Big big BIG thanks for the feedback guys (:
And I know a lot of you are hating on Spencer right now, but honestly I know what I'm doing and I hope y'all can hold out on her a little longer. I actually enjoy writing bitchy Spencer, thinking outside the box...it's interesting!
Anyway, on with the story, this one's a little longer than the rest because I seriously could not stop writing! But alas, all good things must come to an end, else the entire plot would spill out in one ridiculously long chapter...
Chapter 4
"Whoa! Where're you going little one."
I cringe, one hand frozen on the door handle before it's quickly removed as I turn to throw a glare in my older sisters direction.
"For you information, Kayla, I am not little. In case you may have forgotten there are only two years and three months between you and I and while wearing these heels I should be calling you little one."
Kayla smirked as I towered a few inches above her, the extra inches added by my Gucci heels the only leverage between us. I watch her eyes inch down my body, checking out my Friday-Night outfit.
"Look at you with your fake tan and designer get up," she sneers, eyes lingering on the gold and royal blue heels on my feet with a look of appreciation before travelling up my legs past the denim skirt to the white tank and gold jewellery. Her eyes softened as she took in the look of desperation I was sure was plastered across my face by now.
"You look good," she stated after a beat. I smiled in thanks. "But you don't need to try so hard Ash, people should accept you for who you are, not what you look like in labels."
I snorted. "That's rich coming from you sis," I laugh, because I don't think Kayla owns anything not designer, apart from maybe a few pairs of socks.
There is a slightly awkward silence as we each absorb each other's words.
"You know I'm going away for a few days," she starts.
"What! To where? And why?" I exclaim. Despite the age difference, Kayla and I have always had a close bond. In our entire existence, I don't think we've ever been separated once.
"Calm Ashley, it's only for a few weeks or so! I'm just going away with a few friends for a holiday…"
I swallow thickly. "Where're you heading to?"
"Hawaii," she grins.
"Wish I could just take off somewhere whenever I please," I grumble, frowning slightly and the thought of everything Kayla could possibly get up to whilst in Hawaii. Trust me; some of it is not pleasant.
"Oh the joys of being on a Gap Year," Kayla stretches dramatically and I take the opportunity to prod her in the side, hard.
"Later loser," I smirk as she squeals in shock, grabbing my keys from the coffee table and returning to the door.
"Wait!"
Once again I freeze with my hand resting on the door handle.
"You still haven't told me where you're going."
I shrug.
"Spencer's house," I state casually. My sister raises an eyebrow and I raise one in return before finally opening the door and fleeing the house.
I wasn't completely lying when I said that. I am going to Spencer's house, I just don't know where I'll end up from there.
As I arrive at Spencer's doorstep I feel my hands start to clam up. Shakily, I knock on the solid wooden door three times, and step off the doorstep, awaiting it to be answered.
I still don't know where I stand with Spencer and Madison. I guess I'm a little desperate to fit in with the pair, hence the recent dramatic change in my wardrobe. I've been hanging out with Spencer quite a lot over the past few weeks and we usually end up shopping; i.e. restocking my wardrobe with 'acceptable attire' and what not. I'm telling you that girl is hot and cold. Yes, I feel a little guilty about caving so easily and I'm a little embarrassed about how yearning I am to fit in, but I figure that being on the right side of Spencer and Madison will gain me brownie points on the popularity ladder.
I few moments later I'm face to face with an older blonde, undoubtedly Spencer's mother if the uncanny resemblance is anything to go by.
"Hi, I-I'm Ashley," I splutter, fiddling nervously with the hem of my top.
The blonde woman sends me a warm smile, ushering me into the house which smells like freshly baked cookies.
"Spencer's friend right?" She asks, as I stand awkwardly by the door.
I nod quietly, observing the inside of the Carlin household.
"Up the stairs, second door to you left," she smiles and points towards the staircase.
I offer her a friendly smile in return as I cross the hall towards the staircase and begin climbing. On reaching the top of the stairs, I collide with something, or someone, rather solid and reeking of too much cologne.
"Oh crap!" I gasp, temporarily winded by the collision and powerful smell.
