In Demand, Chapter 3

Previously: Chapter 2 [U]

Love in an elevator. (Not really, but it was too good a line to pass up.)

Rated: U.

* * * * *

The remainder of the evening passed without further incident or mention of Ashley. That didn’t stop Spencer from thinking about the brunette pretty much constantly, though. She hadn’t been so intrigued by another person in years. Her oldest and best friend – the girl who had braided her hair at innumerable sleepovers and had been there when her teenage heart had been broken by Eric Seiberg not asking her to the Spring Fling – was getting married in just over twelve hours and all Spencer could think about was a chance encounter with a beautiful stranger.

Unable to truly relax, and knowing she had a big day ahead of her, Spencer snuck away from the party just after Claudia had excused herself.

The lobby was much quieter than might have been expected for 11.30pm on a Friday night and she found herself riding up in the elevator alone. When the doors opened, she got out and turned in what she thought was the direction of her room. It was only when she looked at the number on one of the doors in passing that she realised that she was on the wrong floor. For some reason – possibly because she hated elevators and they clearly hated her back – she had ended up on the twenty-first floor, while her room was on the nineteenth.

She glanced around, looking for a sign for the stairwell. One wasn’t immediately apparent, so she continued down the hallway towards the second bank of elevators that she knew to be located at the opposite end of the building. The carpet was so deep and her feet were so tired that she kicked off her shoes. Being barefoot in a cocktail dress, her shoes dangling from her fingertips, reminded her of being seventeen and sneaking into her parents’ house after curfew, so she wasn’t surprised to hear her name being hissed, as it had been so many times by her father, who had always waited up for her and had never told her mother how late she had been. But it couldn’t be her father for two reasons: one, he was at home in Los Angeles; and, two, the voice was definitely not male.

She stopped, turned around and immediately felt the grin spreading across her face. Strolling towards her, a beer bottle in her left hand, was Ashley Davies. She was wearing black jeans and a shimmering silver-grey camisole top, over which was hanging a tight black fitted shirt, partially unbuttoned. She looked even more incredible than she had earlier.

“So, we meet again,” the brunette drawled.

Spencer just shrugged in agreement, knowing that she was starting to blush.

“Sneaking out or sneaking in?” Ashley came to a halt about a foot in front of her and took a swig from her beer. She turned her head to one side and looked Spencer up and down slowly. It was definitely an appraising look. It made Spencer’s blush deepen.

“L-lost,” she stuttered, finding it difficult to speak properly. She cleared her throat in embarrassment. “I, um, got off on the wrong floor,” she added.

“So you’re not just hovering near my room, waiting to be rescued again?” the brunette joked. She pointed to the end room, the one with the double doors. It was clearly a suite and the thought of being inside the brunette’s suite was curiously appealling.

If Spencer was going to continue being honest with herself, she might as well admit that the thought wasn’t really curious at all. She knew exactly why she found the thought of being alone with Ashley in her suite tremendously appealling. She liked the girl. She liked her in a want-to-get-to-know-her better kind of way. She liked her in a draw-lovehearts-with-their-initials-in-them kind of way. She liked her in the sort of way that made her want to throw caution to the wind and test all her theories about possibly being more than a little bit gay. But she wasn’t that sort of brave, at least not in strange hallways in the middle of the night.

“Not this time. Just lost.”

“Ahh.” She extended her hand. “Ashley Davies, by the way.”

“Spencer, Spencer Carlin.” She accepted the proffered hand all too gladly, relishing the chance to test whether the jolt she had felt at their previous contact had been some sort of fluke. As she held back a shiver of excitement, she surmised that her first instinct had not been wrong: there was something special there. She released their hold after what she hoped had not been an unusual length of time.

Ashley indicated Spencer’s dress with a sweep of her left hand and waggled her eyebrows. “Hot date with Phill?”

Spencer giggled. She actually giggled, barely recognising the sound as it came out of her own mouth.

“No, not a date. Wedding rehearsal dinner.”

