Disclaimer: I do not own South of Nowhere or it's characters. I do not own this story either, story belongs to Kim Pritekel. All credit goes to her.

A/N: Thank you everyone for the reviews, I appreciate them! And to the Anonymous reviewer who left me that wonderful review saying that this story is plagiarism, I however, beg to differ.

Plagiarism is the unauthorized use or close imitation of the language and thoughts of another author and the representation of them as one's own original work.

This is not plagiarism because I am in no way, shape or form claiming this to be my own original work. I have stated in every single disclaimer in every single chapter so far that I do not own this story and that this story belongs to Kim Pritekel. I am not taking advantage of Kim Pritekel by any means necessary. All the credit for this story goes to her. I just read the story online and I liked it and thought it would make a good Spashley story. Just like so many other authors have done on this site with the Twilight saga and other story's like that.

Chapter Four

"Mom, Survivor is on-"

"Ashley, I need your help. You know Max is still out with the flu. There's no one else to call in on such short notice to work the lights." Christine stood before her daughter, hand on hip. Thin black brows drew. "You don't watch Survivor. You hate reality TV."

I said nothing, knowing damn well she was right, and also knowing damn well that I couldn't bring myself to face Spencer. But, I guess if I stay in the light booth. . .

Sighing, I nodded and pushed out of the couch.

There was a tan car waiting in the parking lot, the sunroof open. I could hear strains of Carbon Leaf wafting through the night air.

When mom pulled the Cruiser to a stop, the tan car's sunroof buzzed back into place, 'What About Everything' coming to a muffled end. The driver stepped out, and immediately I felt my stomach lurch.

"Hi, Spencer." Mom waved the dancer over, a huge smile planted on her face. The blonde smiled a hello, her eyes flickering to me for a very brief moment, then followed mom through the door into the dark building. I held the door open for them. Spencer said nothing as she passed by.

I felt a tremor push through me.

Mom and Spencer talked for a few moments, their voices murmurs all the way up on the stage. Mom's loud burst of laughter reached out from the stage, catching my attention from the lighting booth, where I'd been flipping through a magazine I'd brought.

Spencer was grinning as mom laughed, that loud, boisterous laugh that always amused me.

"Ashley, honey," mom called out, waving at me. When she saw she had my attention. "Come here."

I swallowed, seeing Spencer glance back at the booth, then turn away. With a heavy sigh, I tossed the magazine onto the control panel, and headed down the dark aisle, hands jammed into my pockets. I looked at mom with question in my eyes.

"Honey, you have got to do that cute little song and dance you did for the little play you did in fifth grade." Mom's eyes were bright with mirth. I looked at her, brows raised.

"What?"

"Come on, Ashley. Spencer and I were talking about some of the silly shows we've had to do at times."

"No way, mom. I am not going to do the teddy bear thing."

"Chicken, Ashley?"

I was stunned to realize that Spencer had spoken. Glancing at her, I saw a twinkle in those electric blue eyes.

"No," I muttered. I could feel the heat rising up my body, unable to see anything but the woman who had touched me so sensually the week before. As she stood there in a tank top and mesh shorts, I only saw her in that green halter and black skirt. Swallowing, I met her gaze. She was challenging me.

"Come on, Ashley. Show her."

I turned seeing the pleading look in my mother's eyes.

"Fine," I said with a sigh. I glared at her. "You owe me." My mother grinned, and I heard Spencer chuckle.

Taking a few steps away from the two, I began to sing and do the retarded dance that went with the number. "Are my ears on straight? Is my nose in place?" as I sang and danced, Spencer watched, giving me her complete attention. That almost made me forget the words to the song, forget the steps to the dance, forget my name, address, phone number, how to breathe…

As I finished up with a dramatic flourish, both women applauded, mom with a proud smile on her face.

"Bravo!" mom called out, making me blush and kick the stage at my feet. When I glanced shyly back up, I saw that same twinkle in Spencer's eyes then it was gone. I began to feel uncomfortable. Luckily the moment was broken by the sounds of the cast members arriving. Without a word or glance, I turned and hurried back to the lighting booth.

As rehearsal continued, I couldn't take my eyes off Spencer. As per usual, she stood away from the others, never joining in their joking and laughing. While they screwed around, she practiced her craft. It wasn't uncommon to see her standing off by the wings twirling, and doing a sudden leap into the air, toes pointed perfectly.

