Page 22 of The Boyfriend Boycott
I may be big, and I may be tall. But not so big and tall that I need to shop at Big and Tall.
Take a shot every time you say Big or Tall.
Brat.
Pick me up at 9?
Sounds like a plan.
Great. Don’t bring the bike.
Is this part of your plan to slowly make me get rid of it?
The three little dots that indicate she’s typing appear and then disappear, as if she’s thinking of something snarky to say back.
SPENCER
I wouldn’t tell you if it was. But no, we’ll have stuff to bring back.
An uncontrollable grin tugs at my lips, thoughI feel a strange sense of disappointment that the conversation seems to be over. I could talk to Spencer for hours, even if only over text messages.
“Dude.” Hudson’s voice snaps me back to the reality outside of my phone screen. “You’re smiling like an idiot. What the fuck were we just talking about? She’s going to leave again. That’s what Spencer does. It’s her job, her way of life. It’s going to wreck you just like it did last time.”
“I know, I know. Don’t worry about me, Hudson. I’m fine,” I reassure him.
I am not fine. I am not fine in the slightest, and this conversation has made that glaringly obvious. There’s this small shred of hope that’s been tugging on my heart, telling me that maybe if I can be what Spencer needs, she’ll see that I’m worth sticking around for.
I pullinto the campsite bright and early. Spencer is already outside, perched on the step of the camper waiting for me. She gets up as soon as she sees me, and saunters over to the passenger side of my hatchback. I strictly don’t drive this thing once the weather is above ten degrees Celsius, but Spencer insisted. Apparently, we’ll have a whole carload of clothing to bring home, which is strange because I am not planning on buying anything. Spencer will see once we get there, a makeover is not what I need. It certainly isn’t what’s going to help me win at the council meeting. Anyone who judges me by the clothes I’m wearing can go kick rocks.But if it makes her happy, and if it means I get to spend the day with her, I’ll suck it up and try on some clothes.
“Morning, sunshine!” Spencer says, climbing in beside me. She’s got her hair back in a clip which she takes out so she can rest her head on the seat, and her hair falls down around her shoulders. It doesn’t matter how many times she does that, the sight of her letting her hair down is always going to make my heart ache. Though, this morning I feel something else, and my cock is suddenly uncomfortable, pressing against my jeans. I thought jerking off in the shower would have helped me to keep my mind on the task at hand today, but clearly that was a pipe dream.
“Morning,” I respond, trying not to look at her, and busying myself by handing her the coffee I brought her in a travel mug. “I figured you could use some coffee that wasn’t boiled over a fire pit or something.”
“I do have a coffee maker in there,” she fires back, waving towards the camper van. “It doesn’t look like much, they wantedto keep the vans kind of retro, like the old Volkswagen ones. The inside is more like ‘glamping’ than it is like camping. That’s why it’s called WanderLuxe.I guess you know that already, you did see it when you, uh, dropped me off.I appreciate the coffee, though, thank you. Hey, this is a Volkswagen, isn’t it?”
The corner of my mouth lifts as I glance over at her. She’s rambling. Almost as if she’s nervous to be spending the day together.
“Yes, it is,” I admit. Not a very macho car, but I picked the most sports car model I could find, and I like how it handles.
“It’s cute,” she says, twisting around to put on her seatbelt. I don’t know if I’d go as far as to call itcute,but I can imagine Spencer putting one of those solar hula girls on the dash, and the thought of it makes me smile even more. I might even get one to see if she notices.
We have to drive through town to get to the highway that will take us into Calgary, and the streets are quiet at this time of day, except for the odd go-getter up for a morning walk or a jog.
“Tell me why we had to leave so early?” I ask as I slow my speed down along Main Street. It will only be a few more weeks until the street is closed off to vehicles, only allowing bicycles and pedestrians down the strip through the summer months.
“We need to get there when the mall opens. It’ll already be busy by eleven,” Spencer replies, as if everyone should know this. But I don’t. I can’t remember the last time I went into the city, let alone into a mall.
“Tricks of living in the city, I guess…” My voice trails off as my gaze catches on the window of the Parks’ restaurant, or what used to be their restaurant. There’s a new sign next to the one that readsFor Lease.I pull the car over to the curb to get a better look.
“Yeah, I’d imagine you don’t exactly have to fight for a parking spot when you go to the Shirt Shack.” Spencer is gigglingto herself when she notices that I’m no longer paying attention, and she follows my line of sight. “‘Urban Ember,’”she reads aloud from the advertisement.
The picture depicts a man and a woman laughing together on the patio of an upscale lounge type restaurant, with modern fire tables on the patio. It looks like the type of place that serves overpriced cocktails and ‘tapas’ for people who want to go to a restaurant but don’t actually want to eat any food.
I can feel my blood pressure rising, my pulse thrumming in my ears as my fingers grip the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white. The building isn’t even his yet and Carter is laying claim to it. And since when did Heartwood become ‘urban?’
“I don’t know, Grady … people might like to have a restaurant like this here,” Spencer says, her eyes still fixed on the sign. “The bar is great, but sometimes people enjoy getting dressed up for a nice date night.”
“Then they can come to the Whisky Jack,” I counter. “It’s not even about the restaurant, Spence. It’s the foothold it will give to other chains, just looking to make a buck at the expense of the locals.”
