Hey friends, guess what time it is? ASHLEY TIME! lol ohhh boy I had so much fun writing this one! Thank you for all the wonderful reviews, I'm really feelin the love lol. Seriously though, you guys really make me smile. It makes my day to read what you guys have to say! Thank you so, so much :)
Hope you enjoy this one, I know I did! Keep reviewing, please! I'll try to update as soon as possible. This week is a little busy for me, but I'll make it happen!
Love you guys! Enjoy :)
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I soon came to the conclusion that Sherry had road rage almost as bad as my mother. We made it to Port Angeles in record time, and for the first time since I'd been in Forks, I actually felt like I belonged. We sang--if you could call it that since we were all horrendously off key--along to every whiny rock song on the radio, all together sounding like a bunch of drunken teenagers. Sherry told us all about her dinner with Ethan, and how she was planning to kiss him on the night of the dance. Chelsea's face lit up when Sherry mentioned the upcoming event. My heart sank a little when I realized that I would be missing out. But who would I go with?
Well, I could think of one person. But that's out of the question.
Port Angeles reminded me a lot of Corvallis, Oregon. It was nearly as rainy as Forks, but there were actually buildings within twenty feet of each other. Sherry and Chelsea seemed to know exactly where they were going, so we bolted to the biggest department store in town. We sped by a police cruiser, effectively outrunning it, and laughing hysterically when he yelled at us from the interior of his vehicle.
It was all very invigorating; I decided I wanted to attend more of these "girls night outs."
The dance was advertised as semiformal, so Chelsea and Sherry began modeling some casual dresses for me.
I know what you're thinking, but no, they aren't my type.
"I really wish you could go, Spencer," Chelsea griped from behind a dressing room door.
"To be honest, I don't really dance," I conceded sheepishly.
"Oh come on, Spence," Sherry sighed from the neighboring room, "everyone can dance. It's just a matter of whether or not you choose to."
My eyes widened a fraction. "You've obviously never seen me. I give a new meaning to the phrase 'two left feet.'"
Chelsea giggled, and stepped out of her stall, exhibiting a long maroon strapless. I scrutinized it for a moment, then shook my head. She skipped back inside to try on another.
"Didn't you ever go to a dance with like…a boyfriend or something?" Sherry questioned as she appeared with a purple halter that showed off everything, if you know what I mean.
I wonder how Ashley would look in that dress…
"I've never had a boyfriend, or anything close. Boys…irk me."
Chelsea howled with laughter, I assumed at my choice of language, and exited the dressing room again, this time wearing a green dress that came just above her knees.
"Those are the best ones so far," I smiled at them, and they turned to analyze themselves in the mirror.
"Plenty of people ask you out here, Spence," Sherry stated as she fixed the straps on her halter.
"I guess…I just haven't met the right one, yet," I answered honestly. Yes I have.
We were finished in about twenty minutes tops. I suppose the whole dress selecting process takes less time than I thought. Well, with my mother it always lasted about eight hours. Maybe.
Next, we traveled to the shoes and accessories aisle. Ashley was slowly pushing her way back into my thoughts, causing the girls'-night high to wear off some.
"Hey, Chelsea?" I began hesitantly.
"Mhmm?" she replied as she strapped on a pair of black stilettos. Clay was unusually tall for seventeen, so Chelsea was naturally much shorter than him. She held her legs out, twisting her ankles in random directions in order to see all angles of the shoe.
Sherry was still boxing up her shoes, so I chickened out on asking my original question.
"Those look good on you," I critiqued.
"Thanks, Spence. I think I'll get them; they'll go with other dresses, and they're on sale, too."
We were silent as Chelsea fiddled with the clasps and slid the shoes neatly back into the box. Sherry drifted to the jewelry counter, searching for some silver and purple knickknacks that would match her outfit. This worked in my favor; I wanted to ask Chelsea certain questions when we were alone because Sherry would become suspicious.
"Is it normal for…the Davies'," I swallowed, suddenly becoming fascinated with the stitching of the carpet, "to miss school all the time?" I tried to sound impassive about it, but I'm sure I came off a little too snoopy.