“Oh, right. You’re the Maid of Honour, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” Spencer had mentioned her role in the wedding party in the bar earlier that day. “Claudia’s my oldest friend. We went through school together, right up until tenth grade. Then my mom got a job in LA and we moved. Claude and me must’ve spent whole days on the phone after I moved. I missed her so much. I still miss her. Of course, she’s moved here to be with Brendan now, so it’s not so bad any more that she’s only a quick flight away. Or a long drive, I suppose, although I’ve never made the drive myself.” She had no idea why she seemed to veer between being unable to speak at all and being unable to stop babbling around Ashley, but she wished she could tell her brain to stick to a happy medium. Her babbling didn’t seem to bother the brunette, who was just grinning and nodding as she spoke. “Anyway, um, the short answer is yes, I’m the Maid of Honour.”

There was a brief silence and then Ashley nodded towards the elevators.

“So, uh, can I walk you to your room?” She made an embarrassed little half-shrug that Spencer found endearing. “Or, you know, you could come to my room, if you want. We could have a beer or a coffee and hang out. Or something.”

It was an incredibly tempting offer, delivered with a lot less confidence than Spencer would have expected from the brunette. She was definitely intrigued by the possibilities of ‘or something’. But she knew she had to be up early the following morning. She would be having breakfast in the bridal suite with Claudia and Nancy before her own salon appointment to have her hair and make-up done. Her alarm was already set for six-thirty.

It was with a great deal of regret that she answered, “I really should get some sleep.”

If Ashley was bothered by her offer being spurned, then she did not show it. She smiled brightly and put her now-empty beer bottle down on a room service cart that had been left outside one of the rooms.

“Right, well, let’s get you home before the clock strikes midnight and you turn back into a pumpkin, Princess.” She offered her arm to Spencer.

“That’s really not necessary.” She was already turning in the brunette’s direction, though, and she had decided to accept the offer the second it had been made.

“Of course it is. What if there’s a murderer lurking around the next corner, waiting to pounce?”

“A murderer?” She turned up the corner of her mouth in disbelief.

“It could happen.”

“You’re sure?”

“I watch a lot of Criminal Minds and CSI,” Ashley confirmed mock-seriously. “I’m almost qualified to be a forensic-profiler-detective-type person.”

Spencer chuckled softly at the assertion as they started walking towards the elevators. They were walking slowly, so slowly that it could barely have been called sauntering. Wordlessly, Ashley reached over and eased Spencer’s shoes out of her hand. Spencer was thrilled by the gesture. As a child who had voraciously read the Anne of Green Gables books, she had always wanted someone – her very own Gilbert Blythe – to carry her books to school for her. She had been born into the wrong century for that to ever have happened, but Ashley’s actions came pretty close to that ideal. If she shut her eyes, she could easily imagine that they were making their way home across a Canadian prairie and not a hotel corridor.

“So, how did these two lovebirds meet?” Maybe it was her imagination, but Ashley’s voice seemed even huskier than before.

“Brendan was her first ever boyfriend.”

“Really long engagement?”

“No. They split up before they even finished high school. They just met again a couple of years ago.” She shook her head. “Claudia was actually engaged to this other guy, Mark. He was lovely but, as soon as she saw Brendan again, she called the wedding off and moved here to be with him. It all happened within a matter of days.”

“That sounds romantic, I guess. Unless, of course, you’re Mark.”

Spencer shrugged. She didn’t even know what had happened to Mark. One minute, he had been a part of their lives and Claudia’s future and, the next, he had vanished and there were no traces of him left. She hoped he’d moved on and found someone new. He had been a good guy who deserved to be happy, but he couldn’t compare to Claudia’s love for Brendan.

“So, what does a Maid of Honour do, exactly?”

“Oh, you know, hold the bride’s hand during the preparations and keep her calm on the day.” She looked sideways at Ashley. “Have you never been a bridesmaid or Maid of Honour?”

“Nah, not really been to that many weddings, actually. Most of my friends aren’t married and my mother never invites me to hers.”

“Hers, plural?”

“Yeah.” The brunette made a face. “She really likes getting married. Not so keen on being a wife.”

“How many times has she been married?” Spencer’s tone was both amused and curious.

“Five, I think. Might be six. She went to Switzerland for a year with this banker guy and I’m not sure if they tied the knot or not.”

