i know, i know, it's been forever. i've been slackin'. sorry about that. so, so sorry. hopefully this update will make up for it a little bit. thank you to everyone who continues to leave comments. you guys are what's keeping this story going.
ravenjetticon - you always give super feedback, so thank you for that. also, in this chapter, i've worked in some of what you mentioned in your last comment regarding ashley. i hope you like what i've come up with. :
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Complicated.
17:
Ashley shuffled through the hallway, barely awake, bumping into walls. She passed the living room and stopped in the kitchen doorway, finding the source of the banging noise that had woken her up. Pans were scattered on the floor, the garbage can was overflowing with burnt pieces of bread and trash, the coffee pot was running, the stove top was messy, the refrigerator door was standing wide open. "What the hell is going on?"
Topher, who was standing with his back turned, facing the stove, swirled around, looking tired and defeated. "You have to help me. I, I," he stuttered, motioning around the kitchen, "I'm lost. And I'm going crazy."
"Help you do what, exactly?" the brunette asked, eyeing the disaster area.
"What does it look like? Cook. I'm trying to make a special birthday breakfast for Jenna, but, as you can see, things aren't going as well as I had expected."
"You expected them to go well? With the way you cook?"
"Shut up. I can cook breakfast. Usually."
"You mean, prepare? You don't cook cereal, Topher. It's pour and eat."
Topher waved the sarcastic brunette off, turning back to the stove. "Whatever. Don't bother. I'll figure it out."
Rolling her eyes, Ashley moved into the kitchen, stepping over the pans laying on the floor, and snatched the spatula from Topher's hand. "Get me the pancake mix."
--
Spencer lifted her head, staring at her reflection, taking in her freshly scrubbed face, blond hair piled on top of her head, toothbrush sticking out of one side of her mouth. Looking deeper, beyond her physical appearance, she could see the tension and stress and exhaustion that had been building up within her over the past few weeks.
A month ago, life was good. Fun. Happy. Calm. Easy. Today, life was... stressful. Chaotic. Hard. Difficult. Miserable. Spencer wanted to blame it all on Ashley. And say that, in a month, her ex had screwed everything up in her life. Knocked everything off its nice, well-balanced surface. But that wasn't true. No, Ashley wasn't the cause. She, herself, was. The unresolved, buried feelings of anger and sadness she had over their breakup were the cause. Ashley's reappearance may have resurrected the feelings, but it was Spencer's fault for not dealing with them four years ago, when the breakup occurred. She wasn't ready then. But now, she was. She wanted it all to go away. Be over with. Resolved. However, for that to happen, she needed to finally release... well, everything. And soon. The anger she had leftover had been stewing for days. The littlest thing could set her off. She was ready to explode. Any minute.
She placed the toothbrush back in its holder and rinsed her mouth. While drying her face off with a towel, a pair of arms encircled her waist from behind, soft lips brushed against her neck, making her shiver. She swallowed and lowered the hand towel, taking in her girlfriend's reflection.
"Morning, beautiful," the shaggy haired woman murmured, smiling into the mirror.
"Morning," she said, managing a smile. Small and tight. Which Corey quickly saw through. Her girlfriend was a careful observer. She was always able to sense if something was off. See past the facade. Which, right now, Spencer found incredibly annoying.
"You okay?"
"Fine." Spencer stepped out of the embrace and inched toward the door. "I have a phone call to make. If you want to take a shower, go right ahead," she said, needing to get away from her girlfriend, before she bit her head off. Corey was in the line of fire, but wasn't the one the bomb was meant for. "It's all yours."
"Okay, thanks," the younger blond said, still looking concerned. "Hey, Spence..."
Spencer slowly turned around, facing her girlfriend.
Corey licked her lips, hesitating briefly, before deciding to push forward, "There's a party tonight. It's a surprise thing for Jenna's birthday. I thought, if you wanted, we could go, have some fun, maybe de-stress a little." She paused, flicking her eyes from Spencer to the mirror and back again. "I know work's been a bitch for you lately--"
"Yeah, okay," the blond said snappily, cutting the other woman off, "A party sounds good."
--
Ashley lifted the spatula and scooped up the last pancake, transporting it from the frying pan to a plate sitting near the stove. After flipping the burner off, she peeked over her shoulder, glancing at Topher, who was leaning against the island counter, arms folded across his chest, eyes closed. "Is the coffee ready?" she asked, startling him.
Topher nodded, sleepily.
