Author's Note: Have you ever had that feeling that someone is always watching you? I'm just wondering.

And I don't know about you, but I feel like curling up in my bed with ice cream, popcorn, and candy and just kicking back and watching Swoozie on a loop for like, fifteen hours and then not going to school.

I like my bed.

For people who ask me who I have a crush on, this is basically what I tell them: I sleep for seven hours. I go to school for eight. I eat for probably an hour and a half (at least) every day. I play three instruments + I sing + homework. I am in a singing choir and orchestra. I write two (well, really three, but Fabrastings is like that odd child everyone neglects [think Tina Belcher]). Boyfriend?

Ain't nobody got time for that. I am in a relationship with this awesome chick and her name is "My Mattress". And she's a girl because she's got nail polish on her and she likes wearing purple all the time. Plus, that would be kind of weird, if I slept on a dude every night. I mean, with girls, we do everything together. It doesn't matter.

I don't know where this came from. Excuse my word vomit.

*CLEAN UP ON AISLE 7*

Chapter Twenty-Five

Toby handed Spencer a Star of Bethlehem as he opened the door home. She gave him a quick kiss on the lips, took the flower, and ran back into their bedroom. He followed. She was certainly out of her element today.

"What's wrong, Spence?"

She walked out of the closet, her mouth hanging open.

"What's wrong? The dinner, Toby! Did you forget that we're having dinner with my parents tonight?" she asked, running back into the closet.

The more Toby thought about it, the more nervous he got, which was why he chose not to think about it, or remember.

"My sister might be there, too. Ugh, this is going to be like death at a funeral."

He had to gulp. Spencer was pretty much always right. "I'm sure it can't be that bad…" he attempted.

"No, it can be. My sister is the most overbearing, manipulative, cold person I've ever met. After—possibly—my parents," she said.

This was going to be a lot of fun.

"I'm just so nervous that they'll find one little thing they think is wrong with you and just nitpick at it. Remember, you're a professional now; they'll find that impressive. You have your license, right?" Spencer asked as she fixed the collar of his shirt.

"Don't you remember that I passed the exam the day after we got engaged?" he asked, smiling.

Spencer nodded, not really breaking a smile, but the memory was a fond one. "Okay, so remember: you're a professional. What else? No arrest record. And do not mention that tattoo and I'll try my hardest not to. No lewd or profane jokes," she added.

"Me? Since when do I ever make lewd or lascivious jokes?" he said, a bit indignant. It wasn't funny in this time of seriousness.

"Since we've started dating? Probably like a week or two afterwards?" Spencer suggested. "You are not as pure and innocent as I once thought you were."

"Fine. But how do we explain this whole engagement situation?" he asked.

Spencer thought about it at first. "I'm not wearing my ring when we go in there."

He furrowed his eyebrows. "What are you going to do with it?" he asked.

"Put it somewhere safe?" she suggested. She locked it away in the glove compartment of the car.

The two of them walked over to the front door of the Hastings' house. Spencer was visibly nervous, probably more so than Toby, who seemed to be fine.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

"Are you?"

Spencer sighed. She rang the doorbell.

"It's open!" her mother shouted from the inside of the house.

Spencer took a deep breath before Toby opened the door for her. She smiled as he held the door open.

Spencer's mother was sipping on a glass of red wine as she examined one of her case files. Even at a family dinner, she couldn't fathom parting from her work.

"Hey, Mom," Spencer said as she gave her mother a slight kiss on the cheek and a small hug.

"Hello, Spencer."

Mrs. Hastings looked at her daughter expectantly, waiting for an introduction. Spencer shook her head. "Oh, um, Mom, this is Toby, my…" she trailed off, trying to decide which title to give him. "…boyfriend."

Mrs. Hastings nodded.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Hastings," Toby greeted, shaking her hand.

"Where is Dad?" Spencer inquired, cutting into their formalities.

"I think he's in his study. He's a workaholic," she said dismissively.

Spencer scoffed. "Look who's talking," she said to her mother. She turned to her secret fiancé, taking his hand. "Come with me to say hello to my dad."

"Dinner is in five minutes!" Spencer's mother called as they were halfway down the hallway to her father's study.

Or at least, that was where Toby thought she was leading him. Spencer quickly stopped him in the empty hallway, trapping him between her long, slender arms.

"Aren't we going to meet your father?" Toby asked, looking down the hall.

"I thought we could do…other things," she said.

