About that time was when I decided to stop caring. Now, I know I promised to tell Spencer's story and not worry so much about mine. But here's the thing. If I hadn't become so apathetic towards every aspect of my life, a lot of things in Spencer's story wouldn't have taken place, and if they did take place, they would have been different. I changed her, and I hate myself for it.

There were three more softball games left in the season, and Spencer and I were on our way to an away game. Kyla was driving, because she's always loved softball and she's always tried to support me in whatever I do, and Spence and I were sprawled out in the backseat of her car. It seemed like we were in that spot a lot back then, because neither of us drove, and Kyla was our favorite chauffer. We were halfway to our game, which was about an hour's drive away from home, and all of a sudden, I dreaded our arrival at the softball complex.

"Turn around," I commanded Kyla and hoped she would realize I didn't mean it in a rude way. "I don't want to play."

"What?" I honestly don't know who said it, but it might have been both Kyla and Spencer.

"I don't want to play anymore. Will you turn around, please? Let's just go home and watch a movie."

"Ashley." Spencer said. Her voice was patronizingly quiet and too much like my mother's to make me happy. "This is one of the biggest games of the season."

"I don't care, Spencer."

"Since when?" Kyla asked while looking at me through the rear view mirror. She kind of seemed apathetic towards the matter too. She didn't care, she was just curious as to why, all of a sudden, I didn't either.

"Right now. Turn around, please?"

So we turned around, and they made it a little bit easier for me to stop caring.

-

"I'm a liar," I mumbled into Spencer's neck one night after drinking too much. She was holding me up, even though she was a lot smaller than I was, and with one hand she attempted to pull my muddy t-shirt over my head. Finally, with no help from me, she had stripped me of my old band shirt and replaced it with a shirt from her mother's family reunion seven years before. I fell backwards onto her bed and squirmed around to cover myself with as many blankets as I could grab.

"Did you hear me?" I asked as she settled in beside me and brushed muddy hair out of my face. You can ask where all that mud came from, but I honestly don't remember. That might have been the night I got into a fight with two of Spencer's old cheerleading friends, but maybe not. That night is a little fuzzy to me these days. "I said I'm a liar."

"I heard you," she laughed. "But I don't think it's true."

"Oh, yeah? Why is that?"

"Well, darling, if you claim to be a liar, how can I trust you when you say you're a liar?" Interesting point, huh? She was always interesting when we were wasted. Sober, too.

"Oh, I am a liar. But trust me, I would never lie to you," I reassured her and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek. "Never."

"Tell me the truth, then."

"What truth?"
"Any truth," she said softly. I could tell she was getting more tired, which was understandable, seeing the fact that she had had to practically babysit me for hours while I drowned my embarrassment with liquor. Yeah, that was the night I had gotten into the fight with her two former friends. I remember the sting of my soon-to-be black eye as she continually pushed hair out of my face—her hair or mine, I don't remember. It was hard to tell where she stopped and I began, and where I stopped and she began. It was hard to tell a lot of things.

"Anything that's true?"

"Yeah, tell me something real."

"I once ate an entire pecan, including the shell," I said without allowing myself time to consider her request.

She grinned and crinkled her nose. "I once ate a handful of marbles."

"I've never broken a bone in my body."

"I broke my arm by falling off of my great aunt's roof."

"I used to dream of being a preacher until my brother told me that only men can be preachers. I haven't prayed ever since."

"I used to have a crush on your brother."

"I run when I'm upset. Last week, I ran for seven miles without stopping."

"I run away from everyone who cares, except you."

"I often think that nobody cares."

"Maybe nobody does," she said, her voice fading away into sleep. "But I try to. Honest."

I'm a liar, but trust me, I would never lie to you.

-

I woke up three hours later. Spencer's arm was snaked around my waist and her eyes were looking deep into my own. To be honest, I had never felt that comfortable in my life, but as soon as she realized I was awake, she jerked away. She rolled onto her back and focused on a picture of Dolly Parton that was hanging on her ceiling. I tried to speak but I didn't know what to say. Didn't know what I was thinking.

It wasn't the first time that I felt so empty. It wasn't the last.

"What are you thinking?" Spencer mumbled without taking her eyes off of Dolly.

I swallowed hard. My mouth was dry. "I'm thinking I need to tell you something."

