“I’m sorry,” I say barely louder than a whisper, looking down at my hands. I can tell his eyes are on me as a deafening silence consumes the room. I know Kev is right. He’s only looking out for me. It’s just so tiring, having to watch everything I do, worrying about what everybody else in the world is going to think. It’s absolutely exhausting.

“I have a meeting with PR in an hour. We’ll decide our approach from there. Be ready for some major damage control…” He walks back around his desk and takes a seat, effectively ending our conversation.

I walk quietly into the hall, feeling cool streaks under my eyes and barely noting that I had cried. I splash water over my face in the bathroom and look in the mirror. I have no idea who the person looking back at me is or what they want, but whatever it is, I doubt I could give it to them. I’m too tired.

I don’t know what I’m doing when I pull a card from my pocket and dial the number into my phone. It rings once… twice… three times. By the fifth ring I’m about to hang up when I’m answered by a whispered “Hello?”

“Um… Hi, it’s Ashley… uh… Davies?”

“Oh, hey!” Spencer’s still whispering. “How’s it going?”

“Uh… kinda stressing actually. Am I interrupting something? I can call back another time or something…”

“No no no! It’s cool. Why’re you stressed?”

 “Well work stuff is kind of driving me crazy… Spencer, why do you keep whispering?”

“I’m hiding in my neighbors’ closet.”

“What?! Um… look maybe I should–”

“Like hide and seek! I’m not a creeper, Ash…”

“Oh! So are you babysitting or something?”

“Nope.”

“Um…”

“Do you wanna go get some ice cream?”

“Me?” I chuckle a little.

“Yeah, sure.” When people say that a smile can be heard through the phone, they’re not lying. The fun thing is that Spencer’s phone smile is just as breath-taking as her in person smile. Sure there’s the very real possibility that she’s crazy but that doesn’t stop me from being momentarily lost for words at her smile. “Hello?” she whispers again.

“Sorry! Um… Yeah I’d love to.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a relatively uneventful ride in a taxi, I walk into an empty little ice cream parlor. By empty I mean nobody but me and the girl behind the counter. She gives me the standard New York I’d-rather-you-go-bother-someone-else look before asking if she can help me. At that moment, the bells on the door jingle and I turn to see a bundled up Spencer enter. She smiles over what I can only assume is a very badly hand-knit scarf. A matching (equally bizarre) knit cap sits on her head. But honestly she could be wearing a cow costume, complete with utters, and I wouldn’t give a damn. She’s gorgeous. She’d make it work.