I rolled out of bed around two pm, still feeling crappy. After showering and getting dressed I was left with free time to ponder "the Spencer situation". I wanted her, that much I knew; oh how I wanted her. But I didn't want to hurt her – and for me, that was an easy thing to do – like I had earlier that day, just by being me; I had unwittingly hurt her, just by making an off-hand remark about my ex's – with my foot firmly lodging itself in my mouth.

I didn't like it, hurting Spencer, that is. It's all I want not to do; I just want to make her happy – preferably with me. I like her, she likes me – so where's the problem? Oh yeah, me. I'm the problem, the problem child.

Spencer popped up on instant messenger and we chatted for a while, she apologised for bolting earlier that morning and asked if I was feeling better. The rest was just comfortable rambles, that and arrangements for me to pick her up for school the next day. Hmm, that's really the best way to start a day; a shot of espresso and Spencer's smiling face, hmm.

Spencer hopped up into my SUV and I sped away from her modest house, fearing that Paula – homosexuals are what's wrong with America – Carlin might run through the front door wielding a rolling pin and shouting at me to stop perverting her daughter, whilst throwing holy water on me. Spencer shot me a wide smile, which I returned, silently musing that she was wearing her hair up in the same way as when we had that weird almost threesome with Aiden, and shared our – unbelievably hot – almost kiss.

The car ride to school was pretty strange, and quiet – bar the sounds of the radio and the L.A. skyline whizzing past the open windows – Spence' was fidgeting in her seat and playing with her hands. She kept opening her mouth as if she were about to speak before looking confused and promptly shutting it again. That's not to say we didn't talk to each other – it's hard not to – but it felt almost forced.

When we got out of the car and onto the parking lot, Spencer still look troubled – not knowing if I should press the issue or not, I decided to try to take her mind off of whatever was bugging her. Slipping my hand through hers, I brought her palm up to my face for inspection.

She shot me a quizzical look, "What are you doing?"

Honestly I had no idea how to palm-read, but I hoped it would serve as a distraction, plus I loved having her hand in mine; our fingers interlaced. But I still answered her matter-of-factly, "Checking your life line," I traced my fingers over her palm, revelling in the feel of her silky soft skin, "I wana know that you're gona be around for a while." I wonder if that was subtle?

"Oh yeah, what about my love line?" Okay, that certainly wasn't subtle. My, my, my, Miss. Carlin, it looks like things are about to get interesting.

I opened my mouth, a witty yet seductive reply sitting on my tongue, but before I could speak someone else did, "Since when did this become the Island of Lesbos?" Ugh, Goddamnit! Why must everyone keep ruining our moments? This is quality Spashley time, damnit!

But, oh how, I do so love Madison and her army of cheerwhores, not to mention her dumbass remarks about me. And Spencer.

I could feel my forehead crinkle, my smile crumple. I didn't like it – but I tolerated it – when it was dumb little snipes at me – okay well not, completely tolerated – but not at Spencer too. I wanted to say something, to jump to my blonde angel's defence, but nothing came out. Did I really want to bring Spencer into this, this world of intolerance and ignorance, where people would always be trashing her just for being with another girl? She didn't deserve it.

She gave my hand – that was still cradling hers – a little squeeze, "Hard to get pissed at her when she makes a geography joke." Well no, not really, she's a dumb whore, who I feeling nothing but contempt for, therefore it's always easy to get pissed at her, "I wonder if she even know's what it means," The soft smile on her face warmed my heart, but I still couldn't let myself drag her into this life, "We know her evil minions don't."

I didn't know what to do; I wanted to get away from school, to just go to the beach. With Spencer, but that was a no-no, I needed to get away from Spence', "You know you're right," my hands parted, letting her paler one slip back to her side, "we're gona be late for class." I walked off leaving her standing there all alone, just like I did after our first meeting by the lockers – and she wore the same lost-puppy expression.