Summary: Spencer invited Paige to Emily's surprise birthday party and managed to get some information about Emily out of her. Paige thinks they're allies now, but Spencer still hates her. The information about Emily didn't make her very happy, though. The chapter ended with Spencer leaving to meet Aria (who was with Emily) at the library.
"Stop moving."
"Why?"
She could hear the boldness in her giggle as her fingers slowly trailed up the back of her knee.
"Cause it tickles there and you're gonna make me trip", Spencer explained, unable to contain a grin that was growing wider, the soft murmur of fingers on her wet skin racing up her blood. "I thought you wanted me to wash your hair."
"I did", she answered, "I do."
"Good girl."
There was a pause and the tickling of fingers began again along with the giggly voice in the closed space of the rectangular shower. This was a game she obviously enjoyed too much.
"You sure you want me to stop?", she asked, partly serious, partly mocking, "you're not really sounding like yourself."
Spencer poured a fairly big amount of the liquid tangerine-scented shampoo on the palm of her hand and started massaging Emily's head decidedly, trying to offer the impression that she was absolutely sure of what she was doing, although in truth this was the first time she had ever washed somebody else's hair. And this hair… it was so luminous and so gorgeously refulgent, it was like the star of hair - the queen of hair - it was an orgy for anyone with a hair fetish (not that she had one, but someone probably did), which basically meant a huge responsibility for Spencer as hair-washer. Besides, it was metaphorically one of her self-appointed dominions in Emily's carnal territory. She smirked at that. This hair she was washing (that she'd previously smacked with mud) belonged to her. Maybe that was why she'd totally gone for the hair outside in the lake. Apparently she had a destroy-and-fix kindergarten fetish with Emily's hair. But that sounded so weird – as well as, in a sense, sort of dangerous and, well, maybe not entirely sane. It wasn't as if she wanted to wear a wig composed of Emily's curtain of blackness. It was more that she constantly felt the need to sniff and nuzzle and touch and dig into it.
"I'm positive."
The fingers suddenly stopped their playful dance of tickles.
"Fine", Emily said, "you win."
"I always win."
"You always win, everybody knows that."
"You're earning points with me."
"Like I have more to earn."
Spencer chuckled at Emily's cockiness.
"There's always more to earn."
"Is that a challenge?"
The conversation somehow rang a bell. And here she thought Emily wasn't the competitive kind. It was foolish, really, to think that way of someone so used to competing (and winning) in such a demanding sport as swimming. Emily was competitive and loved a challenge. She just wasn't obsessed with it like the Hastings had been all their lives.
"You never know."
"I always know with you."
"I hope you do realize you're bordering on arrogant now."
She couldn't see her face completely, because Emily was sitting on the border of the tub, right below her, with her head lowered to facilitate the task, and Spencer could only see hair, hair everywhere, long dark hair being covered and sprayed across with shampoo lather, but she could swear Emily was weighting her words to actually discover if this new game she was trying in the shower could qualify as arrogance or as something even worse. If there was a name Emily Fields was not used to being called, that was arrogant, it was for sure.
"Shouldn't a Hastings love that?"
Well, there she was. She nailed it like she always did. Emily.
"I'm not your normal Hastings."
"But you're exactly my kind of Hastings."
Spencer burst out in another set of chuckles.
"That I am."
Emily smiled and softly placed a soft kiss on Spencer's stomach, which was entirely more distracting than the back-of-the-knee tickling.
Then she rubbed her eyes in discomfort, shutting them tight even harder.
"I just really need to hold on to something solid", she explained in a whisper, grabbing Spencer's knee from behind with her full palm, the idea to prove her point and to remain innocent and pure of intentions, "I feel like I'm falling all the time."
First the soft, albeit quick kiss on her skin. Second, the tightening of the hand around her knee.
The all familiar feeling of inner burning – melt from inside, explode in pieces of flesh and soul – conquered Spencer from head to toe, and her knees weakened in a dual movement of want. This was it. This was so it, it was dumbfounding, and for a couple of seconds she forgot to massage Emily's head with her careful, dedicated fingers.
