Hey everyone! I haven't forgotten about ya. School has occupied my writing time, considering I've been required to write 16 papers of varying lengths this semester... argh!! But it's over... for now! ...And now I can post! Yay! So, I've had this chapter finished for 3 weeks now, but it wasn't up to par. My BRILLIANT Beta fixed it and without her, this chapter would've been total crap on which I would gladly puke. But, now I don't have to puke on it... So, THANKS RIVER! ;)

As mentioned in the previous AN, this is a filler chapter. Chapter 9 is MUCH more interesting and I'm excited to write it. It's 6 pages in and getting there! :D I'll be working on it and hopefully have it done within the next 2 weeks before summer session starts... *crosses fingers*

And THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU to all of you for reading/reviewing and inspring me (each of you do)! To answer some questions: Ashley is a robot... No, I'm joking! lol The mystery that is Ashley will eventually unfold itself. You know how I like to work this story slowly and torture you all ;) goshNyikes: Yvette's mind is pretty dense on nothing lol... so that's as far as Spencer's mind-reading abilities can go, considering Yvette's not one of Ashley's "regulars" (which will play out in the next chapter).. I hope this story doesn't dissapoint! If it does, let me know... I welcome all feedback! :)

Take care everyone! Enjoy! 5.2.10

Disclaimer: I don't own South of Nowhere or the characters. Song lyrics used in this chapter are from "Half Alive" by Secondhand Serenade.

"Following Monday's lecture, we will delve into the personality theories of Karen Horney." Dr. Steinhaus' voice echoed throughout the cold lecture hall. "That's right. It's pronounced HORN-eye, not HORN-y, for you wise-cracks out there." He elicited a quiet smirk amongst the audience.

I blinked hard, feeling the sting of sleep at the corner of my eyelids. Why is it that I never really feel rested?

My eyes panned down the rows in front of me as I slouched in my chair, snuggling into the warmth of my corduroy jacket. That same gamer nerd on his laptop was at it again, traveling to some place called the Outlands with his level 70 warlock in that World of Warcraft game. Seriously. This guy has way too much time on his hands.

Isn't it funny how there's no assigned seating in these huge lecture halls, yet most people tend to sit in the same seat… or at least in the same general area?

I glanced around discreetly, looking to see if Liz came to class. After how our date ended Monday night, I really didn't know if I'd see her again. Maybe I would and it'd be one of those awkward encounters where we avoid eye contact and arbitrarily scroll through our text messages, pretending we didn't see each other.

I put my pen down and closed my eyes, enjoying a little peace. This is as peaceful as things get in class, considering everyone's relatively brain dead at 8 AM. All I can hear is the sweet sound of my professor speaking, caffeinated students whose whispering thoughts are on the same wavelength as the lecture, and the distracted gamer nerd. Everything is relatively "quiet."

"Like Freud, Horney emphasized the idea that childhood experiences shape personality." Dr. Steinhaus continued. "However, she was different in that she used culture and social effects to explain differences in gender, as opposed to Freud's anatomical explanations. It is not pleasure that guides humans, but satisfaction and safety."

Indeed.

With my eyes closed, I noticed a shadow cast upon me and the subtle scent of vanilla, followed by the sharp aroma of espresso. I knowingly cracked a smile at the corner of my mouth.

"Aww, she looks so cute with her eyes closed." "Morning." She whispered, placing a peppermint mocha latte on top of my notebook.

I opened my eyes as Liz grabbed her notebook. "You know, I'd hate to burst your bubble, but class starts at 8, not 8:15." I teased her, admiring how her dark hair contrasted with her white coat. "You missed out on a lot of interesting stuff!"

"Really?" She leaned back into her seat. "All that excitement put you to sleep, huh? Must've been something." I snickered.

"Thanks for the caffeine fix." I sipped its rich flavor. Ahh, perfect! It's not too hot. "You didn't have to."

