I fell asleep with Spencer in my hand. I drifted off with Spencer's voice and breath in my ear. I dreamt of so many words. Words of want and miss and need. Words belonging to her. Words belonging to me.

Last night, I fell asleep perfectly.

And right now, on this raining but beautiful Monday morning, as I roam down long hallway after long hallway, I still feel it. I still feel Spencer. Her presence. Her love, echoing in my ear, reverberating through my heart. Her sky eyes, searing into me, somehow reaching mine through a telephone wire. And it's strange, feeling all these new things while walking through this same school. While shuffling inside red Chucks and hidden baggy clothes from my old life.

I shouldn't feel differently while I live in everything from "before". I shouldn't feel like a different person. But I do. In the wake of "after", I am different. Because today, as I pass by all the people that never noticed me and still don't notice me, that still bump into me without a sorry, I can actually smile. Because in my mind I still see Spencer's unbelievably gorgeous face next to mine, on top of mine, kissing mine. On my hips, I still feel her feather fingers, rolling over my back. Hands holding my waist, pulling me close, and needing me near.

Suddenly, a tiny laugh escapes me. Baffled into giddiness. Because Spencer wants me and Spencer needs me and it's been so long since I've ever thought someone might feel that way for me. It's been forever since I've ever believed someone would.

But then I'm no longer walking anywhere, I'm only being pulled somewhere. I only feel myself being pulled closer, like someone needs me near. Hearing a door shut behind me, I find myself smothered in darkness and covered in those hands. Those hands that cupped me close yesterday morning. That broke my life right in half.


Whispers in my ear, as an aching mouth gingerly kisses below it.


I rasp, foolishly, because who else would it be?

"Yes, silly, who else would it be?" Adorably, she giggles my words against me, hands hugging my hips, keeping our bodies flush against each other. And I laugh too, feeling like I'm ten years old again with a world of excitement beating inside my little heart.

"Yeah, I know. There's no one else but you."

For some reason, these easy words come out far heavier than they seem. Suggesting so much more than just this moment, and I think she knows it. I think she feels it, all the things that an "after" has granted us. Because without even seeing her, without being able to, I know where she's looking, I know where she's heading. And then she's there. She's here. Against me. Lips to lips. Breath to breath. Heart to heart.

And now I know I'll never get used to this. Thankfully, luckily, Spencer will always feel new to me.

Lazily, she leans back from me, hands moving off my body, and I can't help but bring her back. Wrapping my fingers around the collar of her polo shirt, I draw her mouth back to mine, feeling her smile of surprise between my teeth. Feeling the flutter in my heart, realizing there's a boldness growing in me.

"Where are we?"

I ask into her mouth, unable to completely leave it. Unable to let go of her lips after knowing what it's like without ours pressed together for too long. After a night of make out dreaming, I can't let a morning of make out reality slip through my fingers.

But she slips away with a sigh, showing her same reluctance to leave the world existing between only us. Suddenly she drapes the room in light through what sounds like a flick of a switch.

"I'm not really sure what this place is. I guess some kind of storage closet..." Her explanation launches into an adorable ramble as I just watch her slender body covered in mellow light. Just taking in the way her eyes flick from dusty item to dusty item, looking so beyond sweet and gorgeous and sexy and mine, "...to be honest, I saw you coming down the hall and had to have you to myself..." Finally blue mixes with brown, creating my new favorite color between us, as her eyes fall into mine again, "...So I kinda yanked you to the closest private place..." But then her forehead creases with worry, like she's insecure or something, "...I'm sorry if I scared you - "

And I can't let her go on anymore. I can't let her miss the grin crossing my face, the cheek cracking smile that's spreading across it like wildfire, somehow reaching my toes, because how did I get so lucky? How did I manage to make Spencer Carlin, beautiful and untouchable Spencer Carlin, unable to control herself?

So I reach out for her once more, somewhat shakily (because I've never done this before, because I'm still not used to this), curling my fingers around the waistband of her perfectly tight jeans. The same jeans that all those snobby art students wear, and now that I'm feeling them wrapped around something so beautiful, something that is Spencer, suddenly they don't seem so snobby. Suddenly those kids don't seem so scary. Because with Spencer among them, those kids only look like a very pale version of perfection.

Our mouths kiss short series of pecks, before I feel her giddy against me, "So you didn't mind my kidnapping act then?"

All I can do is shake my head "No", because I can't break away. I can't waste my lips and teeth and tongue on something like words.

"Good..." She's giggling now, sending delicious little vibrations through my body, and I wonder if it's from my eager mouth, "...I think it shall be called the Spashley closet from now on. Our secret hideaway place..." One wet kiss smooched to my mouth's left corner, "...Oooh, just like the Boiler Room on My So-Called Life..." A short gasp, "...Oh my God, can I be your Jordan Catalano??"

Her adorable excitement, paired with my utter confusion, is enough to pull me away just far enough to see her bright eyes. Far enough to reflect her shining smile.

"Jordan who?"

My hands around her neck (when they got there, I have no clue) tie themselves across her skin, linking together like they have no intentions of ever unlinking.

"Uh, Jordan Catalano??" Spoken like this were just common knowledge, her eyes widen when she sees it is not common knowledge, at least not for me, "...Jared Leto?? My So-Called Life?!"

"I've never seen it." For the first time in my life, I say this with no sense of insecurity. No sense of foolishness for not knowing, and I can't help the joy flooding through me for that feeling of security. For knowing just how worth it Spencer is.

How she might be worth everything.

"Oh, Shady..." Spencer lets out a breath of pure adoration, while her hand slides up and down my spine, making me shiver from inside out, "...I think you and me need to set up a hot date with one MSCL marathon. What do you say? My house, today, after school?"

Once again, I can't answer her. All I can do is shake my head "Yes", because how could there be any other answer for a question involving a dream word like "date"?

A shy smile crookedly crosses her mouth as she whispers "Ok", sending us to get caught up in a stare. A very intense stare, like the ones you see in the movies. Like things are never going to be the same again, and maybe this is what the actual moment of change feels like. And as my fingers unlatch from each other, sliding one across her neck, all I feel is change. All I feel is her breath stuttering low in her chest, not quite making it up to her throat, like I've stolen it with my fingertips dancing softly below her jaw.

Trying to get used to this, to everything that comes with an after, with change, I draw my fingers to her lips. Just tracing over them, again and again, feeling a easy smile forming beneath my gentle stroking.

Our bodies move closer together, somehow filling the barely existent space between us, as I think about her question. As I think about Jordan Catalano and all the people in this world, and all the people she could have. All the people I thought I'd never have.

And then I think about Spencer. I think about how she's the one person I want and how that person's moving to kiss me again. Moving to take a little more of the heart already belonging to her, and it makes me whisper between her lips.

It makes me whisper, "You can be my anything, Spencer", so soft and so very shy. Because she's not just anything. She's not just what I want.

I think she's everything I need.