"Says the girl with an equilibrium complex."
Her voice so low and raspy now it was impossible for Emily not to notice the change, Spencer joked to try to fool away desire. Then she reached out and startled Emily with the sudden rinse of water on her head, which only caused her to tighten her hold on Spencer's knee.
"Hey!", she protested, high-pitching, "can't you give a warning?"
Another burst of vivid laughter came out of Spencer's throat.
"Water's coming, Em", she warned mockingly, although it was too late now. "The girl who swims but can't take water on her head." She made a dramatic pause. "The girl who can't close her eyes in the shower without needing to hold on to someone's leg. And to tickle it."
"You're too easy to tickle."
"I'm too easy, period."
"True."
They both broke into laughter at the same time, and the fingers started trailing up her thigh again.
"Em", Spencer called, "stop it."
"It's… I don't even know what I'm doing that it's making you so nervous."
Not buying it for a second, Spencer paused to take Emily's hand and place it down her knee. It wouldn't be so bad if the hand tickled her calf.
"Just hold on there, okay?", Spencer proposed."You should be able to keep yourself solid with the lower part of my leg. And you perfectly know what you're doing."
"I thought I had rights to your whole leg."
Oh, again with the ownership thing, the possessive streak. Spencer knew where they were headed, but she wanted to wash Emily's hair first, and to do it right. It was not the destination, it was the journey that was fun. And the destination was also fun.
Everything.
Everything.
"You have so much sand in your hair it's gonna take me centuries to wash it properly."
"And that would be your fault."
"Which is why I need to do it right, so I can fix it."
Emily didn't answer, she just obediently grabbed both of Spencer's calves and made space for her own naked body to lean even closer to Spencer's. One more step and it would be too late. Her breath beat in rhythmic blows against her skin, and soon it would be too late, and soon the game would be about resisting the urge to get there, to their destination, it already was about that, so Spencer focused on extricating the gravel and the mud from the silky, feisty hair of her lover, of her one true love, of the one who was hers and to whom she completely belonged.
Walking in long, quick steps, Spencer smiled at the image that had been fossilized in memory.
They had kissed and then Spencer had tripped, exactly like she feared because she was the one being tempted and the one standing up in the shower, and then Emily had tripped too but they had kept going anyway.
She missed her.
They had made love.
Even though the sun was already disappearing behind the earth, the sky dyed in an ugly Pennsylvania gray, Spencer's heart warmed up to the sight of her mind as much as to the view her eyes spotted while approaching the medium-sized concrete building of the library, the temple of knowledge and sacrifice, where Aria was supposed to be waiting for her in the company of Emily. Instead of finding them intensively cramming in one of the library desks, Emily and Aria were leaning against the wall outside, both gesturing in what appeared to be soft, conspiratorial murmurs and winks against each other, the bright, nervous expression on Aria's face matching the slightly somber, more serious one on Emily's, who nonetheless was wearing one of her perfect coy, knowledgeable smiles. Emily and Aria: the friendly ones, the truly nice ones, waiting for brainy Spencer under the rapidly cooling weather of a crowning autumn.
Emily and her hair.
Emily and the most recent absence of games, the lack of any spoken words.
Emily.
Spencer was getting closer to the prey, she could still figure this one out.
She always won.
She always got her way.
She could destroy and repair.
She was her kind of Hastings and no one else's.
It was precisely Emily who saw her first, and Spencer deeply sighed at the metaphorical realization that Emily would always see her first, no matter the distance between them or how different, sometimes even opposite, they were. If only she could state the same…
As if the slim, athletic body had heard her doubts and laments and wanted to (silently, as it was now) reassure her, Emily raised her hand and wavered ever so shyly, her face again illuminating the ugly afternoon. Was she still the cause of that? Spencer wanted to know. Was she? It was foolish and also potentially self-destructive to ask herself such questions as often as she was doing it these past days, but that was what love was doing to her right now, what she was doing to herself. But what was love? It seemed as stupid a question as the one she used to have about sex. Love was what she felt and what she did. Love was her now and also that day in the shower, in the lake, before the summer ended, back when the lake house seemed like a paradise untouched by A. How ironic. Love was Spencer Hastings and no one else. Tell the Hastings about that. Again the answers came in the form of an imaginative, albeit purely physical response right when her eyes met Emily's: the way they looked at each other, the way their bodies talked one more day, the way these two bodies seemed to solve things on their own even when they both had found no words (but it'd seemed so easy to find words just some weeks ago, even when words were deployed to fight their battles). It'd always been like this. Their bodies did all the talking, not really them; their eyes did the work of a gravitational force, and all the fame of Spencer's knock-down eyes came stumbling down with it and transformed into a melting, suave overflow of emotion and mush, and she became all soft inside, all soft, no hard lines, nothing but smoke. Smokey Hastings. Smokey Hastings inside.