"Oh, yes. Whenever the weather's real nice, on those occasions when the sun is out, they always go hiking, or camping. Must be why they're all in such fantastic shape." I really liked Chelsea; she was very easygoing, and I knew she wouldn't press me as to why I asked her a particular question, unlike Sherry.
As the girls paid for their outfits, Sherry proposed we have dinner at a small Italian café on the boardwalk. I grinned; Italian was my favorite type of food, but I hadn't gotten to enjoy it since I came out here. Arthur isn't exactly a proponent of anything with cheese on it.
Don't ask me, I don't know why.
I agreed, but told them I'd meet them there. I had heard Port Angeles housed a respectable bookstore. I smiled when they offered to follow, but encouraged them to take a walk on the beach, their original plan. Sherry pointed me in a southern direction, and I stomped off toward a cluster of glass-fronted little shops.
I meandered down the wet streets, willing myself not to think about Ashley now that I was companionless. I anticipated rainy weather for Saturday, but with the newly obtained information I had secured from Chelsea, it was hard to persuade myself that she wouldn't flake out on me if the sun was shining. I feared the disappointment, and the pain that would surely accompany it, that only Ashley's absence could inflict on me.
When I looked up to see someone's red Porsche parked in front of a promising little store up the street, my heart began to beat at an insane pace, hoping it was her. But it waned away as I saw the sun, still out, about to set above the ocean.
Stupid, tricky vampire…
Wait, she's not a vampire. She's not a vampire, Spencer…
I entered a cozy little bookstore, and immediately went to the back. I felt at home here, surrounding by the musty smell of old books, running my fingers gingerly along the spines.
Yeah, I'm a closet bookworm.
To my surprise, my fingers stopped on a spine labeled "Quileute Legends." Of course, I withdrew it, and flipped through the pages. I settled myself into a comfy armchair, and ran my hands down the black text and across detailed pictures as tenderly as possible. After about an hour, I had read through a quarter of the volume. I was absolutely hooked; it was as if Aiden's ghost story was merely a summary of this substantially in-depth one.
I decided to buy it, and clutched my purchase to my chest as I exited the store. A blast of frigid air hit me, and I realized it was pitch black outside, save for a few street lights. I ran my hands through my blonde hair a few times; I was late for dinner with Chelsea and Sherry.
Time flies when you're having fun, I suppose.
I took a shortcut through a back alley, scooting as close to the inside wall as possible.
"Hey there, sugar," a heavyset man wearing dirty clothes stepped out from the corner up ahead, flanked by two other men. I stopped in my tracks, suddenly rooted to the spot. When I tried to turn around, two other men blocked my path.
"Boy, you sure are pretty," one with greasy, matted hair advanced on me, reaching out to grab my arm. I eluded his offending hand, and I swear the lights dimmed a bit.
"Don't be like that, baby," a tall, skinny man latched his hands around my shoulders, and whispered into my ear.
"Stay away from me," I shrugged him off, but only backed into the heavyset man. He cackled, and moved to touch me. I gulped, trying to build up a decent scream.
Headlights flew around the corner and a red Porsche's tires skidded to a stop. To my amazement, Ashley leapt out from the driver's seat and slammed the door. The men scattered, except for the one who was now holding my arms. He was so dirty; I felt like I was going to catch some sort of life-threatening disease. My arms felt itchy, and I tried to break free of his grip, but he held fast.
"Ashley," I breathed, my heart pumped rapidly in my chest. But she was not looking at me.
"Let her go," she seethed, her velvet voice tight and constrained. The man let me go instantaneously, and I marveled at the fact that a sudden wave of security crashed over me.
Because I heard her voice.
"Get in the car, Spencer," she commanded, her eyes still trained on the heavyset man, taking a threatening step forward. I obeyed without a second thought, and watched from the passenger seat as my captor turned tail, and sprinted from the lot.
Ashley fell back into the driver's seat, and accelerated forward at an unnerving pace. But I didn't care. I stared at her flawless profile, taking in every inch of her angelic face that had been missing for six days.
I felt so solidly safe in her presence. Not even a sharp left turn tore my gaze from her.
"Put your seat belt on," she instructed, still not looking at me. I concurred, snapping the buckle in place. Her expression was murderously angry, yet still so perfect.
More silence.
"Are you okay?" I asked timidly, almost not wanting to know her answer.
