Hey everybody. For once I'm keeping true to my promise and posting before the week is out.
I know that some people were annoyed at Ashley for her reaction last chapter and as I'm just making this story up as I go along I decided that she would reject Spencer on a complete whim just because I thought it was a rather Ashley thing to do. Well, my form of Ashley anyway. My Ashley is pretty insecure underneath all of the cocky bravado so I figured that because her emotional attraction to Spencer is so new for her she might freak out a little bit.
Plus, it's a story. There has to be a little drama right? I can't be all like, Ashley meets Spencer, they become friends, Ashley realises she likes Spencer, Spencer realises she likes Ashley back, and Spencer confesses her feelings. They get together and live happily ever after. The end.
I don't know about you guys, but to me? That's a pretty boring story. But I apologise if I'm drawing it out too long and it's getting too frustrating. Unfortunately for you, it might get even more frustrating before it gets better but I hope that doesn't put you off.
Your Relentless Lover: Firstly, thanks for the review. Secondly, to address your point. I do agree with you but as I said, I was writing on a whim and a lot of the things I put in my stories I base on things I've experienced or known others to experience in real life. I once had the biggest crush on one of my sisters' friends when I was sixteen. Turned out that she liked me too but I turned her down because I didn't feel good enough to date her. Maybe it was stupid but I remember what I felt like then and realised that it would be something similar to what Ashley might feel like in regards to the whole Spencer situation. So I decided to go with that. Here's your more frequent update ;)
It's been almost a week since Spencergate. Unfortunately, my prediction was indeed correct. I've barely seen the blonde at all let alone had a chance to speak to her. Not that I'd know what to say anyway.
It's probably better off this way. Out of sight out of mind and all that.
Except it's not. I still think about her just as much as I did before if not more. But instead of thinking of her blue eyes sparkling as she laughs, or her blonde hair billowing in the wind, I can't help but see her wounded eyes. Her crushed face. Her trembling lips.
This whole taking the moral high ground thing really sucks. I'm not at all surprised I've never tried it before. It's really not good for my liver.
I've been out drinking pretty much every night this week. Once with Taylor, but I haven't really been up for trying to bag any hot girls recently so watching her leave with a stoned redhead was a little too much to handle.
Both Taylor and Kyla have been acting like the Ashley police all week, probably scared I might do myself in or something. At least one of them is always around to pick me up from the club or the bar at about midnight and stay up with me during the night whilst I'm trying to regurgitate what seems like all my vital organs.
"Alright Ash?"
Taylor claps me on the back as she sits beside me at lunch, throwing an apple from one hand to the other as Aiden clambers clumsily onto the bench on her other side.
"Hey Tay. Aid." I nod to them, gnawing on the crust of my sandwich because it's the only thing my battered digestive system can stomach right now.
"Hungover again?" Aiden grins goofily at me as I glare at him from under my heavy duty shades.
"Reckon you can give your liver a rest tonight Ash?" Taylor nudges me. "It is my birthday tomorrow and I expect you to be in full working order, ready to wait on my every need."
"Of course you do."
As is the tradition for Taylor's birthday, she seems to revert back to being an excited toddler who needs everything doing for her. I wouldn't be surprised if this year she asks me to wipe her own ass for her.
"Excellent." Taylor rubs her hands together gleefully. "You coming to the game tonight?"
"Of course." I give the obligatory reply to the question she always asks.
"Who're you playing?" Aiden asks and Taylor is drawn into a conversation with him which quickly turns into an argument about whether basketball or soccer is the better sport.
I just sit there and wonder if there's a chance that Spencer will be at the game tonight.
As I make my way onto the King High soccer pitch that evening my question is answered almost immediately by the familiar flash of blonde hair sitting on the very front row of the bleachers.
I really don't know why she's here. Taylor and Spencer aren't exactly good friends even though they're neighbours and all. As far as I'm aware, Taylor hasn't spoken to Spencer since I last spoke to her.
I glance to where Taylor is taking the team through some warm-up drills and narrow my eyes. I immediately feel guilty. Taylor wouldn't have invited her. She's nothing if not loyal.
Taylor starts to take the team through some stretching exercises and I realise that I'm still standing at the edge of the field like an idiot.
I make my way to the bleachers and take my seat at the back as the team break away from their circle and begin to do some individual stretches and warm ups.
The familiar figure of Carmen Sanchez, decked out in her kit, approaches the bleachers and my eyes instinctively narrow in her direction until they see who she's talking to. Then they widen in surprise.
Spencer's laughter carries to where I'm sitting and I grind my teeth together.
"Thanks for coming." I hear Carmen say.
"It's no problem." I can hear the smile in Spencer's voice and it makes me feel physically sick.
"I wasn't sure if you'd show." Carmen admits to her and my memory flashes back to when I said something similar to her not too long ago.
"You asked me to." Spencer shrugs. "And my neighbour is on the team as well so it's nice to come and support her too."
"Neighbour?"