However, Smokey Hastings had a problem with the world, and another one with Emily. No matter how soft and warm inside, she was still upset after that conversation with McCullers in the lockers room. And she couldn't afford it. It wasn't right.
Just do no harm, Hastings.
She had too many things to fix to add one more to care about.
Emily smiled, Spencer smiled in return, and Aria turned around to look.
As if only two understood that particular truth about them, that they had also been built in meaningful silences that Spencer could never handle so well, Aria was the one to break the spell and bring out the words.
"You're late."
Spencer stopped before them, a passing look exchanged with Emily, and let her arms fall beside her body in recognition of her failure as Master Of Time.
"I know", she apologized, her tone slightly cold, "I'm sorry."
"Did something happen?", Emily asked worriedly. "You're never this late."
Of course Emily would know, but the sound of her sweet voice startled Spencer. She did talk! And not only to Paige McCullers. A miracle of all sorts, if she had A's number she would certainly text back to let him, her and them know.
"No."
It was only one word but it sounded final and somewhat resentful, and for a moment the clever, precise, educated Spencer Hastings fell into a speechless coma. Still, she had to say something to Emily. She couldn't just tell her no.
"I had to pick up all the balls in the field so I went in late for the showers."
"Why?"
"The coach made me."
"Anyway", Aria cut in, finally grasping the reason Spencer couldn't openly talk about it and providing her with some backup, "we really need to go pick up Hanna if we wanna be in time for the dry cleaner, Spence."
Alison's legacy: an endless trail of hints and clues that always drove them nowhere further than their noses. They'd found a ticket in one book Hanna had sort of borrowed from Alison once, which proved two things Spencer had always somehow believed: that everything could be a clue and that Hanna was a good asset regardless of how high and noisy her heels were.
Spencer inwardly thanked Aria for the help, even if it had come kind of late.
"Yeah", she agreed, inviting Aria to walk, "let's go."
"Where's Han?", Emily asked a little eagerly, almost as if she didn't really want them to leave yet. "I can walk with you two to wherever you're picking her up."
Spencer raised her brow. "To your place?"
She sensed the way Emily's body seemed to inadvertently flinch upon hearing the curt answer. She didn't mean to sound sharp, she was just in a hurry and she wanted to leave in order to solve Alison's mystery for good and, well, she was also pissed off and too sad over the marvelous lack of words that characterized her relationship with Emily at this very moment, because she was maybe slightly obsessed about words, she had been all her life, she was outspoken, she talked a lot but enjoyed listening too (listening to what others had to say, when they were Emily), and examining and discovering new things, joking and fooling around, defining every aspect of life that could never be defined, and she told her, she told her when they started dating, and everything had been so good, and Emily had talked so much... it was unbelievable. It wasn't as if she needed to tell her because Emily knew, which only made everything worse, because for Emily there was no need for words but she was the opposite, she depended on the sound of words and their reassuring meanings to keep balanced and sane and effective.
And it was wrong.
And something wasn't working right.
But it wasn't the best moment to talk to Emily after McCullers. She knew she had to avoid it, but still she came to the library instead of meeting Aria somewhere else and now she had to face the pain in Emily's eyes for which she was guilty.
"My place?"
"The Marins'."
With time she'd learned to speak of Hanna's house as if it were Emily's too.
"I didn't know you were picking her up there."
"Why don't you come with us?"
