Title: "Dead Men Can't Dance"
Disclaimer: All I have is a sore throat – you can have it if you really want – as for South of Nowhere all the rights belong to Tom Lynch and The-N.
Rating: PG
Summary: Basically, Ashley likes Spencer. The fic is drivel and the summary is rubbish, but I don't know what else to say – oh and I've had the words "Dead men can't dance" going round in my brain for months and I just wanted to writing something and title it that. Meh.
She sat down under the shade of an old oak tree – a tree that couldn't have looked more out of place at a Los Angeles high school if it had tried. The grand tree masked the suns blinding rays beautifully, so well in fact that the brunette no longer had to squint to see across the quad.
Normally the brunette would rather not have to look at anyone who breathed in the same smoggy air as her – especially not at school – but when it came down to a certain girl, the brunette couldn't look away. Everything about the girl captivated her. From the golden brown tresses that framed her face, to her small stature, to her crystal blue eyes – that the brunette noted would occasionally storm over – and even down to the way she would bite her lip when she was in deep thought. Not many people would have noticed her tendency to chew on her lower lip – whether it was due to deep contemplation or not – though, but Ashley had spent so much time watching the blonde, she knew almost all of the taller girls quirks and mannerisms. She knew so much about the blonde; it was bordering on stalking. Ashley couldn't help herself though; she was addicted to Spencer.
That was her name, Spencer Carlin, no middle names. Just plain and simple Spencer, although in Ashley's opinion, Spencer was anything but plain and simple. She radiated purity and innocence – a rarity in the city of angels. Her smile could melt even the blackest and coldest of hearts the Californian sun had ever seen – Ashley felt as if she were testament to that.
As the brunette continued in her newest favourite pastime – Spencer watching – she thought back to their first meeting.
She was already having a bad day, and she hadn't even gotten to her first class yet – which she was already late for – and as she wrestled with her locker, the blonde had appeared behind her asking for directions. Ashley, in her usual manner, had snapped at the innocent girl, and after biting her head off, she had walked away towards her next lesson – leaving the new student still clueless as to where she had to be. Ashley had felt guilty for the way she had treated Spencer, which in itself was strange as Ashley frequently snapped at people – and usually felt indifferent about her behaviour. But there was something about the girl she had chewed out that forced a sense of guilt and remorse to rise in the taller girls' stomach.
Ashley Davies didn't apologise. She could remember ever having apologised for anything – except for when she was six and spilt a glass of orange juice over some of her dad's sheet music. But there was something about Spencer that made Ashley want to seek her out and beg for her forgiveness. There was something about Spencer that made the stonewalls around Ashley's heart start to crumble.
She didn't apologise though. She wanted to, but, she didn't – and not just because it wasn't in her nature to.
Her only interaction with the youngest Carlin had been under a minute – but yet the blonde still managed to monopolize her thoughts.
Ashley knew that her fixation was bordering on obsession. She didn't care though. She had nothing better to do with her time at school. Somewhere in her mind, Ashley thought that Spencer must have known. Even though she never outright stared at her, Ashley's eyes were always on the taller girl. She knew Spencer was naive and even a little dense, but the blonde definitely wasn't stupid. She must have been able to feel the brunette's gaze on her. She must have.
The bell signalling the start of afternoon lessons rang out over the school grounds snapping Ashley out of her catatonic like state of Spencer watching. The brunette groaned, stupid lessons, the blonde who enthralled her thoughts was already gathering up her books and heading off. The shorter girl sighed, tomorrow would be the day that she got the courage up to go and talk to the blonde. Tomorrow. Tomorrow would be the day. But she knew, just like dead men can't dance, tomorrow would never come.