Ugh....so much for "tomorrow night." I apologize...still trying to deal with everything. Sincere apologies. Thanks and love to all those who commented. I love the honesty. I crave it, actually.

Thank you for be impatiently patient with me and this story...hope you enjoy this chapter.


Read and review please!!! I really do appreciate it.

Disclaimer: I own nada.

Chapter 10: Reconciliation

"Alright then, Spencer. I'll be there tonight."

Spencer hung up the telephone before she leaned back on the couch, a broad smile on her face. It had been two months since the dance. Two tortuously sweet months since her best friend's body held her own so gently, so intimately as the two moved in a slow, complex tango of hitched breathing and rapid heartbeats. The teen recalled each interchange, each breathless whisper. By heart, she knew every word of the brunette's honest confession of love. Truthful words exhaled into the air by her best friend as if they were read directly from the confined passages of her own heart. It was that moment, more than any other, that confirmed Spencer's hidden emotions.

It was that moment, more than any other, that Spencer knew she was in love with Ashley.

And it felt so perfect.

"Was that Ashley?" her mother asked suddenly, causing her daughter to jump.

"Geez, Mom!" she said, her heart beating fast. "You scared me…"

"So, that was Ashley?"

"Yeah, she's coming over here tonight."

"Didn't she sleepover last night?" Paula asked, a slight tone of disapproval lacing her words. A tone that Spencer did not seem to miss.

"Yeeeaaah," Spencer answered slowly, "but it's Saturday. Ashley always spends the weekends with us."

"Well, I think it may be better if she spent time with her family."

Spencer stood up, confusion masking her countenance. Her mother was acting strange—she never had a problem with Ashley, and before now, she never saw any signs of her mother's displeasure with her best friend.

"We are her family, Mom…why are you acting like this?"

"Like what?" The older blonde stalled.

"This," Spencer spat, gesturing between the two. "You're acting like Ashley's a problem all of a sudden."

"I didn't say that…"

"You didn't have to, Mom. What's going on? For real…you've never had a problem with Ashley staying here before."

Paula hesitated as if contemplating the right words to say. "I just think that girl is spending too much time with you…Michael was such a nice guy. I don't see him much anymore."

"We broke up," Spencer said angrily, "and what do you mean, 'that girl'? Where is this coming from? I thought Ashley was like a daughter to you?"

"She is, Spence. I just think—"

"Stop beating around the bush, Mom, and just say what the hell you got to say!"

"Lower your tone, Spencer Marie! And stop cussing!"

"Then tell me what's wrong?" Spencer shot angrily.

"She's changed, Spencer," Paula answered reluctantly.

Spencer's chest constricted in a quiet panic. "Changed…how?"

"She's…she's a lesbian…isn't she."

Her daughter remained silent, refusing to admit the truth, but at the same time, refusing to lie.

Yet, it's ironic how silence can be so betraying, each second voicing unwanted words. Truthful words that seemed to surpass her unmoving lips, her disbelieving frown.

How ironic is the silence that speaks quite unnecessarily, confessing truths already discovered. Truths that seem to have already plagued the conservative ideals of her Catholic mother.

"Are you?" Her mother asked quietly.

And just like that, silent truths become accusations, answers generated through the piercing stare of older, disappointed eyes.

Sweet realizations become nothing but sinful desires. Unwavering love, trashed in the most brutal of ways, the most painful.

Spencer could take the opportunity, grab it selfishly and scream her deep-rooted feelings of passion. Spencer could seize the sudden opportunity in the most self-centered manner, if only to lift the harsh burden of love from her shoulders. Spencer could…but Spencer could never be selfish.

So, Spencer could do nothing but look away, not caring to see her mother's accusing eyes and knowing frown.

***

Ding. Dong.

Ashley glanced around as she waited on the steps of the Carlin residence, heart racing as she tried to display a calm demeanor. It was just Spencer. It was just Spencer and her fiancée.

Maybe it wasn't such a good idea.

The door slowly opened in front of her, revealing a tall, pale-faced man. His gray hair was parted down the middle and combed to the sides while his wardrobe consisted of beige cargo pants and a fitting white t-shirt.

This was definitely not Arthur Carlin.

"Oh," Ashley spoke, slightly embarrassed, "I think I got the wrong house."

"Are you looking for Spencer?" He asked politely. Ashley slowly nodded in confusion. "Then you got the right place. I'm David." The man named David held out his hand and Ashley greeted it, shaking it lightly.

"I'm Ashley."

"Well, Ashley, " he smiled, releasing her hand, "come on in. Dinner's about ready."

The confused woman stepped into the house, allowing the screen door to close behind her. The interior was much different than she remembered. The previously cream colored walls were darkened to a light caramel and pictures along the walls were much different—David seemed to replace the images of Arthur Carlin in all of the frames.