Toby looked at her in a somewhat confused state. "I thought that you said not to play dirty, Spence," he reminded her.

She pouted. "I was just trying to let loose a little bit. You're already doing so well," she said before taking him by the arm to her father's study.

"I'm warning you that my father may threaten you, but you shouldn't take it personally; he did that with all of my boyfriends," she said before opening up the study doors.

Mr. Hastings took off his reading glasses, putting down the case file (like wife, like husband).

"Hi, Daddy," Spencer greeted before kissing her father on the cheek. "Um, this is my…boyfriend." She still seemed to have trouble with that word.

"Spencer, are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

Spencer held her breath and blanched slightly. Her father was slightly more displeased than her mother when learning of Spencer's breakup with Andrew, who appeared to be the epitome of the ideal son-in-law. Aside from that, Spencer knew he had problems with his cholesterol and blood pressure in the past, so hearing even jokes of such a morbid subject was not comforting.

"Spencer, your sister is here!" Veronica Hastings shouted from inside the kitchen.

Spencer sighed. "I'd better go say hi to Melissa. Toby?"

"I think we should talk for a few minutes. It could give you and Melissa some time to catch up and me some time to figure out if your boyfriend is good enough for you."

Spencer blanched once more. "Please, don't scare him off, Daddy. And please don't use that intimidating technique of interrogating people which won you all those cases," she said before exiting the room.

She walked back out to the living room/kitchen, where she saw her sister for the first time in a while.

"Hey, Melissa," Spencer said before giving her older sister a hug. She hadn't seen Melissa since…probably before her pregnancy, or maybe right after. A lot had changed.

"Don't look so happy to see me," Melissa jested.

Spencer paused for a moment. Melissa was being somewhat nice. Was this some kind of miracle? Or was fate just being incredibly cruel?

"Where is your husband?" Spencer asked cautiously, afraid that Melissa's current veneer of kindness would disappear.

Instead, she just sighed. "He's coming, but he had to see someone in New York. I don't know; he really didn't talk about it much," she said nonchalantly as she took off her Burberry coat. It was only then that Spencer noticed the slight bump in her stomach.

"Oh, my God. Melissa? Are you pregnant?" she asked cautiously.

Melissa gave her a smile, confirming Spencer's theories. Though there was that tiny pang of melancholia she got whenever someone else announced a pregnancy, she was very happy for her sister. She was happy to become a (biological) aunt.

"Congratulations, Melissa," Spencer said before hugging her sister once more.

"Thank you, Spencer."

"When is the baby due? How far along are you?"

Melissa looked down at the bump. "They're due in May and I must be four months pregnant," she said.

Spencer was about to reply, but her mother interrupted her.

"Girls, can you help me set up the table?"

They nodded before going to help their mother.

Spencer kept her hand on Toby's leg as she watched her mother bring out the food.

"How long have you two been seeing each other?" Melissa enquired as she began to eat.

Spencer stared at her finger. Her large engagement ring was taunting Spencer; how she longed to be wearing hers in that moment. Maybe it wasn't so much the beauty and vanity of the ring, but the sentiment in it.

"Um, we've been going out for…"

Spencer began to wonder whether she and Toby should tell her parents the truth—that they had been dating for fifteen months already. She wondered if they'd be upset that she never told them.

Luckily, Toby came to her defense. "We've been dating for six months," he said quickly.

Spencer sighed as the tension faded. Her hand was still resting on his leg.

"Six months? And you didn't think it was time to meet the parents yet?" Spencer's father inquired.

"It's not his fault; it's mine. He's been wanting to meet you for months, but I've been holding off on it," Spencer said before leaning on Toby. "I'm still nervous to meet his parents," she added.

Toby nodded in agreement.

Spencer's parents accepted this. Their expressions were neutral. Spencer bit her lip in nervousness. They hadn't acted like this the first time she brought Andrew home; they had welcomed him with open arms, her father carried on business conversations with him, while her mother kept telling her that she should marry the boy. By comparison, this was a disaster.

On the other hand, Melissa seemed to be taking quite a liking to him. "How did you two meet?" she asked curiously.

Spencer and Toby exchanged a glance and a smile. Faked smile. She certainly couldn't disclose the truth (or the whole truth); she wasn't with Andrew six months ago.

"We met at a benefit dinner. He sat next to me and was very sweet and kind," she said. It was a version of the truth, okay?

"And I caught her smoking a cancer stick outside and I knocked it out of her hands," he recalled.

