This is something I've been working on for about a year or so. I've recently come to terms with my closet love for McHastings and wanted this to be perfect. I'm open to any editing suggestions and would like you to be entirely aware of the fact that I'm secretly trying to make you a Paige/Spencer fan. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing.
You're walking up the stairs to your room, exhausted from the day's events, when you see your door partially ajar. Panic takes up brief residence in your mind, remembering you're alone in the house this weekend, as you look around you to find the nearest thing that could double as a weapon. A field hockey stick will work perfectly.
You use the curved end to push the door open a little at a time, hoping to get an idea of the intruder's exact location in your bedroom. The door is completely open before you see her lying there, perfectly comfortable on your bed, facing away from you.
Your back is no longer ramrod straight as you lower the stick and move toward her. You wonder what she's doing here at the same time that you're grateful for her presence. You drop the stick, asking yourself if you've missed or forgotten something, and sit on the edge of the bed next to her, nudging her arm to rouse her into wakefulness.
Her head turns toward you and her eyelids slowly reveal tired dark eyes as a sultry smirk graces her full lips. "Took you long enough to get here." She groans out in the middle of a stretch.
"Fuck you. This is my house." You say, no malice present in your voice; only the typical edge it holds as the two of you begin your regular banter. She's leaning up on her elbows now, bringing her face unreasonably close to yours. You smile and close the distance, capturing her soft lips with yours and wrapping your arms around her to feel her warm body against your own. You've missed her these last few weeks.
000
8 months ago - The first time it happens, you're taken completely by surprise.
You can feel your face heating up with rage as you scream back at her. She's claiming your hit was illegal and you know it's just because she can't stand you. Coach takes her side, blowing the whistle to continue the game, but you throw down your field hockey stick and storm back into the locker room.
You fucking hate that girl. You hit your locker as hard as you can, crying out when the throbbing in your hand begins. You slam your body down onto the bench and start to cry, loud enough that you don't even hear the locker room door open again. You're only aware of her presence when she shoves you off of the bench and you fall, ungracefully, onto the floor.
"What the hell was that, McCullers? You can't take a call so you bail on the game?" she spits at you, thankfully without actual saliva.
Your tears have stopped and your ire has resumed. You pick yourself up in record time and slam her into the lockers on the opposite wall. Her hands are gripping at your arms, which you have pinning her shoulders against the locker with impressive force.
"Why do you have to be such a bitch, Hastings?" you scream back at her. You've never been sure why, but she has the ability to make you angrier than anyone or anything ever has. Your grip on her shoulders increases and for just one second she looks afraid.
Your anger ebbs as you realize you've lost control; you're probably hurting her. You feel your face soften as you slowly remove your hands from her and drop them by your sides. Tears well up in your eyes as she lifts her left hand to rub her now sore shoulder. She glances down to her hand and back up at you. You lock eyes for what seems like an immeasurable amount of time before something in her demeanor changes drastically.
The next thing you know your back is pressed up against the locker and her lips are pressed to yours. Your hand involuntarily trails up from her hips to her lower back and she pushes her body flush against you. You're lost in a number of overwhelming and unfamiliar sensations before your mind finally catches up with you.
You're kissing Spencer Hastings; a girl… a girl you're supposed to hate… in a public locker room.
It feels like the kiss has only just begun and yet you're shoving her off of you. You miss her the second the contact is broken, but you force the desire you feel into disgust as you back away from her; her face full of confusion, anger, and longing.
Your eyes widen, you're backing up quickly, and suddenly you turn; rushing out of the locker room without another backward glance. All that's circling in your mind is your hope that she doesn't hate you as much as you hate her because you can't afford to let this secret get out.
000
"Can we never go that long again?" you whisper into her neck, still clutching desperately at her, not wanting to let her go.
"Go that long without what?" She asks. She's teasing you. She wants you to say it.
"Seeing each other." You admit, with less shame than you would have a year ago.
She pulls back from your embrace, just enough so she can look at your face with a satisfied smile. "I promise, baby." She mumbles as she brings her lips to yours again. No matter how many times it happens you can never quite get used to the feel of her mouth on yours. It's unlike anything you've ever experienced and every time still feels like the first.
You unlock your arms from around her and shift your body on top of hers, being careful not to disturb the kiss. You've definitely missed her; every single part. Her hands go from delicately wrapped around your waist, to grabbing impatiently at your shoulder blades.
You hold yourself above her on your elbows, letting your hips rest against hers and tracing her collarbone lightly with the index finger on the hand closest to her neck.
Your kisses turn hungry and she wraps her legs around your hips, digging her nails lightly into the fabric encasing your upper body. You whimper and sit back quickly to pull the gray hoodie off your shoulders and drop it carelessly to the floor, covering her body with yours once again.
000
6 months ago –The second time it happens, you're both taken by surprise that it's you to start it.