"I know." Liz flipped to a blank page in her notebook. "But I wanted to. Besides… who else is going to keep you up?" She turned to me and grinned. "Those eyes are just the highlight of my day." I blushed.

"I don't know. Maybe that guy?" I nodded in the direction of the gamer nerd.

"Nah," she scrunched her nose and shook her head slightly, "I think I do a better job of grabbing your attention." I don't know if it was the caffeine or the fact that Liz was having a good day, but the confidence that she was exuding this morning was just completely sexy.

"I'll give you that one." I smirked, giving her knee a teasing squeeze. She shuddered slightly at the feel, her mind going berserk. I sipped my coffee, watching her from the corner of my eye as a smile spread wide across her face. It's nice to know I have that kind of effect on someone.

"So, I was thinking—"

"Ahem," Dr. Steinhaus glared at us with his hands on his hips, his right foot tapping the ground in aggravation. "You two need to step outside and finish your conversation. There is no room for it in my classroom." That was honestly the most energy he's had all morning. We sunk into the backs of our seats, trying not to look so embarrassed that the professor just called us out in front of everyone… for the second time this week.

"Well, fine then!" Liz reached for her pocket and started fiddling with her iPhone. I already knew what she was going to ask me.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. I nudged her softly before grabbing my phone out of my bag. Anyways, before I was RUDELY interrupted.. do u have plans tonight?

I replied… Just hwk unless I get a better offer :)

Any chance u happen to like Secondhand Serenade? I gasped.

LOVE them!

They're playing at the House of Blues tonight. Wanna go?

I set my phone down and feigned contemplation.

"What is she doing? Was that too forward?" She gave me an uneasy look before texting me again. Yes? No?

I'm debating. Really itching to do hwk tonight :P She smirked. "Ha! Okay."

What do I have to do to convince u?

I grinned. Oh idk. I'm sure u'll think of something.

She pursed her lips to the side, nodding slightly. "Okay, so it's woo-ing that needs to be done. I'm an excellent woo-er."

I looked away to hide my quiet snicker. I managed to elicit a mean glare from Dr. Steinhaus before I cleared my throat and sat up in my seat, removing any remnants of giddiness.

"As I was saying," he turned to pace the stage, "competition in Western cultures fosters basic hostility which, in turn, creates basic anxiety, usually in the form of isolation and helplessness. Basic anxiety permeates all relationships and intensifies the need for affection. Of course, the exaggerated need for affection makes a person over-value love and feel desperate for it. This is what Karen Horney calls 'neurosis.'"

Makes me wonder if we're all a bunch of neurotics. Who isn't desperate to feel loved and needed?

"Most psychological problems begin in childhood for neurotics. They were either abused, neglected or rejected, creating basic hostility even towards parents. When neurotics become parents, they are unwilling and/or unable to love their children due to their own neurotic needs to dominate, over-indulge, neglect, over-protect or reject others as a form of defense. This is the neurotic cycle that tends to prevail from generation to generation, under this personality theory."

Hmm… hits pretty close to home there. I think Karen Horney would've been able to write another book about neurotic personalities if she had known my mother.

I pretend not to notice Liz slip a note into my jacket pocket. Sad to say, but there's no surprising me.

Class went by relatively quickly, considering I wasn't paying attention. At least I know I can copy Liz's notes.

"Hey do you think I can borrow your notes from today's lecture?" she asked. "I don't think I got everything." …Or, I guess not.

I laughed, "That makes two of us. I suppose it wouldn't be smart if we studied together." She snickered.

"Well, we can't let that happen." She packed up her belongings and stood up. "That's what discussion is for. I'll take notes then… and you'll just have to study with me." She flashed me a cheesy grin.

"I suppose," I teased, "considering I don't wanna fail the next midterm." I lifted my backpack strap over my arm and stood to meet her gaze. "Or… I could go to my own discussion section and take notes myself."

