Spencer was pretending to sleep when Hanna started whispering. "This is so messed up." Her breath against her ear sent a shiver shooting through her, concealed deep inside of her, not breaking through. Her hands tingled, twitched a little, aching for emptiness, for not having her hands in them. Something that had been done alone, in secret all along, now felt natural, and necessary.

But it was. Messed up, that is. This was so messed up, twisted, all of those things. There were other words, but her vocabulary had fallen lax since this had all begun – hanging around Hanna was like a muscle relaxant for her brain. Her thinking slowed down by a couple hundred miles an hour, extra-curriculars seemed less important, and finally fell by the wayside. Her ambition, the thing that had both driven her and poisoned her for her entire life thus far began to disappear. She was left with someone she didn't recognize. And that may have been messed up, but that wasn't the worst.

No, the most messed up part about this was the fact that she was enjoying it, despite everything that had ever told her that she shouldn't. The constant straining for perfection that had encompassed everything since pre-school, her strict, straight-laced family, her previous affections for men…there was nothing that could have predicted this, no previous experience to ready her for this. She had spent the first sixteen years of her life preparing for the rest of it…but nothing could have prepared her for this.

She was unprepared for the quiet autumn nights spent beneath the canopy of her bed in soft sunlight as Hanna rubbed small circles on her back and told her how tense she was. She never expected her to taste so good when they kissed, like sugar, sweet, especially startling in the darkness when Hanna kissed her, without warning, without fear. She wasn't prepared for the dexterous movement of Hanna's fingertips across her stomach, and how it made her insides feel – hot, and cold and melting and freezing, and altogether unsettling, but in the most perfect, hypnotizing way. And then there was the way her stomach flip-flopped when Hanna's blue eyes locked onto hers across the hallway, or the classroom, the way her heart lurched, and she hurt, but only because she wanted her and they had to wait. The anxiety of waiting for, the anticipation, the unspoken promise of what was to come – it was addicting, especially when the expectations were exceeded.

She was so unprepared for this – she, Spencer Hastings, who had a plan for every possible situation and no shortage of back-up plans either. Somehow, in the middle of this plotting and predicting, she'd missed something. Somehow, Hanna had found a way through the labyrinth of Spencer's mind – a labyrinth she had come to realize was slowly collapsing – and did something no one had ever accomplished before…surprised her.

"It's so messed up." Hanna repeated, barely breathing her words, almost inaudible…probably in the interest of not waking her, although that point was sort of moot. "We're messed up. You have all the ambition in the world…Spencer, you're a rockstar." There was a tremor in her voice, and she lightly laid her hand on Spencer's bare stomach. "And…and I think I might love you. But I'm scared that you might love me back, and I don't want you to. Because I'm never going anywhere…let's face it, I'm going to be stuck in Rosewood for the rest of my life." There was a pause, and a sniffle, and Spencer felt something wet against her neck as Hanna pressed her face against her skin.

"Spence, you're going places…big places. You're going to go to Harvard or Oxford or some other big fancy college with a name that sounds old. You're gonna get a PhD or something like that. Impressive. Huge. You're a Hastings, that's what you're supposed to do. The best I'm ever going to be is a buyer at Bergdorf's." A small sob escaped her, and she pressed her face closer into her neck. "I can't live up to that. I can't be what you need…I'm never going to be half of a power couple. You need more. You deserve more. Not me. I…I'm nothing." Hanna was trembling, her voice shattered into pieces, but Spencer was still, part of her praying this was only a dream, that this wasn't happening.

Hanna pressed her lips to the back of Spencer's neck, still whispering. "You're going to have everything. I want you to have everything. Even if that means we can't…" Her voice broke, the sentence ended, and was never finished. "I'm sorry." The trembling finish. "Spencer…God, Spencer, I didn't expect this to happen. But I'm glad it did."

Then the bed shifted, the door closed, and Spencer was alone. She was still, quiet, eyes still closed, still pretending to be asleep. She clutched the sheet to her chest, knuckles white as she hung onto it, desperately, as though hanging onto it would mean that she could keep hold of everything that was slipping away from her.

But she couldn't. It wasn't often Spencer found something she couldn't do, but this was one of those rare times. She couldn't hold onto Hanna. She couldn't hold on to what they'd had. It slipped away, right through her hands. Inability was sickening to her, it always had been, but this…her stomach did somersaults, and a scalding lump rose in her throat. Hanna had calmed her, grounded her. And now she was off, by herself, spinning away from her axis, losing touch with gravity. She was spiraling…and she couldn't hold on.

But Spencer didn't go after Hanna. She just laid there, still, in shock, almost tearing the sheet with her grip, drawing blood as her nails bit into her skin through the fabric. She didn't move. She didn't cry. And she didn't think.

Spencer did nothing. She didn't know what to do. Because this, above all, was something she was completely unprepared for.