You've been thinking about her a lot, as much as you'd like to deny it. Ever since that day in the locker room, you can't stop questioning everything; your sexuality, your thoughts, your feelings… for her. You glance across the crowded lunch room to stare at her again. It's become pathetically creepy, your staring. You wonder all the time when she's going to catch you.
A few times, times you'd actually kept yourself from looking, you swore you could feel her eyes on you.
Every locker room encounter since the mildly intimate one you shared was completely soundless between the two of you. You chuckled to yourself the day the coach commented on your new agreement; assuming you decided ignoring one another was better than bloodshed.
Every time you see her in the halls, in class, in the locker room; every time your eyes accidentally meet hers, you can feel your heart start to race. Suddenly the girl who used to make you angrier than anything in the world, makes you the saddest, the most excited. You miss the fighting; any kind of contact with her is better than this silence.
You hate that you're only just realizing you feel this way about someone you've treated so terribly. More than that, you hate that all you are to her – all she is to you - is a shadow; a silhouette in your peripheral vision.
You slam your hands down on the table, startling the people only a few seats from you, and sigh deeply as you curse your lack of self-control before pulling a notebook from the backpack you had sitting on the ground below you.
You scratch your message nervously, debating whether to even give it to her. You haven't spoken in over a month and she doesn't seem to want it any other way, but when she stands up to take her tray back up front, your brain quickly formulates a plan and you realize this perfect opportunity cannot be ignored.
Snatching your bag from the floor and the small paper sack containing all your half eaten food from the table, you march up to the window for dirty trays and slam your shoulder into hers. The unexpected force spins her around and her hands grab desperately at you for stability. You take advantage of the situation and shove the scrap of paper into one of her grasping hands and use your other to subtly hold her elbow to keep her upright.
Once you're sure she's steady enough not to fall, you make a show of lightly shoving her away from you again, her eyes widening with confusion as you yell, "Watch it, Hastings! With footing like that, the team has no chance of winning this year." You chuck your wasted food into the garbage bin and march out of the lunch room, hoping she'll pay attention to the trash you left behind with her.
You wait what feels like forever in the women's bathroom, pacing and internally chastising yourself. You're almost sure she isn't coming, but just as you're about to leave, shaking your head for thinking that you weren't the only one affected by your locker room session, she strides confidently, almost angrily, into your personal space.
"What do you want?" She's speaking, monotonously, right in your face. You can't tell if the words are meant to be venomous, but they seem full of something completely different than hate.
"Did you tell anybody?" You start, the accusation in your tone even making you cringe. You're internally embarrassed by your pathetic excuse for alone time with her. Her face scrunches up into immense disgust and she takes another step closer to you. Her face can't be more than six inches from yours.
"Are you fucking serious, McCullers? Why would I want anyone to know? I barely remember it, anyway. I tend to repress traumatic events."
Her words hurt you, but more than that they make you want to prove something to her. You never specified the event in question. That means she's been thinking about it too. You know she liked it as much as you wish you didn't. You open your mouth to scream at her before you realize there are better ways of going about this.
Your hand moves quickly, afraid that if she knows what you plan it'll be slapped away and you'll lose your chance. You grab a handful of her shirt's material and manhandle her into the nearest stall on your right. She's mumbling something and trying to pull away, but you have her against the wall and the door locked before she manages to disentangle your hand from the fabric.
"What do you thin—" she starts, but your mouth has already descended upon hers. You move your lips against hers firmly, but not angrily, and she's responding with fervor. You part your lips to delicately brush your tongue against hers, testing how far you can push this. She groans softly and gives in to you, her hands grabbing at the sides of your shirt to pull your body fully against hers.
Your hands stay pressed against the wall of the stall; fingers splayed and turning white in effort not to touch her. You can't let yourself do more than kiss her; a kiss doesn't make you gay, it makes you curious… or temporarily insane. Touching her body whilst holding her against an immovable object with your own as you make out… would make you gay.
You can't be gay.
As soon as the thought crosses your mind, your eyes fly open and you pull away from her like you've been burned. She slides down the wall a bit, unable to keep her balance without the stability your body pressed to hers provided. She looks at you through lidded eyes, hands reaching out for you to return, and all you can do is pant and stare at her kiss-swollen lips.
"I-I'm sorry." You stutter out before leaving her – again- to rush out to a more populated area; an area filled with people that have no idea what you like to do with Spencer Hastings behind closed doors.
And it will stay that way.
000
She's getting impatient with the lack of progression in your make out session and tugs at the bottom of your shirt, bucking her hips to force you into a sitting position. She roughly pulls the unnecessary cloth off of your body and slows for a second. Her eyes take their time appreciating the contrast of the dark purple bra on your overly pale skin before it seems her hands would like to do the same.
She runs her hands lightly down the front of your shoulders and over your breasts. She moves quickly back to your shoulder blades before coming around the front to your ribs and ending at your stomach. A hard shiver racks your body. She's never touched you like this; gentle and exploratory.