She pouted slightly, "Where's the fun in that?"

"Well in that case," I leaned forward and kissed her cheek, causing her to blush profusely and lose all sense of reason, "I could tutor you."

She mumbled inaudibly and nodded simultaneously. It was cute seeing her bashful as hell.

"I better get going to Kerkhoff now. Talk to you later?"

She nodded, still unable to speak.

It wasn't raining today. So I managed to make it to Professor Weihmeier's class a few minutes early. The lecture hall was quickly filling up as I took a seat towards the back right side again. I started to wonder if I'd actually run into Ashley today, considering the possibility that maybe she was just lying to Yvette about Portland to avoid the ugliness of breaking up… or to avoid just the ugliness.

I looked around and from the corner of my eye, I saw a curly-haired brunette strolling across the way in my direction. But when I turned to look, I realized it wasn't her. Hmm… maybe she decided to ditch class today.

I reached for my notebook as a nicely tanned surfer type sat next to me in one of the last remaining seats in the hall.

"Where the hell did I put it?" He rummaged through his belongings. "Excuse me," he tapped my shoulder, "do you happen to have an extra pen I could borrow?"

"Sure," I gave him a closed-lip smile and reached down into my backpack.

"Hey," he did a double-take, "aren't you the one who spurred that crazy debate during the last class?"

I shook my head like it was no big deal… because it really wasn't. "Uh, I didn't—"

"Dude, I've never seen Weihmeier so pissed before. He almost busted that vein in his forehead! It was awesome!" He smirked as I handed him my pen. "But, that shit about free will? That was some deep shit. Makes you think and shit." You can't imagine how great it makes me feel to know that this supposed college student with very limited vocabulary managed to get into UCLA, too. Maybe he got lucky on the SAT's. "I mean, the only time I think that deep is when I'm high and shit." He smiled, thinking so highly of himself.

I smiled uncomfortably as I started to believe he was currently high.

"Wait," he gave me a serious look as if he discovered the cure to cancer, "are you a pothead, too?" What?!

I scoffed, "No!" I furrowed my eyebrows. Where does this kid come off acting as if we're buddies who share the same dealer or something?

"Sorry," he leaned back into his chair, "I just thought you might, since you're cool with Ashley."

"What?" I sounded less hostile. His thoughts brought me back to the time he met Ashley in the dorms and they'd smoke out together, sometimes having weed parties with half the dorm and having philosophical conversations about how the universe began.

"Davies is a major pothead. She's always spouting philosophy like she's Aristotle. And you talk just like her. I figured you guys seshed a lot."

"Seshed?"

"Yeah," he looked at me like I was weird, "seshed. As in 'had a smoke session.'"

"Sorry, I don't know the pothead lingo. And I barely know Ashley."

"She's fuckin' crazy. I dunno how she does it, but she never seems to get high."

"What do you mean?" I crossed my arms as I inquired.

"She smokes weed like she's chain-smoking cigarettes, and I've never actually seen her get high." Well, duh! She's impervious to everything… careening vehicles, whores, drugs. You name it! But it seriously boggles my mind how brilliant and well-traveled she comes off as. She's probably one of those rich kids who have too much money to give their own life some direction. Just another lost soul, if you ask me.

"Hmm." It wasn't that I wasn't interested in figuring Ashley out. But at the same time, my world doesn't (shouldn't) revolve around a one-night-kiss-and-run.

I turned and faced forward as Professor Weihmeier made his presence known at the front of the hall. He set his briefcase down and grasped the sides of the podium, squinting into the audience.

"No Ashley Davies?" I guess I wasn't the only one looking for the brunette. His crude demeanor changed into a light-hearted smile. "Good!" "Good morning, class! Today's topic will focus on the great debate between the inevitable and the unavoidable, and how these concepts differ in a deterministic world, according to Dennett."

Bzzzzzzzz. Bzzzzzzzz.

