Title: Yours
Rating: PG
Feedback: Por favor! Don't make me beg…
Disclaimer: I don't own South of Nowhere, blah blah etc.
Author's Note: One can only write so much fluff…
"I can't…not like this."
Those words rang in her head a million times, burning her to the very core. She could never tune them out; they haunted her. Sure, she meant it. But did she have to just up and leave like that? She should have stayed. Talked things out.
'Damn my irrationality,' she chastised herself again. Her own worst enemy.
Now she was alone, walking along a path that felt endless to her weary heart. She had not spoken to Ashley after hastily hanging up on their last phone conversation. It had taken everything she had not to pour out her heart and confess to Ashley everything she was thinking and feeling; her thumb helped her out by simply turning off the phone.
Turning off Ashley.
God, why had she done that? She knew why.
It was because Ashley--her Ashley--was not going to become hers as a result of a sleazy almost-threesome with Aiden. No, Ashley was more than that. She was everything. Her best friend. Her other half.
The one she loved.
Hopeless romantic. That's what Spencer was. Past tense.
Spencer had expected that, after smarting off to Aiden for a while, Ashley would go to the party anyway. She'd go, tease a few boys, have a few drinks, kiss a few girls, and then make Aiden take her home, because that was just the Ashley way to deal with a problem.
She had not expected that, after smarting off to Aiden for a while, Ashley would forego the party and desperately drive to her house, dying to smooth things over.
Dying.
Looking out her window, Spencer had seen Ashley's car coming up the street and trudged down the stairs to meet her outside; it was late. How late? Spencer hadn't a clue.
When she opened the front door, she saw it. Ashley's car, crumpled in the front and wedged against a tree; Glen's car, pinning Ashley where she was.
Forever.
With heavy breath, Spencer reached her destination. This was the first time she'd seen or talked to Ashley in a year.
"Hey Ash," she spoke softly. She paused, as if awaiting a response. "I'm sorry I didn't come to your funeral. I know you'll forgive me. You always did, even when I ruined your perfect nights with too much alcohol or Aiden." She allowed herself a single laugh; she knew Ashley would. "I thought you should know that I haven't spoken to Glen since that night because I knew I had to talk to you first; I just didn't know it would take so long. I'm sure you did though; you were always waiting on me. I know you're watching me, so I don't think I have to explain myself. I just know that I'll see you soon, and we can make it right."
With that, Spencer lowered a single rose (sans thorns--Ashley hated the phrase "Every rose has its thorn") to the ground. A single tear slid steadily down to her cheek onto the rose's note:
"Yours, Spencer."