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Fits

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Chapter 14: Fits (Spencer's POV)

I think this suit is the best, so I should show it to her. I opened the door and saw that hers was still locked. "Delilah?" 

Her door opened and she stuck her head out. "Finally, I was waiting for you to come out so we could see each other at the same time!" she groaned, pulling it open all the way and stepping out. I didn't even have to look down at the entire dress to be surprised. 

I haven't decided yet if it's a pleasant surprise or an unpleasant one though. "That's..." I trailed off, both of us walking to the mirror and standing side by side, looking at our reflections. "Quite a dress," I mumbled, looking at it up and down. 

It's no ball gown. It's similar to the dress she wore at the ball but this one is more of a gown since it has a trail. The color is bright but dull. It's a burnt, sunset orange and she is magically managing to make it look absolutely stunning. I can't say I expected it, whatsoever, because I did not. I don't think many people expect an orange dress. It's a bronze, burnt sunset orange, I don't have a clue how else to describe it. 

"Do you like the dress?" She lifted her brows at me, snapping me out of my thoughts. 

It's happening again, it's happening through the mirror. Her eyes are drawing me in yet again and I can't bring myself to look away.

"Spencer?" 

"You look fine," I mumbled, blinking and forcing myself to look at my own attire. 

She sighed, sounding disappointed but she didn't comment. "You won't wear a tie?" she asked, looking at my clothes. 

"I don't want to." 

She nodded slowly, taking it in, her eyes roaming up and down my body. "It looks good. It suits you very well, you'll look handsome." I stared at her through the mirror while she looked down at her dress. She bit the inside of her cheek and looked over at all the other dresses the boutique had to offer. She's contemplating getting a different dress. "Do you think the purple would be—" 

"No," I cut her off. 

She looked over at me, turning her body to face mine. "Hmm?" She blinked up at me, seeming lost and confused. Adorably so. 

I don't think I've used the word adorable for anything except for Delilah in the past three years. "Don't think about getting a different dress. This one is perfect for you." 

"It is?" 

"Clearly, you're not looking at your reflection hard enough," I scoffed, moving to stand behind her but she looked at me over her shoulder instead of looking ahead. I sighed, bringing a hand up and holding her chin, moving her to face forward. She looked at me through the mirror then her eyes went lower to the dress. "Do you see yourself in another color?" 

"I don't know," she mumbled. 

"Picture it, Daisy." 

She blinked, staring at the dress quizzically. "I can't. I never imagined I'd get engaged to you the way I am. With a huge audience, with people talking about me. I thought I'd get engaged in a room full of people I know. Friends, family, his family. Whoever he would be." Her eyes came up to mine. "I just never thought it would be you." 

"Picture what you wanted. Picture it all happening while you stun the crowd in this exact dress." 

She kept her eyes locked in place with mine and then spun around slowly. 

I looked down at her, tucking my hands into my pockets, keeping the urge to touch her hidden and trapped away. I don't like her, I just want her to be mine. It's that need, that burning desire to claim her as mine. It's such a powerful and overwhelming desire. It's almost carnal. 

"You know your eyes are different in moments like these." 

I clenched my jaw, bringing myself back to this reality. "How so?" 

"They're..." She tilted her head to one side, taking in a small breath. "They're softer than I thought they could ever be." 

I blinked in confusion. 

"Don't look in the mirror, you'll shatter the perfect moment." She stared right at my eyes and I could tell she felt drawn to them, by them, in them. "It's like Prince Spencer Romano is gone and instead it's just Spencer. Without all the past and family politics and games. If it was anyone else I would have looked away by now," she chuckled softly. 

"Then why won't you do that now?" 

"Because with you, I'm drawn in closer." 

Well then, fucking ditto. 

We stood in silence for a while. A silence that felt calm and familiar. It felt safe, more than anything else. And it made everything feel real for the heartbeat. "It fits," I mumbled, shattering the silence and our moment with it. 

"What?" 

"Your dress. My suit. It all fits." 

"Um..." She blinked, turning back to face the mirror. "Yes, it does." She ran her hands over the fabric, touching her torso and ribs. 

