Page 16 of Kiss and Make Love

An icy shiver ran down her spine. The one and only part of the job she found challenging was children. In the last two years, she’d only had to work on one, and it was the worst week of her life. It was also the best damn job she’d ever done.

Brett’s little brother…She shook her head to snap out of the funk. She didn’t want to think about it too much.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, she replied:

From: Spencer Williams

To: Brett Monroe

I didn’t expect to be crying alone on my couch on a Thursday night. I don’t even know what to say. I’m so sorry, Brett. No one deserves to go through that. Nothing I can say can express how shitty that is, but I’m here for you. If you ever want to talk about it more. Any time, any place, any mode of communication.

Is that why you were so concerned the night I got drunk at Jack’s Pub? You were worried something might happen to me?

From: Brett Monroe

To: Spencer Williams

Yeah, that’s exactly why. I can get a littleoverprotective with alcohol now. I worry a lot about it. Probably something I should go to counselling about. But in all seriousness, I didn’t want to see something bad happen to you. Even if it was just getting sick in your garbage can at home.

Although it was the fact that a guy named Chad was going to take you home. I couldn't, in good conscience, let that happen.

A rumbling laugh poured from her lips. Who was this man? How could he make her cry one minute, and laugh the next? She sniffled. All her hunches over the past semester were correct. Brett was goodness and light and sunshine and hope. Qualities she wouldn’t mind having in a partner to balance out her surly, sarcastic, snippy attitude.

From: Spencer Williams

To: Brett Monroe

So I actually owe Chad a thank you?

From: Brett Monroe

To: Spencer Williams

Let’s not go that far.

Spencer was worn out. Between apprenticing at her practicum full time, an overload of courses this semester, studying for final exams, and dealing with Llewellyn every other day, she had little down time.

“Pass me the popcorn, you snack hog,” Becca called from the brown and cream area rug on the floor of the living room.

Spencer rolled her eyes, leaned over, and handed her the giant red bowl. “How are you going to eat that when your nails are still drying?”

“Carefully.” Becca stuck out her tongue and made a big show of gingerly grabbing a single piece of popcorn between her thumb and pointer finger. Opening her jaw as wide as it could go, she dropped it in from above. “See?”

“What did I ever see in you?” Spencer ribbed her best friend.

“My super cute personality and outstanding tits?” Becca offered, placing more popcorn into her mouth.

“You’re not far off. You do have nice tits.”

Unwinding with Becca was one of her guilty pleasures. There were very few people in this life that Spencer was comfortable cutting loose with. In fact, she could count those people on one hand. No doubt because of her mother’s critical treatment of her whileshe was growing up. Always picking at her, always disparaging her.Don’t be such a sourpuss. You need to smile more. Stop being so snippy. Hold your tongue. Nobody wants your opinion. Dress better. Boys don't like girls who frown all the time.The list went on.

What a wonder she made it to eighteen living in that household. The day she graduated, she was out of her mother’s house and crashing on friends’ couches. She saved up by working entry-level administrative jobs over the years, enough to do some backpacking around South America, then worked some more to buy her little home before entering the program she was in now.

Her mom could shove it. She had friends and a promising career, and people liked her badass fashion sense and straightforward attitude. Only, she didn’t let many of them in. Thanks, Mom.

“So what’s going on with Hot Professor?” Becca questioned, chucking a piece of popcorn at Spencer’s head. Her pink nails glistened in the light of the lamps she flicked on, warming the room with ambient lighting. “Still getting to know each other on the DL?” She giggled.

“Yes,” Spencer replied curtly, not giving her anything. If she gave her an inch, she would take a mile.

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