The blonde haired boy smiles down at me, strands of his curly hair falling around his eyes.
"That is not a problem," he grins a lopsided, toothy smile, eyebrow raising in the manner that could turn any sentence into an innuendo. I go to side-step past him but his body blocks my way.
"Glen," he extends a hand.
"Ashley," I reply, gripping it loosely and shaking.
He holds on a little longer than entirely necessary before letting go and winking at me as he continues down the stairs. Once out of his sight I shudder, wiping my hand on my top as I count the doors on the left before standing outside what is unmistakably Spencer's room.
"You know standing outside peoples rooms in total silence may seem a little creepy," the blondes muffled voice sounds from the other side of the door. I jump and give a tight laugh before gripping the handle and entering the room.
"Jesus Christ! Don't you knock?" Spencer snaps, and I immediately squeak out a "sorry!" exiting the room once again and knocking my knuckles swiftly against the wood.
"Come in," Spencer calls from the room in a sickly sweet voice that makes me genuinely wonder whether she is bipolar or not…
"Oh hi Ashley," she sends me a wide smile, inclining her head towards her bed where Madison is sprawled, her eyes glued to the latest issue of Vogue. Her eyes flick to me for a brief second and she emits a rather forced "Hi" before her attention is immersed in the magazine once again. I perch awkwardly on the edge of Spencer's bed, still totally insecure about where I stand with the girl and her Latina friend, who clearly still hates me for ruining her top. Though I guess we didn't exactly get along before that…
"So, uh, so what're we doing tonight?" I question hesitantly, eyes glued to the way Spencer pouts when applying her lipstick.
"Gray," Madison replies blankly.
Upon seeing my puzzled look in the mirror Spencer elaborates.
"It's an all-aged bar slash club space downtown…"
"Cool," I bob my head casually, trying to hide the whoop of excitement in my stomach at the thought of spending the evening at a bar with the two most popular girls in school.
We perch at the bar, able to get in stamp-free thanks to a sneaky tip to the bouncer, and order a round of drinks. I watch Ashley's eyes roam around the environment; the dim lighting with the occasional flash from the coloured spotlights and the surprisingly packed dance floor. We opt to stay seated at the bar seeing as so many of the tables have been taken.
I throw a wink to Cat, the barmaid, as she eyes the new addition to our posse suspiciously, setting our drinks on front of us.
"Who's the newbie?" she asks, watching Ashley stare at her drink intently.
"Uh, that's Ashley," I reply over the din of music blasting from speakers at the far side of the room.
With a nod she returns her attention to the bar and customers lining along it waiting to be served. Madison growls under her breath and I elbow her sharply in the ribs, a silent reminder of the conversation we shared earlier on today;
"Why the fuck does she have to come out with us Spence? It's bad enough that she's your science project to make shiny and new but I DON'T want to be seen in public with that…that THING."
"Calm the fuck down Mads. Anyway I have this figured out. We're top dogs right?" The Latina nods. "And Ashley is a celebrity." Another nod. "Well, she's our chance to climb the social ladder OUTSIDE of this shithole school. And people will follow us to clubs and snap photos and…and…"
The pieces snap together in her mind. I watch the understanding dawn in her eyes.
Ashley was our key to be something even bigger still. Our claim to fame.
Pushing my selfish thoughts away I then focus my sight on Ashley again, who is swirling the dark red liquid around in her glass, as if an internal battle is raging within her head, before finally shrugging and taking a large gulp. She swallows and splutters, cringing as the alcohol burns a bath down her throat and I smirk, sipping my own drink and engaging in small talk with Maddy, whose eyes are busy scanning the crowd of people entering the club, no doubt on the lookout for Aiden.
The burly teenager arrives, flashing his fake ID to the bouncers and strolling on into the place as if he lives here, although the amount of times he, Madison and I have come here I guess we kind of do. He greets his girlfriend with a kiss on the lips, sends a smile in my direction and allows his eyes to wander shamelessly over Ashley's body.