Both of your hands move to cup her face and, once there, your left thumb rubs softly over her full bottom lip. She kisses the digit lightly before you lean down to capture her lips in your own. The kisses you share are no longer frantic; they're languid and full of more passion than just ripping your clothes off.
She arches her back as your hands run down the front of her body to her waist, sliding them between her hard muscles and the soft mattress below. You feel them contract as she arches again after you bite her lip. You quickly decide there are too many barriers between the two of you and move your hands under her shirt, pulling it up slowly, exposing her feverish bare skin to your eager eyes.
000
4 months ago – The third time it happens, neither of you are really surprised by the event; only that you both somehow thought the other could pull away.
You have no idea why you agreed to come to this bonfire, but even after nearly an hour, and four and a half beers you're definitely not drunk enough to deal with it. You grab another of the cheap drinks from the cooler partially buried in a mound of sand to, presumably, keep it from tipping over once everything but mostly melted ice has been taken.
It's a party to celebrate the end of semester exams and you've pretty much concluded you're here for the booze. You walk over to the table containing bottles of liquid substantially stronger than the foul substance sliding down your throat. You utter a sound of pure disgust as you throw the half empty bottle into the sand and pick up a plastic cup nearly full of something that, in this low-lighting, appears amber-colored.
Without bothering to inquire about its actual identity, you take three large gulps and wince as it burns much more than you expected. Your head swims as your empty stomach is quickly filled with hard liquor. You can tell you'll be drunker than anticipated as you make your way farther down the beach, a ways from the other inhabitants and nearer to the water.
You think about how long it's been since you've been in water that wasn't contaminated by chlorine. The lake water smells fresher, cleaner, and you wish you could submerge yourself completely; wash away all the thoughts and feelings you've been having about yourself and people who shouldn't even be on your mind in the first place.
As if on cue, you feel someone nearing you from behind and you know immediately who it is. You have no idea why she'd be here, either. She's too smart to be part of a gathering like this. You turn your head to meet her apprehensive gaze and can tell, just by her demeanor, that she, too, has had a bit to drink already tonight.
"You can sit down, you know." You say, turning your head back out to the water and downing another ounce of the acidic drink.
"I didn't know if you'd want my company." She admits, clumsily taking a seat beside you on the sandy ground.
You shrug and take another shot, sloshing the remaining around in the cup to decipher exactly how much torture you have left to endure. "Seems I can't get rid of you, even when you're nowhere around. Even when you'll have nothing to do with me." You mumble, immediately hoping she didn't even hear you.
Everything is still for a moment and you wonder if you've just made a complete fool of yourself. You're about to risk a glance or simply inquire, but, before you even make the decision, she leans over toward you, grabbing the cup and chugging the last of it.
She'll easily be as drunk as you.
"I actually came here tonight hoping I'd see you." She admits and scoots at least a foot closer, your legs knocking into one another when she plops down beside you.
You turn your eyes toward her, not yet allowing your head to follow; gauging the seriousness of her statement by checking her expression in your peripheral vision.
You sigh; giving up. You've tried to fight this, to fight the irresistible pull she has, and you're tired. You turn, facing her completely and she throws the cup to the ground. "I'm really tired of pretending I don't want you; pretending I hate you when all I really want… all I ever think about…" You interrupt your own sentence and push yourself up sideways, noticing how drunk you really are, to land on your knees and crawl onto her lap, pushing (or, more accurately, collapsing on) her into a laying position in the sand.
She puts up no resistance, welcoming your body like it's where she must assume it belongs. You moan as her chilled hands inch up the back of your sweater, coming in contact with your now overheated skin. You connect your lips with hers for what seems like the millionth time but still physically feels like the first.
She wastes no time in awkwardly pulling the aforementioned sweater over your head and tossing it somewhere behind her. The second your hands are free from its sleeves, you're unbuttoning her, undoubtedly overpriced, white blouse and pulling her up to push it off her shoulders. Your lips attack the exposed skin of her neck and she instantly lets out a high-pitched whimper.
Your hands hastily undo the button on her light blue jeans and she moans loudly into your mouth, a sound signaling your level of drunkenness and complete inability to think clearly. You attempt to pull away and she sits up after you, her hands clutching desperately at your back, her eyes pleading with you to stay.
You glance down at Spencer Hastings in her opaque black bra and unbuttoned jeans and realize you don't want to pull away. You push your body back into hers and resume your previous actions. Your hand is tracing the hem of her underwear and hers are roaming the expanse of your exposed flesh. You're both too drunk for further disrobing, and don't even think to attempt it.
You wrap your lips around her tongue, which she had invading the inside of your mouth, and suck lightly. Her nails dig roughly into your back and you feel her break the skin, but you're far too gone to care. Your hand slips past the final resistance and you're surprised by how wet she is.
You release her tongue and pull your face back far enough to study hers. Her lips are parted and her breathing is shallow. Her hair, which was partially up when she arrived, is now in a messy tangle around her face, sticking slightly to the light sheen of sweat building on her forehead.