The brunette placed the plate of food onto a wooden tray and arranged everything, including a 'Happy Birthday' card and a tulip (Jenna's favorite flower), into a presentable set up. Satisfied, she stood back and admired the display.
Topher pushed away from the counter and stood next to Ashley, eyeing the meal, rubbing his hands together. "Whoa, nice." He smiled at Ashley. "Thank you. Really. I wouldn't have been able to pull any of this off without you."
"Definitely not," the brunette remarked, with a smile. "You're welcome."
"Don't worry about the cleanup, I'll take care of it later." Topher added the mug of coffee he had prepared and eased the tray from the counter top. "This is totally going to get me laid."
"Yeah," the brunette agreed. "You owe me. Big."
Topher gaver her a wide grin and, with tray in hand, carefully began backing out of the kitchen. "Don't expect us for a couple hours."
"Hours? Exaggerate much?"
"Why don't you hop on sometime and see how long you can ride?" Topher asked, grinning evilly.
Screwing up her face in disgust, Ashley shot back, "I'd rather cut out my tongue, which is a muscle I'm quite fond of, than give you a test drive."
"Eh, your loss," the young man replied, before disappearing through the kitchen doorway.
Ashley shook her head, and, despite his offer, began picking up the mess. Topher had enough to worry about today with the party and everything, he wanted to make this day as special as possible for Jenna, and so far, he was succeeding. Making breakfast and cleaning the kitchen was the least she could do.
--
On the floor, sitting Indian style, surrounded by several scrunched up paper balls, Ashley strummed her acoustic guitar. Writing didn't come easy to her. When she sat down with her guitar, a pad and pen, songs didn't instantly pour out of her. It was a frustrating process. One that took hours. Sometimes days. Especially when she was lacking inspiration. Which, lately, was every day.
"Ah, screw it," she mumbled, setting the guitar aside, pressing her back against the side of her bed. How could she write a song when she couldn't even focus? Too much was going on inside her head. Thoughts she had no business having were swirling around. And around. And around.
Spencer, Spencer, Spencer.
Ever since the phone call with Aiden, she couldn't get her ex-girlfriend off her mind.
Four years ago, she fucked everything up. Not just her relationship, but Spencer's schooling, medical career, future. It all crumbled, because, as Aiden put it, she was a coward. A scared, stupid coward.
Spencer was supposed to get over their breakup. Get passed it. Move on. Put her focus into school. Live out her dream. Become a doctor.
That didn't happen, though. And Ashley, feeling responsible for ruining Spencer's future, life, dream, was left with a huge sense of guilt.
And regret.
Spencer was in love. With Corey, not her. She had moved on, opened herself up to someone else. And Ashley was supposed to be happy for her. Happy that she was happy. Instead, knowing Spencer was so happy and in love, seeing it, killed her. She was dying inside. Day by day, minute by minute.
She wanted that life. She wanted Spencer. She wanted to love Spencer and be loved by Spencer, because nothing felt as amazing as that. She knew. She had it; she was once on the receiving end of Spencer's 'I love yous'.
But she gave it up.
Even though she was completely and totally in love with Spencer, at the time, she was the one who ended it, making her future a Spencer-less one. She had to carry that on her shoulders for the rest of her life. Somehow, over the years, she was able to cope with it a little bit. Getting rid of the reminders of the blond helped. But now, with the return of Spencer in her life, she was back to struggling.
Spencer was the love of her life. No one would ever come close. No one else had loved her, understood her, accepted her the way that Spencer had. Of course, over the last few years, she hadn't given anyone a chance to, but she was certain, despite that, in the years to come, no one would compare to Spencer Carlin. No one.
She had started reliving their past in her head, remembering, finally facing the mistakes she had made so long ago. Wishing she could go back, fix things. But there was no going back. All she had left were the memories.
Memories.
Steadily, she got to her feet and moved to the closet, pulling down a shoe box from the top shelf. Opening it up, for the first time in years, she was struck with images of that happier time. Photos, notes, songs she had written about Spencer, ticket stubs, cards, an engraved bracelet, dried up flowers. It was all there. Pieces of her past. With Spencer.
Swallowing down the lump in her throat, she plucked a photo from the many that were scattered about the bottom. It was a still shot of the both of them. In it, she was looking at the camera, smiling brightly, while Spencer, who's arms were wrapped around her neck, kissed the side of her mouth.
A stray tear rolled down her cheek. She roughly wiped it away. "Fucking pathetic," she muttered, shoving the photo back into the box, closing the lid. There was a reason she hadn't opened it in all these years. It hurt too much; seeing what she had given up.
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