A/N: Hey! Okay this chapter is mostly giving you a little of Spencer's history and moving the story along. I am going to bring Ashley in as soon as possible, but I don't want to rush the story cause that would be a bad thing. Anyway, I hope you like it and I do ever so love you guy's feedback!

Chapter Two.


"Spencer," she moaned in my ear as I brought her to shear ecstasy.

My fingers were buried deep inside her, massaging the convulsing muscle. Her body was breathing wildly against mine.

She felt like heaven in my arms as she arched her back, her body pressing harder into mine. I held one arm around her waste, keeping her from falling away from my touch.

I knew that I had to keep touching her. I just had to. If I lost this since of touch then I know it would all go away. She was my anchor to this world of ecstasy and freedom.

"Please," she said.

Her voice is the only thing that I can hear. It is a beautiful raspy sound that has been described to me a million times over. Yet, instead of written words trying to explain a sound only God's should hear, I can hear it. It flows so freely into my mind.

She came down off of her orgasm, panting for breath. I didn't take my fingers out of her. The feeling of warmth surrounded me, and I knew that once I came out of her then I could easily loose that feeling.

Instead, my lips found her lips and kissing softly. I trailed lazy kisses along her mouth, down her jaw, and to end nibbling on the little spot behind her ear.

"God, what you do to me," She said breathlessly.

The only thing running through my mind was that if this is what sound was…

… then I morn my loss of hearing in every second of everyday.

I was born deaf.

I never heard a sound in my life.

I never really realized that I was different from everyone else until I finally learned how to play the piano. I was five and my Dad thought it would be a good time to introduce music to me.

He thought it would make me feel more connected with the hearing world.

I just thought everyone heard nothingness.

I thought hearing nothing was normal.

I learned sign from a very young age. In fact, I don't even remember learning it. It is just like speaking, I just knew. Of course, I know that I didn't just know it but my Dad had used it since the day I was born. That is how my mother and brother picked up on it. Eventually when Clay came into the family, he picked up on it also.

Though, by the time Clay came I knew how to read lips. Past a certain age my mom thought it was pivotal and went through a period where she wouldn't sign. Leaving me to figure out the language on my own.

That is when I learned how to speak.

I couldn't hear my words which meant I didn't know if I was whispering or screaming. It took a while, but soon I learned how to tell them all apart.

I never really cared to hear my own voice as a child. Everyone never failed to tell me that my voice sounded like an angel's in heaven. I didn't care much about it, so I believed them.

"Spencer, can you get the chicken out of the oven?" My father signs to me in his red apron.

I nodded my head and proceeded to do the task.

My father had been in the kitchen for the last hour cooking dinner. I smiled at the thought of my father being the one to take care of us. My mother, an emergency room surgeon, was never really home.

My father, on the other hand, was the perfect parent who was always home at the same time. He home schooled me and Glen until I was ten. Glen ended up going to school when he was nine, not wanting to be home all the time anymore. So, I was even happier. I had my Daddy all to myself.

Once I turned ten though, I headed into school. Dad went back to work full time. It was the best choice because all his work he did in Ohio landed him the position as head of Los Angeles' Social Work Department.

My father and I have always been close.

On the other hand, my mother and I are a different story.

She was the first to suggest surgery to try to fix my hearing. She thought it was not far to me to be deaf. I just think that she was depressed that her little girl wouldn't be able to do all the things she wanted me to do. Which is bullshit cause I can, but I wasn't perfect.

You see, I was my mother's last chance at her perfect daughter. After Glen, she wasn't supposed to get pregnant again. Something about her insides dissertating or something. I really don't know.

So, she went though about six miscarriages before having me.

Dad always said that mom was so happy when she found out I was a girl. When she had me she was ecstatic. It wasn't until I was three months they diagnosed me as deaf. In the beginning they just thought it was something else. In reality they knew, but my mother wanted to believe I wasn't.

She wasn't a bad mother as I was growing up. She wasn't the best either.

We had our moments.

She introduced me to my love for art.

I just wasn't what she wanted and she mourned that everyday.

The last day I remember spending the whole day with my mother was when I was eight. My mother and I left early in the morning and when horseback riding. We stayed out all day and came back at night fall. We would walk along creeks and she tried to describe the sounds around us.

The last time I remember my mother looking me in the eyes was when I was twelve. I gave her a painting for mother's day.

Now, she barely could talk to me without having that disappointed look in her eyes. It was ever since I came out. I was God's mistake instead of his miracle.

"Here we go," I said breaking out of thought and putting the baked chicken on top of the counter.

"Thank you," Dad signs back to me. "Tell your brothers dinner is ready."

I nodded my head and ran upstairs. I knocked on each of their doors, yelling "Dinner" behind me as I headed into my room.

I quickly made it to my open lap top. I refreshed my myspace page in hopes of a message from Francesca. She told me as we was driving me home that she had a surprise for me and wanted to tell me over myspace.

I had only known the girl a couple days and she already is a good friend.

I believe that our quick friendship was due to our love for Ashley Davies.

Francesca's love for the rock star was purely fan oriented. Her love toward her wasn't anything sexual, but she loves the girl's music and whole persona. She was the typical obsessed fan.

Me…

I see deeper then a rock star. To me, Ashley Davies is someone who I know I could actually sit and have a deep and meaningful conversation with. Ashley Davies seems more than she lets the public see. Her complete openness is awesome, but I feel there is much more about the rock princess.

I can read between the lines in her lyrics. Past all the evident pain about love and how her soul aches for the other part. I know there is more to her then she actually lets us all see.

As smooth as her lyrics flow, so does her hidden secrets. I wanted to flow along with them and learn every single part.

This girl was in my dreams and in my thoughts.

I wanted to know this girl. Yet, I feel like I do. I feel like I don't know enough though.

"Finally," I said as I clicked the inbox message sent by Francesca.

The message opens quickly on screen to reveal a banner.

"Ashley Davies Unplugged. Saturday, October 27, 8 pm."

It was there, written so beautifully on a banner made by MTV with the most gorgeous photo of Ashley Davies on it.

My heart nearly stopped as I read what Francesca wrote under it.

"Dad's a producer for MTV. Gave me two tickets. You're comin with."

I nearly hit my head on the ceiling as I jumped up and down over and over again excited.

I was going to see Ashley Davies in real life.

I ran downstairs to my waiting family with the hugest grin on my face. This is the best moment in my life….ever!

"What's with the smile?" Glen asked from across from me, his mouth full. Funny, I could still read people's lips perfectly even with tons of food in it. I wonder why?

I looked at Dad, then back to him. "Fran got tickets to the Ashley Davies's MTV unplugged concert for Saturday."

Glen's eyes got wide, "Fuck, really?"

"Glen, watch your mouth." Dad said on the side.

I nodded my head, "Yeah and I'm going!"

"No fair! I wanna go."

I just lean back, smug. "Sorry, her dad only gave her two tickets."

"And she is wasting them on you?"

"Better then you."

"You can't even fucking hear. Why are you going?"

Clay pushed Glen. He was always the sensible brother, the smart one. Glen would always try to use my loss of hearing against me any chance he got. Like I was somehow more less then a person then he was. Most of the time I brush it off, but this time it sort of hurt. He said it like just being there seeing her was somehow a waste of my time.

I mean, who would want someone who couldn't hear the beautiful music that you put your soul into making? Huh?