This is my first crack at a Spencer/Toby fan fiction. I plowed through every episode of Pretty Little Liars (twice) recently and while I was initially sure Aria would be my favorite character, Spencer won me over, followed quickly by Toby. I've been having writer's block on another (Hart of Dixie) story I've been working on and I miss having a creative outlet and so - this story was born.
I can't say how often I'll be able to update, just that I'll try to be consistent. Real life gets busy sometimes! I usually wrote long updates which means I don't update frequently. This time around, I'm going to try shorter updates which likely means A) more frequent updates and B) more chapters. :) I also promise author notes won't be this long!
The inspiration for this story is Charlie Worsham's "Trouble Is." It takes place 5 years down the road. The -A, Red Coat, and murder mysteries have all been solved and life is moving on for our PLLs. Toby took off after his dance with Spencer at the Hoedown and hasn't been seen since. Until circumstances bring him back to Rosewood.
Tonight I'm gonna be strong
Keep it under control
You won't get under my skin
Gonna keep a clear headGuard my heart and my soul
So you can't walk right in
Then you walk right in
Time was a funny thing. Each day seemed exactly like the one before it. Wake up. Go to work. Come home. Go to bed. Rinse and repeat. Sometimes, a date or dinner with friends broke up the routine but ultimately, each day felt like the same as the one before it and the one after it. But really, no matter how similar each day felt to those surrounding it, all it took was a glance backwards in time to realize that everything had changed.
Spencer Hastings knew that all too well, no matter how much she loved routine and order. And everyone who knew her, knew she was a slave to her routine. She woke up at 6AM Monday through Friday, got in an hour long workout before inhaling a quick breakfast and pumping herself up with the first of many mugs of coffee. She was in her office by 9AM and often making her first call by 9:05. She stayed until at least 6, often later, and when she got home, she ate a dinner, usually something microwavable, and worked some more.
She had graduated high school a mere five years ago, but in that time, she and her friends had come into their own, now free from the mystery and terror of –A and red coat, from whether Alison DiLaurentis was dead or alive, the murders of Garrett, Detective Walden, Maya. It seemed like an alternate reality now, a dream.
Much to her parents' chagrin, she had gone into interior design, deciding to pursue something she'd kept a dormant passion for over the years, too focused on what her parents wanted her to do to give it the proper attention it deserved. She'd graduated from Drexel a year ago with several clients already on her roaster, thanks to both her drive and talent, and returned to Rosewood to set up shop. She'd considered moving away, going anywhere but her hometown, but in her heart, she knew she'd never go too far from home.
It was much the same for her friends. Hanna and Caleb, newly married, had made a go of living in Philadelphia but both of them had felt the pull of Rosewood and moved back a few months ago. Neither of them had gone to college, but Hanna's love of fashion and Caleb's talent for computer programming had earned them a decent living, Caleb running his own business from a home office, Hanna in the process of opening her own boutique in downtown Rosewood.
Aria too had stuck close to home, attending Hollis although she hadn't graduated. Spencer harbored a feeling that Aria's lack of completing her degree had more to do with the betrayal of one Ezra Fitz and less to do with the 'lack of desire to pursue higher education' as she had put it when she'd announced to her parents she wouldn't be returning to the college for her junior year. She did well enough though, working as a photographer in and around Rosewood and writing short stories and a blog that was well-received. It was a creative life, but it suited her. Spencer often brought her in to photograph her work once it was completed.
Emily had ended up attending Texas A&M on a swimming scholarship and was the one member of their group that stayed away from Rosewood after graduation. She was an assistant swim coach at Syracuse now, in a relationship with a sweet girl they had all liked the few times they'd met. She visited a few times a year, called frequently and texted every day but of all of them, Emily had perhaps lost the most and it made sense that while the rest of them stuck close to Rosewood to deal with the remnants of their teenage years, Emily stayed way to deal with hers.
Spencer was thinking along those lines as she sat at her small kitchen island, drinking coffee and eating a waffle fresh out of the toaster. Her hair was wrapped in a towel, the rest of her tied into a robe, her heart rate back to normal and the sweat and grime washed down the drain after a particular intense early morning run. She loved morning runs in the last days of summer as fall started to creep in, the air crisp and clear, the leaves starting to change. Even though the last text from –A had been five years ago, she still marveled at the fact that she once more felt safe to strap on a pair of tennis shoes and run through Rosewood on her own.
At her feet, her constant companion, a teacup Yorkie named Max, laid on his back, a ball between his two front paws as he chewed away happily, waiting for his owner to dole out his morning treat that came like clockwork. The TV was off, Spencer no longer a fan of being glued to the news. It was quiet and peaceful and she reveled in the silence as she sipped her steaming hot coffee.
