Vulnerable.
This better be an earthquake shaking me. Too bad I know earthquakes don't shake this gently. "Ash, are you awake?" Seriously? If more than one shake is required that generally means that the person is sleeping. Come on, keep up. You're the smart one.
I'd roll over if I wasn't conscious enough to realize her arms were still around me and her breath that once puffed against my cheek accidently was doing it now purposely and without any hint of whiskey."Never, ever before nine." I'll just lie here against her, facing her, with my eyes closed. Because I've never been this comfortable. And because, I don't want them to open. I'm so scared this is one of those dreams. You know, the perfect ones. And I don't want to wake up.
"That's a lie." Once you get a response, one generally stops the shaking. Thanks anyways, Doc. Time to open the eyes, Davies. There always comes a time. But, unlike I suspected, nothing is fading away from me. It's clearer and sharper and I've never been so happy to see dark blue eyes staring intently into my own that I inadvertently strengthen my hold on her. I still haven't given up completely on the idea that she can teleport, you know. Was that a kiss? I don't care if it was the cheek. That was a kiss. That was a kiss in the morning hours. Even if the sun hasn't risen, even if the dew probably hasn't formed, this is out of the moment. This is the morning to our night. "Morning." Stop being so cute. It's going to be hard to be mad at you at this rate, and early morning waking is grounds for anger.
Oh, stop smiling at me. How are you so awake? "Are you bleeding?" Good reason to awake before the sun. "Is the house on fire?" Even better one. "Is it finally Armageddon?" Best one I can think of. It best be one of the three.
"Finally?" What? It's always impending. Come on. "Anyways, no." Ugh, figures, doesn't it?
So, how sadistic are you actually? "What time is it?"
"4:45." Very sadistic. Why'd I ask? Okay, that kiss was dangerously close to my lips. If you keep doing that, Doc, I'll think you mean it. And then, well, and then nothing, I guess. There is nothing else. I'm already yours. "Don't be mad."
Right. Like I could be mad after that. "That better be PM." She doesn't need to know it though. Sadly, from that increasing smile, she knows it like she knows all. Again, figures.
Her hands stroking my hair. Stop getting turned on, Davies, it's just your head. "Will you play the guitar for me?" Seriously? Okay. That is not a good reason. You should have just stuck with one of the three above. I practically handed them to you. And don't give me those eyes. I can ignore them. I can.
"Sophie doesn't wake up 'til at least nine either." See, watch me. Anyways, she is a very practical guitar. She knows, unlike some people, when it is appropriate to move. So, let's just lay here. You know, until forever. That be nice.
"You named your guitar Sophie?" Oh, don't even start.
"Ugh, what's wrong with the name Sophie?" It means wisdom. It's French. Not that I looked it up or anything. What? Naming a guitar is a very sensitive topic. They're better than children. They don't scream in restaurants unless you instruct them to do so.
"Aw, nothing." Okay, that kiss was definitely on my blissfully bruised lips. You can't take that one back. Sorry. "It suits you." Hey, wait. Why?
"Suits me?" Explain yourself.
"You going to play for me, or what?" Oh, don't ignore me. I know you can hear me. Even if you were deaf, mind reading is above that and all. Get over it, Doc.
"How does it suit me?" Wait, wait. Don't leave. It's officially significantly colder now. And that was significantly less than the forever I was planning. However, I am now privy to a very good view of the most gorgeous body I have ever seen. So conflicted. But the good kind of conflicted. "Come back here and tell me." I've decided that no matter how unbelievable the view is from here no view is complete without you next to me, so come back. Yeah, I am aware of how that sounded. Or. You can ignore me and rifle through my closet. How do you know she's in there anyways? "Ugh, Doc!"
Here's the thing, Spencer Carlin is straddling me. And if you were in this position, you would be incapable of conscious thought too. "What do I have to do to get you to call me Spencer?" Uhm. Right now you are failing. Because if this is the reaction I get when I call you Doc, I'll be calling you Doc a lot.
