"Thanks for coming," he tells her, smiling in a way that makes her feel warm inside.
"Yeah," she provides, her hands sliding in the pockets of her leather jacket. They stare at one another for minute, before her eyes skim over to the crowd of women behind him. They are giggling, and eyeing him with adoration, and she really can't blame them. He was pretty great on stage. He can play the guitar, sings like an angel, and he is quite appealing to look at. A pang of jealously hits her. They haven't slept together since before her father's death, and she figured he was just giving her time. She hasn't instigated anything. She wonders if he's hooked up with anyone since her.
"You seem to have quite the posy," she nods to the crowd of girls behind him, raising her eyebrows.
He glances back at the giggling girls, then back at Spencer, and chuckles in a shy, sort of, matter. That awkward kind of chuckle he has owned since high school. "Nah," he shakes his head.
"Yeah," she mimics, rolling her eyes.
"No," he argues, leaning forward on his heels.
"Yes!" she fights. "Stop being so humble, and go greet your fans."
He rolls his eyes. He turns his head around to get a glimpse of the giggling girls. The red head waves her fingers in a flirtatious matter, while the blonde next to her whispers something into her ear, making the waving Red Head plummet into a fit of giggles. Toby turns around, his eyes landing back on Spencer. There may be a crowd of girls (whom he must say are quite pleasing to the eye) pining for him, behind him, but in front of him is Spencer, and just for that, she is one hundred times greater.
"I'm not going to ditch you," he claims.
"That would be pretty rude of you, you know, since I'm currently learning how to be father-less. You shouldn't ditch victims of grief," the words leave her mouth in an absurd, playful, matter.
He gives her a pointed look.
"What? I can't poke fun at my father's death?"
"Normal people don't..." he teases, his voice laced with incredulity.
She laughs.
"I guess I'm not normal."
"You're not," he murmurs in a thoughtfulness. "You're in no way ordinary," he remarks, a glint of affection dangling on his irises.
"Compliment or insult?" she ponders aloud, tilting her head a little, a quaint smile framing her lips.
"Compliment," he clarifies.
She grins wider, "well, thanks, I guess," her head dips down, her fingers pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
"You wanna get something to eat?" he murmurs a moment later.
"Um, I kind of already ate," her face scrunches up. "I didn't know what exactly was happening tonight. Sorry, but I can watch?"
"I'm sure you don't want to watch. You can leave if you really want," he shrugs. "I just thought we could hangout," he admits in sheepish tone.
"No, I love watching people eat!" she exclaims. "It's like my favorite hobby, behind watching people drink!"
The corners of his mouth drag up into a smile as he leans forward a little, "lucky for you, I'll be doing both!"
"Wow," she muses, mock enthusiasm washing over her features, "my kind of night!"
He chuckles, pushing his shoulder into hers. She mimics his actions.
He laughs, "really, you can go if you want."
"No, it's fine," she assures him. "I just misinterpreted things. Eating before I came wasn't some deceiving plan to get out of spending time with you," she tries. Her hands slip into her pockets, her head bowing down a little, and voice shifting to an almost mumble, " I just figured Caleb would be here, and Hanna, and everyone."
He sighs, pushing his hands into his pockets. "The truth is," he sucks in a breath, "I wanted to see how you are doing."
"About my dead father?" she inquires.
"Yes," he answers, pointedly.
"Fantastic," she whips up a broad smile.
He sighs, "I'm going to hug you now," he comes closer to her, his hands held up, his palms open, a consoling smile on his face.
She nods, and lets him border his arms around her, and eventually she becomes attentive in the hug—bringing her arms around him, and dipping her chin into his shoulder, letting his body be her shield from the rest of the world.
...
"So, no talking about my grieving," she demands as they settle down in a booth, after Toby gave his order to the waitress.
He cocks his head at her.
"I don't feel like talking about it anymore. I'm fine, and you aren't making me want to take a nap on a train track so far, so don't ruin it."
He chuckles, "how very nice of you to say."
She grins at him.
"So what can we talk about?"
"How about you? Like, how you're way too good to be playing at a place like this. You should be selling records."
"Really?" he beams at her. "That's uncharacteristically nice of you."
"Hey, I can be nice," she fights, a sort of pout arranging itself on her lips.
"Yeah, I know. Just never to me..." his voice is light, and almost singing.
She squeezes up her face, causing wrinkles to sprout everywhere, "I guess I can't argue with that."
He smiles.
"But—I am nice, sometimes."
