Author's Note: Since I know I'm going to be asked this, the order of POV is Spencer/Toby/Spencer/Spencer/Toby/Spencer. Also, this is sort of AU and sort of canon because I couldn't decide how I wanted to write this. And finally, I hope you enjoy it :)

Escaping the Badlands

I lay on the hard wooden floor of the spare room in his house. It was obvious that the only person who ever stepped foot in the room was his mother, who kept some dresses in the closet and came into the room at least once every two weeks to clean it. Her perfume, which was sweet and gentle smelled so different from my mother's strong Chanel No. 5, which Melissa and I had stolen on occasion.

"You're so weird."

I looked up at him. He was lying on the bed, staring down at me. His blue eyes were piercing. I made the mistake of looking into them for a second too long. I closed my eyes and looked away. "It's nice to see things from a different point of view," I explained as I looked up at the ceiling. I guess it seemed like a good answer for a twelve year-old. I looked over at him. "Maybe you should try it."

He was skeptical for a moment before he got up and lay down next to me. "You're so weird," he repeated after a moment of staring at the white ceiling. I looked over at him and he looked over at me. I got this weird feeling at the pit of my stomach which had been happening more frequently, especially when I was this close.

Color rose to my cheeks and I felt a sudden rush of blood to my head. I looked away, trying to conceal the blush. Still, he sat up next to me. "Something's bothering you."

"What makes you say that?"

I still couldn't look him in the eye. "I'm fine. My parents are just being . . ." He knew the relationship I had with my parents. "Melissa's valedictorian." He knew that meant they were putting extra pressure on me to be the best in the class, which would never happen if Andrew Campbell continued to get in my way.

"You can take him, Spence," he assured me as he ran his fingers on the rug. I bit my lip. He must have caught my doubtful look. "You're so much better than you give yourself credit for."

Again I blushed as I looked down at the merlot-colored carpet. It tied the whole room together. Toby's mother always did have an eye for design. I looked over at him. His face was not even a foot away from mine and I felt my breath hitch. I wanted to pull away but I felt paralyzed. He decided to kiss me.

It was a short but lovely kiss. It was the first time I'd ever been kissed on the lips. It was the first romantic kiss.

And we kissed again and again, only as twelve and thirteen year olds know how—in other words, nothing went very far. We were so aloof that we didn't hear his father's footsteps come down the hall and stop in the doorway.

He noticed his own father first and pulled away. A part of him looked scared. He hadn't told me at that point, but his father had . . . violent tendencies. They were never directed towards him or his mother, but his father's fist often made contact with things too close for comfort.

"I think it's time for Spencer to leave."

I knew that meant I had to go. And I also knew that Toby feared that more than anything. He had his mother to defend him, but even then, he knew his father would act at least somewhat normal when a friend was around.

So I said goodbye and I told him I would see him the next day at school.

Spencer begrudgingly followed me out to the car. I hadn't told her where I planned on taking her. Honestly, I was surprised she was willing to come with me at all; it was the Friday before finals week and normally she'd be locked in her room studying. Then again she probably had been studying for three weeks. Maybe she decided it was finally time for a break.

"Can you at least tell me where we're going? You know I hate surprises," she complained as she rested her head on the window.

I shook my head. "Wait and see."

I'm sure the place I took her was where she least expected. "What are we doing at the city pool?" she asked once I stopped right outside the gate. "Toby?" she pressed as I got out of the car.

I opened the door for her and took her by the hand. "Come on, Spence."

It wasn't that cold yet for mid-December, but it was cold enough that you could see your breath. She stared in shock for a moment. I grabbed her hand. We stood outside the gate. "Is there a reason why we're here?"

"We're going in."

She stared at me in disbelief. "What?" she said with a laugh.

"This is where I used to come when I needed to think in the winter when they already drained the pool." She furrowed her eyebrows. "It's pretty relaxing, actually."

She realized I was serious. There was a glint of fear in her dark brown eyes. "What if we get caught?"