Though you're not sure how you know what to do to another woman's body, you don't question it when she's writhing beneath you, letting out more whimpers and moans than you expected the first time you'd fantasized about this.
One of her hands snakes down between your bodies to invade your jeans as well, and your hand loses its rhythm when hers begins its own.
It's embarrassingly quick and messy, but it's one of the most amazing moments in your young life and you swear to commit every detail to memory.
She offers you a shy smile and leans up to kiss the tip of your nose and pull her blouse back over her shoulders. You smile too and thank whatever impulse made you come to this stupid party tonight.
000
She takes full advantage of your distraction with her body by flipping you onto your back and laughing, loud and victoriously, as she sits astride your hips. You only pretend to struggle and you're both laughing, genuinely enjoying each other's presence… until you readjust yourself, shifting your hips in a way that provides her the perfect amount of friction. Her body stills, her chest no longer heaving with gasped breaths between fits. She's quickly ducking her head down to give you a kiss that you're all too willing to deprive yourself from oxygen to receive.
She grinds her pelvis down into yours and you struggle to keep yourself quiet. You refuse to give her the satisfaction of knowing how much her simple touches affect you. What would've been a loud moan turns into a breathy shudder and it makes her more determined. She bites down on your lip with the next roll of her hips and your efforts to be silent are for naught.
She giggles and releases your throbbing lip before kissing down your jaw and throat. Your eyes roll up and you stare at the ceiling, tangling your hands in her mess of dark hair. Her kissing turns to sucking when she reaches your collarbone and your fingers dig into her scalp and your hips begin a rhythm against hers.
When her tongue reaches the cup of your bra, you've had enough teasing. You pull her face back up to yours, determined to taste her. As soon as the thought goes through your mind, you're nearly suffocated by the urge to taste as much of her body as possible.
You roll her back over and she lets you, surrendering to your desire to take control.
You softly separate your lips from hers to kiss slowly down her body as you connect both of your hands with hers. Your teeth snag the waistband of the shorts she donned for her visit to your house this evening and you begin pulling them down slowly. You glance back up her body, pleased to see her eyes open and staring down into yours.
You smile, letting the shorts snap lightly against her legs before removing them fully with your hand. You settle yourself back down between her legs and she gasps loudly as you kiss her through the last thin layer between you and the most sensitive part of her body.
You've never done this before, with her or anyone else. You can tell she's as surprised as you, but you can also tell she definitely likes it as you pull her underwear slowly down her legs. She's biting her lip so hard you expect to see blood as you glance up at her almost completely naked form. Spencer Hastings might be the most beautiful woman on earth.
You push your arms underneath her thighs, wrapping them around so your hands can hold her hips down to the bed. You smile at her, an evil smile that foreshadows everything to come, and alternate kissing and nipping up her inner thigh.
Her hands move quickly to the wall behind her, slapping her palms against it and straining to push her hips off the bed, closer to you. You chuckle as your lips finally reach their destination.
000
2 months ago – The fourth time it happens, it's one hundred percent planned.
You're sitting on the edge of your bed, picking nervously at the sides of your phone. You want to see her again.
You've shared one phone conversation since the night of the semester party. It happened mid-afternoon the following day - flashes of her spilled into your consciousness throughout its duration and the confusion was driving you crazy. Your hands had apprehensively grabbed for your phone, dialing a number you weren't sure how you obtained, and you panicked when she actually answered. You spoke for hours; some screaming, some crying, and at the end of that first real conversation you were both sure would be your last, you realized you didn't want it to be.
That was the night you agreed to be friends.
You've shared one public outing since the start of your new friendship. It happened two weeks after the new arrangement. It was only for an hour or two; a meet up on the tennis courts. Usually competition turned you against each other, but there was something different that day. You played until the game was decided a stalemate, bonding more than either of you had previously considered possible. Laughs, hydrating beverages, and a palpable level of flirting had been shared.
That was the night you realized how you really feel about Spencer Hastings. And that's why you haven't seen her since.
You've opened and closed your phone at least a dozen times now and wish you could make a decision. You said you were friends, a conclusion you never thought the two of you would come to considering your past.
Your parents are gone for the weekend and a movie you've been waiting to see finally came to Rosewood. You want to see it with her. How hard is it to admit?
You finally convince your shaking hands to flip open the phone for a final time and type in a now familiar number. You press the green dial key and place the phone nervously against your ear. You're counting the rings and the anticipation is killing you.
She answers on the fifth ring and it takes you a moment to respond.
"Helloooo?" she drawls out, again. She obviously knows it's you and you smile, thinking how nice it is that she's actually waiting to have your attention.
"Sorry! Sorry. For a second there I completely forgot what I called to ask you." She laughs, whole-heartedly and waits for you to continue.
"So… I've been waiting to see this movie for months now and was wondering if I could convince you to join me." You mumble, quick enough you're not sure she even understood you.