"Yeah, yeah," he chuckles, clearly not agreeing.
She pushes his hands off the table, "Cavanaugh," she hisses.
"Okay, fine, you can be nice," he looks at her with a genuine glint in his eyes, "But physically assaulting me into admitting that doesn't really do you any good."
She rolls her eyes slowly, a smile of mischief dancing across her features.
"Anyways," she laughs, "I think you should get a new manager," she advices.
"But she's my friend. Really. I can't fire her. She's gotten me this far."
"Well, I believe you can easily go farther," she states proudly.
He smiles, admiring her words. "Thank you, but it really isn't her fault..." he says glumly, his smile fading. "Remember how I told you about that one girl? And how I totally gave up my career for her? Yeah..." his gaze goes southward.
She sighs hardly, "that's awful. Really, if she ever loved you, she would have told you to go. I mean, 'Love' is about wanting what's best for someone, right?"
He meets her gaze, "yeah..." he smacks his lips together. "You're right. I should have known then that the relationship would end in failure."
"I mean, what do I know?" her voice comes up again, "all I know about 'love' is from what I've seen in cheesy Nicholas Sparks movies."
"You admit they are cheesy," he smirks, his voice low.
"I never said they weren't," she shrugs.
He laughs, and then jumps back into the conversation from before, "So, wait... you've never been in love?"
"My longest relationship lasted four months," her eyes glance to the table. "And it was in High School."
Toby breaks out into mild laughter, "wait...with Andrew Campbell?" his eyebrows furrow in puzzlement.
Spencer nods weakly, a look of disdain on her face slowly morphing into amusement, then laughter. "Shut up, okay. I'm too busy for relationships. Besides, I suck at them. And being too busy for them, is one of the reasons why I suck at them," she states, matter-of-factly.
"I can't picture you sucking at anything," he muses, eyeing her with something of affection.
"Well, then, expand your imagination."
"I think you're just too hard on yourself."
She glares at him.
"Really," he states, his eyes going wide with emphasis. "I've noticed something..." he starts.
But just as the sentence begins, the waitress comes by, setting the plate of nachos on the table. Toby picks one up before continuing. "I've noticed something..." he begins again. "When people give you compliments, you discreetly don't accept them. You don't do it like most people though. You aren't as blunt. You do it in a way that no one will really pick up. Like, you'll make some comment at your own expense."
She stares at him for a moment, in a quiet awe. "That's a lot to notice about someone..." she notes.
He shrugs it off like it is nothing and maybe it isn't. Maybe he is just an observant person.
...
"You know, you could have just ordered your own..." he teases as Spencer's hand sneaks into his plate of nachos for the umpteenth time.
She gives him a coy smile, popping the nacho into her mouth. After she is down chewing, she says, "but that's not nearly as fun."
He chuckles.
Spencer's eyes travel to something behind him for a second, "I think you have a stalker," she murmurs, taking another nacho.
He gives her a quizzical look.
She nods her head over to the direction of the supposed stalker. Toby slowly turns around to find the girl in which Spencer speaks, and when he locks eyes with her, he immediately regrets turning around.
Spencer seems to sense this new found discomfort within in him, because her face changes to something worrisome. "Something wrong?" she prompts.
He scratches his neck, avoiding her concerned stare, "no, I just..." his mumbled voice oozes out in a jumbled matter. "I'm, I saw someone I used to know."
"Who?" she asks.
"Toby," a voice interrupts.
Two faces turn to the new voice.
In front of them is a five feet, eight inch, red head, with emerald, shimmering, eyes. To Spencer, she is some super model, because this girl is g-o-r-g-e-o-u-s. But to Toby...she is the devil.
"Hi," she grins at Toby.
"Hi," he responds grimly.
"You were really good tonight," she goes on, nervously smiling at the man.
"Thanks," he responds, shortly, avoiding her emerald irises.
"I didn't know if I should have come over here," she states. "But then you looked at me, and I knew I had to. And not just to be polite, either. It was like...I had to talk to you," she says quietly, possibly trying to void Spencer from hearing the words.
"I'm kind of busy talking to someone else right now," he nods to the woman across from him.
Spencer offers a wave.
The red head provides a kind of awkward smile, before extending her hand. "Hi, I'm Cheyenne," she greets, taking a seat next to Toby, which prompts a glare from him. She doesn't seem to notice though. She is too busy eyeing Spencer.
"Spencer," she provides.