"Yeah. Taylor Jones?"
From where I'm sitting I can see Carmen's face darken considerably as her head turns to glower at my best friend who's still doing over enthusiastic stretches in the middle of the field.
"Oh. Right." She says as though the mention of Taylor leaves a bad taste in her mouth or something.
"But thanks for inviting me." Spencer continues, seemingly ignoring the serious hate vibes Carmen is sending Taylor. "It's great to make some new friends. As much as I enjoy hanging out with the cheerleaders it's nice to have a break from them sometimes."
"I can imagine."
They share a laugh and it makes me want to kill someone. Namely Carmen Sanchez.
"Alright Bud?"
I almost jump out of my skin and fall backwards off of the bleachers as Taylor appears out of nowhere beside me.
"What the fuck Tay?" I run a stressed hand through my hair. Where the fuck did she even come from?
"Sorry." She laughs jovially at my expense. "I just came to say hello before kickoff. You know, like I always do."
"Yeah, sorry. I'm just a little distracted."
Taylor follows my glare to where Carmen and Spencer are standing. A little bit too close to each other.
"Oh." She says. "Damn. Girl moves fast."
"Do you really think Sanchez will try it?" I ask even though it looks like she already is.
"Probably." Taylor rubs her chin thoughtfully. "Carmen's a little bitch though. She's always resented me for getting the captaincy so she's a pain in the arse to me during training. Doesn't help that my best friend tried to rip her weave clean off either."
She sends me a pointed look and I turn my gaze away, something else immediately catching my eye.
What. The. Fuck?
"Er, Tay." I poke her shoulder. "What the fuck is Madison doing here?"
I narrow my gaze at the Latina, who's sitting bold as brass at the centre of the bleachers having an overly flirtatious conversation with what I have no doubt is the boyfriend of one of the opposition players.
"Search me." Taylor shrugs, but there's something in the way she ducks her head slightly that makes me think she's not being entirely truthful. "Maybe she's come to be my own personal cheerleader. We all know the she wants to get up on this."
I shake my head in both amusement and exasperation as Taylor runs her hands down her own body, which at this moment, doesn't actually look that great because of the baggy green and yellow kit she's wearing.
"Whatever little Miss deluded." I roll my eyes because her obsession with Madison has got to stop.
"Actually Ash. There's something I wanted to talk to you about after the game. Fancy going to get some coffee or something?"
The uncharacteristic seriousness of her tone interrupts my alternating, unreciprocated glaring sessions with Carmen and Madison.
Both of Taylor's brows are furrowed this time and she's gazing at me with a sense of uncertainty that freaks me out a little bit.
"What have you done?" I ask suspiciously, calling her out on her abnormal behaviour.
"Nothing. I just want to talk. So, coffee?"
"Okay." I nod but send her a pointed look to tell her that she's going to be getting a grilling later.
"Alright. Well, I better get down there." There's an unexplainable awkwardness exuding from her as she reaches down and pats me on the back. "Wish me luck. Not that I need it."
"Good luck."
I watch her go through suspiciously narrowed eyes and glancing to my left notice that I'm not the only one watching her descent.
Hold. The. Motherfucking. Phone.
Is it just me or is Madison fucking Duarte staring appreciatively at my best friend's ass?
No. There is just no way. Maybe I'm the deluded one.
Giving my head a firm shake back and forth to dislodge all ridiculous and utterly inconceivable thoughts from my mind I turn my reluctant gaze back to where Carmen is still talking to Spencer. What are they even talking about? Hey I'm Carmen. I play soccer. I'm poor. I have fifty brothers and sisters. Why the hell does Spencer look so invested in their conversation?
Leaning forward I pick up the last few sentences of their exchange.
"Wish me luck." Carmen is saying in that irritating manner of hers.
"Good luck."
Spencer reaches up and wraps her arms around the other girl and I think I just threw up a little bit in my mouth. They barely even know each other so why the fuck is Spencer hugging her? This is all wrong.
Carmen whispers something in her ear and Spencer breaks out into a girly giggle. One I've heard a million times before from girls I've flirted with.
I can't do this. I can't sit here and watch Spencer flirting with that bitch. To say it leaves me with a bitter taste in my mouth is an understatement. I can literally feel the bile rising in my throat.
The worst thing is that it's all my own doing. I told her that I didn't want her so she's decided to wander into the arms of the nearest whore who throws themselves at her feet. If she can do better than me surely she can do better than that community service project.
My legs move of their own volition and I'm standing up and shuffling across the bleachers before my brain can even catch up. When it eventually has, I turn back and briefly try to catch Taylor's attention or at least throw her an apologetic glance but she's too busy baiting the opposition's captain to look my way.
With a heavy sigh, I take one last fleeting look at the blonde that's fucked me up so badly and make my way towards my Cayenne.
What a mess.
It's almost eleven o'clock that night and I'm lying on my bed feeling sorry for myself as I have been for the last two and a half hours.