Ashley walked through the hallway, looking over each of the foreign pictures. Her stomach clenched uncomfortably, hands sweating uncontrollably, and her heart raced anxiously. It's just Spencer. Spencer, whom she no longer knew. Spencer whom she hadn't contacted in eight years.

Spencer who was standing so beautifully confident over the stove, stirring away at the contents inside a large pot.

Ashley smiled to herself as she remained unnoticed at the doorway. She watched as the blonde blew a piece of hair out of her eyes, eyes slightly narrowed in concentration. She wasn't dressed too formally, Ashley noticed—only a white cami and shorts. Very, very short shorts. The brunette's eyes slowly traveled lower, admiring smooth tan legs and strong calves. The recent apprehension she felt was immediately washed away by a rush of heat to her insides.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

"I see you still like to cook," Ashley voiced, more to break her own thoughts than anything. Spencer shot her head up quickly, her azure eyes immediately giving away a look of surprise.

"Geez, Ashley…" Spencer mumbled, shaking her head. "Your going to have to start wearing bell's around your neck so I know it's you."

Ashley smirked, walking into the kitchen. "Scared ya', huh?"

"No…" Spencer looked at her, betraying her attempt at a lie through the small smile playing on her lips. "Not at all."

The brunette chuckled. "Yea, okay…"

A comfortable silence fell amongst the two. Ashley leaned against the counter and sighed as a frown appeared on her features.

"What's wrong?" Spencer asked from beside her.

"Are we…okay?" Ashley asked softly.

Sighing, Spencer set aside the wooden utensil before leaning her back against the edge of the counter. She cocked her head curiously while simultaneously folding her arms against her chest.

"Why are you asking me this?" the blonde woman questioned simply.

Ashley only looked back, confused. "Umm…what do you mean?"

"What do you want from me, Ash?"

"What are you—"

"Why did you come back here?" Spencer interrupted, a soft sadness apparent in her voice. "Like, why now?"

Ashley hesitated, not wanting to disclose her selfish intentions. "I wanted to come to the wedding."

"Bullshit," Spencer shot back in sudden irritation. "The wedding is in five—"

"I wanted to see you, Spence. I just…I missed you." Ashley helplessly muttered.

Spencer's face softened once more and she nodded. She repositioned herself to the front of the stove, wordlessly stirring the contents once more. Beside her, Ashley stood in waiting, bracing herself for a hurtful response, or rather, any response.

Abruptly, Spencer looked up, locking eyes with Ashley. The sudden closeness was suddenly apparent to both parties as their breaths mingled, noses
only inches apart. Spencer was taken aback by the intensity behind Ashley's eyes…the pain…the sadness…the truth.

"I missed you, too, Ashley," the blonde voiced softly, holding the gaze a moment longer before turning to the bubbling food.

Ashley fought to suppress a smile, heart beating fast as she leaned against the counter. Yet, Ashley was unaware of Spencer's flushed cheeks, her racing thoughts—a sudden reminisce of an angry lit sky and drumming thunder.

"It's too real for me, Spence," Ashley finally said, raspy voice wavering through her confession. "I can't tell you I love you, because it's too real."

Of a heartfelt confession…

"I want you so bad. God, do I want you. And when I look into your eyes, I always have this urge to just kiss you. And I'm scared that one day I won't be able to overcome that feeling. "

Of soft, rain washed lips…

For seconds, seconds that seemed to tick away like hours, they kissed. Passion, want, desire, all mixed in with bruised lips, heavy breathing, and moans. Heat contrasted with the cold wetness of their clothes, and for moments more, they were lost in each other.

Of a kiss…

Spencer shook her head, trying to rid her mind of the trespassing memory. However, it failed to cease the haste beating of the betraying muscle
beneath her flesh and the sudden heat shot to her core.

"Spence…are you okay?" A concerned voice questioned beside her.

"What? Yeah, I'm…fine. Here," she said quickly, changing the subject, "try this." Spencer grabbed a small, silver spoon from beside her, carefully scooped up some of the bubbling, red sauce, and held it up to Ashley's lips. "Be careful, though. It's hot."

Ashley leaned in, unbearably slow—or perhaps that was a brief trick of the mind.

Because Spencer could swear that they were in slow motion. That Ashley's eyes blinked in the slowest way possible, drawing Spencer's azure gaze ever so magnetically into a complex fusion of golds and browns.

She could swear that it took hours for the brunette's lips to finally meet the wooden utensil—it had to be hours, because how else could blue eyes take in every detail of the perfectly formed face before her. The flawlessly curved eyebrows; the light, unnecessary appliance of make-up; the delicate, feminine chisel of her nose; the healthy, plump pink of her lips.