"Usually, I'm not rude," she shakes her head a little, pushing strands of her rosy hair back. "But I just... she swallows, her eyes landing on the side of Toby's face (his eyes have landed back on Spencer by this time.) The redhead looks back at Spencer after sighing, "I'm just—I haven't seen Toby in awhile," she sets a hand on his arm, which he immediately recoils from. Not in an urgent matter per se, but surely definite.
"How do you two know each other?" Spencer tries to relieve some tension.
"We used to date," the redhead states in a perky matter, but anyone with eyes and any concept of human understanding can see that she is most definitely not giddy by the words, for whatever reason. "Yeah, almost two years," she goes on, her fingers repositioning the hair behind her ears in a nervous motion.
Spencer purses her lips, putting the puzzle together. Toby told her about a girl—a girl who had an affair, and who he put before his career. She looks at Toby. By this time, they sort of have developed some silent communication skills. They have an understanding. And when she looks at him, she just knows that this is the girl.
Somewhere inside her blazes with anger and rage. It is small, but it is there. God, why did he have to be so incredibly stupid, and give up his career for this girl? Why hasn't he told her to leave yet?
"Oh," she nods, "I've heard a lot about you..." her lips twist up into something sinister. "I thought you lived in Washington?" her eyebrows furrow, her voice rising in a questioning, innocent, tone. Toby gives her a quizzical look.
"I did..." she murmurs softly, her eyes going to the table. "Things didn't work out."
"Some people just can't deal with the affair of it all..." Spencer goes on, the Redhead's nervous eyes popping up at the word. "You know, leaving home...it's a struggle for most."
"Oh, oh, yeah," the girl nods.
"Leaving your loved ones behind, I mean, I don't know if I could do it. Sure, you meet new people, and sometimes they are great—you find a new home, but sometimes it's not like that. You feel cheated because the grass is supposed to be greener on the other side, but it's not," Spencer shrugs before taking a sip of her drink.
The Redhead swallows, "yeah, that's true. I...I just it wasn't home. I missed a lot of people here. Maybe it's just Washington. Maybe one day I'll be able to find another home, but for right now, it's Pennsylvania."
Spencer nods, "just make sure...wherever you go, that you don't cheat on your boyfriend."
The redhead's eyes nearly pop from her sockets.
"Just a word of advice," Spencer smirks.
Toby stares widely at her.
"Toby, um," Cheyanne says in a mumbled tone, "can we talk?"
"No, I'm busy," he says sternly, "and you should go."
"But," she whimpers.
"Go."
And she goes with a frown, but not before saying, "Toby, you can hate me all you want, but I just ask you to give me one lunch."
Toby just ignores her, and eventually, she leaves.
"I'm sorry," Spencer immediately shakes her head, pushing her hair back, and propping her elbows on the table. She throws her hair back, getting it all out of her face, but she runs her hands through it once more. "I've just been so emotionally charged, and angry, since my father's stupid death. And God," she exasperates, "that whole situation with her just ticked me off. I was enjoying this night, and..." she groans.
"It was actually awesome," Toby admits in a tender voice.
"Really?" Spencer inspects, raising an eyebrow. "You're not mad?"
"Why would I be mad?" he questions, "she deserved it. And you also got her to leave," he says. "So, thank you," he recites, genuinely.
A smile arranges on the brunette's face, "wanna go back to my place?"
"Are you sure?" he murmurs.
"What do you mean 'are you sure?' Are you just assuming that I'm inviting you back to my place that I want to have sex with you?" she questions in a firm tone.
His mouth opens and closes, dumbfounded.
She smirks, "because if so, then yes, that's exactly what I want to do."
"But...your dad."
"Is dead. I know," she nods. "And I'm fine."
"You're sure about that?"
"Yes," she responds, rolling her eyes. "You're not taking advantage of me."
"A few seconds ago, you literally said 'ever since my father died, I've been so emotionally charged and angry,'" he states in a flat voice.
"Okay, yes, true, but it's not like we haven't done it before," she cocks her head at him.
"Are you trying to lawyer me into having sex with you?" he prompts, raising a brow, an amusing smile crossing his lips.
"Just trying to persuade you," she smirks. "And I would be able to do that a lot better if we weren't in some crowd of people," she whispers in a coy, seductive, tone.
He just stares at her, clearly fighting the urge to go home with her.
"Are you coming or not?" she prompts in a quiet, but stern, whisper. Her hard copper eyes wait for his lips to move, providing an answer. But she doesn't have to wait for his lips to move to know what he will say, she can tell by the way of his eyes.