I looked at my phone… Check ur pockets. Oh, I forgot about that! I reached into my pocket and unfolded the note. It read:

'With every appearance by you, blinding my eyes, I can hardly remember the last time I felt like I do. You're an angel disguised.'

These lyrics sound better when sung. And music sounds better when it's live. And my nights are better when I'm spending them with you. So, will you go to the concert with me?

I smiled and texted her back. I've officially been woo'd. How could I say no to that? U've got urself a date ;)

Bzzzzzzzz. Bzzzzzzzz. :D pick u up at 6… don't fall asleep in class!

The day just kept passing at warped speed, probably because all I could do was weigh out the pros and cons in figuring out whether I was ready to date again. Right now, things are safe between me and Liz. She's distracting me from wasting my life away, mulling over Melinda. She makes me laugh. I enjoy her company and we have quite a lot in common. We've only gone on one date. But soon, we'll have gone on several dates and she'll have expectations of me. She'll expect me to be ready to surrender my vulnerability to her by way of serious relationship. Because that's how this stuff usually goes, right?

Part of me is sad that she's not Melinda, as much of a bitch as Melinda was. She doesn't feel or talk or smell the way Melinda does. There were things about me that only Melinda would know or understand. Was I naïve to believe that a relationship as easy as ours was perfect, you know, before the cheating? Was it condescending of me to believe that our relationship was epic and any other relationship was incomparable, again, before the cheating?

I hate women. And by 'women,' I mean Melinda. She seriously messed me up.

My insides are screaming at me to give Liz a chance. But at the same time, I'm scared. I'm still wounded and I'd hate to pour salt in my wounds, hurt Liz somehow, or just screw us both over.

"Here's your pen back." My brunette neighbor stood before lifting his bag over his shoulders.

"Huh?" I looked at him as if I had just woken from deep sleep. Everyone in the classroom was packing and heading for the exits. I gazed at my phone and realized it was 10:50 already.

"Your pen?" He handed it to me. "Are you sure you're not a pothead?" I gave him the most dubious look. "Dude, I'm kidding. If you see Ashley, tell her Aaron says 'hi.'"

Whatever. Do I look like her personal assistant? What is it with everyone leaving me messages for Ashley?

I looked at my notebook and realized I hadn't written a single thing. Damn! I really need to get my head out of the clouds.

I spent the rest of the afternoon trying to catch up on reading, but it was completely pointless. Liz had totally invaded my mind and I couldn't help but feel extra giddy for tonight. I'd concluded that we'll just play things by ear and see where this goes. In all honesty, I'd probably thought way too much about this anyway. It's going to be a good night. Hot date. Secondhand Serenade. That's all I need to know for right now.

I know Liz didn't want to seem overeager, but I could hear her thoughts through my front door. She'd been standing out there for about five minutes before she decided to knock. I opened the door almost instantaneously. I smirked. There really is no surprising me.

"Drool…" She blinked before looking up. "Shit! Hope she didn't see that." "Hey!" She smiled, and so did I, mainly because I'd caught her staring at my laced top which subtly exposed my cleavage. Yes, I dressed to impress. I just love fishing for compliments via mind-reading. They're the best kind, since they're candid and uncensored. Case in point.

"Hi," I responded, trying to hide my grin as my face had turned beet red.

"How was the rest of your day? Productive?" Hardly.

"Sure! I've just been doing a little homework since I got back from class." Emphasis on 'little.'

"Damn! That makes one of us!" "Okay! Well that warrants a night filled with tons o' fun with yours truly." "Did I just say tons o' fun?! Fail."

I snickered slightly. "Definitely." I locked the door behind me and linked arms with her as she led me to her car.

On our drive over, we blasted Secondhand Serenade songs, grinning like little teenyboppers as we screamed lyrics out the windows and sun roof of her white Dodge Neon. I clenched my coat tightly, letting the evening breeze wash away my worries as I watched the sun slowly set below the purple haze of a sky.

