It isn't as awkward as that first day, the one that found them enjoying each other and scaring each other – all at the same time.

It isn't Ashley's bedroom and talking about boys left behind.

It isn't the photograph on the night-table and Ashley's hand on her own, awakening something buried deep in Spencer's soul.

It isn't Ashley's devilish smile – the one that kills you, the one that woos you – and the distinct feeling that something wonderfully terrifying is just around the corner… it isn't like that at all.

But there are shades of it all around the two of them, walking in the park and making idle conversation, never looking too closely at each other.

They can't look away, though. They stray, but they always come back.

Such is the story of her and me. Such is life.

Ashley did the calling. Spencer did the accepting. They don't mention Lauren.

And Spencer wants to believe that this is truly okay, whatever it is they are doing and not fully speaking about.

And, yet, Spencer cannot believe that Ashley is ever really free – the woman has always been attached to something or someone.

If not Aiden, it was a reckless life. If not Lauren, it was some other girl. If not music, it was destruction.

But that new face, the one captured in those pictures that Spencer finally developed from the wedding… it is shining, clear and bright, and Spencer cannot deny the impact.

It hits her hard, a bullet to her chest, and it feels a lot like attraction.

It feels a lot like recognition that nothing is the same now and that Ashley Davies… that wild child, broken and battered Ashley Davies… is ready to settle down.

And that scares me, it really fucking scares me… because if she is ready… then what could ever hold us back from one another?

It is in her hesitancy to meet Ashley's gaze, out in the sunlight and with the green of trees fluttering above, though.

It is in her nervousness. It is in her reluctance to let the subject of Lauren go, at least in her own head.

It is fear, plain and simple and easy to explain.

Because Spencer has been here before, giddy and expressive and loving the sight of Ashley's smile, and it all fell to pieces the last time.

And she knows that it was so long ago – just a memory and just a ghost…

And she knows that they have made amends, they took a needle and some thread and they stitched up that wound – we found a way to be in each other's lives, we found a way to forgive…

But Spencer never forgot and the pain lingers still.

Not because she wants it to.

It just does.

Will you let it dictate you now?, is what her heart asks her head and Spencer can't see anything clearly now.

Except the blue sky.

And the sound of a child's laugh.

The way Ashley's face is cool and calm and beautiful.

The way… the way I can't stop myself from wanting her…

"We don't have to figure it all out right now, Spencer."

Ashley's voice is soft and sure and Spencer doesn't try to hold back the teasing grin that springs up on her mouth.

"Get out of my head, Davies."

And now they can really look, so they do.

They grin at one another, leaving behind that shattered ice they have been skating on for the past hour.

///

"Is this a date?"

"Can be. You want it to be?"

"Maybe. I do like eating for free."

"Oh, I get it now…"

And they laugh, just a little, and the ice melts even more.

Spencer is still unsure of all of this, can't quite wrap her head around it and isn't sure if she should even try.

Because when she tries to understand it – to put it in its box – it just spills out into everything.

Ashley is in everything. Always has been. Probably always will be. Dammit.

They talk more and eat sparingly and they watch people and… somewhere along the way… Spencer loses bits of her resolve and lets the façade slip down. The worry and the timidity gets drown out by that ancient pull and Spencer leans across the table, takes Ashley's hand in her own while chuckling about something irrelevant.

It is white-hot and it shocks Spencer into silence, this random touch of their skin.

And Ashley's face speaks volumes and volumes, words upon words.

It would be amusing and interesting if it were not happening to me. The best films are made up of faces like hers, just as it is right now.

Ashley looks like every love-struck girl in the world – there is the slow descent of eyelids, almost bashful, and the parted lips just waiting… just waiting…

Fuck, Ashley, it would be so nice to just cross this tiny sliver of space and…

But no, not this time, not now.

Ashley's phone goes off and Spencer shifts away – blinking and grabbing her watered down soda – and Ashley is actually blushing, fumbling with her bag and the woman's voice sounds raw once she answers the call.

"Hello… oh, hey… yea, umm…"

And there is another look from another film, the one that everyone has seen up on the screen – blown up to grand proportions – it sometimes looks like guilt and… sometimes… it is just that.

Spencer knows that look. It is the one she carried in her mind after the prom.

Ashley, etched in stone, a mass of confusion and guilt.

Of course, there were other images in Spencer's head on that night – grief and disbelief shadowed her every step back then, covered every inch of her body… like a shroud.

Black and heavy, a funeral that never seemed to end and all on Spencer's shoulders, Clay's face – frozen and dead, blood and sorrow left in his wake.

If you only knew how much we miss you, Clay… if you only knew…

It is the jolt of cold water that Spencer needs and she can step back, view this moment with objective eyes, and Ashley catches it because a slight frown forms on her flawless face.

And, sometimes, it isn't guilt… it is just what love looks like on a certain kind of person, what love looks like on Ashley Davies – a myriad of colors and shapes and a depth so rarely seen.

Ashley, with her new face and grown up and ready for all the things she couldn't handle years ago…

But Spencer isn't sure she can handle any of this.

Not just yet. Not right now.

And Spencer knows that walking away isn't an option.

Never has been. Never will be.

"How's Lauren?"

"Fine. How did you—"

"Lucky guess. Look, I've, uh, got to go and finish up some last minute editing."

"Oh. Okay, right…"

It's what love looks like on Ashley Davies, real and pure and honest-to-God… hand on your heart… down on your knees… and Spencer can't give in, not just yet.

But I can't just leave it alone either.

So, she gets up and she steps close and Ashley's brown eyes tilt upward first. Then her body does the same, an offering of sorts, and Spencer meets it head-on… before taking off and regrouping, before doing a little running of her own.

A brush of lips against a cheek, warm and tender.

"Let's do this again, Ash."

And Spencer offers something of her own in that nickname, that cherished title sacrificed so long ago – seven years is a long time – and it'll have to be enough.

For now.

///

TBC