Another quick laugh before all you hear is rustling and her asking what time she should be ready. You smile again and set up your plans; your date. Only you know neither of you will call it that.
The movie was even better than you thought it would be and you walk out of the theater, still holding hands. She's ranting about how unrealistic a certain bit of gore seemed and you've never wanted to kiss her more. You look shyly to the ground and continue walking to your car, making sure to remain listening to her adorable geek babble. You have no idea how you went so long believing you hated this woman when everything about her is so utterly fascinating and adorable.
She notices your silence and ceases all movement, her stillness jerking you to a sudden stop by your entangled hands.
"Where'd you go?" she asks quietly, brushing a bit of your hair from your eyes and cupping your cheek. You tilt your face into her hand and close your eyes at the feeling. You're lost in thoughts of her again, only to be startled out by the feel of her lips pressing gently to yours.
The look on her face is one of complete adoration as the two of you pull away. You smile without speaking for a few seconds longer before offering to take her back to your house to watch yet another ridiculous movie you know will cause her to geek out again, and you're shocked when she agrees.
As you look up from the ground again, eyes filled with disbelief and excitement, you know tonight will be different than any other you've spent together.
000
Having your mouth pressed so intimately to her is an experience you never could have prepared yourself for. The sounds she makes and the way she tastes completely overwhelms you in the best of ways. You try to memorize what each movement of your mouth or hands does to her, to keep it locked inside your mind and try to learn every detail of her body.
You hear her nails scrape at the wallpaper above her and you smile, quickening your oral alacrity. The sound of her panting gets louder and you dig your own nails into the top of her thighs; a small squeak escapes her lips and one hand travels to the top of your head, holding you down. You laugh quietly against her as you slip your tongue inside her, using two of your fingers to continue a rhythm on her clit.
The hand holding your hair tightens to an almost painful degree, but you don't let up. Her thighs have begun to tremble lightly and you quicken your pace. Her hand, previously on the wall, moves swiftly to her mouth and you can see her bite down hard, trying unsuccessfully to muffle all sound.
The bed is quietly squeaking as her hips move with you now. She's never been this out of control with you before and you're not ashamed to admit that you love it. You feel yourself smile as she lets out a particularly loud whimper and grinds her pelvis into your mouth one last time. You smile wider when she goes completely limp and you sit up to wipe your chin and lay up next to her.
She's still trying to catch her breath as she opens her arms for you to cuddle into her side. You comply quickly, placing a light kiss on her lips before settling down partially atop her. You have one leg draped over her hips and an arm across her mostly bare torso while your head rests on her shoulder. Every place your skin is touching hers tingles.
No matter how many times you're beside her, how many times you touch her, your skin never seems to grow accustomed to it.
000
1 month ago – Together, you experience another new first, and it goes better than you ever could have expected.
You're both lying on the hood of her car, staring up at the dark sky. Your hand is linked with hers and they lay between the two of you. You've been casually sneaking glances at her from the corner of your eye, watching the puffs of carbon dioxide as she exhales in the cool night air.
You can't help wondering why she agreed to come out with you tonight. It's not like your proposition was particularly enticing. You simply inquired as to whether or not she'd be interested in going somewhere with you. She never asked where, only what she should bring and when to be ready. You smiled as you told her you were on your way now and she only needed her gorgeous self. You hung up before she could reply, noting your cheesy words and hoping she could overlook it.
You arrived at her house in record time, hopping quickly off your bike and skipping with excitement to her front door. Your nerves suddenly got the best of you and your excitement faltered. Your hand paused mid-air, your apprehension even evident to you. This could pretty much make or break your entire future with her.
Your fist, no longer tightly clenched in the knocking position, began slowly losing altitude as you began losing confidence, ending up level with your ribs when suddenly the door swung open and you were greeted by the smiling face of Spencer Hastings.
"Not chickening out, are you, McCullers?" she teased before she grabbed your still slightly balled hand and gently rubbed it into relaxation; your entire body following suit.
"Quiet, Hastings." You ordered, the smile unmistakable in your voice as you turned your body away from her, disconnecting your hands, while she closed the door. "Get in your car." Another order barked unmaliciously.
You gave her the directions that led you to the place you are now. A few miles up the road from her house is a gravel path, just big enough to drive on, that no one knows about. You told her exactly which route to take to lead you to the elevated patch of earth that was to be your destination. She seemed hesitant when she first pulled up, but once she ceased the noise of the engine and the illumination from her headlights was stricken from you both, she let out an audible gasp.
After a few minutes of blatant awe, she exited the car (taking a more extensive look at your beautiful surroundings) to pull you atop the hood and here you sit.
You smile in the direction of the starry sky as you begin lightly tracing patterns on the warm skin of her hand with your thumb. You pretend not to notice when her head angles slightly toward you, a pleased smile stretched across her mildly chapped lips. You can't help but wish you could feel those lips pressed against your own.
