling backward.

I cross my arms in front of my chest as I scowl at him.

"I don't get drunk," he says and leans to the table placed in the middle of the small hall joining the two spaces where the bed is placed with the antique sofas. "It's just..." his voice trails down and he waves his hand like he's searching for a word before his eyes spark up. "Liquid courage!"

I roll my eyes and walk past him. Trying to grab me, he loses his balance and in the process of holding on to the table, he drops the gigantic vase placed atop it with white roses, sending it tumbling to the floor and shattering.

"Spencer!" I throw my arms up and glower at him, the shards of the antique vase scattered on the floor, reach to my feet.

He snorts. "Oops." A chuckle rumbles out of him.

I purse my mouth as I watch him.

"Too bad it's not enough to make William go bankrupt," he muses to himself.

Squinting at him, I tap my foot on the floor. "What do you want?"

His head snaps to me. "You."

"You're weird when you're drunk."

"I'm not!" Unsteadily, he comes closer to me, slipping twice with stepping on the glass shards. His hands find my shoulders. "You. It's you that I want."

I roll my eyes, the heavy scent of alcohol burning my nostrils.

"Gracie... uh..." His gaze drops from my face and sweeps across the place. He curses under his breath.

"I think you should leave," I mumble, removing his warm hands from me and stepping away from him.

"No! Wait!" He shoves his fingers through his hair and curses again. "I-I had it ready. I memorized it."

"Memorised what?" I ask, frowning and folding my arms.

"The things I wanted to say. Fuck!" He staggers. "Just give me a minute."

I tilt my head to the side. "Spencer-" I start but he shakes his head, holding up his hands.

He curses again, frustratedly running his hand through his hair. "Gracie, I fucked up, okay?" He looks at me, desperation clouding his eyes. "I-I screw things up, a-and you know how in quantum they say if you throw a ball at the wall, it can hit the wall and bounce back, or go right through it, both equally possible until you actually see it, right?"