The sound of her phone ringing is what wakes Spencer up. She's confused for a moment, not sure exactly of what is going on. Slowly, she opens her eyes and groans at the brightness. It takes her a second to understand that's she's in her room. Wren's arm is slung loosely around her waist as he sleeps peacefully.
Letting out a long sigh, she reaches for her phone to check the caller ID. Emily. She answers the phone reluctantly, trying to keep her voice down in order to not wake up Wren.
"Hello?" Beside her, Wren stirs.
"Spencer! Hey." She sits up against the headboard of her bed and sighs again. Next to her, Wren seems to be trying to reach for her and pull her back down.
Awkward silence sets in almost immediately.
"So what's up?" Spencer asks quietly.
Wren mumbles her name and opens his eyes.
"Oh. I tried calling earlier, but you didn't pick up. Did Ms. DiLaurentis talk to you yet?" Without waiting for an answer, she clears her throat. "They're having the funeral tomorrow."
The last thing Spencer wants to think about right now is Ali's funeral. She briefly considers just hanging up on Emily but decides that there's no reason to be rude.
"Go back to sleep, Spencer", a tired Wren mumbles next to her. She hopes it's not loud enough for Emily to hear.
"I gotta g-" Emily interrupts her before she can finish her excuse to hang up.
"Who was that?"
"I- no one! I'll call you later, okay? Thank you for calling though."
"Okay..." Emily is clearly confused.
They say their goodbyes and hang up.
As she puts her phone away, Spencer stares at the digital clock on her nightstand in shock. It's almost 5; they have slept through the entire day. Pushing the thoughts of Ali's funeral away, she sinks back down under the covers and turns to face Wren, who's currently rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"Hi", she says and mentally curses herself for how stupid she sounds. Wren doesn't seem to mind.
"Sleep well?", he asks sleepily, a small smile tugging at his lips.
Nervous laughter bubbles out of her mouth. She's too tired to be embarrassed about sounding like a five-year-old.
"Yeah, I guess I did. It's 5 and I didn't wake up once.. Your snoring must've had a calming effect on me." They exchange a challenging look.
"Hey now. I don't snore!" The words roll off his tongue delicately and once again Spencer is struck by how incredibly hot his accent sounds.
"How would you know? You were asleep," she smiles at him before looking away, afraid that he might've caught her staring at him. "We should probably get up before people start looking for us.." She sighs before turning away from him and sitting up at the edge of her bed. The cold air hitting her bare legs makes her feel the strong urge to just crawl back under the covers and never leave her bed ever again.
Wren laughs in that infuriatingly charming way of his. "I did lock the door behind me this morning to prevent just that from happening."
Spencer is glad that she's sitting with her back to Wren because otherwise he'd be able to see the shocked expression on her face. He locked the door behind him? What exactly did he think was gonna happen between the two of them that made him think locking the door was necessary? She curses herself for overthinking things. He obviously knew that her sister would be furious if she found them in bed together, no matter how innocent the circumstances might be.
She gets up and quickly walks towards her closet, suddenly aware of the fact that she's only wearing a tank top and cotton shorts. She sees a Hollis sweatshirt lying on top of her desk, Wren must've taken if off and put it there before he fell asleep, and walks around the bed to put it on. She doesn't know why she does it but it looks so comfortable, she can't help herself.
Grabbing it, she turns her head around to find Wren still sitting on her bed, watching her intently.
"You don't mind, do you?" She blushes as she pulls it over her head. Wren just shrugs.
"Looks better on you than it does on me anyway."
It smells like him. The fact that she knows what he smells like now makes her blush again. An uneasy laugh escapes her throat as she quickly looks away.
"Who called you just now?" Wren asks. Spencer hears him shuffle around with the blanket so she turns around. She doesn't expect him to stand at the foot of her bed in just his boxers. Her eyes automatically fall to his abs. Does he work out? She wonders if it would be weird of her to ask him. Giving her head a slight shake, she forces herself to look into his eyes instead. He clearly noticed her staring because he's just staring at her now, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Spencer ignores the smug look on his face and goes back to his question.
"Just a friend. She wanted to tell me that Ali's funeral is tomorrow." She can practically feel the casual atmosphere in the room turn serious. Wren apparently does too, because he pulls on the shirt he'd dropped on the floor earlier.
This is going to be a conversation serious enough to require clothing. Spencer takes a deep breath.
"How do you feel about that?" He asks, sounding so sincere that she almost feels bad for what she's about to say.
"And you're what now, my therapist?" She crosses her arms in front of her chest protectively. "I feel like shit, that's how I feel about it." He closes the gap between their bodies, stopping just a few inches away from her.
"I didn't mean to upset you." His hand reaches out to touch her arm reassuringly.