I guess I can humor her a little. "Tell me why it suits me." I still want to know, a little. However, those thoughts are very quickly being replaced.
Especially now. As she sucks on my earlobe. Great, thanks earlobe for being so damn sensitive. Keep it in your pants, Davies. "Is that the only way?" No, I actually think I can come up with a plethora of ways. Tons and tons of ways. I think we should try them all out.
Or, I can sum it all up. "Tell me why I've been missing out on five AM." Because that's the most important question of all.
She laughs lightly in my ear, and I am positive now that it was in fact her laughter that I fell for first. It had to be. "Because you don't do before nine." That was barely conscious me. Painfully aware me does before anytime you want me to.
"I do now."
"Good." And she kisses me. And I don't care if the taste of cinnamon has faded. I never needed it anyways. "That means you can play Sophie for me."Ugh. I might be enamored completely with you, that doesn't mean Sophie will like to be awakened.
"You know, Sophie has feelings too."Hey, don't give me stifled laughter. She does. She's very temperamental. Just ask my fingers. They have bled from tuning her. "And she doesn't like when you laugh at her name." She's sensitive about it.
"Oh, I think she can get over it." She kisses me as she gets up. Okay, I don't know about Sophie. But I'm totally over it. Over it. Especially because I'll have the image of Spencer Carlin naked holding my guitar for the rest of my life. Sometimes, some things are just perfect. This is one of them.
Formulate words, Davies. "Yeah, me too." Sorry, Sophie. I'll be on your side once you find a way to give life sustaining smiles. And way to be a heavy sitter, Spence. Bouncing the bed is unnecessary. It's no wonder Hank likes me better. Aw, Hank. How I miss him. "Come on, don't bounce on HJ." I don't need a Hannah Senior moment right now.
"HJ?" Don't give me that look, Doc. I'm not always vulgar.
"Hannah Junior."
"You named your bed too?" Is this really a huge surprise to you?
"What? I couldn't refer to her as bed. It's so overdone." Not that I often refer to my bed by name to people. But, I figure, she already knows how insane I am. It can't get much worse.
"You know what else is overdone?" The fact that you are not in fact straddling me anymore. So overdone.
"Hm?"
"This." And she kisses me hard and another part of me dies and is reborn as hers. And if that's the case, I hope that she'll do it for every last one of my cells. There's like one hundred trillion in the human body. Just saying.
"Oh no." She is so wrong. "That hasn't been done enough." Truest story I've ever told.
"Now."She hands me Sophie. Oh come on, I just pissed her off. Don't give her to me. "Play me a song." Can you say demanding?
The eyes. I lose. There was no fight at all. "Your wish is my command, your majesty." She knows it, I know it. Might as well voice it.
"Oh. I like the sound of that." And that surprises no one.
"You would."
I know what song is in my head. All because my mother graced me with her yearly call last night. Lucky me. "Watching you watching me. Girl, ain't it easy to see? That it's my loving you that puts the starlight in your eyes." She used to hum it when drunk, or whatever she really was when she was posing as drunk.
And why are you gracing me with your lousy attempt at an eye roll? "Now, that's a song already." New song in my head. "A bad song at that." Yeah, you're telling me. At least it doesn't scar some of your funnier childhood memories.
New song, new chords. "I guess I get a B in originality." That's right. I'm witty.
"Smartass." True. "Plus, it's wrong." You would tell me I'm wrong. No surprises here. Good thing at this point I really don't care.
"It's wrong?"
"You're watching me, watching you." Semantics, Doc, semantics.
"Who said I'm watching you?" Are you kidding me, Davies? There might as well be drool involved. Okay, gross.
"That stupid smirk you have on your beautiful face." She called me beautiful.
Focus, focus. "My smirk isn't stupid."
"What, you didn't name it too?" I don't make it a habit to name things that don't belong to me. Things get too complicated at that point.
"And you called me the smartass?" Pot meet kettles. Once again. I really should get her a book of amazing proverbs. She obviously needs them.
