The internal battle was fierce. It was confusing. Rebecca pushedinside Spencer, coaxing a moan from her. She moved in and out, slowly at first,causing that delicious slow burn deep in Spencer’s body.Stop this. Stop it now.The commands from her own brain were weak, and Spencer kept her eyes closed,squeezed shut, in fact, not wanting to give in, but not wanting to let go, asher arousal surged higher and higher, crested, tightened every muscle in herbody until she felt like she might simply shatter into pieces like a brokenwater glass. And just as the orgasm began rushing in, she opened her eyes, sawnot Marti’s brown ones, but Rebecca’s beautifully intense blue ones looking ather, looking deepintoher with such a blatant and raw sexiness, and Spencer gasped in shock, shoved,pushed herself free and rolled away.
“What the hell, Spencer?” Marti fumbled at the nightstand, clickedon a bedside lamp, her voice full of surprised confusion. “Did I hurt you?”
Spencer got out of the bed as if propelled by some unseen force,stood next to it shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “No.” Sheswallowed, tried hard to catch her breath. “No, not at all. I just…I don’t knowwhat happened.” Squinting in the light, she focused on Marti, saw theuncertainty and hurt on her face. “I’m sorry. I’m just not feeling welltonight.”
“You seemed to be feeling fine a couple minutes ago.” Marti didn’tmutter it, but she came close.
Spencer took a breath to respond, then closed her mouth.
“Seriously, what is going on with you lately, Spence? You’redistant. You’re busy all the time. You still haven’t brought a single boxover.” She ticked off the list on her fingers, her voice now matter-of-fact, anattorney listing evidence. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing’s going on,” Spencer said, her voice a bit harsher thanshe intended, but she hated when Marti shifted into fact mode on her. Even ifshe was right. “I just don’t feel well, okay? Am I not allowed to feel crappyonce in a while?”
Marti blinked at her, obviously startled by her tone. “Of courseyou are.” She swallowed audibly. “I’m just worried about you is all.”
Spencer nodded, felt awful now. “I appreciate that. I do. I’mfine. Just…coming down with something, I guess. A summer cold, maybe.” Lame,lame, so very lame, but she ran with it. She had no choice at this point.
Their gazes held for a moment before Marti asked, “You’re surethat’s all it is?”
“I’m sure.” The lie slipped off Spencer’s tongue so easily, italarmed her. Was this who she was now? Taking a second to pull herselftogether, she put on her robe, moved toward the door, cleared her throat, andsaid, “Listen, I’m kind of wide awake, but it’s late. I’m going to go out tothe living room and watch TV. Okay?”
Marti studied her for so long, Spencer worried she would drag theconversation on even further. Finally, she lifted her chin, pressed her lipstogether in a line for a beat, then said, “Sure.”
They stared at each other across the expanse of Marti’s bedroomfor what felt like hours but was surely only a few seconds. Then Spencer turnedto go, the light clicking off before she’d even crossed the threshold of thedoorway.
In the dark kitchen, Spencer pulled open the refrigerator andremoved the open bottle of Pinot Grigio on the door. She poured herself a verygenerous glass and carried it to the dark living room where, rather thanclicking on the TV, she steered herself to her little craft corner and took aseat, clicked on the small lamp.
Though the supplies here were still a mere fraction of all thoseshe possessed, Spencer kept her workspace very organized. Every finding, everytool, every roll of wire had its own space, its own little square plasticcontainer, its own peg to hang on (well, at her house the tools were hung onpegs). So unlike her thoughts lately, which were a mishmash. A jumble. A ballof her beading wire, hopelessly tangled and knotted.
Confidence had never really been a problem for Spencer. She wasn’toverly confident; she had normal worries and concerns like any other girlgrowing up in a male-dominated world. But overall, it wasn’t really an issuefor her. Not in school. Not at work.
Not until Chelsea.
“No,” she whispered aloud, in the quiet of the house. “We’re notgoing there.” Instead, she picked up her flush cutter and a length of wire andsnipped, envisioning a necklace for Lucy. Something fun and colorful, somethingthat represented the joy and cheer her new friend gave her on a regular basis.She used the bead board (even though the table was too small) and measured outthe necklace, estimated size and how many findings she’d need, then got towork.
Spencer’s interest in jewelry-making had started with a class she’dattended with her mom. Jennifer had been the hostess (Jennifer hosted everykind of party imaginable, from jewelry making to wine tasting to sex toys) andthe party had been at her house, complete with wine and munchies and aninstructor to talk them, step by step, through making a bracelet. Spencer hadfound herself fascinated by all the tools, what each of them was for, how thedesign of each piece was totally up to the artist. Everybody’s bracelet hadbeen a bit different, and by the end of the party, Spencer’s mind was racingwith ideas. Designs for earrings, necklaces, and bracelets swirled in her brainuntil she couldn’tnotat least give it a try on her own. She’d started small, buying a very basictool kit, 19-strand wire, and some findings and beads that appealed to her asshe stood in the aisle at Michael’s for what felt like hours and struggled tokeep from being overwhelmed by the sheer volume of options.
She went home that night and made a necklace for Jennifer withalternating green and gold beads that Spencer knew would go beautifully withher favorite shirt. Jennifer loved it. Then she made a necklace for Travis, ahammered silver disk with the letterTon it, suspended on a brown leather thong. He never took it off, wore it untilit nearly disintegrated. Spencer had replaced the leather three times so far.
Working on jewelry soothed her. Much like baking soothed somepeople. Or cleaning. Or reading. Somehow, she was able to set everything elsein her life aside, any issues, any worries, anything causing her stress. It wassimply pushed out of the way for a while, put in a box and put up on a shelf soshe could focus her mind elsewhere, at least for a little while. Oh, it wouldall come crashing back in; that was inevitable. But for a short time, she couldbreathe.
Spencer alternated several different findings for Lucy’s necklace.Bright pink and purple beads traded space with silver balls and transparentpurple disks. All small and tasteful—she wanted Lucy to actually wear thething—but a definite representation of Lucy’s personality. She made itmid-length, to hang just below Lucy’s collarbone, measuring it by making it alittle shorter on herself due to Lucy’s diminutive height. With her round nosepliers, Spencer made a loop in the wire, then switched to her crimp tool tofasten the wire to a clasp. When it was all finished and she was satisfied,Spencer held the necklace up, letting it dangle from her fingers.
It was perfect and so, so very Lucy.
With a grin, Spencer tucked it into a small black velvet pouchthat cinched at the top with twine. She’d give it to Lucy on Monday at class.
Taking her wineglass to the kitchen, she set it on the counternext to the sink and took two steps toward the hall that led to the bedroom.Then stopped.
Doing her best not to spend too much time on why, she retraced hersteps back into the living room, pulled the soft, fleecy blanket from the backof the couch, and covered herself as she lay down.
Each time she began to drift off to sleep, intense blue eyes filledher mind, staring at her, holding her captive, and Spencer did her best toshake herself free, to rid her brain of what had happened in bed with Marti.
She was mostly unsuccessful.
She remained mostly awake.
Chapter Ten
