A Pocketful of Gems

Chapter 7: a pocket full of rye - Part 1

Running is overrated.

I leant against the counter wheezing. Gulping air felt like swallowing carbolic acid.

"Gem, are you okay?" Spencer's voice, etched with concern, appeared above me. I looked up at him, still panting hard. I reached for him and caught hold of the string on his white apron that went around his neck and pulled him down onto my gasping lips.

He was surprised, but his response was immediate and passionate. Thought I had initiated I had to pull away after a short moment, I'd been breathless before; now I was literally oxygen starved and very near fainting. It wasn't a good idea going in for the kiss, but it was worth it. It was an awesome kiss. It left a lingering sweetness on my tongue and lips.

"Are kisses usually this sweet?" I licked my lips, slightly aware that we were attracting attention from customers. Spencer smiled; a slight curl of his lips to one side.

"I was eating a blueberry muffin," he licked his fingers and bottom lip, "the bite I just took was still in my mouth."

"Oh," I licked my lips again, "well, you should always share with me."

"Yes dear," he agreed. People were still staring. I began to blush.

"Um, are you free?"

"No..." behind him Clara softly began to chant 'overtime', he rolled his eyes. "Yea, I'm free."

"Yes!" Clara pumped her arm and punched the air, "overtime pay coming my way."

"What's the ruckus-" Spencer tossed his folded apron to Clara, but his dad walked out the back of the Bakery into its part.

"See you in a bit dad."

"What? Where're you going?" Clara eased up beside him, raised the side of the apron covering his ear and whispered in a not whisper suitable voice.

"Overtime pay is coming my way."

Mr. Meyer flinched away from her, "Spence, don't leave me here with this woman."

"Sorry dad, emergency, right Gem," his dad looked at me with pleading eyes. Before I could say anything though, Spencer was dragging me off by the arm.

                              -
I laid a kiss on his eyelid, it fluttered beneath my lips returning soft butterfly kisses, I placed a kiss on the bridge of his nose between his eyes, put another on the tip.

"What are you doing," Spencer asked, "why are you teasing me?"

"I'm not; couples are supposed to kiss often."

"Oh, God, you are teasing me," he moaned when I kissed his lips and I smiled into it, he still tasted of blueberry muffins.

"Honest, I'm not."

Our eyes held. He looked away first.

"Okay, well, we can't be a 'couple' officially until we've gone on a real date."

"We hav-" his finger ended up in my mouth instead of across my lips.

"Real date as in dressed up, dinner, candles, the whole shebang."

"Oh, okay." My forehead creased. I tugged the edge of his flour covered tee, curling it around my fingers. "If you insist."

"What?" I pulled myself up to his lips; he raised himself up to his full height putting his lips out of my reach. "Tell me."

"It's fine; we can just be friends with benefits until then."

"Kissing isn't a benefit."

"I'm very much aware," I assured him.