"No," she managed. She looked like she was in some deep, tormenting kind of pain.
Was she hurting because of me? No. No Spencer. Why would she? She's probably just irritated that she had to come all the way out here to save me.
"Spencer?" her tone was very controlled.
"Yes?"
"Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," I croaked softy.
"Distract me, please," she ordered.
"Sorry?" I asked, clearly confused. Ashley exhaled loudly, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel.
"Just ramble on about something insignificant until I calm down, please," she clarified, her voice still struggling to retain the fury evident in her features. I obeyed her again, not wanting to be on the receiving end of her animosity.
"Sherry and Ethan are going to the Spring dance together. So are Clay and Chelsea; they've finally stopped dancing around each other. Well, sort of. Chelsea really likes him, but he's still kind of stuck on me, which I think is absolutely fruitless because I don't like him that way, and-"
"Thank you," her musical voice rang quietly in my ears as the Porsche slowed to a stop under a lone streetlight. I analyzed my surroundings; we were nowhere near town. Ashley rested her forehead on the steering wheel.
"What's the matter?" I asked hoarsely.
"Sometimes, my temper gets the better of me, Spencer," her voice was a little more composed. "It took all of my energy not to go and hunt down those…animals," she spat disdainfully, clenching her pale hands into fists. I nodded, and we sat in silence for a moment, when a daunting thought sprang forward in my mind.
"I forgot about Sherry and Chelsea!" I groaned, rubbing my temples. She finally looked at me, her eyes questioning. "I was supposed to meet them at that Italian café for dinner."
The engine purred to life and she turned the car smoothly back around. She parallel-parked in front of the café, The Plaza, and stepped gracefully out of the car. I watched her agile, lean body as she got out, my mouth slightly open. She saw this, and the corners of her mouth twitched.
"W-what are you doing?" I regained my voice, and fumbled with my seat belt, suddenly finding everywhere more interesting than her eyes.
"I'm taking you to dinner," her eyes glinted as she waited for me, arms folded, on the sidewalk. I missed that about her. The Ashley stance, as I liked to call it.
"Spencer!" Sherry shouted from the entrance, walking toward us. Her relieved eyes widened as she saw who I was standing next to.
"I'm so sorry, I got lost," I admitted, embarrassed, "and then I ran into Ashley." I couldn't help but beam when I said her name, and gestured to her.
"Hello, Sherry," Ashley said politely, and nodded her head. Sherry looked positively star struck.
"Hi," she breathed, and I fought a smile. I'm willing to bet I look like that around Ashley at least 99% of the time.
"Spencer, hi!" Chelsea exclaimed happily as she sauntered up next to Sherry. She glanced in Ashley's direction, distinctly more comfortable than Sherry, and said brightly, "Hey, Ashley."
"Hello, Chelsea. Have you ladies already eaten?" Ashley was so polite, and sweet, and considerate, and…
Spencer, control your thoughts.
"Y-yeah," Sherry managed, her eyes still focused on Ashley.
"That's fine, I'm not hungry, anyway," I shrugged. Actually, I was starving, but I couldn't really feel it. I couldn't really feel anything when Ashley was this close to me.
"You need to eat something," Ashley stated, daring me to argue with her.
I knew better.
"I'll drive Spencer home tonight," her voice was suave, yet still full of authority. She was more demanding tonight than I've ever seen her.
I like this side of her.
"Okay, then," Chelsea smiled, and grabbed a dazed Sherry's hand, pulling her toward their car. "See you tomorrow, Spence…Ashley."
"Ashley, really, I'm not-" I watched the girls drive away, then looked back in surprise to find that Ashley was already holding the door open for me up the pathway.
I wasn't going to win. But when it comes to Ashley, I'm not sure if I want to.
"Table for two, please. As private as possible," she told the disoriented, blonde host, smoothly. I think she handed her a crisp ten dollar bill, but I wasn't too sure. I was too stunned by Ashley's perfect elegance in everything she did--even tipping waitresses--to really think about anything else.
"Sure," she said quietly, leading us to a table in the back. She put some swagger in her hips, more than necessary, and though Ashley didn't notice, I did.
It made me want to reach out, and yank the waitress' extensions.