Aria asked the question because she'd obviously sensed something was going wrong in their brief threeway conversation.
"I can't", Emily shrugged, looking both resigned and guarded, and probably still hurt after Spencer's previous rejection, "I have to hand in an essay next Friday."
"I'm sure you can skip a couple of hours of killing yourself over the books, Em", Aria insisted, "and it's for next Friday, so you have plenty of time to write it."
"No", Emily argued, "really, I do need the couple of hours, it's not coming so easy."
Spencer had to bite her tongue not to throw in a comment about how a couple of hours could be saved if only Emily asked her for help with homework.
No more words.
She was going to stop saying words, she was going to stop talking altogether.
"So let's go", she said instead of risking another bad bite, "we're late."
She felt Emily's gaze burning her skin for a second, and then the gaze was directed somewhere else like it always happened when Emily was hurt but wouldn't tell.
Aria made an obvious look-around, trying to find something to do in the distance.
"Oh, right, Noel", she abruptly let out, "let me go talk to him."
"I thought you didn't talk to Noel anymore."
"No, I don't", Aria agreed, shooting her best murderous glare to Spencer out of the corner of her eye, "but he's dating Jenna and, you know, maybe he can share some information."
It made no sense. Aria was just looking for a way out to force them to talk about feelings.
"But we're going to be late, Aria."
"You're not the only one who can cross-examine our suspects, Spence", Aria warned, still pretending to be interested in Noel. "And I'll wait for you in the car."
"You don't have to leave us alone so we can talk", Spencer shot bluntly, "we're fine, and you're making it too obvious."
It was funny how that emerald color could grow darker, sending intense rays of a deep wild-forest green that were as menacing as a panda bear or a rare Amazonian flower.
Oh, Aria.
"Gimme the keys, Spencer."
Given the last threat of assassination promised within the confines of Aria's big expressive, normally candid eyes, Spencer had no other choice than to give Aria the keys to her car.
They both watched her leave in an undetermined direction (certainly not towards Noel Kahn) before staring at each other again in hesitation.
Do no harm.
Watch out the bite.
Watch out the dog, the scorpion, the snake bite.
"It's not called cross-examination when it's a suspect", Spencer muttered under her breath, "you can only cross-examine a witness, and for all we know he could be an accomplice too."
Emily didn't bat a lash at Spencer's lecture.
"What's wrong?"
Spencer bit her lip. She did it unconsciously when she was nervous, but as soon as she realized she tried to stop doing weird things with her mouth.
"Only Aria's definition of cross-examination."
This time Emily rolled her eyes.
"Why are you mad?"
"I'm not", she tried her best to deny, "I'm just stressed out and we're running late already."
"Yeah, I'm sorry to keep you."
There was a distinctive reproach in Emily's voice and the automatic response in Spencer was regret.
"Why don't you come with us?", she mimicked Aria, trying harder to do some damage control. "It won't take that long."
"Cause I don't wanna have to write during the weekend", Emily explained in a remotely angry tone, "I thought we were sorta going to celebrate my birthday with some kind of activity that wouldn't include writing an essay or having dinner with my parents."
The dreaded dinner.
"An essay looks like the perfect b-day to me."
Emily did another of her perfect eye-rolls, right when her lashes seemed to fly away and her chin lifted up in pride, but the left corner of her lips twitched up in a smile at Spencer's joke.
"Well, I guess I'm just not you."
"We're gonna celebrate it, Em."
You can't imagine.
Can you?
Emily stared right into her eyes.
"So why are you pissed?"
"It's… I'm not pissed."
Your silence.
That is the reason.
Your silence.
And the fact that I just invited your new bestie to your birthday party and she told me things about you I would've liked to know first.
"You look tired."
"You too."
This was their most common interaction lately and it seemed to frustrate Emily too, because she exhaled loudly enough to make Spencer move a little closer, circling the gap, controlling the damage. This was not the right moment to pick up a fight. Maybe after the party they could talk. Maybe even fight. Fights were fought with words.
"You should let Hanna and Aria go together so you could go home take a nap."