I turn my head to stare at the silent cell phone on my desk. I had expected Taylor to have at least dropped me a text by now or even come barging through my bedroom door but she's been strangely missing in action.
It strikes me as a possibility that she might be mad at me for missing her game but Taylor isn't really one to hold a grudge and I'm sure she'd understand with the extraordinary circumstance of the Spencer, Carmen and Madison three pronged attack.
It still strikes me as odd that she hasn't been in contact and for one absurd moment I fathom the thought that maybe Madison was there to ambush Taylor after the game so that she could take her to some abandoned warehouse with the other cheerleaders and torture her into becoming more feminine.
Leaping from the bed and grabbing my phone and keys from the desk I make an impulsive decision to go and check on her. Just in case.
On my way down the stairs I pass through the living room and only notice Kyla sitting on the couch at the last minute.
"Going to Taylor's." I tell her, turning back at the doorway.
That's when I also realise that she's not alone. A sheepish looking Aiden is slouched on the couch next to her and they seem to be watching a film together.
"Are you two on a date?" I cock my eyebrows incredulously at my baby sister.
"N-no!" They both stutter out, turning matching radish red.
"We're just hanging out." Aiden clarifies.
"Yeah. It's not like you or Taylor have had much time to hang out with us lately." Kyla observes a little indignantly. "With all your romance drama."
"Whatever." I grumble because I know she's right. I have sort of been ignoring all my other friends the past few weeks. "But can't you hang out with someone who doesn't have a dick? Where's Chelsea?"
"Out with her boyfriend." Kyla replies with a huff. "She's dating Spencer Carlin's brother."
"Glen?"
"No, the other one. Clay."
"Right." I ignore the fact that it seems like everyone has a Carlin but me and continue on my way. I turn back at the doorway and jab an accusatory finger in Aiden's direction. "Keep your grubby mits off my sister, Buster. Clear?"
Aiden gulps and nods, sliding further away from Kyla as the girl throws me a haughty glare.
"Have fun." I send her a teasing grin as I dash out of the front door and hop into my Porsche, driving the short way to Taylor's house.
As I've done a million times before, I retrieve the spare key from underneath the stone otter in the garden and open the front door to let myself in. Mr. Jones is on another business trip across the country and although he's promised to try and get back for at least some of Taylor's eighteenth birthday I doubt he'll make it. He didn't last year, or the year before.
That's why this year I've put a lot of effort into Taylor's present. Not only have I exploited her unnatural obsession for all things sports by buying her tickets to soccer, ice hockey, football, baseball, basketball and beach volleyball games as well as getting a soccer jersey signed by the entire team she supports back in England and getting it framed and sent over but I've also put together a super mushy yet obligatory best friend photo album, with pictures of Taylor age six months to seventeen. Most of the pictures courtesy of Mr. Jones who I was fortunate to catch on a rare couple of days off a month ago.
As I enter the Jones' residence my feet move automatically towards the den, where at this time of the night, Taylor can usually be found playing Call of Duty and whooping loudly as she decapitates Nazi zombies.
The fact that Taylor's gaming chair is stashed in the corner and the lack of Xbox controllers on the floor adds a lot of weight to my cheerleader torture theory.
My next port of call is the bedroom and I breathe a sigh of relief when I see that the lamp is on, casting a dim glow over the room and leaving the walls, which I know to be covered with posters of soccer players and semi naked women, in shadow.
Cloppy is curled up at the end of the bed and he cracks open an eye and throws me a one-eyed glare as I enter the room. I send him a two-eyed glare to assert my superiority.
I immediately notice the steadily breathing lump under the covers and frown. Taylor is what one could almost call an insomniac. If you're ever awake at two in the morning and feel like talking to someone Taylor is your girl. Well, if you ever feel like listening to the sound of either heavy breathing, swearing or sub machine gun bullet fire down the phone at two in the morning Taylor is your girl.
So the fact that she's in bed by 11pm is slightly disconcerting. She must be sick or something. Taylor normally likes to sleep in the middle of the bed spread out like a starfish and from where I'm standing she seems to be curled up in a foetal position at the very edge.
With an evil grin forming on my face I stealthily cross the room and leap onto the bed, straddling the sleeping form.
The grin slips clean off my face when I realise that the person I'm currently sitting on top of is far smaller and has a much slimmer waist than Taylor.
Shit. When will I learn? I really wish that this was the first time this has happened.
Before I can scramble off of them the person turns onto their back, grumbling incoherently.
Slender, delicately manicured hands appear over the top of the blue pinstriped duvet and pull it away.
What the...
The sleep ridden face I'm met with may not be Taylor's but it's just as familiar. Her eyes widen to an almost comical proportion to match my own and time seems to stand still.
Question: Why the fuck am I currently straddling Madison Duarte?
Thanks for reading!
Sorry I haven't gotten around to thanking my newest and absolutely brilliant reviewers yet. I will be listing you all next chapter. Scouts honour.
Hope you all had a great Easter.