"I'll call you some other things." And I accidently drop Sophie on the floor. If she didn't hate me before, she sure does now. Oh well, not important. I think I need to take a sampling of these said names. Actually, you know what? Let me get more comfortable to listen.
What? It's not my fault that I feel the most comfortable when my lips are on her earlobe. Well, when my lips are on her anywhere. "Oh yeah?" Her moans will eventually kill me. Best death, ever. "Like?"
"Well, I'd tell you, but you still haven't played me a song yet." Ugh, persistence isn't always great. Nope, not at all.
How do I get out of this? "How about Christmas presents then song?" Because I've currently developed my first set of stage fright ever. And even though the songs are ready, I don't know if I am. And I don't know why.
Head tilt in my direction. Stop reading me. If I don't get it, you can't get it. Those are the rules. "Well, I guess we can do that."
We? Does that mean? "Wait, you got me something?"
"Of course I did." Score. Again.
"Is it handcuffs?" What? One can always hope for things like that.
"Wait here, it's in my car." And she stands. Okay, I've changed my mind. Presents don't sound all that great. Really, you should just come back. Best idea that I could have right now.
"But that means you have to get dressed." Nothing like stating the obvious.
"It does." Ugh, she's up and slipping on the yellow boy shorts that were my adversary yesterday. Now it's tenfold. Stupid underwear.
"I don't like that idea." Not at all.
"Ashley." Hey, how did she know which drawer had my tanks tops? Why do you ask yourself stupid questions, Davies? "It would happen sooner or later." Or later and latest. Or something.
"Well, I vote later." Much later. Like, years later. Centuries later if I had the option.
"I'll be right back." Wait, wait. If you are in fact leaving this room you better put more clothes on. Who knows who could see you. I hear those google satellite things are getting really strong.
"I'm going to pout." That's the only vocal complaint you could come up with, Davies? It's no wonder this has taken so long. Why don't you learn to use your rhetoric skills?
"What else is new?" And I have been owned.
"You're so mean to me." Aw, but when you kiss me I don't care.
"I'm never mean to you." And she leaves. For the record, anytime you walk out that door you're being a little mean to me. Just saying. Ugh. I need a shirt. That requires standing. Thanks, thanks a lot. I too throw on a tank top. Hm, how is it that I retained my underwear? I'll think about it later. I sit back on my bed. Maybe I haven't been giving Sophie enough attention. It's been so long that I've played her for enjoyment.
"I'm back." Well, I'm glad I didn't pick Sophie up yet then. You would like it too much. And after you put your clothes on and left with such little on you don't deserve it. And did you race to your car? You probably walk like you drive.
Oh well. At least you're not the only one that states the obvious, Davies. "I know."
She hands me a flat, long box. "So, open your present." I love unwrapping presents.
She sits back next to me on the bed. "Rudolph wrapping paper, really?"
"I'll take it back." I'd take you seriously if you weren't smiling. You should work on that.
"This doesn't look like handcuffs." All boxes deserve shaking. "It doesn't sound like handcuffs." And I know what handcuffs sound like. Try to hide the disappointment, Davies.
"Well, maybe they are tiny handcuffs." Do not kid, Spence. Do not kid. I'm bad at hiding disappointment.
So I lift open the box. Wait, wait. Superman lifting car. Wait. "Doc…" Action Comics # 1. The omega of comic books. "This is too much." Oh my God. Should I be touching it? Fingerprints on the plastic are a no. Even the plastic it touches is like gold. "Less than one hundred copies still exist." Breathe. Breathe. "This must have cost a fortune." Yeah, just a little rude. Get a brain for a second.
"I know a guy, that knows a guy, that knows a guy." And all those guys better keep their hands to themselves. Just saying.
Wait, wait, flashbacks. "Don't sound too mobster, Bugs."
"Well, my dad is part Italian." Called it.
"I knew it." Called it like a month ago, just saying. "I love it, Doc."This baby is getting its own case in its own room. "I just love it." No one else could find something this perfect.
