Page 61 of High Achiever
“Spencer, what?—”
And suddenly Spencer couldn’t keep it inside anymore. He justcouldn’t. He wasn’t made for subterfuge and secrets and big fucking emotions he had to keep deep inside.
“I’m fucking Ryder,” he blurted out.
Chase’s eyebrows rose. “What? What about him and Ash?”
Spencer winced. “Ash too.”
Ah, fuck. He’d done it now. But he wasn’t technically telling Ash’s secret, was he? He wasn’t saying anything about heats or presentations, just dicks in holes. That was maybe okay, right?
Chase’s face seemed frozen in an expression of alarmed dismay. “Um …”
“I know. Fuck, I know. Noah’s never gonna forgive me. Not ever.” Nausea roiled through him, and Spencer slumped down over the bar. “Oh god.”
“Hey.” Chase set his hand over Spencer’s, squeezing tightly. “You don’t know that. Just …” He nibbled on his lower lip, like he was considering his words. “I mean, what were you thinking?”
“I don’t know.” Spencer wasn’t allowed to explain the circumstances, couldn’t go on about pheromones and temptation and how they’dneededhim, if only temporarily. How he felt so good when he was with them, like maybe they really, actually liked him just as he was. How he was clearly getting his head and his heart all confused and needed to fix it before he ruined all of it.
But he couldn’t say any of that. He settled for, “It just … happened.”
“And now, what, they want more?”
Spencer almost laughed. Of course that would be the expected scenario here. “No. No, they’re good. It’s me. I’m the problem this time. I’m all … mixed up.”
Something flashed across Chase’s face, something that looked an awful lot like pity. “Spence …”
For some reason, Spencer thought of his omega mom. How she could be so fucking cold and aloof, but how she’d still fall so hard and so fast for these alpha dickbags. And how no matter how good it seemed, or how quickly they decided to play house together, those guys would always—always—leave her out in the cold again in the end.
Ash and Ryder weren’t dickbags. Or, they were, but in the best way. But still … Spencer was still going to be left out in the cold, wasn’t he?
Spencer straightened, taking his hand out from under Chase’s. “No, it’s cool. We don’t have to talk about it. We shouldn’t, actually. Not until—not until Ash tells Noah.”
Chase looked like he wanted to say more, but a big group swept into the bar, already calling out their orders, and Spencer was mercifully too busy to talk.
In retrospect,telling Chase right before one of Eli’s pool parties had probably been a terrible idea.
The party was a last hurrah before things started to cool off in November (not enough to becold, of course, but cool enough for a dip in Eli’s backyard pool to feel like a brisk wake-up call instead of sweet relief).
Normally, Spencer loved this shit. Eli’s house was great, all homey and welcoming, and his parties were a clear effort to make time for Noah’s social life despite his and Noah’s …unusual dating circumstances. It was part of why Eli was just the fucking best. The way—despite being older and a tenured professor—he didn’t mind having Chase and Spencer around and in his business.
But today Spencer didn’t know what to do with himself, or where to fucking look, for that matter.
Should he look at Noah, all glowing and happy with his arm around Eli’s shoulder, not realizing Spencer was betraying bro code after bro code? Or at Chase, who kept shooting Spencer these concerned glances from where he was sprawled on a lounger with Killian, like he knew Spencer was only two steps away from falling off the deep end? Or at Ryder and Ash, who Spencer had thought would bail today, but who were definitelyhere, all shirtless and beautiful, testing all of Spencer’s anti-ogling resolve?
All his choices were terrible. So Spencer was horribly weird and awkward and kept fetching people food and drinks so he didn’t have to settle down in any one direction.
It was on his third trip to the kitchen to “top off the guac” that they cornered him.
Ash barreled in first, the towel around his waist doing nothing to stop him from dripping on Eli’s kitchen floor. Not that Eli would mind—he was chill that way. Ryder was right behind, his big arms crossed over his chest like he was daring Spencernotto look at his biceps.
“Hey, what’s your deal?” Ash asked without preamble. “You’ve been avoiding us.”
Spencer kept his focus on the guacamole he was scooping. It seemed safer than either of the other options in front of him. “Not avoiding. I’ve been working a lot.”
Ash’s scowl burned against the back of Spencer’s neck. “Bullshit.”
And then, because karma was apparently on Spencer’s ass today, Noah walked in. And because he was Noah, he clocked the weird vibes immediately. He stopped in his tracks, his head swiveling between the three of them. “What’s going on?”
