A/N: AU Fic…involving the WCWS (Women's College World Series – softball). This is a story I wrote a while ago with fictional characters (sprinkled with some of my own personal life experiences) – but I thought it'd be fun to make a Spashley version of the story.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything SoN related.
Chapter 1 – The 3rd Floor
"Holy crap, you have GOT to be kidding me…" I say to Peyton as we walk down the third floor of the hotel hallway. "We're not in Kansas anymore Dorothy", I quip "… this is frickin' Buckeyeville, USA." Peyton just nods, with a devilish smirk and a twinkle in her eye, as we stand at the end of the hallway staring at the enormous amounts of scarlet and gray crepe paper streamed between each doorway. This is Ohio State's floor.
"Spence, are you thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?" I look over at Peyton and can actually see the wheels turning behind her devious brown eyes.
"Oh no you don't Peyton! I am NOT going to be stuck doing suicide sprints because you don't know how to control your destructive impulses! If Coach Hutch even finds out we were here…well at least YOU anyway, me she trusts…but either way… she'll be busting you for conspiracy to commit sabotage or some crap like that. We all know how that little mind of yours works girlie…"
"Ok, ok, you're right…I'll put aside my destructive impulses for now and accompany you to the only working ice machine on five floors, just like you asked - but if sneaky little elves come in the middle of the night to have a pretty paper party, don't look at me...blame the elves."
"Thank you Keller. By the way, do you know you're a jackass?" I say jokingly as we round the corner to the ice machine.
Peyton Keller and I had known each other for the past 4 years. Since the moment I stepped onto the campus at the University of Michigan she had been there. She is my roommate, my catcher, and my best friend. Not only does she know my four pitches like the back of her hand, she knows my moods, my secret wishes, my fears, my joys, my problems and of course she knows my unequivocally intense desire to be the number one pitcher in the nation – the one thing that drives me daily. Things in that department had been going pretty well too…that is until last year when "The Ohio State" recruited and signed my childhood rival, Ashley Davies.
Though Ashley and I grew up in the same smallest of small Michigan lakeside towns, we had never met. That is, until age 11 when we had both tried out for a competitive traveling softball team from our area – and had made it. Since we were both pitchers, we were competing for the same job. That was the beginning of our "friendship" – and I use the word friendship loosely. We were as polar opposite as a pair could get. I was meek, shy, never stuck up for myself; while Ashley was strong willed, outspoken and able to put me down with a look. We shared the pitching job all season long; however in the end I carried the lion's share of the losses and was split open up for further ridicule from Ashley and her groupies. I was never quite good enough and Ashley's big mouth never let me forget it. I hated my life and at the end of the season I left the team vowing never to play again. Fortunately, after a good cry and encouraging talk from my mother, I tried out for another team the next season and I blossomed.
As the years progressed, so did the competition. It seemed as I got better, Ashley became more stuck up – and I became meaner to her in return. It was total cause and effect and I was sure there was a scientific correlation. By the time high school rolled around, we were fully entrenched in a rivalry with preseason softball talk around the state always beginning with the words: "Spencer Carlin and Ashley Davies…"
But that was then and this is now. Let me tell you a little about who I am these days. I, Spencer Carlin, am a slender 5'5 with mid back length blonde hair and I have light blue eyes. I guess you could call me "good looking" but for the most part I feel relatively plain. The only time I actually felt "pretty" was at Senior Prom when I was selected for court – which shocked me, as I never considered myself the prom court type. I'm generally a reserved, 'go with the flow', girl next door type, by nature; and if it weren't for ball (the one thing I am good at), I'd probably be like most of the other girls in my graduating class by now; divorced with a kid, living in a tiny rental cabin by the lake.
Luckily I had made it past that. I was off to take on NCAA Division I while Ashley had accepted an invitation to attend school and play ball overseas for a professional team in Japan. We were now on the opposite ends of the Earth; it was finally time for me to claim what I had spent endless hours working towards. Not that I didn't respect the skills possessed by Ashley, she is a great pitcher – I mean, she's got a massive ego, but a great pitcher nonetheless. I just felt that my legacy had always been tied to both of our successes and failures – instead of being based on my own merit. For the first two years of college it was starting to look like I was finally doing just that – making my own way, then junior year came and it seemed we were back in the same boat again. That is how we got to where we are today – two college seniors, residing in the same Oklahoma City hotel at the Women's College World Series.
As Peyton and I rounded the corner to the vending room we were stopped by the two voices we heard down the hall.
"I can't believe that she was the National Player of the Year over you Ashley. I mean, you're like way better than her. You had more strike outs AND innings pitched. It's just because they won the conference this year…whatever she sucks compared to you."
"It's OK Madison! Geez, she's an awesome pitcher – she deserved it. Now get over it! I seem to be able to!" That didn't sound like the Ashley Davies I grew up playing against. The girl I knew was the poster child for narcissism. No one was her equal – least of all, me.
I grabbed Peyton and pulled her into the vending room with me as the voices got closer. However, that didn't seem to matter to Peyton as she shook me off and stepped back into the hallway. I could never seem to rein her in. I just closed my eyes and took a deep breath as I hear her spout off. "Whatever is right Duarte…maybe if you could call a better game your pitcher would have won more games this season. Maybe you should stick to practicing your calls with your pitcher instead of talking so much smack." I have to hand it to her; she is a little blonde spitfire. Standing tall at 5'2, what she lacks in size, she more than makes up for in moxie.
"Well if it isn't Santa's favorite elf..." "Madison just let it go…" I hear Ashley begin before Madison interrupts her with "Peyton, maybe YOU should stick to your own floor instead of treading where you're not welcome."
"Eat a dick Madison. We didn't come for you hookers, we came for your ice." That's my cue to step out with my now full bucket. "Well, I can see you girls are getting along famously, c'mon Peyton let's go." I grab Peyton's arm and pull her along with me as I glance back to see Madison cross in front of Ashley and into their room. Ashley is left just standing there.
"Spencer wait. Can I have a word with you for a sec?" she calls. I look over to Peyton and say "Shit. I'll meet you upstairs in a few OK?"
"It's your funeral…" she chirps as I turn back to look to Ashley. "Peyton knows our history with each other all too well. We have had more than our fair share of rough conversations." I think as I hear the elevator doors close leaving me alone.
I arrive at Ashley and immediately meet her gaze. "What's up?" I ask, fully expecting to be reamed out by her for being on her 'turf' – because trust me, I've been there before. "Listen," she begins "I'm sorry for what Madison said back there. She's just competitive like that you know? I want you to know I think that you definitely deserved the title this year and no hard feelings."
"Uh, yeah sure." I say hesitantly. Ashley just smiles at me and says "OK then, see ya at the field?" I reply back somewhat dumbfounded "Yeah, see ya at the field…" and turn around to walk back elevator quietly.
On my walk back to the room, all I can think about is the way her surprisingly bright brown eyes looked as she spoke to me. There was something there that I had never seen during our conversations before – a small glint that made me shiver a little. "What the hell was that about? What is up with her? Is she trying to get me off my game? She's definitely trying to get me off my game." My thoughts are all running together. "She's usually such a bitch!" I stop, sigh, brush it off and walk into my room to spill all to Peyton.