Don't own the characters.. Chapter title comes from Savage Garden. Please don't sue me!

Ashley's POV

I wanted her. So much. Too much. Way more than I should ever want someone, especially when that someone was married.

God, I was going to Hell. But, honestly, I didn't even care. Spencer was worth it. Seeing her smile was worth it. I knew she felt something for me. I could tell. Maybe she would never admit it, and maybe she didn't even want to feel it, but I just knew she did. And that's what I would keep trying. Even though it was a bitchy thing to do. Even though someone was undoubtedly going to end up getting hurt, most likely me. I've never been one to just give up. Even when I was just looking for sex, I was never the type to write someone off as a lost cause. And this woman... Jesus. And it wasn't even just sex. I wanted to be with Spencer. Granted, maybe it was too soon to say something like that, but I felt it nonetheless. When she looked at me, all I could think about was seeing those perfect blue eyes every day for the rest of my life. First thing in the morning and last thing at night.

I was in deep, man. And it definitely wasn't helping as I got ready to pick her up for dinner. I think I tried on every piece of clothing in my closet in every different combination imaginable, but nothing seemed to fit right, look right, or say the right things. It was stupid of me, I knew that. Because this wasn't a date, as much as I might want it to be. Spencer wouldn't be going home with me. She'd be going to her house. With her husband. I've never hated that word so much. Why the hell did she have to be married?

I don't know what the hell I did to piss off God so badly, but I'd sure as fuck be happy when he got over it.

On my way to her house, I probably had to pull over fifteen times to calm my stomach and check my make up and check my hair and rehearse everything I'd say to her so I wouldn't make her uncomfortable. Meanwhile, the whole way I had to keep repeating to myself that this wasn't a date. It was just two friends, two friends, going out to dinner. That's it. I felt nauseas by the time I finally pulled up in her driveway.

She must have been watching for me because she came out of the front door as I pulled in and I nearly fainted when she got closer to me.
She was wearing a red button up shirt, the first two or three buttons undone revealing just enough to drive me crazy, and a black skirt that rested about four inches above her knees. Her hair cascaded in blonde curls just beyond her shoulder, and my god jesus mary joseph and oprah her legs looked fucking amazing. I felt like such a perv as I eyed her up the entire time she made her way to my car, and I had to make a conscious effort to shut my jaw before she opened the door and climbed in.

"Hey, you," she grinned, putting on her seatbelt and settling into my car.

"Hey yourself," I responded, wondering how I was supposed to hold a coherent conversation with her when she looked like that.

The ride was a perfect balance of idle chat and comfortable silence. Which I was thankful for given that I was exhausting every ounce of self-control to not reach over and touch her thigh.
It was going to be a long night.

"You cannot be serious."

I stopped laughing and tried miserably to attempt a composed face.

"I'm serious, Spence. She's gay. She's totally been hitting on you!"

"How can you possibly know she's gay?"

I sighed mockingly.

"My dearest, naive Spencer. Has your wine glass once gone dry? Has your water glass ever drifted below half full? She's breaking her neck to get everything over to you! Not to mention when you went to the bathroom, she was practically masturbating behind the bar as she watched you walk across the room."

"Ashley!," she exclaimed, looking around the restaurant self-consciously.

"Oh, come on, Spence. You cannot be that blind!"

"She's just being a good waitress!"

"Well, why hasn't she been hitting on you?"

I rolled my eyes.

"One, you're way hotter than me. Two, I'm probably not her type. Three, even if I was, she's definitely not my type."

She raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"So what is your type, then?"

"Uh, anything non-slutty, obviously."

She started to say something, then decided against it. "Besides, I so don't think you should be questioning my type when you're married to the biggest embarrassment to the human race since George Bush."

She grinned.

"No argument there."

"Ah, trouble on the home front, darling?"

"Nah. Just the normal resentful, homicidal feelings. You know how it is."

I laughed.

"On that note, are you ready to go?"

As we walked back to my car, Spencer looped her arm through mine and rested her head on my shoulder.

"I had fun, Ash."

I tried to control my breathing and responded softly, "Yeah, me too."

The drive back was mostly silent, but not awkward. It was always comfortable with Spencer. She stared out the window, lost somewhere between here and there with her thoughts.

"Whatcha thinkin so hard about?" I asked, poking her leg lightly.

She turned to me and just smiled.

"Nothing, really."

"You can't be thinking that hard about nothing."

"Well, I guess by nothing, I mean nothing important."

I boldly grabbed her hand and gave her a reassuring smile. "Everything about you is important, Spence."

She laughed quietly and shook her head.

We were pulling up in her driveway when she finally let it slip past her lips.

She looked at me, a single tear making its way down her cheek, and she whispered so low I almost didn't catch it.

"I think... God, Ashley, I think I want to divorce Aiden."

Sooo... I didn't really plan on going there with this... But, it just sort of happened lol Reviews would be nice, or, as some of you do, messages of advice of where you'd like to see this go. Right now, I'm just writing. I'd greatly appreciate your insight.