(three)
Sometimes, only briefly, it bothers Jessica when people show up in costumes.
Just because it is October and there is a party does not automatically mean that it is a Halloween party. It is just coincidence. Just happenstance.
Besides, Halloween was just another day to Jessica Barnes. She didn't need a reason to dress up, didn't need a reason to act like a princess or a witch - she did that all the time.
She walks down those school halls like a damn queen. She is always in costume, she just doesn't see it that way.
It's those posers who wear the mask. Not Jessica Barnes.
She is no emo kid, black hair and Fall Out Boy hoodies. She is no skater, holes in the jeans and beat up Chucks. She isn't a club kid. She isn't Valley High. She'll never be a book worm or a pot-head under the bleachers.
Jessica Barnes is Jessica Barnes. End of story.
And she'll just roll her eyes as another idiot comes into her house with glow-in-the-dark face paint on and a six pack of cheap beer, as some girl wanders in - trashed and slutty - dressed up like a nurse.
Jessica Barnes will let them in, she just won't like it much.
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She'd be lying if she said she wasn't looking.
Because she is - glancing towards the door, sweeping across the mass of faces - looking and looking and looking.
And this might be it, you see, this might be the one time that Kate cannot climb back up from.
There is this tension between them now. Different than before, different than the usual.
It isn't just Kate and dissatisfaction and sad things not being said, not this time.
Spencer can feel Kate's stare this time, can feel the frustration this time as it makes a home against Spencer's skin and stays there - indefinitely.
And this might be it, you see.
This might be the only true hour of their time together, even more honest than the day they met and the date they had and the months they spent.
All of that is just a figment. Kate knows it. Spencer knows it, too.
"...You want to get out of here?"
Kate's voice sounds so final, so raw, so tired as it coasts into Spencer's ear, over the music and over the shouting and over the sound of too many people.
And this is it, you see.
This is it - as Spencer's eyes continue to gaze outward and search for a girl that she just cannot forget, cannot write off, cannot stop thinking about - this is a chance to be real, to be free, to be a good person.
"No. I'd like to stay."
And Spencer's voice is soft as she looks away from the crowd and at Kate, taking in this vision before her - of Kate's broken eyes, her nice mouth, the way her reddish hair is carelessly tossed to one side - Spencer takes one last look at Kate.
Kate sort of nods her head and clenches her jaw, stepping back and walking away and out the door.
And Spencer would be lying if she said she didn't feel better.
\
"I don't get you, Ash, you know? I really fucking don't."
"What don't you get, Aiden? The fact that you didn't tell me where you'd be going after senior year and I might be pissed... Is that what you don't get?"
"But we talked about this, like, months ago and you said 'do what you like'!"
And she did say that. And she meant it.
And, deep down, she knows that all this fight isn't about anger and it isn't about what she'll be losing when Aiden takes off for the east coast and basketball dreams.
It's all a ruse, elaborate and devious, even to her own conscious mind.
It's all an excuse to finally do what she's been reluctant to do.
Jessica Barnes house looms before them as they sit in the car, engine off and stereo turned down. There are people on the stoop tonight, laughing and talking.
The lights are all on tonight, too, every window like a beacon.
Except near the top of the house, certain spires and turrets left in the dark, kept away from the prying hands of the bored and the wasted.
"Okay, fine. Then I can't do this anymore."
"What the fuck does that mean?"
"Jesus, Aiden, you'll be on the other side of the country and I'll be here-"
"You could come with me."
And she could, if she loved him at all. If she really loved him the way a girlfriend should, Ashley could follow him and marry him and have his children.
But Ashley doesn't love Aiden.
She doesn't think she ever truly did. The didn't have passion, they had to create it with petty tiffs and ticked-off sex. They didn't have contentment, they had to pretend that the few good times were better than they seemed.
One day, he'll see it just like she has.
"No. I... I don't want to, Aiden, okay? Just go and live your life... and I'll live mine."
"But Ash-"
She gets out of the car, walks away, nears the front door and pushes it open.
And she's not sad, not heartbroken, not falling apart.