"How's this?" she gazed at Ashley, looking her up and down. This fueled my irritation, so I busied myself with reorganizing my silverware when I sat down in the booth.
"Perfect," Ashley flashed her a gleaming smile, and sat down across from me. The irritating waitress shook her head, blinked a few times, and walked away.
"You know, you really shouldn't do that to people," I told her, annoyance apparent in my tone.
"Do what?" she frowned, confused.
"Dazzle them. Like you just did to that waitress."
She chuckled musically, and my knees went weak. "I dazzle people?"
"Nobody gets their way that easily," I insisted.
"Do I dazzle you?" she asked quietly, in that silken, irresistible voice that I dreamt about.
"Usually," I confessed, a slight blush crept onto my cheeks as I looked away from her shimmering gaze. I ordered some variation of a ravioli dish and a Coke, but Ashley didn't. She used that "I don't have much of an appetite" excuse.
"Drink," Ashley commanded, staring at me intently. I acted like a faithful golden retriever, and ended up draining the entire glass. She pushed hers toward me and I gladly accepted with a small smile. I didn't realize how thirsty I was.
Like I said, when I'm around her, I forget about everything.
I shivered a little as I felt the icy drink slide through my chest.
"Are you cold?" Ashley asked, worry etched in her furrowed brows.
"No, it's just the Coke," I explained, shaking again. But before I knew it, Ashley was out of her seat, shrugging off her black leather jacket. I suddenly realized that I'd never taken the time to appreciate what she was wearing. Underneath her jacket, she wore a deep green v-neck sweater that clung snugly to her in all the right places. I ogled her perfect body shamelessly, my eyes growing a fraction when I saw how well the piece of clothing accentuated her perfect curves.
She handed me the jacket, and I accepted gratefully, tilting my head and smiling. I noticed her smile also expanded when I cocked my head to the side.
If I'm not mistaken, I think she likes that.
I'm doing it again…I really need to stop convincing myself of things that probably aren't true.
I slid into the jacket, and drew it as closely around my torso as possible. I inhaled the delicious scent, but was not quite able to identify it. The aroma was like nothing I'd ever smelled before, and I felt like Ashley's arms were actually around me.
I felt even more safe, if that was possible.
Ashley was staring at me, and I stared back, noticing how her light, golden butterscotch eyes twinkled in the candle light. They were lighter than I've ever seen them.
"What?" I asked quietly.
"The black in my jacket contrasts lovely with the blue in your eyes. It looks very nice on you."
I flushed, and then the waitress set my ravioli plate in front of me. I merely stared down at it, not craving any sort of food at the moment.
"Eat, Spencer. If you don't, you're going to go into shock," she looked seriously at me.
"I'm not going to go into shock," I rolled my eyes at her, grinning a little bit.
"After…what happened, a normal person would."
"I feel very safe with you," I told her sincerely, refusing to break eye contact until she did.
"You really have no concept of danger, do you?"
I chose this moment to stuff a ravioli in my mouth. My appetite swarmed into my system, and suddenly, I was so hungry, I think I could've eaten the dinners of half the people in this restaurant.
And then some.
I ate in silence, while she watched me fixedly, smiling warmly whenever I looked up to reach for my Coke.
"You're in a better mood when your eyes are so light," I commented, now munching on the end of a breadstick. "When your eyes are black, you get really grouchy."
"Enlighten me," she requests, leaning forward on her elbows and flashing me a nose-crinkling smile.
I love when she does that.
"How about this: I'll tell you my theory in the car, if you answer a few questions for me."
"You always have so many," her expression turned a bit somber and I immediately wished I hadn't made that request.
But I need some answers, so it's necessary. I think.
"Why are you in Port Angeles?"
She folded her pale, slender hands together on the table, and looked up at me from under her eyelashes.
"Next caller."
"But that's the most basic one," I protested. Her tawny eyes challenged me, telling me I needed to move on. I ripped off another piece of breadstick and popped it into my mouth thoughtfully.
"Alright then…hypothetically, what if someone you knew could read minds, know what people are thinking?"
"I would probably request a brain scan," Ashley told me solemnly, then grinned. I chuckled, thrilled that she was following me.
"So how does it work? Are there any restrictions? How would someone know where to find her friend if her friend was say, in 'grave danger?'" I used air quotes for emphasis, and she smiled crookedly.
