Spencer Reid had his pick of girls—those who fawned over him at parties and threw themselves at the frat’s golden boy. Yet, no matter how many he slept with, he always returned to you. It wasn’t just about the sex; there was something different about you that pulled him in.

You listened to him and cared about what he wanted. You didn’t want him for attention or status; you genuinely enjoyed being with him, even when he dropped the player facade. You saw beyond his reputation, making you dangerous to him because you made him feel truly seen.

So when Spencer showed up at your door late again, looking tired and worn out, you knew what it meant—another night of him seeking comfort after being with girls who didn’t understand him. But you couldn’t help it; you always opened the door for him.

As soon as you let him in, Spencer dropped his cocky facade, sinking into the comfort of your dorm. His eyes softened as they met yours. "Can I stay?" he asked quietly.

You nodded, stepping aside as he entered and the door clicked shut. "Rough night?" you asked, already knowing the answer.

He sighed, running a hand through his messy hair as he slumped onto your bed. "Yeah... something like that."

After a pause, he looked up at you without pretense. "I don't know why I keep doing this," he whispered. "Going to other people when I know they don't actually care."

You sat next to him in silence. It wasn’t the first time you’d had this conversation, but each return chipped away at the wall between you. “You know you don’t have to pretend with me, right?” you said softly, brushing your hand against his.

Spencer didn’t pull away; instead, he turned his hand to hold yours, fingers entwined. “That’s why I’m here,” he said, looking at you with rare vulnerability. “You don’t just… use me.”

You felt the weight of his words. He wasn’t like this with anyone else—no games, no arrogance. With you, he was just Spencer, stripped of the frat boy facade, and it was that side of him that kept drawing you in.