"Then we'll take them now. I'll drop you off at work and then head home. I'll send someone to pick you up after your shift at Mirage. Okay?" 

"Yeah. Okay." She cleared her throat and then walked back to the changing room, locking the door behind her with a click that echoed throughout the silent room. She locked the door, she locked me away too. 

It upset her, I could tell. But I'm not marrying her to find love or a relationship with her. I don't want to get attached, I don't want to build a relationship or a bond with her that makes me feel like she's irreplaceable and what we have is real because frankly, it isn't. It isn't, and it never will be. This is just another selfish thing I'm doing for myself, for my life, for staying alive. That's all it'll ever be. 

But it all fits. Her dress, my suit, and us. 

Unfortunately, I'll have to learn to ignore that. And my carnal desires that seem to surface when I see her. They were hardest to lock away last night when her body was flush against mine. When I could feel her every breath, every inhale, exhale, every movement, every shuffle, every twitch. 

Stop. Snap out of it, Spencer. 

Yes, snap out of it. 

♡♡♡

I stopped the car right in front of Bloom House, which was barely two seconds away, and dropped her off for work. 

"Bye," she said, grabbing the handle to step out but I grabbed her wrist, pulling her back. "Yes?" She looked at me with impatience radiating off of her. 

"Why are you angry?" 

"Who said I'm angry?" 

"I know you are." 

"Why would I be angry?" 

"That's what I'm asking you." 

"Why do you think I'm angry?" 

"Because of the way you're acting. Why are you angry, Delilah?" 

"Who said I'm angry?" 

"I know you are, damn it!" 

"Why would I be angry?" she repeated. At this rate, we'll be going in circles with this conversation.

"Delilah!" I groaned, letting her go and pulling the roof up so the people who were staring while walking by would stop. 

She gave me the fakest smile possible. "I need to get to work, Spencer. Bye." 

"I'm talking to you." I locked the car before she could step out. 

"And I'm leaving. I'm late." 

"I don't bloody care," I replied. "Why are you angry?" 

"I'm not angry," she huffed. "I'm annoyed." 

I rolled my eyes. "Why are you annoyed then?" 

"Because... you!" 

"Because me, that makes sense, doesn't it, love?" 

"Spencer if you annoy me any more than this right now—" 

"Just admit that you're angry and tell me why," I huffed. 

"Because I'm not a pawn and I don't appreciate being treated like one, okay?!" she snapped.

"A pawn?" 

"I know you're using me as a pawn in this game you're playing with your father and brother, whatever it is, you dragged me into it. I'm here to be on your side, please don't make me change my mind," she sighed pleadingly. "Stop treating me like a servant. I'm not here just to solve your problems and be the trophy wife." 

I felt my jaw tick with a wave of anger washing over me. "Well then, that's unfortunate, isn't it? Because that's exactly why I chose you. To be a pawn." 

She glared at me. "Then find another fucking pawn. I'm quitting." 

"You don't get to decide that." 

"Then who does?!" 

"I do," I claimed, feeling a growl rise in the back of my throat. This girl pisses me off in the worst and best ways possible. What is happening to me, am I fucked in the head already? "I chose you, I get to choose when I don't want you anymore." 

"I will kill you," she asserted. "I really will. I'm not your bloody property." 

"You might as well be." 

"Fuck you." 

"Would you like to?" 

She groaned in frustration, throwing her head back, hitting it against the headrest. "Unlock the damn car," she demanded. I did. 

I need her away from me. 

She stepped out immediately, slamming the door shut before rounding the car and entering the store. I saw that she would be using the shop's because she didn't have her own bike. She came out holding at least a dozen bouquets with a piece of paper between her teeth. She put the bouquets in the basket and then climbed on before looking at the addresses. 

I sighed, watching her silently. 

She mumbled the address to herself before tucking the paper in her pocket and then kicking up the stand. She rode right past my car, not even sparing me another glance. 

Oh, I've really angered her now, if I hadn't already done that at the boutique. Shit, damn it.

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Chapter 14

I love that dress for some reason

next chapter: fiancé