"Spencer! That's a horrible habit. Since when did you pick that up?" Mrs. Hastings inquired indignantly.

Spencer looked a bit embarrassed. "It's something I sort of picked up from Andrew." It wasn't a total lie; he did smoke on occasion, she remembered. But it wasn't something that he really taught her. But if she told him this lie, maybe they wouldn't be so heartbroken with their breakup.

Both Hastings parents looked rather taken aback by that. Toby looked at Spencer, concerned.

Melissa broke the awkward silence. "Toby, what do you do?" she inquired.

"I'm an architect," he answered simply.

"Do you have an architecture license?" Melissa asked, her curiosity clearly piqued.

"Yes, I just got it about six months ago," he answered.

"So right around when you met Spencer?" Mrs. Hastings asked.

Toby nodded. Spencer was about to protest, but remembered the story they were going with. She decided to do him one better.

"Toby actually just designed the new house down the street," Spencer added, knowing her parents would be impressed with him having such a wealthy client (the house was huge).

Mrs. Hastings looked at least somewhat impressed. "Really? You designed the Applebys' house?" she inquired.

Toby nodded.

"Their house is beautiful, Toby. Have you done any other recent projects?"

"He just did the renovation on that one wing of the country club. And he designed that church that opened up just off of Main Street," Spencer answered.

Melissa gasped. "You designed that church? We want to have the baby christened there. It's gorgeous," she said.

Spencer couldn't help but think it was a little premature, but didn't argue.

"You know, Toby, Veronica and I were looking to do some renovations on this house. I think you'd be perfect for it," Mr. Hastings said finally.

"Mr. Hastings, I don't know if—"

"Call me Peter."

This caught both Spencer and Melissa off guard. Mr. Hastings had never told any of their other boyfriends to call him by his first name on the first meeting. This was unprecedented.

Toby wasn't sure how to respond. "I don't know if this is such a good idea. I mean, I'm dating Spencer and—"

"Clearly, if your designs are good enough to impress my wife and my older daughter, both of whom are extremely opinionated—"

Melissa seemed to take some sort of pride in this comment.

"—I don't think I could settle for anything else," he said.

"You should do it," Spencer prompted. She gave him a kiss on the cheek before whispering to him, "It would give you and my dad a really good opportunity to bond, considering…"

Toby looked around the table, lastly to Spencer's large brown eyes, begging him to say yes. "When you put it that way, how could I say no?"

"I can't believe how well dinner went," Spencer said as she climbed into bed alongside Toby. "My father has never asked another guy to call him 'Peter' the first time they met," she continued.

Toby was surprised. "Really? Not even Andrew?" he inquired.

Spencer shook her head. "No. I mean, they talked business and my mom kept telling me about how I should marry him already, but my parents never told him to call them by their first names."

Toby smiled thinking of that. "So I finally beat him at something?"

She curled up to him. "No…you have me?"

"He had you first," he answered. "But I won your dad over faster than he did."

Spencer's face fell slightly. "Really?"

Toby nodded before kissing her on the cheek. "Yeah. Goodnight, Spence."

Spencer sat, confused. What just happened?

I can't even deal anymore. I'm going to go and listen to Marina on a loop, probably "The Family Jewels". Don't judge me. My head hurts and she is the cure. By the way, for anyone still asking, I recommend "Buy the Stars", "Starring Role", "Rootless", and "Hollywood". Also, if you're a bit more daring and open to weirdness, "Mowgli's Road".

But really, I want to bash my head into the wall and repeat. Mi cabeza. Me duele mucho a mi cabeza. No puedo hablar en ingles. Ya me voy a responder a sus preguntas en Español.

all-those-pretty-lights-PLL: Gracias, or should I say, merci. Je m'appelle Kayson. Vous pouvez m'appeler Mademoiselle Kayson. Je suis desole mon francais est horrible. Je suis en utilisant Google translate. Now for the only French I actually know: Je suis un ami :) Thank you very much.

Girlz-Rule: Thanks.

Spobyforever259: Ya se que mis lectores piensan que Hanna estaba haciendo todas las cosas que la dama de honor debe hacer, pero no estaba la dama de honor honoriara por mucho tiempo. No te preocupes. No voy a partir la pareja feliz. Te lo prometo. Okay, in case you didn't get that, switching back to English: I know that my readers think that Hanna was doing a lot of the stuff that the maid of honor really should be doing, but she really wasn't the maid of honor for very long. I know it seems that way, but after their engagement (Spencer and Toby), Spencer took over again, and there was still five more months until the wedding. Hanna really only took over for a few weeks, maybe a month. And I'm sorry for your loss. You should break out the candles and black clothes right now.