"You're kidding, right?", Spencer said, standing just a little closer and looking around in fake wonder. "You think you're still talking to Aria. Am I shorter now?"
"You're still tall", Emily joked back, her tone more relaxed, "but you do look kinda cuter today."
"Ha", Spencer let out dryly, "I'm Team Arily all the way."
A slightly mischievous smile appeared on Emily's lips.
"You know you could trust them."
"If I wanted the evidence destroyed and them dead, yeah, I suppose I could."
Emily's smile grew slightly wider and her eyes glinted with a fleeting bolt of delight.
"I forgot you're irreplaceable even when it's about picking up Ali's stuff from the dry cleaner."
"Absolutely", Spencer accepted, "and we still don't know what's gonna be there."
"What if it's her panties?"
Spencer raised her brows at Emily's challenge.
"I'll give them to you", she snapped, but her tone was challenging too, and Emily's immediate response was an uncontrollable blush. "But even Alison wouldn't take her underwear to a dry cleaner, Em. I think she wasn't that crazy."
"Yeah", Emily nodded, again shyly, "you're right."
"We'll see."
"You're irreplaceable and also a control freak."
"Who kicks ass."
"Who kicks ass", Emily smiled sweetly, "I was gonna say that."
The small attempt at restoring a good vibration between them was proving to be effective, although not totally devoid of tension, if only because they both were making the effort simultaneously, so Spencer decided to go for it and repair the damage.
One more step and it would be too late.
She tugged at Emily's sweater clumsily, the colder breeze of autumn blazing through her nostrils, the spin of emotions whirling around in her heavy, clouded heart.
"You know your birthday's on Monday, right?", Spencer murmured softly now, reminding Emily of her previous words. "So all celebrations are postponed for the real day."
Refreshed by the unexpected contact, finding the way to hold Spencer's hand and to play around with her fingers, Emily seemed to glow in inner pleasure.
"Aren't we having dinner on Saturday?"
"Dinner with me on Saturday and dinner with your parents on Sunday", Spencer confirmed, gulping at the idea of The Fields, "but those are the only celebrations planned for the weekend. Even presents are coming on Monday."
Emily pouted just a little bit.
"That's not true."
Of course it wasn't.
"Of course it is", Spencer lied convincingly, "I believe in giving a birthday present on the correct date."
A glimmer of rebellious, open mischief shone through Emily's dark brown eyes.
"You believe in giving a birthday present any day it suits you."
Yes.
The memory of this - the memory of that.
She'd bought Emily's birthday present so many months in advance, and then she'd used it to make up for another of her mistakes. And then they had kissed in Hanna's room. All memories, memories of them, memories of the past?
Her heart broke, in the bad, terrible way.
She didn't want to be memorizing things in order to remember them later.
She didn't want to be a historian of her own love story.
She missed her.
She missed her so bad, but she was here, she hadn't left. They were still here. The two of them.
"I believe in making things right."
Frowning in confusion at the last statement, Emily looked down to their entwined hands.
"Don't leave yet."
"I'm here", Spencer said, and her throat was dry but the space behind her eyes was wet, "what do you want?"
Emily shrugged her shoulders and let out a small, joyless laugh.
"Many presents."
"That you will have", Spencer smiled reassuringly, "probably."
"Probably?"
"Probably."
"I know you, Spencer", Emily smirked, gaining momentum in joy, "I'm sure you have a whole room at your place that's full of presents."
"You're talking about Melissa's room", Spencer joked the sadness away, although it was true she had some presents stored in her closet. "Your expectations might be just a little too high, you know?"
"And that would be your fault."
"It's always my fault, right?"
"It's always your fault", Emily agreed, squeezing Spencer's fingers in her hand in an act of pure warmth, "so are you gonna tell me what's going on?"
"Nothing", Spencer denied again, "just… you know, life in general."
Emily's dark storm cloud returned to alight on her head.
"You mean life in Rosewood."
Now it was Spencer's turn to squeeze Emily's hand.
"Yeah, life in Rosewood", she said, "it sucks big time, huh?"
"I know it sucks for you too."
Spencer blinked repeatedly to get rid of some of the tears she'd already fought in the showers after talking to McCullers.
