As teens, Spencer’s friends bet him $5 to kiss you—a silly dare you’d normally brush off. But his hesitation and flushed cheeks made you pause. You could see he didn’t want to go along with it, but fitting in was tough for him.

“So, uh… I don’t have to do this if—” he stammered.

“How bad do you want to win that bet?” you teased, reassuring him. Spencer relaxed, flashing his shy grin as he stepped closer.

“So, so bad,” he whispered, disbelief in his smile.

Before you could react, Spencer closed the gap, his lips brushing yours. It wasn’t perfect, but it was sweet, soft, and innocent—your first kiss.

When he pulled away, his face was flushed, his eyes sparkling. His friends laughed in the background, but you focused solely on him. He gave a quick, sheepish smile before turning to leave, pausing to look back at you.

With newfound confidence, Spencer locked eyes with you and grinned, a playful glint in his gaze.

“$100 says I marry her one day.”

He said it as a joke, a challenge to his friends, but the weight of his words lingered. You laughed it off, yet wondered if he meant it.

Years passed. You both grew apart—Spencer’s life took off with college and the BAU, while you kept in touch but let life get in the way.

You both dated others, but no one matched that connection. There was always something between you, lingering.

Now, at 31, things were more complicated. You had learned life doesn’t always go as expected, but Spencer remained a constant in your thoughts.

One evening, after a long time apart, you bumped into him at a café—an accidental reunion that turned into hours of catching up. The comfort returned, but the quiet sadness in his eyes was harder to ignore.

As the evening ended, Spencer pulled out a worn $100 bill and handed it to you.

Confused, you stared until the memory hit—the bet, the kiss, his confident declaration.

“I believe I owe you this,” he said softly, the playful glint replaced with something somber. “Guess I didn't win after all."