"That was mean. I overreacted. Sorry, I'm just on edge, that's all." She tries out a small smile.
"It's okay, Spencer." He smiles back. For a moment she forgets to breathe as she stares into his green eyes. She's the first one to look away, looking over his shoulder at the door instead.
"Now I've witnessed you skipping school AND curse in just one day… I wonder what other surprises I'm in for." He laughs as he brushes his hand along her hip before he rests it on her arm again.
He's definitely flirting now, Spencer thinks. Oh god, what do I do?
"You better go check on Melissa", she says before she can start to panic, trying to remind him that they really shouldn't get along.
"Right." He says, but doesn't stop looking straight into her eyes. Reluctantly, he removes his hand from her arm and lets it rest against his hip instead. "Are you sure you want me to go?" He raises a brow in concern.
For the millionth time she wonders where her sister found a guy like Wren. How could somebody so nice, charming and considerate possibly want to date her bitchy older sister?
"I'm sure. I have some homework to catch up on and some time to think would be nice." She smiles at him. "But thank you, for, you know.. caring enough to nap with me." Another nervous laugh forces its way out of her throat.
He grabs her hand and squeezes. "Anytime." She can't pretend not to notice what he's implying. If she's being honest with herself, she's hoping there's going to be a next time. He lets go of her hand again and she tells herself that she's not sad to see him go. He walks towards the door. "You know where to find me if you need me." His hand is already on the doorknob when she calls his name. He turns his head around to look at her. "Yeah?" She finds it hard to ignore how hopeful he sounds.
"You should probably put your sweatpants back on before you go." She giggles and points towards the sweats sitting on her desk, neatly folded. He looks down at himself and laughs.
"Right. Wouldn't want people to get the wrong idea." He winks at her and makes his way over to the desk. She blushes and looks away. He's probably this flirty with everyone, she tells herself, that doesn't mean he likes you. She looks back over to him just in time to see him unlock the door.
"Talk to you later, Spencer." He puts too much emphasis on her name but somehow it sounds better that way. Slowly, he raises his hand in a wave. The gesture makes her smile.
"Yeah, talk to you later, Wren." She says, trying to copy his way of pronouncing her name when she says his, and gives a small wave back. She hears him chuckle as he walks out the door.
She spends the rest of the night desperately trying to focus on anything but Wren's body/laugh/accent/ability to calm her down – which is actually a nice distraction from the fact that just yesterday she found out one of her best friends has been murdered – and instead makes an effort to get a head start on her research paper for A.P. Russian History. She reads countless Wikipedia articles about the Russian Revolution but doesn't even bother to make notes.
Instead she finds herself googling I'm attracted to my sister's boyfriend. What do I do about it? - apparently Jenny, 13, from Cleveland, Ohio has the same problem so she's glad she's not alone in this – which she consciously catches herself doing a few seconds later and quickly closes the tab.
Her phone beeps from where it's still sitting on her nightstand next to her bed. She gets up to check who the text is from and almost drops it when she reads it.
Careful, Spence. 'Sleeping' around gets you into precarious situations sometimes. Get some sleep before the big day. -A
Attached, she finds a picture of her and Wren sleeping next to each other in her bed. Wren has his arm around her waist. From the looks of it, it must've been taken from inside her room. Somebody was in her house - in her room - while they slept.
Only now does she remember the e-mail she got last night, before the shock of Ali's body being discovered, and she starts to panic. If Ali is dead, who is this repulsive stalker that's messing with her? She feels sick to the stomach. What if it's Ali's killer, looking to kill her, too, now? What if she's next?
She has too many questions that she can't find the answers to. If there's anything Spencer Hastings hates, it's problems that can't be solved, no matter how long she thinks them through.
Maybe she should talk to the other girls about this.
Briefly, she considers calling one of them but then thinks better of it. She'll see all of them tomorrow anyway. At Ali's funeral.
God. When did her life take this drastic turn for the dramatic, turning into some sort of lifetime thriller movie?
...
It's her mother, still dressed in business attire from her day at the office presumably, who comes into her room to find Spencer lying on her bed in the fetal position, clutching a pillow as she stares straight ahead.
"Knock, knock", she says instead of knocking, probably hoping to get her daughter to smile. She sighs loudly as she looks at her motionless body on the bed. "Can I sit down?"
Spencer knows her mother reserves this sensitive tone of voice for special occasions – special meaning the kind of terrible situation that are hard to handle for everyone, even Veronica Hastings.
"Sure", she mumbles, moving her feet to make room for her mom.
As she sits down, she places a hand on Spencer's arm reassuringly.
"I'm so sorry I wasn't here for you when this happened, sweetie. I took the first flight back that I could get on short notice."