I sat on my stool in the lighting booth, chin resting on the palm of my hand. Even as she was just a dancer in the background, having only the lines of the circus performer at the end of the first act, she stood out. Spencer caught the eye, and didn't let go. Her aura and presence were incredible, and I was truly shocked that mom hadn't seen that in her.

Then again, maybe I was just a little biased.

"You do realize there are doctors for people like you, right?"

I glared over at Aiden, then looked back to the club, the parking lot thinning more and more.

"You know, if I had thought you'd become so obsessed with that dancer, I never would have bought that lap dance for you. Do you realize-"

"Yes, Aiden, I know. That lap dance stopped you from seeing the fabulous man of your dreams, George Michael in concert. The tip I gave her stopped me from seeing the kick ass Melissa Etheridge this summer, too, so suck it up."

Aiden looked out the passenger side window of my little car, checking out the ass of a cute patron that walked out, definitely drunk, his arm around one of the dancer's shoulders as he led her to his truck.

"She was that good?" he asked at length, looking back over at me. I gave him a most evil grin.

"You have no idea. But it's not just that," I reached up, batting at my graduation tassel that hung from my mirror. "She's a member of mom's school."

"No!"

"Yes!"

"Fancy that. Hmm." Aiden brought a hand up and ran it through his hair.

"I was stunned to see her that night. I had no idea she worked here," I explained.

"Well, shit. And here we all thought you were all taken with her. You were just in shock."

"Yeah, I was in shock, but trust me, my boy," I gave him a meaningful side glance. "I'm taken with her. Have been since I first saw her five weeks ago." I sighed at the memory.

"Isn't that her?"

Snapping to attention, I looked around, desperately trying to spot her. My smile was instant, as was the flame beginning at my toes and spreading north, stopping somewhere in the mid-states.

"Oh, yeah."

Spencer walked out of the club, the bouncer standing at the door, watching to make sure she got to her little tan car. She waved at him as she unlocked her door. He shouted a good night, then disappeared inside the club.

"God, she looks good in jeans," I breathed, eyes trailing up and down that magnificent body. The jeans looked to be old favorites, a few weak spots in the denim from wear. They hugged her ass perfectly, the low-rise waist showing just the tiniest bit of her washboard stomach.

Spencer got into the car, getting settled before turning the headlights on, followed by the engine.

"I really don't understand why we just didn't go in, Ash," my gay boy said, fiddling with the radio as I slowly pulled out of the shadows, careful to stay a ways behind her. She'd seen my car before.

"Because I don't want her to think I'm stalking her," I explained. Made all the sense in the world to me. "What?" I asked, feeling Aiden's eyes on me.

"Hello! What do you think we're doing?"

"Driving." I grinned, knowing full well that Aiden had just rolled his hazel eyes.

Just about jumping out of his seat with bliss when he stumbled upon 'Father Figure' on the radio, we drove on as the "God of Butts" sang to us, my eyes never leaving the tan car three cars ahead of us.

What was Spencer listening to? What kind of music did she like, other than show tunes? What colour were her underwear?

"Shit! Ash, she turned off."

"What? Where?" So in the gutter was my mind, I wasn't keeping my eyes on the road. "Fuck."

Glancing in my rearview mirror, I whipped out in front of an SUV, then turned onto the next side street I could find. "Keep your eyes peeled," I muttered, looking at every car parked along the side of the road.

We were in one of those really old neighbourhoods in downtown Denver, where once grand old houses had been chopped up and turned into apartments. I always thought that was such a shame.

Not seeing anything down this street, I took a right, and went down the next block.

"There she is!" Aiden yelled, excitedly pointing. Sure enough, about half a block up, the tan car was parked against the curb, Spencer trotting up the walkway to the front door of the old house.

I pulled to the curb across and down the street. Ducking to see the upper floors of the house, I silently cursed as I saw that all the windows were lit. I'd have no way to know which was hers.

With a heavy sigh, I took in the house at large. It was huge and brick with a full front porch with massive, white Greek columns. The house was in some need of repair and loving care. It was too bad, as I bet that place was magnificent in its day.

"Now what?" Aiden asked, getting restless sitting next to me. I looked over at him, then turned front. He'd been patient with me for hours now as we waited for Spencer to leave work. I'd let him off on good behaviour.

After dropping Aiden off at home, I drove around for awhile, mind thinking of a certain little blonde dancer. Did she like working at The Den? Dancing for men who were frothing at the mouth, and using her as a walking fantasy pin-up? I bet she made good money. Not only was she hot and sexy as hell, but an extraordinary dancer, even in a venue like that.