"This is all hypothetical?"
"Only if you want it to be," I batted my eyelashes, hoping she would just tell me the truth.
"Spencer, only you could get into trouble in a town as small as Port Angeles. You could outshine their yearly crime rate," she teased. I gasped in mock hurt.
"How did you know I was talking about me?"
We locked eyes and her eyebrows creased, as if she were trying to single-handedly answer one of life's most complicated conundrums.
"Ashley, you can trust me," I whispered, unconsciously sliding my hand toward hers, still folded on the table. She slid them away infinitesimally, and I quickly drew mine back, my cheeks burning.
I shouldn't have done that. But her skin looked so soft, so touchable…
"I don't think I have a choice anymore," she muttered, bringing me out of my reverie. I stirred her Coke with the straw, waiting for her to speak.
"I followed you to Port Angeles," I looked up, my heart hammering in my chest, and wondered if I should be concerned that she had been trailing me for the past couple hours.
"What for?"
"You're a magnet for trouble, Spencer. If there's anything hazardous within a five mile radius, it will unfailingly be drawn to you. You attract so many catastrophes and…"
I looked at her expectantly, forgetting that she just basically insulted me three times over.
"And I couldn't stand the thought of anything happening to you," she whispered, watching me steadily. This time, I didn't care if she moved away from me. My fingers crept across the table, and I laid my hand shyly across the backs of her frosty cold ones.
And she didn't move away.
"It's hard…keeping track of you, I mean. I can't hear your mind, so it's more difficult for me to tail you than it is to follow Sherry," she stared past me, moving her hands out from underneath mine, and drumming her fingers on the table. "I saw the bookstore in her head, and randomly looked through people's minds on the street. But no one had seen you. I wasn't worried…I just…" she trailed off.
She's lying to me. She was worried, and that made me smile. She took a deep, shuddering breath, as if it took all of her strength to explain the next portion.
"Then…I heard what those…those men were thinking," she growled, her angel's face twisted in anger. Her jaw flexed as she clenched her teeth, and she put her head down, resting on her elbow. It was such a swift movement, I barely even registered that she did it.
Maybe I was too absorbed in the story.
"It was…very hard for me to take you away…to make you safe, and to just leave them alive," she stressed the last word menacingly, and I detected a hint of remorse…as if she regretted not killing them.
Probably because she did.
"I didn't let you leave with Chelsea and Sherry because I was afraid if you left me alone, I'd go looking for them," she admitted quietly, looking up. I was absolutely bewildered at this point.
Why would she go through all this trouble…for me?
I leaned against the back of the booth, as if it were the only thing supporting me. Ashley looked so forlorn, her face immobile as she stared down at the table.
Processing everything at this point was useless.
"Let's go," she commanded in an authoritative voice, standing up. I couldn't help but stare at her body again.
I really liked that sweater on her.
I scrambled awkwardly to my feet, hurrying after Ashley, who was already in front of the hostess. As I reached her side, Ashley fastened her gaze on me, wordlessly handing the hostess a bill.
"You have a nice evening," the hostess told her, a little louder than necessary in order to regain her attention. But Ashley didn't look away from me.
I smirked at the hostess.
Ashley held the door open for me, and I smiled sweetly at her. She walked close, but not too close. My thoughts suddenly flickered to what Sherry had said about kissing Ethan. I looked up at Ashley, staring at her flawlessly full lips. I could feel my cheeks warming up, and I looked down at the sidewalk, glad she couldn't hear what I was thinking.
Ashley opened the passenger door for me and smiled warmly, shutting it for me after I sat down. As she gracefully made her way to the other side of the car, it occurred to me that I should be used to her extensive politeness, but I wasn't.
She never failed to dazzle me.
Once inside, she cranked the heater up to it's highest power. I wasn't cold though, I was still in her jacket, subtly breathing in as much of it's luscious scent as my lungs could muster. Ashley skillfully turned the Porsche around in the direction of the freeway that led to Forks.
"Now, it's your turn," she declared, and I could clearly hear the eagerness in her voice as she referred to my promise earlier on involving my theory.
She remembered.
I don't think I'll ever get used to Ashley Davies. And I'm okay with that.
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R&R PLEASE! :)