I took her hand. "We're not going to. And if we do, I kidnapped you and forced you here against your will." I looked over at the fence for a moment and then back at her. I held out my hand to help her up. "So?"

Reluctantly, she let me hoist her up so she could get to the top of the fence. She sat on the top for a moment. I could tell she was scared to jump down. It wasn't that she was scared of heights, but more so the fear of getting caught—the fear of straying from the path her parents laid out for her so many years ago, before she was born even. She couldn't handle that failure, that disappointment she might bring on. Her heart was probably pounding in her chest as she wobbled uncertainly at the top of that fence. She took a deep breath and let herself drop down to the ground.

Once I had joined her on the other side, I saw her trying to steady herself. She was about to look over her shoulder at the other side, but I grabbed her by the chin and kissed her. "Hey, we're okay."

I got her to come with me into the drained swimming pool. In the summer it was a glistening turquoise that rippled with the wind; in the winter, it was nothing but a slanted concrete chasm. I sat with her in the deep end of the pool.

"Why did you bring me here?" she asked, still slightly uneasy but loosening up.

"I thought you needed an escape. This is as different as things get," I said to her as I drummed my fingers on the floor of the pool.

"I'm guessing you've done this before?" she said as she sat across from me. She was intrigued.

I nodded. "I used to it with my friends before I went away. You know, after my mom died, I felt like I needed some kind of an escape."

She hugged her knees. "What did you do here?"

"You don't want to know." She became silent. I reached out for her hand. "I'm just hoping I can make some new memories with you here."

She smiled and kissed me. She pressed her forehead against mine. "Your mom would be so proud of you," she whispered quietly.

I smiled a little in spite of myself. "She was only happy when she was around other people. Her family exhausted her," I said to her.

"Not you. She looked at you like you were the most important person in her life. You were." Her eyes got slightly dark with jealousy. She looked away from me. "I wish my family looked at me like that."

"Your family loves you, too. They just don't know how to show it," I insisted as I pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. She looked down self-consciously and I pulled her closer. "They're proud of you, Spencer. I'm proud of you, too."

She blushed. "You're just saying that—"

"No, I'm so proud of you," I asserted. "You're at the top of your class and you're really going to be something—not that you aren't already, but . . . the whole world is going to see it, someday."

She bit her lip and smiled at me. "I love you."

I ran to the huge green trees in the common and sat under them. Toby followed close behind.

"You're so slow," I teased. He rolled his eyes and sat down next to me. I moved so he was lying in my lap. I ran my fingers through his hair. Rosewood felt a million miles away and I finally felt like I could breathe in the midst of the New York City smog. "Could you imagine visiting me here?" I asked. We were at Fordham, which was just a safety school, but lately I wasn't feeling so confident.

"I could, but I think you could get into any college you want to—and I know Fordham's not at the top of your list," he said as he looked up at me.

"You're right—it's not."

We sat in the middle of the common, birds tweeting all around and people engrossed in all kinds of conversation. It was silent between us. There was a lot I wanted to say—so much I wanted to ask—but I was a little scared.

"You might be here in a few months," he said, interrupting my thoughts and bringing up the white elephant I was too scared to talk about.

"I know."

He closed his eyes. I looked down at him. I wanted to take a picture and hold it close to my heart so I could be the only one to ever see it. I could see him feeling lonely. I felt sad for him. For some reason, I didn't even feel bad for myself. What would it be like waking up in the morning alone? I didn't want to imagine it myself. And even if we were still together, if we still imagined the other lying next to us in the morning when the light peeked through the curtain, visits would be too far apart and too late. We would either never stop wishing for each other's presence or learn to never want it at all.

To diffuse the tension, he unlaced one of my sneakers—the ones I'd had since freshman year of high school. It had my sophomore locker combination on the sole of the shoe, along with some stray pen marks and sharpie doodles Toby had made when he was bored and we were together.

"Asshole," I muttered with a small smile as I re-laced my shoe.

"Are you nervous? About the future?" He sat up to look at me. "About us?" he asked a bit more quietly as he took my hand.