You tilt your head to look into the eyes you can still feel on you. The light flush of her cheeks when you turn is only barely visible in the dim moonlight. You acknowledge the minimal space between your face and hers before you realize you're moving over to meet her lips as she begins unashamedly staring at yours.
Her hot breath against your mouth is an arousing contrast to the chilly air surrounding you, and you close the gap between you, relishing the satisfied sigh that escapes her now occupied lips. There's nothing sexual about this kiss, but it's definitely charged. It's filled with all the things you're both too afraid to say.
But now you realize these things can't continue going unsaid; you don't WANT them to continue going unsaid. You gently pull your mouth from hers and look up nervously at her face, waiting patiently for her eyes to open. Her lips, only slightly puffy, are still parted as her tongue comes slowly out to wet them before her lids flutter upward.
She looks at you with an expression you can't name but know you've seen before and glances back down to your inviting mouth. Her brows furrow for just a second as she lets out a quiet sigh and leans back over to capture your lips. You allow her a moment to reconnect them, because honestly… you couldn't deny her anything if you tried, before pulling away and resting a hand on each of her shoulders.
You look at her quietly as you again wait for her eyes to open, now not sure if you should say anything, before brushing a few strands of loose hair away from her face. She's looking at you with the warmest expression and the kindest smile and you know you have to do this now.
You slide your hand down from her hair to rest on her cheek before dragging it lightly down the silky skin of her face and whispering the one thing in the world you've always been most afraid to say.
"I love you."
You expect revulsion, elation, humiliation, or even reciprocation; anything but this painful silence. You're getting nervous under her intense gaze, and wish, more than anything, that she'd respond in any way. Her expression seems to soften, but she still utters no sound and you're beginning to worry.
"Spencer… I love you." You repeat quietly, dropping your hand from her face and hoping the newly broken silence doesn't disturb whatever thought process she's been locked in for the past few minutes.
"I heard you. I just… I'm not sure what to say." She mumbles, monotonously. This doesn't look good.
Your shoulders slump slightly as you say "Traditionally, there are only two answers, you know? 'I love you too' or 'Sorry, I don't feel the same way'."
Her eyes flicker down to the grassy floor and her voice remains the same calm, even tone. "But, see, I don't KNOW how I feel. I mean, I know that I'm attracted to you. I know that I'm happier when you're around. I know that, since we've stopped fighting, I feel like a better person. I know that I don't want to lose you; I don't think I could stand it. But… is that love?"
You can feel your eyes fill with tears as your bring your hand back up to cup the right side of her face. Her eyes finally lift to yours and you say, barely above a whisper; "I think it is."
000
You feel your eyes drifting closed, the day's events finally catching up with you in the form of lethargy, before you're startled by her soft, slightly damp body rolling you onto your back and hovering above you.
"You didn't think I'd just let you go to sleep, did you? You have no idea how much I want you." She growls into your ear as her hands trail themselves down your chest, her diminutive nails catching the cups of the bra you can't believe she hasn't already taken off.
Her lips latch firmly onto a particularly sensitive spot on your neck and you gasp into the humid air of your bedroom. She chuckles softly, small puffs of her hot breath landing on your over stimulated neck cause you to dig your fingers into her and push your pelvises together; trying desperately to get some form of release. "Mm, I love touching you." She whispers as she simultaneously moves to unhook your bra and grind down into you.
Your mouth opens but no noise escapes. You decide to say nothing as you buck your hips, trying to reverse your positions, but she has you pinned. Another husky chuckle escapes her lips and she lowers her head to seize one of your nipples with her mouth.
A strangled gasp catches in your throat as she continues to slowly torture your body, never quite touching where you need her most, leaving you constantly aching for more. She nips a last time at your breast before trailing her lips down your body, dipping her tongue into your bellybutton as she progresses. You twist your fingers into her dark mane just as her lips reach your hips.
Small nibbles and passes with her tongue, a small wet trail to your center, her mouth moving painfully slow; the combination of things rapidly driving you mad.
"Spence, don't tease." You whine, squeezing your eyes shut as the onslaught of not quite enough pleasure continues. She's not going to give you what you want that easily. Your thoughts are frenzied with your body wound this tight. Your fingers, gently intertwined in her soft locks, grip harder and you drag her face back up to yours. A startled noise breaks the silence once only filled by the sound of your labored breaths as you roughly bring your lips together.
She keeps you on edge much longer than you'd like, her fingers lightly dancing between your thighs as she demands your complete verbal submission, but relents when she feels like she's finally won. Your hands hold a death grip on the metal frame of your bed as she nips, sucks, kisses, and torments the entirety of your torso with two of her fingers buried inside you. It's been a seemingly endless increment of time since the last time you've been with her like this and your body is ridiculously over responsive.
It doesn't take long before you're both wholly worn out and the teasing –along with everything else –finally comes to an end.
000
2 weeks ago – You finally ask a question neither of you ever thought you'd have the guts to ask.