“That’s a lot of weddings.”

“Not if you’re Elizabeth Taylor or Larry King.”

They reached the elevators and both reached out for the button at the same time, their hands brushing against each other. The shock that Spencer felt at the contact caused her to snatch her hand back and laugh shrilly in embarrassment. Ashley raised an eyebrow and pressed the button for them. Just to have something to distract her, Spencer looked around at the displays above the elevator doors. The nearest one was only at the fifth floor. The others were all at the lobby or mezzanine levels.

“I hate elevators,” she commented, desperate to fill the silence. “And I think they know it. It’s why they only creak when I’m in them and why they’re never there when I need them and why they send me to the wrong floor.”

“Ah, but if that hadn’t happened, then we wouldn’t have run into each other.”

This time, she knew right away that Ashley was openly flirting with her. The softness of the brunette’s voice, the way she was leaning in slightly towards her, the fact that she had dipped her head so that she was looking at her from underneath her lashes: they were unmistakeable signs.

“No, we wouldn’t have,” she murmured in agreement.

Their quiet moment was disturbed by the ping of the doors opening and a crowd of five rowdy college-age men pouring out, all animatedly talking about some nightclub they were intending to hit up after a brief stop to get some more alcohol inside them. By their demeanour, Spencer reckoned they probably didn’t need any more of anything inside them. The last boy to exit the car paused to size Spencer up. The gesture was slow and leering.

“Well, hey there, Blondie,” he said, his voice not quite slurred, but not far off. “You waiting here for me?”

Spencer looked away, hoping that just ignoring him might work. She felt Ashley take a protective half-step towards her. The boy was just opening his mouth to say something else when one of his friends called him urgently. With a shrug, he jogged after his compatriots without saying anything else. The two women watched the group noisily make their way down the hallway and then disappear into a bedroom. Spencer was glad that she didn’t have a bunch of kids next door to her.

“I thought for a moment there I was going to have to rescue you again,” Ashley remarked with amusement as they stepped inside. “What floor?”

“Nineteen.”

The brunette touched the number and the doors closed again. “You really should consider keep me on retainer if you’re going to keep getting yourself into these situations.”

Spencer didn’t think she would mind that at all. Having Ashley Davies as a permanent bodyguard sounded like a genius idea to her.

“I honestly don’t remember the last time I got hit on twice in one day,” she admitted. She was still surprised that the college kid had chosen her when she was standing right next to Ashley.

“Just the twice?” Ashley gave a smirk.

Spencer was pretty sure that the inference she was meant to draw was that Ashley was hitting on her, but she didn’t get a chance to comment as the doors opened again.

“Hold on.” Ashley held up one hand in a halting motion to Spencer and jammed her foot against the elevator doors to keep them open. She stuck her head out and looked around. The hand she had been holding up to Spencer was now furiously motioning for the blonde to move. “I can confirm both a lack of obvious murderers and the fact that we’re definitely on the nineteenth floor. We are good to go. I repeat, we are good to go.”

Spencer laughed as she exited into her hallway. She was glad to be back on carpet. The floor in the elevator had been a hard, cold tile. Seeing as she was still in her bare feet, she didn’t want to think about how dirty the floor might also have been.

“See? I’d make an excellent detective,” Ashley affirmed.

“Of course you would.”

The brunette stopped walking and crossed her arms over her chest in fake annoyance. The sight would have been more imposing if she hadn’t still been carrying Spencer’s shoes. It was hard to look menacing with a pair of strappy heels in your hands.

“Are you doubting me?”

“Never,” Spencer avowed. “How could I possibly doubt my constant rescuer?”

“Hmm.” The brunette seemed to consider this answer for a moment and find it acceptable. “Okay, then. You’re forgiven.”

Spencer feigned wiping sweat from her brow. “Phew! That was a close one!”

“Hey! Quit mocking me or I’ll take it back.” Ashley swatted lightly at her arm.