"No," I lied. It seemed sincere. He laced his fingers in between mine and smiled. He kissed me. And for some reason, this kiss felt so much different from all our previous kisses. It was sweet like all the others, but I could taste the sadness and the longing, too. I was already starting to miss him, even when I hadn't said goodbye yet. I could tell it was coming.

I didn't look back during college; I didn't look back at Alison, nor did I look back on "A" and the years of torture. I didn't even look back on my relationship with Toby once it was over. At least that was what I told myself.

In truth, I knew it was a damned lie. What I didn't know was why I was here, agreeing to meet Toby for a drink. I had run into him once in town with a girl. Yvonne. Immediately I disliked her for no good reason. I wished I could blame it on overprotectiveness, but I had no reason to be overprotective. He wasn't really anything to me anymore except for an ex. A 'what could have been'. A 'you let your ego get in the way'. A 'now you have to deal with the repercussions'.

And now. Now, he was different. He stood taller. He seemed prouder. He seemed more like me but . . . also still like him. Like he was relaxed. He was a version of me I would have preferred every minute of every day of the week.

He walked in like he read my thoughts. He sat and stared for a moment before greeting me. We exchanged formalities and then that topic came up.

"Caleb came to see me the other day." He took an awkward sip of alcohol. "He told me about the two of you."

He couldn't look me in the eye. I heard the pang of hurt in his voice and it hit me like a shard of glass through the heart. It was something that I immediately wasn't proud of.

In all honesty, I didn't know what Caleb was. I liked him, sure. But was he a rebound? I didn't know if he could be considered one. On one hand, I hadn't dated anyone since Toby; on the other, it was three years. Three years after Toby and I broke up before Caleb and I started . . . well, whatever it was that we had.

"I was kind of surprised when I heard it. I don't know why, but I was," he said uneasily.

"I guess I have a thing for bad boys."

He laughed slightly, almost in spite of himself. "Look, I don't want you to think that I . . . I'm not angry or anything. What happened happened. You can't control who you fall in love with."

"We aren't in love," I corrected automatically.

"Why are you with him then?"

"I really care about him." I said that (defensively, even), but secretly I knew that we had no future; we were just destined to end.

Our conversation was brief after that and he left, leaving me some money to split the bill. I sat there, racking up my tab, just thinking. He posed a good question. I didn't have the time for some bullshit "relationship." So why was I so willing to have one with Caleb?

I hated that his question kept echoing over and over in my head. Caleb was a good guy, but we were too much the same. He didn't want to be alone. So he would lay with whoever would have him, not necessarily sexually, but he wanted attention. I gave it to him. He did the same for me. I couldn't live like that.

I was in the midst of going over our "relationship" in my head when my phone buzzed. It was an e-mail from the new emoji Charlotte-imposter.

Want your ex back? Ruin her.

Anonymous decided to drop the whole emoji charade. They sent me pictures of Yvonne.

I don't know how old they were, but Yvonne was quite clearly at least a few years younger. She was with an older man, who I vaguely recognized as some Republican married senator. He was leading her into a motel room.

What do you want? I e-mailed back. I may have been jealous of Yvonne, weary of her, even, but I wasn't about to do this to her.

Maybe I didn't make myself clear enough. Either Yvonne gets hurt or Toby gets hurt. Your choice.

The next day, my mother had an event I had to attend with her. I figured this was where Anonymous wanted me to ruin Yvonne. I saw Yvonne and Toby walk in, hand-in-hand, and I started to sweat while my blood ran cold.

She was beautiful. She really was. I should have been happy for him—he ended up with someone much better than me. Someone he actually deserved. I knew all of that and still I was jealous. She shared his bed; she took possession of his shirts; he gave her his heart. Maybe it was broken when he gave it to her, and carefully, she put back together what I had taken the time to destroy.

The event itself went smoothly. I didn't know when I was supposed to make this accusation. Near the end of the night, after both of our mothers had retreated, it was just the two of us, Toby, and some reporters. Yvonne said something that I, in my frazzled and nervous state, probably interpreted as backhanded. I was probably frozen for a moment before I made my big announcement.