She's spending the night with you again. You're upstairs, sitting on your bed and watching her model the dress you somehow convinced her to buy on your afternoon shopping trip. It's dark purple and black, and it goes so well with her milky skin.
You've been together most days since your late-night field trip together; she even occasionally agrees to spend the night. Most of your time together is spent actually getting to know one another, usually when you should be paying attention to a movie. You're actually taking the time to memorize her favorite movie, her favorite color, the things that inspire her, the things that have hurt her, her athletics schedule – all parts of her life you never knew anything about before. The temptation to pursue a further relationship has more or less been postponed, but there was one night, after a few glasses of wine, which you worried your new friendship threatened to cease. A night when judgment was lacking and hormones got the best of both of you.
You still have no idea what she tells her family or her friends when she comes to see you, but you haven't been forthcoming with the information, either. Your family doesn't know the details, but they do know her name, and you've told them you're friends. She makes the first you've ever brought home. You don't exactly have many friends.
She seems so different than when you first met, than when you first saw her pass you in the halls. She's staring into your full-length mirror with evident excitement, even doing uncharacteristic twirls. You've never seen her this open, this comfortable, this… happy. She's never been more beautiful than when she turns to you, asking you to reveal your true opinion of the outfit you've chosen together.
Most of her words are lost on you as you merely watch her lips form syllables. Her mouth is tempting you to do something you're still not entirely certain is welcome. If you'd have been watching closer, at things that were not her inviting mouth, you'd have noticed this was exactly the reaction she was hoping to elicit. Her eyes speak mischief, her whole body begs for attention, and the next thing you know… her face is about a foot from yours and it appears she's actively trying for your attention.
"Sorry… what was that?" you mumble, hoping she'll let your blatant staring go.
"I was asking how long you intended to stare at my lips before actually doing something about your thoughts." she says, amusement playing obviously in her eyes.
An awkward smile tugs at the edges of your lips and you avert your eyes as you briefly think over her proposal. You quickly decide she's right… you should do something about your thoughts – and deduce that it's your turn to tease her. You grab her wrists and spin her onto your bed. Her goading expression becomes one of mild horror when she lands flat on her back against the cushioned surface.
"Wow…" you nearly purr, false mockery dripping from your lips. "A bit presumptuous of you, Hastings." You're whispering now, your body having quickly descended upon hers, your lips nearly brushing her neck. You feel her body stiffen as your words continue. "How are you so sure you know what I was thinking?" you speak softly again, truly wondering now.
She lays still a moment longer before reversing your positions, claiming the one atop you and replying with a growled "Because I was having the same thoughts, Paige." Her hands release you and you lean up to kiss her… when suddenly your sides are being assaulted by relentless fingers.
She's TICKLING you.
"Oh… hell… no! Spencer!" you're shouting at her as you gasp for air. Your hips are bucking below hers and you're trying desperately to twist out of her grasp, but she's just a little bit faster than you. "Spencer!" her name is a squeak now and you're quickly running out of oxygen. You've never heard her laugh like this before and you're a little concerned that it's at your expense.
Your breathy laughs are coming as short wheezes and you're beginning to lose vigor. Your hands move from pushing at hers to digging into her shoulder blades. She falters for a second and you use the opportunity to grab her momentarily motionless hands and pull them above your head, affectively pinning yourself to the bed and knocking her torso flush into yours. You tangle your legs with hers and connect your lips.
She gasps into your mouth and you use that second to push your tongue past her already parted lips. You feel her hands disconnect from yours to grip the sheets next to your head and her hips push into yours. As quickly as you connected them, you're pulling your lips from hers and pressing your forehead into hers. Her eyes are looking straight into yours and the breath from the two of you is mingling in the space between your faces.
Just when you thought you couldn't love or want her more, you're proven incorrect. You're overwhelmed by her beauty, her body, her love… and you make the mistake of opening your mouth.
"Be my girlfriend." Three words. Whispered into the almost electric air between the two of you. Three words and the intermingled looks of love and lust are lost and she's quickly removing herself from above you. "Spencer, don't. I didn't mean—" you start, but you're interrupted by her quickly holding up a hand as she dons her jacket and replies, "No. It's best I go anyway. It's getting late. I'll see you around, McCullers."
Not a kiss, hug, or even a look back before she's practically running through the partially open door to your bedroom, shouting a goodbye to your mother on her way out. You can feel the tears welling up in your eyes as you sit yourself down on the edge of your rumpled bed. You didn't mean to let it slip. You also didn't mean to assume she cared more than she did.
000
Slowly, you open your eyes to greet the unwelcome daylight. You squint out the infuriatingly open window before something in your peripheral registers; the sleepily smiling face of Spencer Hastings.
You lift your head up from her now slightly sweaty shoulder, leaning up on your elbow, and press an expected kiss to her soft lips.
"Mmm. I've been waiting ages for you to wake up, just for that." She says, her voice raspy and her tone light-hearted. Your mouth is still only inches from hers and you smile widely before pressing your lips together again. Her right hand moves to intertwine in your auburn locks and pull you into a more intimate kiss. You shift your body on top of hers and continue your languid osculation.