"It's worse for you", she asserted, because she was sure of that, "but, hey, at least we get to enjoy our own teenage Get-Your-Personal-Psychokiller show, and someday we'll be famous for all the wrong reasons."
Emily shook her head to indicate she didn't agree with that.
"It's not worse for me."
Then the surprise came when Emily took one step and embraced Spencer tightly in her arms.
"It's not worse for me", she repeated in a whisper, "and you'll be famous for all the right reasons, I'll make sure of it."
The girl in a speechless coma, that was who she was.
Smokey Hastings.
The girl with no words, the girl with a (complicated) nose she used to sniff the apple-scented shampoo, the subtly coded perfume, sweet with a vague touch of popcorn. She lifted her own arms and returned the embrace as best as she could, and it felt like the old times, only more intense, only always more intense, only always safe but still different, strangely new, rewritten with different words. No, but there were no words. There was only the embrace.
"Spence."
But Spencer was breathing the lovely, feisty hair of her day-dreams.
"Yeah?"
"I'm sorry", Emily whispered, "I'm sorry I'm being so crappy right now."
A couple of tears escaped and she hated them, because she hated to cry in public and because this was A's fault, it was McCullers' fault, it was everybody's fault.
"You're not, you're…"
Emily shut her up with a quick kiss on the lips.
"I'm sorry."
"No, don't be, Em."
"I wish we could just…", Emily started but trailed off, her eyes red too, "I wasn't being serious when I said I wanted many presents, one is fine… or the one you already gave me back in spring, it was the best thing ever."
Spencer executed her best watery-eyed sarcastic eye-roll, which probably didn't come across quite sarcastic, and Emily smiled warmly at the failed try.
"You liked that one, didn't you?"
"I did", she confirmed, "you know what I really want?"
"What?"
"Let's go dancing on Saturday?", Emily proposed dreamily, "only us. Let's do it out of Rosewood too."
Shit.
For all of heaven's sake.
Could she never get things right? Could she never conceive of the right plan?
"You mean after dinner?"
She couldn't cancel the party now. Shit, shit, shit. Emily didn't want a party. Emily didn't want to be in Rosewood. Emily, Emily, Emily. Scream, scream, scream.
"My parents will let me stay until later."
"Yeah, but not that late, Em."
"Can't we just say we're all sleeping at Aria's?"
"I'll see what I can do."
All she wanted to do was to stab herself in the heart. And Aria and Hanna. She needed no Brutus and no Senate. The library entrance would suffice to soak in the pool of her blood.
"Okay", Emily nodded, but examined her closely again, "you still don't look fine, you're pale."
Because all her blood was being drained out of her body into the ground and down the stairs.
"I'm fine, I'm just stressed", she said, "and I should really leave or Aria will turn into some kind of geological accident inside my car."
Emily's grip on her waist grew tighter when she tried to disentangle herself from her arms.
"Wait."
"I thought you wanted me to get A."
"I want you to talk to me."
Irony.
"I want you to talk to me too, but you don't", she fired the words before she could stop them, "so why should I do it and not you?"
Emily blinked, her eyes filling with quiet, abundant tears.
"Talk about what?"
"Talk about anything you want, Emily, anything you feel."
Instead of denying it, she just nodded, assuming Spencer was right.
"I know I'm…" She struggled again, her voice a thin thread of sound. "I'm not being my best and I… I don't know what to say."
"Well, don't say anything then, that's what you're already doing anyway."
The bitchy, callous remark only scared Emily, and her almond eyes opened wide before blinking again.
"No, I…"
"It's okay."
"It's not."
A grunt escaped Spencer's lips, impatience in her blood, remorse in her heart because she knew she was being unfair, she couldn't talk to her like this, it wasn't the moment, it wasn't right, and they had just hugged.
"Then say it, say whatever you want."
"I don't know what to say."
"You don't know what to say tome?"
Crossing her arms, Emily tried to defend herself with her posture. "No."
"Great, then I guess I'm leaving."
Emily stopped her, grabbing the sleeve of her duffel coat. "No, stay."
