You had him backed up against the bookshelf, lips barely parted, breath shared like a secret. Spencer’s hands gripped your waist like he wasn’t quite sure if this was a dream — until you leaned in again, kissed him like you meant it.

His glasses fogged instantly.

He let out a flustered little laugh against your mouth, pulling back just enough to murmur, “Hang on.”

You blinked, dazed, as he reached up with both hands — slow, careful — and slid his glasses off, folding them with muscle memory. No rush. No words. Just him, letting himself be here with you.

And when he looked at you again, eyes a little softer without the barrier of lenses, there was something in his expression that hadn’t been there before — open, hungry, sure.

“Better?” you teased, breathless.

Spencer smiled — slow, wrecked. “Much.”