Liz placed her hand on my headrest, glancing at me subtly as we were stopped at a red light. She smiled, relishing in this moment since she'd been looking forward to it all day. I know that feeling: wanting time to fly in anticipation for that special moment, and then wanting time to slow down the second it all begins just so you can memorize everything about it. I felt a little bad that I didn't feel I was at that level with her yet. She wants to swan dive right into this, when I'm still trying to get used to the feeling of just dating again.

I tried not to read into it so much. Just taking one moment at a time… especially because I'm not supposed to even be reading into this, at all! She didn't mean for me to know all of this about her. I really wish I could switch the mind-reading thing off sometimes.

Ignorance is bliss.

"What are you thinking about?" She continued to smile, not knowing the things I knew.

I smiled back in the most genuine manner I could possibly muster up, so as to avoid the deer-in-headlights look. "How amazing this night is going to be!" I left it at that. I didn't want to lead her on, especially since Liz is such a thinker. She'll take everything I throw at her and analyze every part of it. I have to be careful.

The House of Blues on Sunset Strip was swarming with fans lined up to see Secondhand Serenade and the opening act, Cute Is What We Aim For. We passed time standing in that massively long line by picking up where we'd left off on our first date in our conversation about the type of music we each like.

"Fall Out Boy?" She blurted.

"Only their old stuff… before they got famous." I nodded in assertion.

"I know what you mean. I swear I was the first person to know about Maroon 5 before they became famous."

We took a few steps forward, following the relatively fast-moving line. "Have you ever heard of William Fitzsimmons?"

"Hmm, no I haven't. What kind of music does he play?"

"Various folk songs. His music really hits you like a ton of bricks. Kinda like that food-for-your-soul type."

"I see." She made a mental note to check his music out later. I'm appreciative that she's so open to my style of music. Melinda stuck to Top 40 and was never adventurous to listen to anything else.

Okay… enough about the ex…

"So, Secondhand Serenade sounds kinda like Dashboard, don't you think?"

Liz chuckled, "I've heard that before. Yeah, they sound similar, but I feel like Chris Carrabba's vocals can really hit those high notes. Either way, I like them both."

"Me too." I wrapped my arm around hers as I added this to a growing list of things I like about her. She's so easy to get along with.

When we got inside, Liz took the liberty of ordering me my favorite drink: Vodka Cran. She grabbed herself a Guinness and we made our way to the pit, which was already packed for the most part. It was hard to maneuver through without spilling our drinks, considering everyone was jumping and cheering as the curtain was drawn and Cute Is What We Aim For took the stage.

I've never really listened to their music before, and neither had Liz, but we were both enjoying everything the band had to offer. We squeezed into the back of the pit, leaning up against the banister that protected the sound tech equipment, and just swayed and nodded to the band's beats. I thoroughly enjoyed the refreshing ratio of vodka to cran that this place had to offer.

When the band's 7-song setlist was over, the crowd roared and we eagerly placed our drinks on the banister to join in the applause. I carefully took my coat off, as to not elbow my neighbors in this tight, cooped up space before draping it over the banister.

"What do you think?" She yelled over the boisterous crowd before following suit and placing her jacket next to mine.

"They're not bad." I responded audibly before sipping my drink and noticing the not-so-subtle way Liz glanced at me from head to toe.

"I'm really glad you decided to come with me tonight." Liz spoke in my ear, and I suddenly realized how loud concerts provided those perfect moments for close encounters.

"I'm really glad you decided to invite me." I bit the tiny cocktail straw before taking another sip of my drink. "I'm having a good time." I really was.

"Good." She smiled, holding her beer in one hand and gently placing her other hand against the small of my back. "So, how is it that someone as laid back as you is single?"

We hadn't gotten into this discussion on our first date. They say that's the cardinal rule on first dates: don't talk about the exes. The second date, however, is fair game… I guess.