Mads scowls at the smaller brunette, whose eyes are still glued to the bottom of her glass, her shoulders hunched in a posture that clearly screams that she is far away from her comfort zone, before grabbing Aiden by the hand and disappearing into the crowd of dancing bodies.
I scoot closer to Ashley.
"How you holding up?" I ask nonchalantly, disguising my genuine interest in the girl-because that's so no Spencer-and swallowing my laughter at the horrible look crossing the other girls face-because she's clearly a rookie-as she takes another sip of her drink.
"Amateur, huh?" I ask, inclining my head to my own glass and cocking an eyebrow as the brunette winces again, setting her drink on the bar again and playing nervously with her fingers.
"Y-yeah," she ducks her head bashfully and refuses to make eye-contact with me, a faint blush coating her cheeks.
"Look, you're honestly better off chugging it, the rest will be easier to swallow once you're a little buzzed," I offer good naturedly, finishing off my own drink and promptly ordering another, craving the liquor induced feeling of euphoria that has teens drinking in the first place.
Ashley looks a little scared, eyeing the newly refilled glass in my hand as though it's about to bitch-slap her in the face. After a moment's hesitation she raises her own glass to her lips and throws her head back, downing the rest of the liquid and spluttering as she swallows.
Eyes squeezed tightly shut she shivers, ridding her memory of the bitter taste before opening her eyes and gracing me with a lazy smile as I place a vodka shot in front of her. Abandoning my current drink for now, I lift my own shot and clink glasses with her, allowing the liquid to burn my throat with satisfaction before returning to my previous glass and taking a soothing sip.
Beginning to feel the start of tonight's buzz, I polish off my drink and rise from my seat, extending a hand to Ashley with a simple "Dance?" and ambling idly over to the packed dance floor. My hand tingles where my skin touches the smaller brunette but I convince myself that it is sorely the alcohol and promptly let go, dancing briefly with the girl before resting my eyes on a guy, decent looking through my beer goggles, who will suffice for tonight's adventures and allow myself to wander over.
I wake up feeling rough.
Last night was my first time drinking.
And judging by the pounding in my head it will also be the last.
Groaning as my vision swims in and out of focus, I sit up in my bed, reaching blindly for my glasses and ramming them on my nose. I rub my temples to no avail.
Cursing under my breath I stagger downstairs, grateful neither my dad nor my sister are home to witness this. I pour myself a bowl of cereal, which I stare at intently, willing myself to eat it until it begins to go soggy. My mind mulls over last night's events.
Spencer was being her usual bi-polar self and Madison was as bitchy as ever.
After sitting at the bar, Spencer suggested we danced and pulled me to the dance floor situated in the middle of the room, next to a small platform housing the DJ and his equipment. Spencer bobbed around to the beat with me for all of one minute, her eyes focused elsewhere at something or someone behind me, before wordlessly leaving my standing alone amongst the sea of moving bodies.
Feeling dejected and awkward I made my way back to the bar, downed a few more drinks heeding Spencer's advice and realising that the sips of alcohol were more bearable as I felt myself become slightly tipsy.
And no, I didn't pull.
I saved the whoring about for the likes of Madison, and by the looks of things, Spencer, who trailed a very average looking guy into the disabled bathroom and did not emerge for a substantial part of the night.
I did have quite a civil conversation with Aiden though. He seems cool enough.
Madison wasn't pleased.
Memories became slightly foggy after that as the drinks continued and my awkwardness ebbed away with each glass of liquid confidence.
I abandon my barely-touched cereal and allow a refreshing shower to wash away my hangover and clear my head.
Towel-drying my hair as I enter my room, I'm distracted from my clothes hunting by the vibration of my phone which was lying forgotten on my bed.
'1 New Message'
Bikini, beach. We'll be there in 20. ~S
I sigh at how, even in text messages, Spencer is as blunt and bitchy than ever.
Unsure as to how I'm expected to reply to the demanding nature of Spencer's text whilst feeling slightly elated that I gained myself an invitation without actually being in the blonde's presence.