"Oh, Yvonne? At least I'm not screwing married senators as an extracurricular activity."

My mom would have actually killed me if she were still in the room.

"Spencer, I don't—"

"Really? Because there are pictures of you with Senator Dolan from 2015. Care to explain that?"

She stared at me in disbelief. She stood, her mouth hanging open slightly, like she desperately wanted to say something, but her words betrayed her. She ran out of the room. He stood between us both. He looked at me desperately, sadly, like he was debating whether he should confront me, but in the end, he left with his girl.

I watched them go. The press inundated me with questions about this torrid affair, but I walked out of the room wordlessly and locked myself in my room. My mother's press secretary banged on my door for hours, but I lay on the bed in silence.

The last week had been so taxing that I was relieved to be around someone completely unaffected by all of the drama happening in my life. I went to where Emily was staying. Thankfully, the press didn't care about me much; since Spencer's revelation about Yvonne, the press had been haranguing her for details on this affair she had while she was still in college. It was at times like these where having a best friend who was a bartender was great.

"You look like you could use a stiff drink," she said as she made me a Black Russian. Usually, I didn't have cocktails or even hard liquor, but with the way things had been going, the Black Russian was a welcome drink.

"Thanks," I said as she poured herself a vodka soda.

She took a small sip of her drink before asking, "What's wrong?"

"Ask me what's right if you want a shorter answer," I said cynically.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" Emily asked.

"Haven't you already read it all over page two of the local paper?"

"Sure, but I'd rather hear it coming from you," she told me.

I took a deep breath. "I—I don't know what's happening with Spencer. Maybe it's not fair to push it all on Spencer—I just don't know what's happening between the two of us. She's dating Caleb now and I'm with Yvonne, but . . . she just acts weird when we're together. Like she's jealous, or something. And last week, completely out of the blue, she told the press that Yvonne had an affair with some married senator a few years ago. I don't know if she did it because she want to humiliate Yvonne or because she wanted to sabotage her mother's campaign, but—"

I left it at that.

"Well," Emily began, breaking the silence after a pregnant pause, "the two of you have history. It's inbred in the both of you like roots in the soil. Maybe she doesn't want to be jealous, she just is. It's sort of a natural reaction when the two of you were together for as long as you were." I nodded slightly. "But what about Yvonne?"

For some reason, I felt like I'd barely thought of Yvonne. It was funny; I was dating Yvonne, but Spencer's possible betrayal hurt me so much more than Yvonne's secret. Maybe it hurt so much to think she might possibly care more about me now, when I felt I had moved on, than when we had actually been together. Her heart wandered and eventually her eyes followed . . .

"Toby?"

I shook my head, going back to Emily's original question.

"We tried to talk things out for the first two days. She said this was hard for her and it was a long time ago . . ." Those days seemed hazy, even though they were only a few days prior. "I wanted to make this work. She did, too, but I don't think she could get over the secret. It bothered her more than it bothered me." I looked down at my own hand. I remembered the velvet box in my pocket and pulled it out. "She gave me back the ring. She said 'I know you're in love with someone else. I know this—'" I turned the ring over in between my fingers. "'This doesn't belong to me. This is for her. And I love you enough to let you go.'"

"She may have made a mistake, but she's a great person," Emily said with a raspy voice.

"I know." I put the ring away. "She's just not my person."

My person was irrational. My person had it all figured out, but they were still uncertain enough that they needed me. My person needed me. My person was frantic where I was calm, collected. There were a lot of adjectives I could use to describe my person, and they all led back to that one person whose name I knew all too well and I still didn't want to say.

There was a frantic knocking on the door. Emily was puzzled and went to see who it was.

"Spencer? What are you doing here?"

She opened the door only a bit, but it was open enough so I could see the frazzled look on Spencer's face—the face I had memorized for so long.

"Can I please come in?"

"I—um—"

"It's okay, Emily." I knew I couldn't hide from her forever.

Emily looked back at me before reluctantly letting Spencer in. Spencer stopped short when she saw me. I guess she didn't hear me.