"I just got out of a five-month long relationship." I said so matter-of-factly.

"That was quick."

"Yeah, well, long story short, she cheated on me." I immediately sipped my drink from the glass, throwing the straw out. She took the hint that I didn't want to go into details… not yet, at least.

"Shit." "Really? I'm so sorry, Spencer!" Liz sympathetically rubbed my shoulder.

I shrugged. "It happens, I guess."

"Personally, I don't think anything else could ever make someone feel so betrayed. Trust me, I know."

"Yeah? What's your story?" I put her in the hot seat. "Why are you single?"

"'Cause I'm scared." She contemplated the question. "I don't know. I guess I just don't put myself out there that much." Her thoughts revolved around someone by the name of Rachel. "I feel like I've lived a lifetime of relationship ups and downs in just the span of a few years."

"Enlighten me."

"Well, of course, growing up with traditional family values and in our homophobic society, my dating history started with guys." I could tell the subject was uncomfortable for her. She didn't care to elaborate, but her thoughts about forcing herself to be with some sexist bastard named Christian just to get people off her back kinda said it all. Reminds me of Eddie. "But I quickly learned that that's not what I wanted. Don't get me wrong. Guys are great! They're aesthetically appealing and easy-going, for the most part. But I started to picture myself marrying a guy less and less as days went by."

"Understandable."

"And then when I started college, I met someone whom I thought I'd spend the rest of my life with."

"Really? You knew that soon?"

Liz shook her head in disappointment. "I was naïve." She paused, thinking of the moment she had met Rachel. "She reeled me in alright. We started off as Freshmen joining a community service club on campus. The more and more we worked together and saw each other, the closer we got. We'd hang out and confide in each other, sharing our fears and insecurities. It felt like she was my best friend away from home. Then, feelings started to develop." She sipped her beer. "As much as I wanted to take things to the next level, I didn't think it was worth risking our friendship. But Rachel insisted that we wouldn't know if we could be something greater unless we took our chances. So, after much hesitation, I finally let my guard down and things were great during the year that we dated. I couldn't see past living in the present day, but all I could possibly imagine was Rachel and I being together forever."

"Sounds swell." I sympathized, tipping my cup at her.

"Little did I know that she had gotten bored with me eight months in. She had her eye on someone else already. Went on a few dates and was playing me for a fool."

"Ouch!"

"The cheating hurt, don't get me wrong. But I was more ticked off about the fact that she was the one who initially wanted to take things further. I let my guard down and blindly let her in… and then she kicked my heart and our friendship to the curb." She stared off into the distance as I wrapped my arm around her shoulders. "I miss her friendship, really." Liz mumbled. "All the bullshit about living happily ever after is just a fairytale. I watched too many chick flicks as a teen." We chuckled for a quick second.

"She didn't deserve you as a girlfriend, much less a friend."

"It's in the past now." She shook her head and shrugged before turning her head, her lips within inches from mine. I could subtly smell the hops off her breath. "I'm better off." We glanced at each other's lips. "This is the right moment…" We leaned in.

"It's four AM. I'm waking up to your perfume. Don't get up, I'll get through on my own…" John from Secondhand Serenade strummed to the tune of his vocals as the crowd immediately roared. Our enthusiastic neighbors jumped and applauded, inadvertently bumping into us and taking us out of our moment.

"Aww, fuck!"

"I don't know if I'm home or if I lost the way into your room. I'm spiraling into my doom..."

We let out of our embrace and she reached for my hand and intertwined our fingers. I gave her hand a quick squeeze to reassure her that she didn't have to be afraid with me.

"I'm feeling half alive but I know one day, you and I will be free to live and die by our own rules, free despite the fact that men are fools…"

"We were this close."

I kissed her cheek. It didn't ruin our night. I wanted her to know that.

"I'm almost alive, and I need you to try and save me. It's okay that we're dying, but I need to survive tonight, tonight."

