#floatingbookshelf

She begins to shrug it off of her arms, but he stops her, pulling it back on her, a tender smile stuck on his face. His arms cling to her shoulders, securing the jacket on her.

Spencer gives him a curious look, her eyebrows pushed together in an arc of confusion.

“You keep it on,” he tells her.

“But your freezing,” she fights, her voice soft.

“I’m fine,” he assures her.

She keeps staring at him, pursing her lips in disapproval.

“Besides,” he begins, his tone changing to something more gentle, “it’s yours.”

“What?” she questions.

“I’m giving it to you,” he explains.

“But it’s your favorite jacket,” she murmurs the rebuttal.

“Exactly,” he replies, stopping in their walk. He turns to her, his hands still cupping her shoulders. She looks back at him, a furrowed brow hovering over her doe eyes. “It’ll be something you can remember me by,” he elaborates.

“Remember…?” her brow tilts more in an arch.

“When you go away to college in August,” his hands fall off her shoulders.

“I don’t need anything to remember you by,” she fights, stepping close to him. “I’ll call you every day, and there is still the weekends…” her voice holds hope; something Spencer Hastings is notorious to go against. She cups his face in her hands, a small smile encountering her lips. “Don’t worry,” she promises. And then a second later, her expressions change to something resembling bewilderment, “wait…this isn’t some weird, break up is it?” she questions, only half joking.

He chuckles, shaking his head, and taking her by the forearms, guiding her hands to his. Their hands cling to each other as the words leave his mouth, “no, of course not,” he dismisses the idea. “I just wanted to give you something that means something…I don’t know,” he looks away for a second.

“That’s really sweet.” The comment attracts the blue eyes to her brown ones. “And really thoughtful,” she adds, a lightness in her tone. “But, won’t you miss it?” she asks.

“I think I’m going to be too busy missing something else to even think about it”

 A pinkness rises to the girl’s cheeks, along with a toothless smile. “Well,” she clucks her tongue, “don’t expect to get it back.”

“I wasn’t counting on it,” he leans close to her, nuzzling his nose against hers, causing his girlfriend’s smile to grow into something more livelily. “I’m missing half of my wardrobe, and we both know whose fault that is,” he eyes her.

She gets a look on her face. That look she gets on her face whenever she is trying to come up with an insult. He noticed this expression of hers, right before their first kiss.

As he did that morning in front of the motel, he pushes his lips into hers, halting whatever back firing comment she had come up with. She doesn’t take this as offense, instead she leans into him more, ditching his hand for the side of his face.