Spencer doesn't know what to say to that. After all, it's not her mother's fault that she happens to be away on business the day the cops find her daughter's missing best friend's dead body. But then again, this is not the first time her mother hasn't been able to be there for her because she was off tending to her career. Spencer can't help feeling a little neglected but she's not about to say it.
"It's okay." A small smile creeps over her lips. She doesn't want her mother to think she's sad enough to have to be dragged to a therapist.
"I called the school to check on you earlier and they said you weren't there. Are you sure you're okay?"
Something about the way her mom says it, sets Spencer off.
"I just found out my best friend has been murdered and you ask me if I'm okay? No, of course I'm not okay! But I can't say that in this house without having you drag me to some therapist to talk about my precious feelings." She throws the pillow she's been clutching onto the floor and sits up, shrugging off her mother's hand on her shoulder.
Her mom seems to have missed the sarcasm in that statement.
"Maybe it would be better for you to talk to someone. Maybe the school guidance counselor or Dr. M-"
"I don't want to talk to you about this right now." Their eyes meet. Her mother seems almost desperate, like she actually wants to help her daughter. She quickly gets up from the bed and brushes the wrinkles out of her blazer with her palm.
Her voice sounds more like the lawyer than the worried mother now.
"The funeral is tomorrow. I've already told the school that you will not be attending classes tomorrow. I unfortunately will not be able to make it due to work but your sister will be there, so you'll have a shoulder to lean on." Spencer scoffs. Her mother shoots her a warning look.
"Dinner is ready in 10. You look like you've slept all day so I'm sure you're hungry."
The knowing look on her mother's face makes her wonder, for just a second, if she knows about Wren sleeping with her; about Wren sleeping next to her (now that sounds more innocent, doesn't it?). She looks at her unmade bed, wondering if you can tell from the way the covers are all over the place that she couldn't have been alone in here.
No, she decides, there's no way her mother could possibly know.
"Okay." She says, her voice sounding a little more panicked than she'd like it to.
Just before her mother closes the door behind her, she pops her head back in.
"And change out of that hideous sweatshirt. Our dinner table is not some cheap fast food joint where you can get away with wearing that."
The mental image of her mother inside of a fast food restaurant sends Spencer into a fit of laughter that is well worth the effort she has to make to change her clothes.
…
"Jason said his parents want to get it over with so that's why they decided to have the funeral as soon as the police releases the body."
It's the first thing Spencer hears as she comes down the stairs, now wearing a pair of jeans and a simple blouse. She made the extra effort to braid her hair to keep it out of her face. She's sure her mother will appreciate her not walking around with messy hair.
The entire family, including her soon-to-be in-law Wren, is already gathered around the table.
She wrinkles her nose at the smell of her mother's tofu lasagna that's currently being served.
Her father coughs loudly when he sees her, obviously signaling that a change of topics is required.
She rolls her eyes but smiles as she sits down next to her mother.
"See, that blouse is much better than that horrible sweatshirt you were wearing." Her mother smiles approvingly. She hands her a plate of lasagna.
Then she addresses the rest of the table. "When I walked into her room earlier, she was wearing this terribly ugly Hollis sweatshirt."
Wren raises an eyebrow at Spencer and shoots her one of his dashing smiles.
Her father gives a silent laugh while Melissa just looks confused.
"You have a Hollis sweatshirt?" She makes a point of staring at Spencer over the rim of her glass of wine.
Spencer is about to say something when Wren does it for her.
"I liked the sweatshirt." He smiles at her. Spencer tries hard not to laugh at the uncomfortable looks on her parents' faces. Especially Melissa seems to be trying hard not to glare at her as she tries to figure out what just happened.
"Why would you even know what she was wearing?" Melissa seems furious as she turns to Spencer. "I thought you'd spent all day sleeping and wallowing in self pity up in your room." Spencer jabs her fork into the lasagna angrily, refusing to meet her sister's stare.
"Well?"
She finally looks up from her plate.
"I did sleep all day, yeah", she mumbles. Wren looks amused by the situation. "I also wouldn't say finding out your best friend was murdered and grieving qualifies as self pity. Wren saw me this morning, before I went back to bed. That's all."
"That still doesn't explain where you got the sweatshirt."
"Enough of this ridiculous bickering, girls! Let's just eat and not talk."
Both girls scoff at the same time.
"Melissa, you should be nicer to your sister. She's going through a lot right now." Ms. Hastings shoots her a warning look.
"Well maybe she should be nicer to me, have you ever thought about that?"
"That's enough, Melissa." Mr. Hastings gives his daughter a stern look.
"Ugh, whatever. Of course you're taking her side."
"Melissa!" Both parents shout.
They spend the rest of dinner in silence.
Wren keeps smiling at Spencer whenever she looks up at him, gestures small enough for Melissa not to notice.
She can't decide if her life is really, really tragic or really, really fun.
Probably neither and both at the same time.