You wish you could pinpoint exactly when it started, but the timeline is a bit iffy. You're sure Spencer could tell you down to the exact second, but you won't ask him. All you know is that you and Spencer are each other's "casual hookup," if you will. Friends with benefits, maybe? You don't really know. Another thing you know is you are unfortunately falling head over heels for him.

The unspoken promise is simply that either one of you can show up at the other's apartment or hotel room to unwind, forget about a case, or about life in general, and just enjoy some unadulterated fun together. And that's exactly what it is— fun. That's exactly what it was supposed to stay as. You're coworkers, for God's sake, anything more than that is extremely problematic. But of course your dumbass had to get obsessed with the way he smiles at you, how he rambles about the most random of things, how he holds you and kisses your neck when you're tired. Fuck. Yeah, you're in love with this man.

You're now lying in his bed, wearing his shirt, one of his books in your hand as you flick through the pages. He's next to you, eyes closed, probably asleep. That is until he moves, scooting closer to you and throwing his arm around your waist, nuzzling his face into your neck and kissing your shoulder gently. That doesn't help one bit with your fluttery stomach.

"If you wanna borrow my books, you just have to ask," he mumbles into your skin, and you feel his slight smile curl against your neck as his other hand comes up to run through your hair. You set the book down and lean your head towards him, closing your eyes, only one thought in your mind; I need to tell him.