To Spencer, it was inconceivable that they had known each other for only a few hours. She was never this way with someone she had just met. It usually took her days, if not weeks, to open up with someone. With Ashley, however, there had been an instant rapport. She snatched a quick glance sideways at her companion who also looked totally at ease. Up ahead, she could see her room. It saddened her, as she didn’t really want their time together to end so soon again. She was considering what she should do about it when Ashley interrupted her musings.

“So I was thinking, I’ve got a thing to do tomorrow and you’ve got some kind of minor event going on as well, but, um, maybe, if you’re still here on Sunday and you don’t have any plans, we could have brunch or something.”

Again, Spencer was surprised by how faltering the offer was.

“Brunch?” she echoed.

“Yeah,” Ashley flashed her a grin, that natural cockiness returning to the fore, “it’s not quite breakfast and not quite lunch, but it comes with a slice of cantaloupe at the end.” The strange mix of brash confidence and quiet uncertainty that she projected was both intriguing and alluring.

“I promised Abby and her boyfriend I’d do something with them on Sunday,” Spencer admitted. She was secretly delighted to see a brief look of dismay pass across the other girl’s face. “But your offer sounds much better,” she finished.

Ashley made what she assumed to be a chuckle of delight. “It was the promise of cantaloupe that swung it, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, totally the cantaloupe,” she deadpanned.

They had slowed almost to a complete stop, but they were only a few steps away from Spencer’s room anyway.

“Um, this is me here.”

“Right.”

She wanted to ask Ashley in, but she wasn’t sure how to do that nonchalantly, even in light of just having been invited out to brunch. She also felt like she was fifteen again, being dropped off at her parents’ house at the end of a date. She had that same feeling of nervous energy that came from knowing how you wanted an evening to end, but not knowing whether the outcome was in your own hands.

“So, brunch?” she prompted, leaning back against the door of her hotel room. The painted wood felt cool against her exposed back. Ashley stepped towards the slight recess of the doorway and then leaned against the wall with her shoulder. They were less than a foot apart. A small shuffle sideways, a minor adjustment in posture, and they would be touching.

“Brunch,” Ashley agreed, smiling at her with her eyes.

“I meant what time.”

“I don’t know. What time do you think is appropriate for brunch?”

They were speaking at barely above a whisper.

“Um, eleven?” Spencer guessed. She had never actually been to a brunch of any kind, but eleven sounded about right.

“Eleven sounds good.” Ashley reached out and drew a line with her finger down the wall next to her. It was a meaningless gesture, but it closed the gap between their bodies even further.

“Where do you want to meet?” Spencer’s voice sounded strained, even to her own ears.

“Our usual table?”

That caused her to smile. She liked the sound of that: their usual table.

“Hopefully no plastics salesmen, though.”

“Hopefully no interruptions at all,” Ashley agreed.

“Yeah.”

The silence hung between them. Somewhere further down the hallway, there was the sound of laughter and then a door banging heavily. If either of them moved, Spencer wasn’t aware of it. They were just looking at each other and smiling. She was pretty certain that it was the perfect moment for one of them to lean in for a goodnight kiss. The nervousness was gnawing at Spencer’s insides and she couldn’t stay silent.

“So, thanks for walking me home,” she murmured. She immediately cursed herself for her choice of words, which sounded like a brush-off.

“No problem.” Ashley straightened up slightly. She raised her left hand, offering Spencer’s shoes to her. “I believe these are yours.”

She took them and awkwardly cradled them against her body with her right arm. “Thanks.”

“So, I should -”

“Yeah.” She didn’t want the brunette to leave. She wanted to reach out and pull her towards her. She wanted to kiss her. She wanted to be kissed by her. She let her gaze drop to Ashley’s lips, wondering how they’d feel against her own.

When she looked back up into Ashley’s eyes, she could tell that her actions had not gone unnoticed.

“I’m really glad we bumped into each other again,” Ashley admitted.

“Me, too.”

“I would say that we should really stop meeting like this, but that would be a lie.”

“I know what you mean. I’m really glad it was you that I picked on in the bar today.”

“We ought to find Phill and thank him.”

Spencer chuckled. “I’m not sure I’d go that far.”

“Maybe we could find out what room he’s in and send him an anonymous fruit basket or something.”