She loved her little cottage, right in the heart of downtown Rosewood. It was small, the downstairs comprised of a kitchen, living room, a small dining nook and laundry room along with a half bath tucked neatly under the stairs. Upstairs, her master bedroom and bathroom took up most of the space, a small second bedroom serving as a cross between an office and extra closet space. It hadn't been lived in in years, but she had bought it for a steal and restored it meticulously. It was hers and it was home.
Like clockwork, she rinsed her breakfast dishes and put them in the dishwasher before giving Max a treat and throwing his ball across the living room a few times. She then went upstairs and dressed for the day, pulling together a comfortable but classic look, drying her hair and using just a bit of makeup to hide a few blemishes and accent her best feature – her eyes. An hour later, she was walking into her office.
There was a sort of irony in the fact that her office ended up being the loft above The Brew. She had been reluctant to take the space at first, too many memories, both good and bad, attached to it. Ultimately, her options limited in the small town, it had suited her needs best and Zac had been okay with her renovating it to optimize the space, even giving her the go ahead to knock down a wall and utilize empty storage space. The first days had been accompanied by pangs of sadness, pushed down by focusing on her work and now, she hardly thought about the time she'd spent there with Toby. Its proximity to coffee was an added bonus.
She worked diligently through the morning, spent a great deal of it on the phone working out the details of a custom hand-painted wallpaper order for a historical home she was working on a an hour or so outside of Rosewood. Marveling at how much her client was willing to send on wallpaper alone, she'd hung up satisfied and hungry. She pushed herself to work another hour before deciding it was time to go in search of food.
The hush that fell over the table of middle aged housewives, all of them friends with her mother, as she entered The Grill should have been her first clue that something was amiss. She'd been too preoccupied with texting Hanna to confirm their afternoon appointment to notice however and didn't so much as look up until she'd reached the bar, unaware that anyone who had been a resident of Rosewood long enough to remember Spencer from five years back had ceased talking and were watching her curiously.
"What'll it be today, Spencer?" Sandy, the usual girl who worked the counter at lunch asked. "A wrap, sandwich or salad?"
"A Caesar salad," Spencer responded, glancing down at her phone as Hanna's reply lit up the screen. "Add grilled chicken. And a Diet Coke." She didn't see Sandy glance a bit nervously from her to the person occupying a stool a few spots down. Like she did every day, Spencer slipped onto a stool and reached into her bag for the most recent book she'd been reading.
While she hadn't noticed him, he had certainly noticed her. He had turned as the door had opened, something bigger than himself telling him to turn around. He'd lost his breath for a moment, taking in the girl he'd left behind standing in the doorway. She had only gotten more beautiful over the last five years, still walked with the same confident stride. He wanted to throw himself in her path and silently slink away unnoticed, all at the same time.
Unlike her, he'd been aware of the hush that fell over the crowd. He was always aware of his surroundings, painfully so. He heard every snap of a twig, every fall of a footstep. He probably always would and had come to doubt that he'd ever not have the urge to glance over his shoulder every now and again to make sure no one was watching him, following him. He knew the crowd was waiting for her to see him, for her to react, give them something to go back and gossip about to those who weren't there to witness it.
He kept his eyes trained to the grain of the bar top while he waited for his order, placed only moments before she'd walked in. The noise slowly returned, lunches resumed as people realized no confrontation was going to occur. He was glad for their distraction, especially when a bag with his order in it was placed on the counter, between Spencer and the cash register.
Spencer instinctively looked up as the white bag appeared in her peripheral vision, checking to see if it was hers. Instead, she saw a familiar frame which quickly disappeared as a set of the bluest eyes she'd seen in five years met hers. She felt breath leave her and the rest of the world fall away all at once as something that looked like fear passed through the crystal blues of one Toby Cavanaugh.
"Spencer," he said softly, nodding at her politely. His hands shook slightly as he reached into his back pocket for his wallet.
"Toby," Spencer managed to choke out. The restaurant returned to focus as she regained her ability to breathe.
"How's it going?" he asked, knowing that asking Spencer such a simple, ordinary question after everything was downright ridiculous. But it was the only safe option he had.
"You're back," she said in response. She hadn't seen hide nor hair of Toby Cavanaugh since their ill-fated dance at the hoedown. She'd heard through the grapevine – namely from those who talked with his parents or Jenna – that he had been living somewhere down south. She never bothered to find out more. After he'd abandoned her a third time, she couldn't bring herself to care.
"Yeah," he replied, not offering up anything more. He handed Sandy a credit card and then signed the receipt she passed back. "Bye, Spencer," he said. She barely had time to register what he'd said before he was gone, his black leather jacket disappearing around the corner of the restaurant.
Let me know what you think!