"I hear it was the first appearance of Superman." This baby introduced the superhero genre of comic books. It started it all. "I figured superheroes needed to be in good company." I already had good company. No comic book could replace that.
Hey, wait a second. "How did you know I collected?"
"A hunch." Yeah, at this point, you should just admit it. The evidence is overwhelming.
"Mind reader." Don't shake your head at me. So true.
"Comic book geek." Ouch. The painful truth comes out.
"I love you." Really. It was the only thing my lips were going to let me say. You can't blame me. Especially if you were staring at someone who gives you everything.
"You love Superman." Okay, true too.
"Superman has nothing on Spencer Carlin." Even truer statement.
"Is that so?" Nothing has anything on Spencer Carlin.
"Oh, it's a fact."
Especially when Spencer Carlin kisses me like that. Who needs air? "Well, I love you too, Ashley Davies." Do you think she'd say it over and over again if I asked her to?
Or maybe I should just be happy for what I get. "It's my turn." Too bad mine is nothing like this. Way to make me look bad. Way to make me look bad.
I get up and get the box from the closet. I only had red paper to wrap it in. It was the best I could do. Usually Charles takes care of getting everything wrapped, but I didn't want him to see this. I walk back and sit next to her once again. "It better not be handcuffs." Like I would have bought you handcuffs. I don't want to deal with laser eyes.
"I better take it back then."
"Ashley…" I hand it over and look down to my hands. Watching people open my gifts has always been kind of painful to me.
I know she's opened it because jewelry boxes have a distinct noise when they open. My insides turn. "Here's the thing. I know jewelry is really cliché, but you told me that gray was your favorite color so I figured silver was probably better than gold, and diamonds last forever, or someone told me that, and the sapphire is for your eyes, and…"But she cuts me off with her lips. It's definitely for the better.
"I love it." She loves the silver necklace with the diamond heart with the blue sapphire middle that tries so hard to be as blue as her.
"You do?"
"I do."She nods and smiles and I smile back and I don't think I'll ever hate Christmas again. Even if it is a day late. "Will you help me put it on?" She pulls her hair away from her neck and I can't help but place a gentle kiss on the new exposed skin.
"Of course." I take the necklace and place it around her neck. And she turns towards me and hugs me close to her. It matches perfectly. Even if she is only in a white tank top and yellow boy shorts. It all fits. "There's one more thing." She releases the hug and I reach under my bed. I didn't bother wrapping this. Mostly because I didn't think I'd give it to her at all. But also because this isn't a present at all. This is just what she deserves. "Here."
"You know I wrote this, right?" It's a copy of the first of her series. A disheveled, used copy.
"I know a guy, that knows a guy, that knows a guy."
She smiles and I laugh because really I don't care about knowing anyone else but the inhabitants of this room. "Who's the smartass now?" Never claimed not to be.
"I'll be the smart ass because you have the cute ass."
"Did you really just say that?" Ugh, yes. Well, at least it's a mild inner monologue if anything has to be leaked to the listening public.
"Don't tell anyone." Mostly because I can't stand to blush like I'm doing right now. I don't look good with red cheeks. Ask my mother.
"Yeah, it might ruin your rep." What rep? I lost that, oh, about two months ago. But, if you find it, at this point, you can tell it it can stay lost.
"Are you insulting my rep?"
"Would I ever do that?" Are you kidding me?
"I'm pretty sure it's your favorite pastime." Right up there with killing me pleasantly and waking me up at ungodly hours. You'd make quite the account.
And she kisses me and whispers into my mouth, "Maybe I'm discovering a new favorite pastime." Focus, Davies. Focus. You had a mission.
So I hold her close but break the kiss. "Open the book." And she does and I watch as she leafs through the pages. "I wanted to tell you my thoughts on it." I've only read them three times through. "And I know some people didn't really read them." Don't go there right now, Davies. Don't. "And I just really wanted you to know I liked them, and stuff." And stuff? Really? Articulate much?
