Author's Note: So like I said last chapter, this is based off of "So Emotional" by Whitney Houston (RIP, you had an amazing voice). Also as I said last chapter, this is AU, one of my more humourous one-shots, and Spencer is a tad out-of-character.

Now, can we please just get on with it?

Day Three: So Emotional by Whitney Houston

Screw Emily, screw Aria, and screw that Manolo-wearing ass-kisser.

Screw Emily for making me go to that God-forsaken dance. Screw Aria for making me wear some stupid outfit and regular mascara. And most of all, screw the Manolo-wearing ass-kisser for making a spectacle of herself and attracting the attention of someone I never hoped (or expected) to see again.

I can still hear her overly-annoying and chipper voice as she talked to that person in particular.

"Oh, my God! Toby! I can't believe you're here! I haven't seen you here in like…two years. Spencer? Did you know he was back here?"

Screw, screw, screw her for bringing me into this.

So much for trying to act invisible.

"What? You guys can't be friendly exes? Was the falling out really that bad?"

And at the moment, I wanted nothing more than to take one of Aria's heels and shove it five inches up her—

"I just got back a week ago," the blue-eyed man standing next to Hanna said.

Well, I knew there had to have been a reason I always liked him.

I scowled as I took off the earrings Aria had shoved into my closing holes. I placed them down roughly on my vanity table.

I sighed as I sat down on my bed.

Don't do it, Spencer. Don't do it, Spence. Don't do it—

Oh, screw this whole night.

Biting my lip, I made my way slowly to my desk. I opened up the middle drawer slowly, seeing a picture of the two of us, when things were happy.

Ugh, I should've listened to myself.

To be honest, I wasn't sure why I was still so hung up on him. We had been broken up for two years, as the annoying blonde had reminded us both earlier in the night. Besides that simple fact, I had a boyfriend. I had a freaking boyfriend. Why did I still lust and pine for his love?

All I knew was that Gucci-whore would be getting some serious just desserts from me.

I threw back another shot a week later in our favorite bar. I was originally going with Caleb (since I was still pretty pissed at all the girls for that stupid night out in the club), but he had to bail on me last minute.

I waited and waited and waited for the phone ring, but to no avail. I knew I really screwed up with my boyfriend this time. If he hated my guts, I couldn't exactly blame him for it. I was an awful, awful girlfriend.

Well, ex-girlfriend.

"Can I have another shot of tequila, please?" This would be the third one, and I had no intention of slowing down any time soon.

But of course, Blue Eyes just had to pop in, ruining my night even more.

Screw him, too.

I mean, I suppose I did just that once, a long time ago.

We had been dating for a pretty long time. I think it was going to be our fourth anniversary. We were together since my second year of college, and the whole relationship was pretty good as a whole, I guess. I wasn't some kind of serial dater, so I wasn't exactly sure. Spencer wasn't sluttin' it up in high school.

I know nobody really wants to hear any of that. Flashforward to about a week before our four-year anniversary.

We were pretty serious in our relationship when it ended. No, forget that; we were living together. My parents asked us when he was planning to propose to me (and like I was supposed to know…isn't it supposed to be a surprise?).

I just walked home one day, opening up the door and seeing suitcases upon suitcases. It felt sort of like someone was biting their thumb at me. Actually, both of them.

So, he pled his case to me, telling me how there was this job he needed to take in some unfortunate, forsaken town. I told him to save it, and basically said screw him, but with a lot more profanity.

I downed the next shot of tequila with ease as I thought it over. I felt him walk closer to me. More hard liquor.

Why did he have this stupid, overbearing need to make nice with everyone in his life? For once, couldn't he just be bitter and cold and normal and just let things be? Why did he have to be such a peacemaker?

He sat down next to me and I let down a small groan.

"Are you tailing me, or something?" I asked.

He looked at me, quite puzzled. "What?"

"Are you following me? I keep seeing you and your face everywhere. Why? Are you stalking me? You know how I feel about stalkers," I said fiercely.

"I'm not a stalker," he said.

I somewhat rolled my eyes before taking a drink of a cocktail.

Getting drunk with the enemy. This would bring shame to my entire family. Oh, Spencer! What were you doing?

"You're kind of like an animal, you know? I don't know what kind, but you are," I rambled with a slur. "You're really sexy and sneaky kind of like…a panther. A black one. Get it? You're a black cat. Wow, I'm so funny," I said. Okay, cut me some slack; I was really drunk.

He said something to me, but I couldn't quite make out what it was. I was too busy watching his lips. His pink, very kissable lips.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't hear you. I was stuck inside my own fantasies—the ones where the two of us are totally alone," I slurred.

"Okay, you're drunk," I heard him say.

He helped me get up and walk out of the club. He put one of my arms around him so we could walk back to my apartment.

In spite of my drunkenness, I could still feel tingles shoot all over my body when he touched me. Part of me wanted to snap back and remain bitter, but the other part wanted me to remain under the guise of being too drunk to care or feel anything, even though I really did. I really hated that I missed him so much.

"I just can't get you out of my head," I said absentmindedly. I groaned loudly. "Why are you doing this to me?" I asked abruptly.