Pulling on my bikini and a pair of shorts and a tee-shirt that would probably be subject to Spencer's disapproving glare, I spent an ungodly amount of time prepping my hair for the company of bitchy perfectionists. The curling tongs were still hot as I grabbed my keys and made to head out the door, so I rested them on the varnished wood of the floor, willing them to cool as quickly as possible and not set fire to my house while I was gone. Why the use of curling tongs I hear you ask, well-the natural curl of my hair is different to the induced curl of the curling iron, which is neater and more Spencer-approved.
I shut the door as I hear the horn blast from Madison's car, and hurry down the stairs and out the door, not keen on keeping the Latina waiting when she so clearly hates me as it is. Adding fuel to the fire when my relationship with these people is on tenterhooks probably wouldn't be the best idea and with that in mind I force a smile as I climb into the back of the car.
Madison sits in the driver's seat with Aiden beside her, his hand sitting questionably high on her leg while his fingers trace patterns on her thigh. He glances in the mirror and sends me a smile as he catches my eye. Madison scowls. Spencer's attention remains on her phone before her eyes lift to meet mine. She smirks and shifts her legs, which were stretched over the entire back seat, allowing me a little more room to sit before I pull the door closed and the car begins to move.
I keep my mouth shut, afraid of the deep and husky tone in my voice giving away my current hangover when the rest of the cars inhabitants are bright and bubbly; chatting away and singing to the music blaring from the radio. The amount of alcohol consumed by them is clearly no chip off their shoulders, and I didn't even drink as much as any of them. Yet here I am, suffering in silence with a mouth like the Sahara and a nauseous feeling in the pit of my stomach. Still, I begin to pick up as Madison lowers the windows and the breeze of the car speeding down the highway caresses my cheeks.
The car is parked a hair's breadth away from the golden sand, and immediately the two girls strip down to their bikini's before exiting into the sunshine. I swallow nervously before removing my shorts only and padding out onto the beach. The warm sand caresses my bare feet as I stroll towards my acquaintances, towel tucked under my arm.
Madison makes a show of applying her sun cream as Aiden drools all over her but Spencer's eyes watch me approach from behind her shades. I drop my towel on the sand beside her.
"Remove."
She gestured to my tee-shirt and I look around nervously before hooking my fingers under the hem and lifting it over my head in one clean motion.
Her eyebrow rises in satisfaction as I feel her eyes roam down over my body. Out of my usual self-conscious state, I lift my arms to cover my body.
"Sit."
I abide to her commanding tone, not really appreciating having to follow orders but not having the mind set to argue back. I plop myself down on my town beside her, hands fiddling nervously with the edge of my towel as I fought the urge to bury myself in the sand, out of sight.
"Stop. You look great," the blonde comments, sending me the first genuine smile I've seen her direct at me.
I smile back and relax, allowing the sun to warm my skin.
"Stop. You look great."
And look great she did. As soon as that tee-shirt came off my mouth became drier than the very sand I was sitting on. Her new tan accented the tone of her body. It highlighted her curves perfectly. I refrained from allowing my jaw to drop but couldn't stop my eyes wandering down her body as she stood in front of me.
Even as I watched her smile back at my compliment I knew her nerves were still shattered. We sat in silence for a good while. Madison had long disappeared with Aiden, whose surf shorts had become noticeably tighter.
"Are we just going to sit here all day?"
I sat in shock for a good minute and a half.
This girl had never initiated conversation with me. Not if she could avoid it. "Spencer where is your bathroom?" does not count.
"Pretty much. LA loves the 'sun-kissed' look."
She snorts before shifting her position, crossing her arms behind her head. I can't help but notice how this stretches out her abdominal muscles and my eyes scan her body more times than I'd care to admit.
"Like what you see?"
I clear my throat uneasily, not liking the smug look on the brunettes face.
"Don't flatter yourself," I deadpan, "But you're shaping up nicely Davies," I motion towards my own toned body. The one Californian guys throw themselves at. The one they think about when they feel their pants tighten. The one that causes their pants to tighten.
Ashley trails her eyes down my body before returning her gaze to the ocean and the swarms of people splashing about in its blue waves.
