Dating a genius had its perks. Spencer was always beyond willing to help you with any and every school assignment, already having pre-prepared flash cards before tests and studying your material before quizzing you on it. Not to mention the limitless amount of knowledge he had, always providing answers to trivial questions. Sort of like a walking encyclopedia.

You had met him in a psych class, having sat beside him, later to be partnered up for a project. With wide doe eyes and a boyish grin, somehow he’d claimed your affection. Tripping over his words, he found the courage to ask you out — which he spent the whole date a ball of nerves. Still bewildered him why you stuck around after he had been nothing short of the human form of anxiety.

Now a few months strong, he was better about his panic around you, but that didn’t stop him from always sitting up a bit taller, brushing out his clothes whenever you approached. He’d give you a dazed look in his glassy eyes, hanging onto your every word like a whispered secret. It’s sweet, seeing how much he cared for every little thing you do, keeping record of every little tic or shift in your expression that gave away what you were feeling.

What he could never properly understand though was affection. Clueless would be an understatement to describe him. He’d startle whenever you took his hand, palms getting uncharacteristically sweaty fast to which he profusely apologizes for. Not to mention his struggles with kissing. Don’t get me wrong, he likes kissing you.

Unfortunately, he never seems to get the message when you’re trying to kiss him.

Not even as you’re curled up in his dorm room, lips repeatedly chasing after his.

"Did you know," Spencer started to ramble, managing to get a couple words in between your constant stream of kisses. Poor boy was really not getting the hint. "Kissing triggers brain chemicals-" kiss "It releases dopamine-" kiss "and serotonin which are associated-" kiss "with bonding and happiness," he told you.