“He might see that as an invitation.” They were talking just to keep talking, but Spencer was completely fine with that.

“Yeah, probably best to avoid that, then.”

Ashley had a great smile, Spencer noted. She could happily watch her smile all night. She allowed herself a few moments to do just that.

“So, yeah,” Ashley commented.

“Yeah.” She was definitely feeling the first-date nerves coursing through her now. She was pretty sure that they were both unsure how to break off this interaction. She flattered herself that they were both equally as reluctant for that to happen. A thought occured to her. “What if one of us gets held up?”

“What?”

“On Sunday,” she explained. “We should have some kind of way of getting in touch.” She berated herself for being too shy and coy to ask for Ashley’s phone number outright. The other girl’s smile was enough to say that she knew what Spencer meant anyway.

Fishing into her back pocket, Ashley pulled out her cellphone. “You want me to give you my number?” she asked, looking between the phone in her hand and Spencer’s face.

“Well, uh, that would make sense.” She felt more uncertain again, as if she’d been too forward.

“On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You have to promise to call.” Ashley gave a hearty, flirtatious, downright dirty chuckle.

Fishing into her own purse and retrieving her phone, Spencer flushed. “I think that can be arranged.” She held the phone up and flipped to the ‘add contact’ screen. “Shoot.” She typed in the number that Ashley gave her and then they repeated the procedure for Spencer’s number.

“Do we need a code?” Ashley asked.

“Like what?”

“Oh, you know, in case you get delayed by being hit on by some random passing dude, which seems to be some sort of occupational hazard for you. If we had a code, then you could send me an SOS and I could come rescue you again.”

Spencer grinned. “Wouldn’t ‘SOS’ be fine?”

“Good point.” An idea obviously occured to Ashley, as a grin suddenly lit up her face. “Let’s try it out just now.”

Spencer navigated to the message screen and sent off a quick text saying ‘SOS’. Ashley shook her head in mock-dismay.

“That won’t do, Spencer. How do I know where to find you?”

“Because you’re standing right there?”

“If this is Sunday, I won’t be.”

“All right.” She tapped out a second, longer message.

When Ashley’s phone almost immediately buzzed, the brunette laughed. “Help! Help! I’m being accosted by a nut outside room 19128?” she read out.

Spencer shrugged. “I speak the truth.”

Ashley typed something and then Spencer’s screen lit up.

Are you being hit on?

Spencer chewed her lip and glanced up at the other girl who was grinning brazenly with an eyebrow raised, possibly in challenge.

Think so. Don’t know, she typed back.

Need rescued?

Spencer looked up again and this time they shared a smile. She hesitated before replying, No. Doing fine, I hope.

You’re def doing more than fine.

Good to know. It didn’t seem odd to be standing less than three feet apart, conducting a conversation by text. In fact, it made it just removed enough from reality that Spencer could say what was on her mind in a way she wouldn’t even consider if the questions had been asked aloud.

“So, yeah,” Ashley muttered, putting her phone away and hooking her thumbs into the back pockets of her jeans. She rocked on her heels.

“I…” Spencer pointed to the door behind her.

“Yeah. Me too. I mean, my room, not… Yeah.”

Spencer grinned. She wasn’t sure which she liked better: strong, confident, cocky Ashley or stumbling, uncertain Ashley. Both were pretty damn attractive.

“I -” Ashley shook her head and then made the decision for both of them, leaning forward and brushing her lips across Spencer’s cheek. “Good night, Spence,” she muttered softly, hoarsely.

“Night.”

Ashley pulled back slowly and nodded. “Brunch.”

“Brunch,” Spencer agreed.

The brunette turned slowly and hesitantly, as if giving Spencer the chance to change her mind and prevent her from leaving. But Spencer remained silent, concentrating hard on not lifting her hand to touch her face where Ashley’s lips had been. That effort was taking pretty much all of her concentration and willpower. Ashley just chuckled, shook her head and trotted off back down the hallway, breaking into an almost-run as she approached the elevators.

Once again, Spencer found herself watching the other woman leave and cursing herself for not doing more to prevent it.

* * * * *

Next up: Chapter 4 [U]

Follow @devandclom