You can feel the quick progression of your kisses into something that will, undoubtedly, keep you cooped up in your room far longer than you intended on your Saturday, and you decide to pull away, much to your shared disapproval. You rest your forehead against hers, allowing your eyes to remain shut and struggle to steady your breathing. There are not enough clothes covering the most important regions of either of your bodies and you ruefully extricate yourself from your current position, flopping onto your back in the vacant space adjacent to her.
"Come on, Hastings. We need to leave my room sometime today. I've… missed you." You quietly admit, your breath still not fully recovered, worrying slightly if she'll leave you again.
"I've missed you, too, Paige. Come on; put some clothes on and I'll buy you food." She states quickly, swinging her legs off the bed and walking immediately to your wardrobe. You can't summon the energy required to stand so you simply watch her. Her long, toned legs are the first thing to catch your attention. You allow your eyes to roam up her shapely backside leading to the firm muscles you can see straining against the silky skin of her back as she stretches, determined to find suitable attire for whatever destination she has in mind.
The car ride was slightly awkward especially considering you know you're the reason you haven't seen her in a couple of weeks. The tingling awkward feeling is accompanied with that cold, used feeling you had when she left you that evening. Of course she'd never want to be your girlfriend… she would never subject herself to being seen with you in public.
You drop your eyes, feelings of shame and misery taking up residence in you again, when you feel her stare boring holes into your face. You refuse to meet her eyes and can hear her disappointed sigh, but just furrow your brows and force yourself to be strong. Last night was the closest thing she'd give you to break-up sex for a relationship she refuses to even start.
For once in your life, you feel like you deserve better.
You managed to fight back tears for the entire wordless car ride to the Chinese restaurant she knows you love. The silence is deafening when she kills the engine and unbuckles her seatbelt. "Please, Paige. Come inside and eat with me." Her husky voice is pleading with you and you know it's useless to try resisting.
You soundlessly unbuckle your seatbelt and remove yourself from the vehicle. Immediately you notice her dejected expression on the opposite side of her car before she quickly replaces it with a pseudo Hastings smile and escorts you into the restaurant.
You're slowly forgiving your last interaction when she not only waits for you to be seated on your side of the booth before sitting down herself, but also politely returns the menus to the hostess as soon as she arrives and orders your favorite Chinese dish. She was paying attention to you all those conversations ago.
This emotional whiplash is beginning to irritate you.
An angry expression has marred the natural beauty of your face once again. You wish she'd just tell you to leave her alone, anything but the back and forth game you thought the two of you left behind nearly a year ago.
She doesn't let your distress last long before she's reaching across the table to brush her fingers against your cheekbone and under your chin to coax your face upward to finally meet hers. Her eyes are utterly heartbreaking and you're almost afraid of what she's about to say.
"I'm so sorry." Is whispered before you can prepare yourself for a letdown and you feel the tears you were holding back begin to fall. You're digging your teeth into your bottom lip and trying desperately to control the volume of your sobs. It takes you a couple more seconds to realize she slid into your side of the booth and cradled your trembling body to her. "I'm so sorry, Paige. I love you." You can hear the tears in her voice and immediately calm yourself to look into her eyes.
"I love you too."
"About that thing you brought up a couple weeks ago…" she's sniffling as she brushes away your tears and a tiny smile tugs at her lips.
"Uh…" You're afraid, at a loss for words, and averting your eyes. "Forget about it, okay? You mean more to me than a title. I'm okay with whatever you're comfortable with. I don't want to lose you." Your words are barely audible and you're still too anxious to meet her gaze.
"I freaked out when you asked to change a single element to the relationship we both know we're already in. The act of putting a title on it both excited and petrified me. So I ran. I can never tell you how sorry I am for that. What I can tell you… is that I missed you. More than words could ever describe. What I can tell you… is that I would LOVE to be your girlfriend, and that I'm sorry again for taking so long to admit it."
Her voice was unwavering and you believe every syllable. Your eyes soften as tears make a reappearance. Your slight pout morphs into the biggest smile you've had since you discovered her sleeping form after a slight breaking and entering. Suddenly, your lips are on hers and the rest of the room disappears. She wants to be with you. Nothing else matters.
Until you hear an awkward throat-clearing behind Spencer's head.
The hostess has returned with your meals and has been trying to find a way to maneuver the meal onto your table without making an even more uncomfortable situation for herself. Spencer erupts into quiet, nervous laughter before quickly seating herself on the other side of the table, emphatically apologizing to the hostess and taking a sip of her water.
You smile to yourself and look down at your food. This has been the craziest year, and you can only pray the young woman across from you will continue to keep you guessing in the best of ways. After only a second, in which you'd managed to grab your fork, you feel her foot teasingly inching itself up your calf.
Your eyes meet hers and you've no doubt in your mind that she is the best thing that's ever happened to you.