Prince Charmings (BOOK ONE)

25

His chapstick red mouth.

The smokiness of his eyes under the dusky spotlights.

The way his hands felt in my hair.

Pulling the strands.

Gliding over the heated skin of my neck as his lips devoured mine hard enough I had stretched out the lapels of his shirt by the time it was over which made me realize I might have taken Bella's note a little too much to heart.

I couldn't bring myself to look Spencer in the eye after as he drove me home because something had changed between us since last night. Something had changed in Spencer, who kept his hand on the gear stick the entire drive even though his safety-first Toyota was an automatic. Neither of us attempted to make conversation. The guy was deep in thought. About what, I didn't know. All I knew was like how I avoided my phone last night, he was doing the same now. Going so far as to throw the thing onto the back of the car. I watched as it cluttered against the seat before bouncing off into the footwell under my chair.

"You ever been to Diana's?" Spencer said, after a near suffocating ten minutes of silence. It was then I noticed we had made no headway towards my house, rather we were east of town.

"Yeah, Clark basically has his own booth rented out there," I replied, regretting it the moment Clark's name fell from my mouth.

Spencer frowned and I watched as his knuckles tightened around the steering wheel.

"They have the best pie in the state," I tried again and Spencer shrugged, non-committal.

"So I heard."

"Do you want to go there?" I asked when I noted the neon sign a half-mile ahead.

"I have a better idea," he decided, abruptly jerking the car to right.

"Jesus, Spencer!" I scrambled to grip at my roof's handle as the car began to wind around a sharp bend, tarmac bleeding to rough gravel as we hit a steep incline. My palms grew slick and I forced my eyes shut as a flood of memories attempted to override my brain. Taking a breath I made myself relax then glanced over at Spencer. "Should I be concerned by your Grand Theft Auto behavior?"

"Bella told me the day I moved out here that there is a kiosk that sells saltwater taffy flavored gelato made from the lake water," Spencer said, flashing his headlights to high-beam as we hit an forked road heading into the hilled area of Newport. "Said it was tradition for people in town to eat there at least once."

"I can tell you, flat out, she was messing with you. Saltwater taffy gelato? That cannot be real," I promised him and he smiled.

"Guess I'm going to have to hope I prove you wrong tonight," he said, plainly and we collapsed back into silence that was only broke when I scolded him for breaking the road code in overtaking the few other drivers heading to the lake.

I'd never spent much time up at Lake Father. Tommo's family owned a lodge in the middle of the woods there, and he went up every other summer, but I preferred to stay home. The Lake was around two hours or so away when there was traffic, but Spencer got us there in forty-five minutes, which I was sure he would be receiving a fine for. Part of me hoped his mother would be the one to hand it to him.

"How's the ankle?" He asked as he parallel parked right on the grass next to the fencing at the edge of the lake. It was not technically a parking spot, but Spencer was carefree as he cut the engine.

I eyed him warily, stepping out the car. "It's fine. A little swollen but no grief. My arm is itchy like hell though."

"Told you it was nothing to worry about," Spencer said, breaking out into a jog over to a small hut-looking thing that sat a few feet towards a set of swings by the main pay-by-the-hour parking lot. Unlike Diana's, no neon lights greeted us, just a scribbled sign in both English and Italian boasting, as Spencer promised, saltwater taffy gelato. 24/7.