“Wait!” Spencer yelled, out of breath, the tightness in her chest having not yet subsided.

“Don’t,” Ashley snapped, brusquely pulling her wrist back from where Spencer had grasped it.

“Listen,” Spencer breathed, berating herself for choosing today to wear jean miniskirt, “I didn’t…” She was out of breath again, having now resorted to leaning against the brick wall that housed the coffee shop.

Ashley looked at her inquisitively, puttering hopelessly between being upset and genuinely worried, “You’re not in very good shape are you?”

She shouldn’t have said that.

“You know what? Fuck you,” Spencer countered, mildly enraged.

“God…” Ashley muttered, turning again to walk away. Maybe Spencer wasn’t so interesting after all.

“Wait!”

Or, maybe she was.

“For what, Spencer? What am I waiting for?”

The double meaning, or perhaps just the deeper meaning, of those words were not lost on Spencer. They did, however, act as a sort of trigger, a gentle reminder nudging Spencer towards a situation she was comfortable with: Dealing with an emotionally distressed girl.

She knew what she had to do, mainly because she had done it so many times before.

Traveling the few feet to where Ashley was standing, visually tired and understandably pissed, Spencer let only an inch separate them, before using her right hand to tuck a curl of hair behind the other girl’s ear, “I’m sorry,” she said softly, almost shyly, “I shouldn’t have flipped out like that.”

“Save it,” Ashley groaned rolling her eyes, though there was no denying the smile on her face, “If you’re really sorry make it up to me,” She challenged.

“Excuse m—“

This wasn’t how it went.

“Take me out to dinner tonight.”

Spencer made the calls.

“I have pla—“

Spencer needed the power back.

“Pick me up at seven.”

And then Ashley was gone, down the sidewalk and towards her car, a gleaming black, what looked to be, BMW convertible.

Spencer was left in the dust, or, more specifically, on the sidewalk, her body threatening to go into catatonic shock.

She dug through her bag frantically, looking for the plastic orange bottle she knew she kept there.

Choking down two pills, she breathed a sigh a relief.

One thing was for sure: that night would not be lacking in drama. If anything it would be fraught, or better yet, overflowing with spectacle. After all, Ashley had just signed herself up as a guest to the Carlin’s weekly family dinner

 as always–thank you SO much for all the encouraging comments. really does mean a lot. on that note-KEEP IT COMING sorry if this chapter seems kinda dull, i just could see them going to a family dinner and needed something plausible to set em’ up for it. again, THANKKS.