"Toby, I—I'm sorry," she said, like a dog just caught trying to steal a piece of food from off the counter.

I didn't say anything. Emily stood awkwardly. "I'm going to give you guys a moment alone," she said quietly before backing out of the room.

Spencer sat quietly across from me. I didn't look directly at her. In fact, I wanted to look anywhere but at Spencer (another first).

"Toby, I'm sorry," she repeated, sounding more sincere. "I—I want you to be happy—" She gulped. "I just . . . I guess I . . . I still have feelings for you," she confessed quietly.

I looked up at her in disbelief. It was almost like a joke. At least, that's what it felt like to me. "Are you serious?" She didn't respond initially. "It took me getting engaged for you to realize that?"

"I guess so," she responded meekly.

I couldn't believe it. "It's not fair!" I yelled at her. Of all the times I had been upset with Spencer, this was the first time I was angry at her. "It's not fair for you to decide I wasn't good enough, to decide I didn't fit in with you enough, to decide that my best friend was better, and then come back here saying that you want me!"

"I know that!" she yelled back at me, with as much pain as I had fury. "I know, and I know that I'm being selfish. But I didn't want you to—I didn't want to—I'm sorry."

"Why did you do this?" I asked in a tone much closer to my normal one.

"I got ahold of some information and I guess I couldn't help myself—"

"Not that, Spencer. This. Why are you doing this to me? To you?" I asked with a bit more impatience.

"I wanted you to know how I feel, I guess." She put her face in her hands. "Maybe I thought that if I put it all out there, if I laid all my feelings out, things would make sense, but they don't. It's like a puzzle I don't have all the pieces to."

I sighed. I knew how she was feeling. I felt the same way sometimes—most of the time, even. Like I was searching for something that I couldn't get ahold of, maybe because it didn't even exist. There was a sense of completeness I wanted. For a long time, I thought it came from Yvonne—from being settled with someone, from having a family—but I was starting to question that.

"And I guess stupid me thought that maybe if I told you all of that, you'd come running back to me. I'm so selfish," she said as she got up and started to leave. "This was a mistake." I realized now, as I looked up at her, that she was crying. "Tell Emily I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done this."

"I'm not going to argue with you on the selfish part," I said to her. It was like my words were some sort of yoke on her. She stopped dead in her track. "But you don't need to run away."

"Why? What do I have left to say to you? You're getting married," she said, not turning around, like that would hurt too much.

"I'm not."

I tried hard to conceal the hope which came flooding back to me. I didn't want to let go of this sudden hope.

"You broke up with her?"

"No. She gave me back the ring." He took a sip of his Black Russian. I remember that on the rare occasion he'd order one, he let me sneak a few sips (before I was able to get one myself). Since then it has been my drink of choice. "She told me that there was someone else she knew I was in love with."

I had to bite the corner of my lips down in order to conceal my smile. Selfish, I thought to myself. Selfish like I'd been with Caleb—I told him a week ago, right after this whole debacle had gone down, that I couldn't be with him anymore. He looked sort of upset when I told him, but I couldn't tell—it may have also been the fact that Hanna's save-the-dates had arrived a few days prior.

"Is it me?" I asked timidly as my fingers traced the corner of the wooden table next to Toby.

"Don't act naïve."

I bit my lip. "Could we pretend we're seventeen again? Just for tonight?" I asked softly.

"No." I made a half-hearted attempt to conceal my anguish. "I don't want to pretend. I've played pretend with you enough times to know that all that ever happens is someone gets hurt." He looked up at me. "If we're going to be in love, it's going to be sincere."

My heart swelled at that. "Are you willing to give me a second chance?"

"I was never really able to say no to you."

I kissed him gently. It felt sad but mostly sweet and hopeful—the word I used to despise. Everything seemed different with him; that was the one thing which never changed. With him, I had new eyes. I would take whatever I could get with him; it didn't matter if this lasted a hundred years or a week. I had him, and in that moment, he was all I really needed.

I hope you liked it! Please review if you did :) -Kayson