The day progresses with idle chit-chat flowing between us now and again. I was joined by two pretty buff surfers who spent roughly an hour chatting me up with their tale of woe about how they've 'missed the waves' but glancing at the blondes brown roots showing beneath his curly locks I no longer cared. I shot the brown haired guy a death glare as his eyes lingered on Ashley longer than normal.
Unable to justify my unnecessary protectiveness of the girl I sighed with relief as they left, causing the other girl to stare at me in confusion.
"What a bunch of fake losers," I growl, watching their retreating backs.
Ashley scoffs in an 'Are you serious?' manner and I reconsider my words.
I guess they are a little hypocritical. Even my own roots could do with a little touch up soon.
And no, I'm not a malteaser, but I seem to suit the light blonde look better than the natural golden-fair tone of my hair. At least, I prefer the colour it is now. I can't remember the last time my hair saw its natural colour. Anyway, off the point.
My gaze switches to Ashley, noting the slight pink glow radiating from her skin as the sun colours it in true Californian style. That spray tan is not high in SPF…
When Madison and Aiden return, both wearing similar looks of satisfaction, the beach has somewhat emptied and the sun hangs lower in the sky, illuminating the land in hues of red and orange.
The temperature still remains surprisingly high and Ashley returns carrying two ice creams from the vendor parked a little further up the beach. She stalls as she notices Aiden and Madison, realising they returned during her absence and noticing she's only carrying two cones.
"Oh, s-sorry. I only got two," she stammers, eyes locked fearfully on Madison who shrugs, muttering something about having her fair share of ice cream earlier and winking suggestively at her boyfriend. I shudder and divert my attention away from the two sex addicts.
I accept my cone from her and take a longing lick of the freezing cream, sighing with relief it cools my heated body.
"Can I have your flake?" Aiden asks innocently, his eyes locked hungrily on the chocolate flake emerging from Ashley's ice cream.
She frowns a little before plucking the flake from her cone and handing it over to him. Unfortunately, somewhere in between her holding out the stick for him to take and him stuffing the chocolate into his mouth, a little drop of ice creams falls from the end of the flake and lands on my belly.
I give a sudden scream of surprise as the freezing substance comes into contact with my skin, sending goosebumps up my arms and making me squirm.
Hurling apologies left right and centre, Ashley scoops up the offending blob of ice cream and the sensation of her finger touching my bare belly sets my skin alight. The feeling significantly contrasts with the earlier chill residing in my skin. The goosebumps fail to depart.
Without thinking, I dip my finger into my own ice cream and flick it at her, her jaw dropping in shock as the cold substance hit her. This proceeds to turn into a fully fledged flicking war, the pair of us continuing to launce the cold white matter at each other until a peeved looking Madison with a tiny speck of cream on her nose and a hysterical Aiden force us to call a truce. After munching on the wafer cone, Ashley and I stroll towards the water to wash our now sticky hands.
I walk faster than she does, my longer legs giving me the advantage of longer strides. I clean my hands in the salty water, straightening up to see her jogging slightly towards the water's edge, obviously forgetting that it's water and she's running.
Consequently, splashing ensues.
I'm not best pleased.
Her nervousness dissipates after my lack of verbal abuse. I keep my face blank as I suddenly kick the cool water against her bare legs.
She gasps. She retaliates.
We act like five year olds for a while.
She's not like Madison I muse as I watch her laugh and scream, flicking water at me and dodging my attacks. My own face probably mirrors hers. Madison isn't fun like this. Madison wouldn't have water fights or ice cream wars, in fact, I rarely hear the Latina laugh at all. At least not a genuine one, like the one bubbling from Ashley's throat, her face contorted in a smile so beautiful it makes me think that maybe I'm befriending her for reasons other than my own selfish gain.
Again, feedback is always greatly appreciated, and though I may not reply like I've seen other authors do (because I'm either too busy or too lazy) I want you to know that each little email that's entitled '[FF Review Alert]' makes me smile and is read at least twice...
Kudo's on making it this far! I have no questions this week...
How'd you think it's shaping up?
Oh, theres one!
...
Love always :D