"Did you write on every page?" My handwriting is microscopic. Thinking back, this was probably a terrible idea.
"There was one or two that I didn't have anything to say." Actually one and a half. But, whatever. "I started the second book but it's only half way through, so…" But she doesn't let me finish again as she pulls me into her.
"Thank you." She kisses my temple as she releases me.
"Don't thank me." For once, I really don't need it, at all. "There are some presents in there for Blue Eyes." I point to the closet. I had Charles get those wrapped. I demanded snowman wrappings. I won't be part of the whole Santa Claus mirage. I can look the kid in the eyes then, in the future, and tell him that I never conspired against him like the rest of the world.
"You didn't have to." Well, I know that. There's only three of them anyways. There was going to be more but Freddy convinced me spoiling someone else's kid was a bad idea.
"Yeah, well, the little guy stole my heart a little." Not as much as his mother.
"So, that's where it's at."
"Actually." That's completely wrong. So I point to where it really is. "I believe it's right here." In her chest, beating alongside her own.
I'll never grow tired of kissing her. "I do have to get going though." No you don't. Really. We have food. We have water. We can be sustained for long periods of time.
"Is there any way I can convince you not to?" Don't look too pathetic, Davies. Please.
She stands and offers me her hand. I guess that's a no. "He's at my dad's and I want to be there when he wakes up." And where's daddy dearest? Don't ask, Davies. Don't ask.
"Not even a song?" I stand but point to Sophie.
"Promise me a song next time?"
Do not stutter. "Next time?"
"Ashley." And she grabs both my hands and leans over and kisses my nose. "Next time." There's going to be a next time. A next time like this.
But, what about all those things I don't want to bring up? What about them? "Spencer…"
"I can't tell you when." I knew there had to be stipulations. Nothing is this good. Nothing could be. Especially not with me. "I have a lot to take care of." Things just don't disappear when you don't talk about them, when you try so hard to avoid them. But I tried so hard. And then she squeezes my hands as she swings them freely. "Just know, I meant it." And I'd believe anything you told me at this point, so I don't care what you mean.
"Okay." I release her hands, not because I want to, but because if I don't I'd continue to beg. I just know that's the way I would do it. "Make sure you take his gifts with you." I walk into the closet and pick up the overgrown bag that houses them, as she pulls her discarded jeans up over her perfectly sculpted legs.
"Thank you, Ashley." She takes the bag from my outstretched hand. I wish she'd stop thanking me. I really wish she would because I need to thank her, but I can't think of a way to do it. I just can't.
"Let me walk you to the door." I offer her my arm and she slides her free arm into it.
"Aren't you chivalrous."
"So I've been told."
"Have you?"
"Never." We descend the stairs in silence, arms linked closely. And I smile as she blushes as she picks up her bra and slips on her discarded shirt from the night before. And I remember a time I thought she couldn't blush at all.
All too soon we are standing in front of the door, by a wall that I'll never think is plain again. "Thank you, Ashley." I wish she'd stop that.
"For what?"
"I really thought you'd close the door in my face." We both know I couldn't do that. We both know I didn't even try.
But I can't find the right words again. Where did they all go? "Shut up and come back soon." Please, just, don't let soon turn into never. Please.
"I love you, Ashley." Love has a forever kind of connotation though, doesn't it?
"I love you, Spencer." So, I watch as she walks off my front step to her car. I try not to notice that the sun is only starting to rise. And she waves and I wave back. And once I know she has past the gate I close the door, but this time it's alright. Or I am telling myself that with every step I retreat back into my house.
So, I climb my stairs alone, but not really alone. And I sit on my bed, that will never just be my bed again. And I pick up Sophie, who knows she'll never be my number one girl again, and I strum the guitar strings that are far from broken, and I play a familiar song that's impeded itself into my head. "I was born to tell you I love you. Isn't that a song already? I get a B in originality. And it's true I can't go on without you. Your smile makes me see clearer. If you could only see in the mirror what I see. And your slowly shaking finger tips show that your scared like me..."