"Doing what?" he inquired, not masking his amusement.

I sighed. "Everything. Being back here. Being a temptation. Being you?"

He looked at me curiously.

By the time we had made it to my apartment, I was feeling pretty sober. Very dehydrated, but at least kind of sober.

"I can't believe I let myself get that drunk around you," I said with a sigh.

He shrugged. "It's really not a big deal, Spencer."

"No, it is. I probably made a total ass of myself. I'm sorry. I can be a really sloppy drunk."

He let out a small laugh as he opened the door for me into the apartment building. "Spencer Hastings being sloppy? I can't picture that."

"I could do worse," I warned him.

He shrugged. "It's still pretty unbelievable."

I shook my head as I walked up the stairs to my apartment. It would be a long walk; my apartment was on the seventh floor. It was my daily cardio.

"Now I guess I know how you keep in such great shape. Isn't there an elevator or something?"

I shook my head. "I mean, there is, but I think it's only been working once since I moved here," I said, shrugging it off.

We got to my apartment at the end of the hall on the seventh floor. I looked for my keys, finding them in my pocket. I put them in the door, but paused before I opened up the apartment. I turned back to him, leaning on the door.

"You're incredible, you know? You're the only one of my exes who I could ever picture falling back into something like this after being so heartbroken," I said, breaking on my words a bit.

"Do you know why I left?" he asked.

I shook my head. "You gave me some bullshit reason about needing to take a job, but I never believed you," I added.

"I was scared, but it was a stupid thing to do. The money was great, but…your love was better."

I stared at him for a moment, my expression unwavering. Then, I scowled, looking down. "God, I hate it when you do that. You do those things which make me remember…and I've always hated you for that," I said bitterly.

"Well, I'm sorry—"

"No, you're not, because you'll just do it again," I interrupted sharply. "You'll just up and leave again."

"And how do you know?"

"Because I know you," I said sharply. I cowered a little bit, looking at my feet. "At least, I thought I did."

"Yeah, it's funny how you think you know someone, but you really don't."

He was getting closer to me and I felt my heartbeat quicken. "What are you trying to say?" I questioned cautiously.

"Are you really so sure about everything you're so sure about?"

I furrowed my eyebrows. "About you? I'm fairly sure," I countered.

He got closer, and soon enough, I felt my back pressed against the door of my apartment.

I now had my hand on the door handle. "This is going to sound really weird, but I'm strangely attracted to you. I'm not sure if this is the tequila or your cologne talking," I said quietly.

"Would you get awfully pissed off if I kissed you right now?"

After a moment of thought, I shook my head slightly.

He tilted my head back and kissed me. It was innocent at first, but quickly became more heated.

He finally pulled back, and I let go of his lips reluctantly. I looked into his very blue eyes, my knees beginning to feel weak.

"Love makes you do crazy things," I said quietly.

He nodded in agreement. "Goodnight, Spencer."

eveningshades1107: I like books. It doesn't make me an Ezrian. I also happen to enjoy writing. Doesn't make me an Ezrian. And yeah, yeah, yeah. You got your Spoby engagement. I hope you're very satisfied.

Spobyforever259: They were delicious *wipes tear as she begins to cry* and I want one right now so badly. My aunt brought them into work and they almost won her cookie contest I was baking them for (stupid macadamia nuts beat us out, though...). She called them Clementine's Cookies in honour of me.

AL3110: I hope this lived up to your high expectations, your highness.

LynnLayne18: They were going to be, but I failed. Since I have 190+ to get through in a year, they likely will be (except for next week, when I am on vacation, er, learning experience). Um, I don't know if that was an insult or a compliment, but I think it was the former, and to that I shall say...damn it.

Guest (Guest17): Thank you, and also thank you for using the right form of "your/you're".

I'm sorry if these responses seemed really terse and bitchy. Let me clear this up and start by saying: yes, I am a bitch. But hear me out, okay?

I went to a nutritionist today who basically told me that I'm going to be a pre-diabetic and I can only have like 5g of sugar in a single thing (so I shouldn't eat anything that has more than 5g of sugar in it). Let me just tell you that sugar withdrawals SUCK. I'm like low-blood sugar Spencer right now, times a thousand. I am so pissed off at absolutely nothing. I hate my life, I hate food, I hate everything. This whole thing SUCKS. Let me tell you, you do not want to be stuck in a room with low-blood sugar Kayson because IT IS NOT PRETTY.

So as for me, I am so done with just about everything right now. I am mad at the world.

I should probably still tell you what happens next. The next one shot is based off of The Human League's song, "Don't You Want Me?"

By the way, I am well aware that I used UK spelling in some of my replies. I don't care. Low-blood sugar Kayson gets really confused when it comes to spelling. She also hates the light and noises. It was just an awesome day to go see the school musical, wasn't it?

I'm also just really pissed because I found out I wasn't funny and I will likely never be able to eat fried chicken with French-fries and Coke and have chocolate cheesecake for dessert EVER again, and that makes me mad. -Angry, Pissed Low-Blood Sugar Kayson Who's Apparently Got No Sense of Humour