"I just wanna kiss her already. God, I wanna kiss her. But, if I kiss her now, she'll think I told her about Rachel just to lure her in to kissing me."

"Well excuse me while I get killed softly, heart slows down and I can hardly tell you I'm okay. At least 'til yesterday, you know you got me off my highest guard, believe me when I say it's hard."

"Plus, isn't it too soon? I mean… what'll happen after that?"

I choked on my drink… again. Holy mackerel! It's as if she's thinking into this way too much… to the point where I was feeling uncomfortable.

Geez, I just came to enjoy some music and good company.

I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I reached for it and saw that work was calling me, but I let it go to voicemail. I'm off the clock. What in the hell do they want?

"We'll get through this tonight and I know one day, you and I will be free to live and die by our own rules, free despite the fact that men are fools…"

My phone went off again and I checked it. Not only was there voicemail, but there was also a text message from Donny.

911

I squinted in curiosity… and concern. Donny doesn't joke with that. 911 means 911.

I turned to speak in Liz's ear over the music, "I'll be right back. I have to use the restroom."

She nodded.

I ran to the outdoor balcony near the bathroom and immediately called Donny. I heard him answer.

"Donny, what's wrong?"

"Jenna called me." His voice sounded so serious, yet uncertain. "She and Charles are at the café right now. They want to see us both right away."

"About what?"

"They didn't say."

I scoffed, "But, I can't. I'm out with Liz right now!"

"It's important, I can tell. We have to be there."

"Alright." I looked at the time. It was 8:22. How was I supposed to tell Liz?

I returned to where we were standing. I saw Liz sway and slightly bob her head to the music. She looked towards me nonchalantly and I gave her a quick smile. But, I'm not very good at hiding things.

"Uh-oh." Her smile became subtle. Uh-oh indeed. I looked at her with discomfort. "You okay?"

"Yeah," I smiled sheepishly. She continued to look at me, waiting for me to say something. "I have to go."

She wore a puzzled look. "Oh." "Bummer."

"I know. I'm so sorry! My boss is demanding that I meet with him… right now." I felt so bad for being such a Debbie Downer!

"Oh… okay." She nodded, trying to pretend she was okay with it. But, in her head, she was cursing my boss… and practically the whole universe because she had been waiting for months to see this band and she had spent so much time and energy just to find these tickets on eBay.

We grabbed our coats and silently walked out of the venue. There wasn't much I could do to rectify the situation. I didn't want to leave, but I didn't want to lose my job either. Needless to say, the car ride was an awkward ball of silence.

No sooner than I had thought, we'd arrived in front of the café. I noticed Donny at one of the tables outside. He stood the second he met my eyes. He seemed too fearful to walk in by himself, thinking Charles had always hated him. No matter how many times I'd told him that he's the poster child of our café, Charles' top barista, and Jenna's favorite, he'd always think he was on the chopping block.

It can't be that bad. I have to think it can't be that bad. But, at the same time, we've never been called in like this before. So… it can't be good either.

Liz smiled from the corner of her lips, trying her best to convince me she understood the reason I had to suddenly ruin our perfect date, but there was no hiding the truth from a mind-reader.

"I'm sorry." I mumbled.

She reached over and hugged me tightly. "It's not your fault."

"I know, but I still feel bad."

"Don't."

"I still had fun though."

She chuckled. "Me too."

We let out of our embrace before I kissed her cheek and turned to exit the car. I got up and spun around. "I'll call you later, I promise."

"Okay," she smiled back, "have a good night, Spence."

"You, too." I smiled, trying so hard not to make it seem so pitiful. "Thanks for tonight."

"It won't be the last." She held back from speaking her mind. "Anytime," she smiled. I shut the door.

She cruised away and there I stood, opposite from the café. Donny stared at me with his hands in his pockets. I clamped my coat collar, watching my breath dissipate as I exhaled.

Moving from one uncomfortable situation to another.