Not surprisingly, I found myself driving back into Spencer's neighbourhood, slowing as I passed her house. Some of the lights had been turned out in the upper floors, only two windows remaining lit, and it looked like they belonged to the same apartment. The windows were large, the molding around the ceiling easily seen from the street, as well as a ceiling light fixture in one of the rooms. It looked like an upside down boob to me.

Pulling my car to a stop, I found a spot to park and turned off the ignition. Sitting in the dark confines, I glanced at her apartment building again. At least, what I figured to be her apartment. For all I know, she had gone to a friend's house, or (gag) a boyfriend's. For the moment, she was still there.

Leaning my head back against the headrest, I sighed, wondering what she was doing in there. Was she curled up reading? Dancing in her socks? I smiled at that last image. Was she watching TV? If so, I hope she had cable- there was absolutely nothing good on regular TV at three seventeen in the morning. Trust me, I've looked. Maybe she was soaking in a hot bath.

A long groan escaped my throat as I pictured that little scenario.

The bathroom is a cave of flickering shadows as flames from dozens of candles dance. The claw-footed tub is white, steam rising from its depths. Spencer is reclining, the bubble bath reaching to just above her breasts, her collar bone glistening from sweat and the bath itself. Her eyes are closed, head leaning back on a folded towel. Her arms rest along the sides of the tub, wrists dangling off the sides. One leg is completely immersed while the other is bent, the knee poking through the suds.

I watch in fascination as she swallows, the movement causing the sweat at the hollow of her throat to glisten for a moment, the tendons and muscles in her throat and neck working with the action. She has dunked her head at some point, her blonde hair slicked back from her face, not quite able to dry from the humidity in the room.

My gaze travels from her face down over her lips, rested and peaceful, a slight smile of contentment curving the corners. The tiny, gold chain she always wears around her neck glitters in the candlelight, a sharp penlight as she swallows again, the movement bouncing the chain up to catch a flicker.

Bare shoulders, so strong and well formed. The valleys and hills that are their natural landscape duck and hide in shadow. Her arms looks golden in the light, their strength evident even in repose.

I kneel down, looking closely at her hands and fingers. Her hands are strong hands, fingers long considering the slight size of their owner. The nails are blunt, yet taken care of, skin soft with few calluses. I can see the slight indentation on her pinky from the thin, gold pinky ring that is always there.

Standing, I see the whole picture, and am in awe. Spencer's eyes are still closed, and there's a huge part of me that is trying to will them to open. I want to look into them, see what colour they'd be against the backdrop of the candle light. But at the same time, I don't want her to see me. I want to be able to look upon her unheeded, admiring what will never be.

Bolting awake, I looked around frantically for a moment, trying to figure out what had woken me, and why the heck my neck hurt so bad.

Finally seeing the guy standing at my window, I quickly started the car and buzzed it down.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked, resting his hand on the top of the car and leaning down slightly.

Looking around, I saw that the sun had already started to come up, it's bright, orange light crashing through the night.

"Oh, uh, yeah." I pushed myself up in my seat, my back joining in my neck's ranting. "Sorry."

He stepped away, heading to his own car that was parked in front of mine. I rolled the window up and put my car into gear. Glancing back across the street, I saw Spencer's tan car still parked out front.

"What do you think?" mom asked, opening random cabinet doors, then finding her way to the fridge, opening the walnut painted door and peeking inside.

"I don't know," I said absently, looking out the window that overlooked a small courtyard. A couple benches were placed on either side of a small spruce. The small space was filled in with lava rock, save for the stone path weaving around.

"It's small," mom said, coming to stand beside me.

"True. But it's not like I have a ton of stuff." I looked at her, seeing a smile beginning to emerge.

"Yes, but the packrat in you will have that remedied soon."

Rolling my eyes, "Thanks."

"There were still a couple more to look at. Do you want to, or are you happy with anything we've seen already?"

"I kind of like this one." I walked across the thick green carpeting of the living room, stepping into the one bedroom again.

"The rent is higher here than the last one," mom reminded me.

"Yeah, but this place has a hot water heater, and that other one had electric. That alone will make up for the extra rent." I looked at her, seeing her nod at my reasoning. What I didn't tell her is that I liked this one because it was only about a mile from Spencer's apartment. Yes, I now knew that it was hers.

"Okay. Let's call Ray and tell him." Mom handed me her cell phone, which I took.