Guest: I know. Adorable. I love them! That was fun, writing that scene. Especially when it ended with some sexual tension. Fun times.

vondydora: As I said before, don't sweat it. I understand. You're busy. School is much more important than my story. Yeah, sometimes the problem is only made bigger by your own mind. Maybee... ;) Oh, that's cool. Sorry, I don't know European geography. I sort of know South America (mostly because I studied it last year in school).

eveningshades1107: No, he's not really Richie rich, as you put it. I mean, obviously his aunt was really rich and really liked Jason to give him such a huge, beautiful house. But I wouldn't say he's totally rich. Hmm...I think you're overthinking it. I tried to make the dinner as painless as possible.

Guest: Anytime, anon! I love you guys, too!

AL3110: No, Jason is not a super sketch. I promise. His aunt may have been, but Jason's legit. I'm not planning to have Ezra swoop in, guys. Come on. I am an anti-Ezrian.

Where is my Starbucks-addicted, French-Canadian Ginger? I missed her craziness.

Okay, so you all requested a story from across the pond. Well, I am going to tell you a story that Mr. Paul Daily told us.

Now, let me first tell you about Paul Daily. He was our tour guide and has been our tour guide (and by that, I mean my school's tour guide) for forever. Now, Mr. Daily is English (of course), so he's got that awesome, dignified accent that makes English people so charming. He is also at least 6'4" (and I'm counting American Units), and each and every day, he wore this grey trench coat which made him look kind of sad. He was also pale (in case anyone was curious) and just looked like some guy I could easily see wearing a crown or whatever.

Okay, now onto the actual story. So he started telling us about this one tour he had which was the most interesting and entertaining one which he's ever had. I missed some of the story, but I must say that this was entertaining enough, leaving out the first two days or so.

So he's telling us about how he's going to Wales with his tour group (yay, Marina's homeland...sorry, private thought bubble) and STUFF HAPPENS. I'm just going to tell you a small snippet of his trip, because frankly, I can't remember all of it, and this was pretty entertaining to hear him say.

So on this tour, he has a married couple with the husband's mother. I don't think the wife and the mother-in-law exactly "got along", so it was pretty entertaining.

About day three or four, they were in Wales and they were seeing some sort of monument. Paul finds the wife hysterically crying while some other women in the group were trying to comfort her.

"THAT CHEATING PIG! I SHOULD..."

Blah, blah, blah, nobody cares what you should do. Apparently, Paul goes and gets the story, which the woman tells him:

Something about how she found her husband cheating on her with one of the other members of the tour and now she wants a divorce because the whole point of this trip was to make things better but obviously things aren't better so she needs to leave and file for a divorce and she is not going to go back to him because he cheated on her with that hussie.

"Okay."

This is Paul's response. Of course, he doesn't want the woman to leave, but if she wants to go, there's really nothing he can do but accommodate her. They go back to the hotel that night (and for the remainder of the day, the wife stayed FAR FAR away from her husband). The wife, of course, needs to get into the room so she can take her belongings and leave.

"I won't let you in our room, you harlot, you..." more expletives I shouldn't repeat is probably what the mother said (I can't remember exactly what Paul told us the mom said). Paul has to break this up and makes the mother allow the wife into the room so she can take the things. The mom begrudgingly agrees.

The next morning, Paul sees the woman (wife) come downstairs looking very pleased. He's rather shocked. He inquires on whether the two had worked out their differences.

The woman gives him a rather elated smile. Apparently, they had made up and spent the remainder of the night making up...again and again and again.

So that was pretty entertaining. And then there was the section of the trip in which a woman got wedged into a stairwell, but that's another story for another day.

Also, there's this kid named Paul in my class who also went on this trip and he is actually shorter than me (I'm 5'1"). For most of the trip, when talking about Paul, they either needed to call them "Big Paul" or "Little Paul".

Okay, so I would LOVE *hint, hint* to get 10 reviews for the next chapter! Bye!

Now as I'm thinking of Paul the tour guide, I can't help but start singing Paula the Koala in my head.

Also, this is how you remember Henry VIII's wives: divorced, beheaded, died, divorced, beheaded, survived. -Kayson