"No?", Spencer repeated in slight defiance. "What do you want, Em?"
"Why are you mad at me? Cause I'm not being my best?"
"Cause you don't let me help you feel better."
Emily opened her mouth and closed it again.
"I'm not letting you help me?" She did look sort of baffled when she finally managed to utter the repetitive words. "But you're helping me."
"With A, but I wanna help more", Spencer argued heatedly. Now that she'd gotten into it, she might as well say part of what she thought. "Like… I've been helping you with your homework since we were in 9th grade and now you won't even let me close to it."
"I don't wanna slow you down."
"You didn't have that kind of moral problem when we were only friends."
"It's not a moral problem", Emily high-pitched nervously, "it's… It's senior year and you're under a lot of pressure already and I don't wanna slow you down, Spencer."
"You're not gonna slow me down", Spencer said, keeping her voice down, "if we just sit for a while and do homework together like we used to."
"That's why you're mad?"
"Yes."
Yes.
Among other things.
She wasn't a swimmer but she was a freaking genius and that meant she could help with homework. She was entitled to at least that.
"So if you're mad about that we can work on it on Sunday before dinner", Emily conceded, "only if you promise me not to… you know, if you don't stop your own…"
"You won't slow me down, Emily."
"You promise?"
Promises - they didn't mean a thing.
"Just take my word on it."
"And you'll stop being mad?"
"I'm not that mad, I'm just…"
"Pissed."
They both smiled, acknowledging the truth.
"It's more frustrated, really, like you're hurting my nerdy feelings."
"I'm sorry", Emily repeated, "I'm really sorry."
Spencer took a deep breath, and this time she was the one to advance a step and reproduce the embrace. One more step, it'd be too late. But it wasn't too late. She pushed Emily's back with her arms into her chest, pulling her tighter, and in that moment she realized Emily was also taking the chance to breathe the fragrance of her neck, and, awkwardly, it surprised her, because it'd been so long since they shared any real physical contact that allowed her imagination to flow in the direction of a purely elemental, primitive want that was defined as lust, or perhaps as desire, that she'd just come to unwillingly believe it'd been postponed for an indeterminate period of time and that maybe it'd never come back, it was leaving for good, it was slowly fading away, turning its back on her, saying goodbye; that maybe they were going back to just being friends with time.
She pulled away softly, making an effort to remember this conversation was about something else.
Concerning sex, she'd become a camel walking in the desert, humps stored out of water or fat tissue to survive the long hard day and the freezing, windy night.
For now she had to forget about sex and focus on homework.
"So we agree on it, right?", Spencer made sure to clarify. "Just so we're clear: we're doing homework together from now on."
Emily nodded in emphasis, and after the newer embrace she seemed clearly relieved.
"It's a date."
No.
Not that kind of date.
No kiss, no make-out session, no sexual encounter of any sort.
"It's gonna be more than one date", Spencer warned, "cause you can't get any Bs."
"Fine", Emily agreed, stopping the eye-roll halfway, "it's gonna be a rigid schedule of study-dates that we're gonna follow no matter what."
Exactly.
"Good girl."
"And we have a real date on Saturday."
Yes.
One that, taking into account her recently expressed wishes and desires, Emily was going to hate.
"We do."
"I hope we can… you know, we can spend some time alone."
Was that code for making out?
Oh my god, it was.
The return of sex… of real kisses! And she was changing it for a party to which she'd invited McCullers and that Emily was anyway going to despise! Could life be more cruel in any way?
"Yeah", Spencer sort of croaked, her voice too weak, "we will."
Life totally, utterly, completely sucked. Big time.
A small smirk formed on Emily's lips, because this time she was unable to grasp the reality behind Spencer's words.
"It's been so long."
Indeed.
"Yeah."
Too long.
"And about our study-dates", Emily said, "my parents will love the news, you know."
"That's good", Spencer was almost thankful for the change of topic, "cause I really need your parents to love something about this whole situation."
Not that the Fields were greatly comforting as a topic.
Meeting her eyes with a direct, albeit somewhat shy gaze, Emily seemed to hesitate for a second before speaking again.