I watched her nod. She closed her eyes suddenly and darted her tongue over her bottom lip. "I probably need to tell you something as well."

I sighed more loudly than necessary. "I don't know where to begin, Spence."

Spencer rolled over to face me again and put her arm around my waist to pull me closer. Just before falling asleep, she mumbled into my hair. "I don't either."

-

"Wake up, sleepy head," Spencer said as she tugged on my foot. She was sitting, wide awake, on the floor beside the bed. It was the next morning and I had a massive headache. Spence knew I couldn't stand being woken up, but she liked to mess with me anyway.

"What the hell are you doing?" I groaned. "It's like five in the morning."

"No, babe, it's eleven," she chuckled. "And to answer your previous question, I'm painting my fingernails."

I looked at her with the softest of smiles on my face. "What color?"

"Silver. Would you like me to paint yours?"

"Only if you paint them blue."

"Of course," Spencer said, and proceeded to paint my nails a very sparkling shade of silver.

"What the hell are you doing?" I asked again.

"Painting your nails. Chill out."

I chose not to say anything to her. I didn't mind having silver nails, as long as she was happy about it.

-

Spencer had a tattoo on her right hip. It was a small hot pink star with a black outline around its edges. It was so small that I think we both forgot it was there most of the time. But one summer night, Spence and I were laying out by her pool. She was wearing a bikini and I was wearing board shorts and a tank top. We had been swimming all day and finally decided to climb out of the water and lay on the damp concrete.

"Hey," Spence said after a while of silence. She lifted up her phone to show me the time. "It's 11:11. Make a wish."

"Heh, no thanks," I said. "I'm not big on wishing on time."

"And why not?" She feigned disappointment.

"It passes too quickly. I'd rather make a wish on something permanent. Something I can count on."

"Well, I guess you're out of luck then," Say said with a sigh. "Nothing lasts forever."

"Not true," I said with a smirk. "I could make a wish on your star tattoo."

Say grinned and gave me a nod. "Do it. I dare you."

I closed my eyes dramatically and thought of a wish. Of course, I had known what I would wish for all along. The same thing that I wished for every time I got the chance, as corny as that sounds. When I knew Spencer was watching me closely, I sat up and leaned over to kiss her tattoo softly. Her breathing hitched and I noticed her hand move to my shoulder. She wasn't pushing me away but she wasn't drawing me closer either. She wasn't sure what she wanted, or at least that's what I assumed at the time.

With a sigh, I pulled away and turned around to sit on the edge of the pool with my feet hanging in the water. Moments later, I felt Spencer sit beside me. I didn't look up to see her, but I knew she was there.

"Ashley." She said softly, shortly. "What's wrong?"

"I still don't know where to begin," I said slowly. I looked down at my hands in my lap, almost feeling ashamed of myself, of what I was feeling, or maybe of the fact that I didn't know how to explain it to her. We had always been honest with each other, but I couldn't begin to tell her what I was going through.

"Penny for your thoughts. What are you thinking at this exact moment?" Spencer said. Her voice was getting softer but her mouth was getting closer to my face, so dangerously close.

"I'm thinking..." I shut my eyes, clinched my jaw. "I'm thinking I'm in love."

Without looking, I knew Spencer was leaning back, away from me. Her voice sounded tired and in pain. "Who is it, Ash? You know you can trust me."

I turned to face her, and once again, our mouths were dangerously close. "It's...Spencer, it's...it's complicated."

She blinked three or four times in a row. She got nervous when she saw I was as well. "It's only complicated because you let it be. You make it complicated."

"Then tell me how to make this simple."

"Just...Well, I don't know..." she was leaning forward, causing our foreheads to touch slightly.

"What do I do to make it easier, Spence?"

"Just kiss me," she mumbled, but she was already closing the gap between our lips, closing the gap between being friends and more than that, closing the gap between who we were and who we were about to be. Her hand cupped my cheek and I ran my tongue over her lips, begging for entrance. She parted her lips slightly, and for a second, my tongue darted against hers. She let out a small whimper and I backed away.

She didn't say anything as I pulled away from her and jumped into the cold pool. She didn't say anything as I swam back and forth for an hour, letting out steam. She didn't say anything as she finally dove into the pool and found me in the dark water. She didn't say anything as she laced her fingers in mine and pressed her lips firmly to my own.

It turns out that wishes on star tattoos can come true if you let them. If you don't make it too complicated.