It had to be slow motion. How else could she describe the way Ashley's lips slowly, but firmly embraced the spoon, leisurely drawing the warm, savory liquid into her mouth. In what other way could she describe the brunette's casual appearance of her tender, pink tongue as it circled around perfect lips in a deliciously, unrushed manner; sure to remove any remnants of the sauce from her mouth.

And there was absolutely no other way Spencer could describe the molasses-like travel of arousal that journeyed from her veins to her core, producing an intolerable amount of wetness between her trembling thighs.

There was absolutely no way to cease the feelings that never vanquished. Feelings formerly buried within the loneliest depths of her betraying heart. Feelings bit by bit released, a bittersweet trespassing of long-forgotten memories.

***

"Are you?" She asked again.

Spencer sighed sadly at her mother's persistence. Why must she ask questions to which she undoubtedly knows the answers to? Why must her mother emit so much shame and disappointment from her eyes, rendering her daughter's thoughts blank of all possible response? Why must her mother be committed to the Catholic word as if it were a husband, intertwined by the everlasting vow—to cherish and to hold; until death, do they part?

And why must Spencer care so much?

Spencer shook her head, as if the small gesture would erase some of the impending guilt sure to wash over her soon-to-be-spoken words.

"No, Mom. I'm not gay." It surprised the blonde how steady her voice sounded, contradicting her lower, trembling lip, as the words escaped. More weight seemed to make its bed upon her shoulders, a harsh reminder of her unwavering burden of deception.

She looked up, a heavy lump catching in her throat. She could almost hear the smile tap dancing a victory upon her mother's lips. Perhaps the older Carlin was more naïve than Spencer figured, because there was no way that the small tangle of words held any truth behind them. There was no way Paula Carlin could be simply fooled by her daughter's anxious hesitancy, that Paula failed to hear Spencer's eyes scream the factual words her lips failed to voice.

But, then again, it is said that, "Ignorance is bliss."

Yet, if that is so, then why was Spencer unable to endure the sudden wash of shame as she watched her mother's face morph into one of satisfied relief? If that is so, then why did Spencer's heart feel so entirely deflated, as if her mother's sharp accusation depressed her daughter's most vital form of air?

If that is so, then why was Spencer's blissful state so easily destroyed by ignorance?

***

"It's unbelievable, Spencer."

Spencer blinked slowly as all of her coherent thought feebly attempted to catch up with her mouth. "Uh…what?"

Ashley giggled softly, her eyebrow rising slightly in amusement. "The sauce…it's unbelievable."

The blonde's coherent thought process returned at the sound of Ashley's small giggle, causing her to blush profusely. It was too much, too fast. Feelings could not possibly come back so suddenly, so quickly. It had to be impossible. Eight years of pushing it all away, of finally moving on. It could not possibly be undone in two days.

"Still can't take compliments, I see." Ashley smiled.

Spencer shook her head, backing away slightly as her heart raced. "Don't."

The smile immediately left the brunette's lips in obvious confusion. "Don't what?"

"Ashley, you can't be here." The blonde said sadly, avoiding eye contact. "You—I…you can't."

"Spencer, you said it was okay. You said we were okay."

"We are, alright? I just need you to—"

"Spencer, what's wrong?" Ashley asked, concerned.

Spencer sighed deeply, allowing her eyelids to embrace tightly. "This is all just—"

The blonde felt her unexpected presence. Ashley Davies, so unbearably close. Ashley Davies, so ridiculously torturous in front of her wired body. She kept her eyes closed as the sudden intruder of her space breathed so gently on her lips, a painful revelation of how close to her she really was.

"Tell me you don't want me here and I'll leave," Ashley breathed against Spencer's ear. The blonde's neck hairs stood rigid, her heart beat raced dangerously. This could not be real. Spencer could not possibly feel so much this damn quick.

"I did, Ashley," the blonde croaked.

"No." Ashley said in quick, quiet firmness. Gentle fingers traced a burning trail down her jaw line, causing Spencer's breath to expel in a rapid, longing fashion. "Open your eyes and tell me you don't want me here. Tell me that you truly do not want me in LA, and I'm out of your life."

Spencer's eyes fluttered open, surprising Ashley with its dark, fierce blaze. Everything was going much too fast and the harder the blonde tried to fight it, the more it backfired.

Something changed within the last two days. Passion, lust, love…It couldn't be brought back so suddenly. It had to be impossible. In only two days, eight years of buried feelings unmasked. In two days, she relapsed on the very drug that killed her, ever so sweetly, so long ago.

"God, Ash…"

"Spence, David wants to—oh, hey. You must be Ashley."

And in a matter of ten seconds, all of it was destroyed by reality.