"Are you gonna back me up on Sunday?"
"Back you up?"
"With them", Emily clarified, "especially with my mom." She paused, thinking her words carefully. "I know she's been calling you."
Spencer's body tensed up.
"Can't you go to dinner with Aria?", she pleaded. "She's good at saying the right thing to everybody."
Emily frowned. "Whatever happened to I'll always look out for you."
"I can look out for you from a distance", Spencer replied, "and using binoculars."
"I really need you on this one, Spence."
"And you'll have me", Spencer granted, "but I just have to figure out the way to back you up and please them at the same time."
"You don't have to worry about them", Emily tried to assure, but didn't sound very convincing, "it's me they're after, not you."
Like it was possible to not worry about them after she'd promised Pam Fields to find a way to get Emily back on the team. But she'd have to find a way. She'd have to seek for Aria's advice regarding the art of diplomacy, which wasn't really one of the stronger points of her character. Diplomacy classes. Aria was really enjoying her current role as best friend these days. She was teaching her a lot of things.
"I'll back you up."
Looking away in search of the right words, the serious, somber expression weighted on Emily's neat, vivid, usually spirited features.
"I know you agree with them", Emily suddenly said, "so it's a lot to ask."
"It's a normal thing to ask, Em", Spencer replied, "and I don't exactly agree with them."
Emily smiled faintly, not really willing to go there.
"Thanks."
They were still holding hands, closer than they'd been for days, maybe weeks. And still, they couldn't really mention the swim team and Emily wasn't yet saying anything about how she felt, anything she'd already told McCullers. Not yet. Not now. Maybe tomorrow, or after the party, or even better after the Dreaded Dinner, or at some point in their lives before they grew old and had eight kids, maybe then they'd discuss that part.
"I really have to go."
"Let me walk you to your car", Emily requested gently, "yes?"
"Yes."
So she let her walk her to her car, and to her car they walked in silence, still holding hands.
A/N: thank you, people who're still reading this!
chocolatefrogs11: :) glad to see you're still there! Spencer's torment... that's definitely what I'm trying to show!
go-sullivan: thanks! I was also super-curious when I heard about the Paige-Spencer interaction in the show. It's also because Lindsay Shaw and Troian are such good actresses... Anyway, I'm not sure I got the best out of their scene together (in the fic), but it's already done!
LittleLiarLovesEmily: that's fine, I usually like to keep the flashbacks kind of vague or open to different interpretations? But maybe it's just not well-written... or it's pointless. The main idea was to show it's Emily's flashback, so it relates to Emily herself.
LaughLoveLiveXx: LOL you so totally spoil me with your reviews, I love them, although my writing's certainly not illegal, it's probably bad enough. You nailed Spencer's sense of impotence. I also think it's what she can't really stand, especially when it's a bad situation. Anyway, thank you for your very kind words and your acute perceptions... and for sharing them with me. I was in need of it, I've been kind of struggling so much with this chapter and with the fic as a whole.
theninemuses7: Wow, thanks, I totally envy your literary skillS (in a very healthy way, and especially in the delight I get as a reader of your stories) so those words mean a lot! And you nailed your interpretation of Spencer's insecurity...
Maxi-Luca: that's one of the things I love most about Spencer, her sneaky curiosity and ability. She's never afraid to do what has to be done. She was harsh, yes. But, as you said, she has her reasons... which are probably more personal than related to Paige herself.
potato: Ha, google digging! LOL I shoulda done that too, but I didn't, so I made the birthdays up!
IRuleUK: LOL! Don't worry about Spencer. I will torture her, yes, I'm not gonna lie, but she'll be fine... And Jason... It's too late to open that line in this fic. It's just impossible. When I started the plan for it, season 2b was still starting and, well, I wasn't completely aware of Jason's role in Spencer's life. Aaaanyway, he'll be talked about, but he won't appear as a character. Thank you!
radom: Awww, sorry, didn't update soon. I'm trying, but this chapter's been hell to write, and it's still not very good (sorry about that).
JustForKicks403: thanks A LOT for your review. And sorry about taking longer to update.