CHERRY FLAVOURED || Original

NINETEEN *

He nods and takes the control from the arm rest, remaining silent as he clicks through the apps on the tv, landing on Netflix. He opens the app and chooses your icon, then once it opens, he slides through the movies. "There aren't any good movies anymore," he complains.

You take the remote from his hand and slide through yourself, finding a movie you haven't watched in a pretty long time, but one that would be played on repeat while you studied in school. "The Perks of Being a Wallflower," you exclaim, pressing play without making sure Spencer liked it.

Spencer will watch anything you play, which is surprising because he can be a little moody when something doesn't go his way, he just doesn't show that many people. Only you. You watch through the opening, listening to Charlie write a letter to someone you never figured out.

You read the book when you were sixteen, so you were excited to find out that there was a movie being released. The upsetting part about being twenty-one and going to the theatre to watch the film, though,  was that you were one of the only adults amidst a room full of fifteen and sixteen year old teenagers. And teenagers were rather cruel in two-thousand twelve, so when they saw you, they would snicker. 

You watch through the movie, with your cheeks dry. You're usually emotional during the movie, so not crying was a big accomplishment for you. You look up at Spencer, who's staring blankly at the ending credits. You remove your head from his lap and sit up, taking the remote with you. You flick the tv off and place it back on the coffee table.

You look back at Spencer as you get up from the couch, which was stuck onto your legs. He looks confused, like he's not done processing the movie just yet. It was confusing towards the end, but it was nothing Spencer couldn't piece together.

You rush to the kitchen and place your mug in the sink, turning on the faucet so you can wash it. You take the sponge and pump soap onto it before running it under the warm water, squeezing it softly. You clean the mug, scrubbing the dark spots of coffee that spilled on the sides. Spencer walks in while you're putting the mug onto the drying rack, his composure back to normal.

"You figured it out?" you ask him, leaning against the counter with a towel in hand.

He nods, a small sunken smile dragging his lips. You understand how he feels, because you felt the same way after watching. "It was sad," were the only words he could say.

You offer another warm smile, a smile of understanding. "You liked it though, right?"

"Yeah, it was good," he replies.

You turn around and fold the small towel, placing it back on the counter next to the sink. "Good," you murmur, your voice happily ringing. You rotate back around to face Spencer, who's sitting on a black stool, playing with his fingers in front of him. "What else do you want to do today? It isn't as hot as it usually is."

He bites down on his lip, clicking his jaw like he's thinking through his options. After a minute, he comes up with an idea. "What about a picnic."

"Yeah," you say. "At seven?"

He scrunches his eyebrows together, as though he doesn't understand your choice in timing.  "But the sun sets at seven thirty. Why don't we go right now?"

You throw him a smirk, a sense of concealment filling ever breath that brushes past your lips. It makes you giggle how innocent he can act at times. "I don't know, Spence," you whisper, maneuvering around the island table, running  your hand past Spencer's shoulder. "Isolated parking lot, empty car with no one but us. You tell me."

You hear him swallow the lump in his throat, nervous on the date and the turn of events it'll be taking. You've had sex a couple of times since May, but he still gets a little nervous each time. You've grown out of your nervous stage, because you know Spencer loves you and your body no matter what you look like.