She finally feels relief pour into her body, refreshing and lovely.
And Ashley is looking around, hoping to find a girl here that she just cannot forget, that she cannot write off, that she cannot stop thinking about.
Somewhere, in this party on the twenty-ninth of October, Ashley knows that that girl will be waiting, will be looking for her as well.
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They don't talk this time.
They don't have to, not really. Or maybe they do need to talk, talk and talk until they cannot breathe properly - but they choose not to.
They choose to cross the canyon of bodies, meeting in the middle of this dance-floor riot, and they don't say a single word.
Maybe everything is written in their eyes, in the way they get closer and closer, maybe their story is right there in Ashley's smile and in Spencer's hand slowly reaching out.
Spencer's hand, always acting before thinking, but she cannot worry about that.
Her hand reaches out and molds to Ashley's side and pulls the girl in, until they are almost touching, until one deep inhalation of air would create a dangerous kind of contact.
And Ashley starts swaying and her own hands glide down, glide down and around and lay flat against Spencer's back.
Ashley's touch makes the decision for the both of them.
They are dancing and they are touching, hands to hips and hands to backs, chests grazing with each side to side motion.
And Spencer closes her eyes and Ashley does the same and they turn into one another, leisurely enveloping the other as everyone else moshes and gyrates and discards all inhibitions.
But they are shucking inhibitions, too.
Only quietly. Only with each other. In their own world.
This time, they are sober. This time, they are single. This time, they don't have to stop.
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"You're really pretty."
Ashley laughs softly at that, not to be falsely modest, but because she likes what Spencer has said and it makes her somewhat shy. And her shyness always shifts into humor, in order to manage those pesky emotions.
"Thanks."
"I should be thanking you."
"Go ahead then."
Spencer smiles and inches forward on this floor they have found, in a room that looks like a study or an office, door stupidly not locked.
They wandered away from the music and the dancing. They passed through the kitchen and found bottles of wine and decided not to drink at all.
They found bathrooms and laundry rooms and closets. And they ended up here, in this study or office, on the floor with one lamp on - kind of in the dark, kind of in the light - facing each other.
Spencer inches forward and feels their lips connect.
Once. Twice. More and more.
Her fingers tangle into Ashley's hair and Ashley moans into Spencer's mouth.
And clothing feels tight, feels oppressive on Ashley's arms and legs, she'd loved to peel the layers back and relish the touch of Spencer's kiss on her torso.
On her thighs. Against her neck. All over, Ashley wants the blonde girl all over her.
They don't question sexuality or politics of the past.
They don't waste time on such things.
They are here and they are now and they want each other.
They've been wanting since May. They've been needing since July.
Spencer pulls back, just a bit, but keeps Ashley close.
Not that Ashley is disappearing. Not that Ashley wants to leave.
"So, uh, thanks for being incredibly hot." Spencer hushes out and Ashley laughs again, louder this time. And they kiss again, brief but still heated.
"My pleasure." Ashley replies and then she ducks her head and marks out a trail along Spencer's jawline, up to the ear and then to the cheek - tender flesh to tender flesh.
And Spencer is breathing heavily now and she feels alive and she feels like volcanos are going off underneath her skin.
They make out and push boundaries for what seems like hours, until the door flies open and some guy falls on top of them - stoned and laughing - and then his friends barrel in afterwards and someone say something about 'let us watch', which makes Spencer's hands turn into fists.
Dragged unhappily from something sublime to something idiotic, they force their way - hand in hand - from a room full of guys in bedsheets, pretending to be ghosts.
And the party seems to be winding down, people passed out and girls crying and sitting aloft on the stairwell is Jessica Barnes, some guy sucking on her neck and a bored expression on her face.
This time, though, Ashley and Spencer don't leave without making a promise or two.
No one is calling their names. No one is waiting for them, by the door or in a car.
This time, Ashley gives her telephone number and Spencer gives hers and they kiss again and they say they will call each other, do more than make out at parties, do more than randomly meet and wish for it to not be so damn random.
This time, they do things right.
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tbc