Oh my… don't ask me where this thing came from (too much Red Bull and Goldfrapp?). Anyway, don't judge me too harshly, because it's my first attempt at first person POV. It switches between Ryan and Taylor, so hopefully you'll all catch on to which one is which…
Each chapter is a day, but I won't be posting every day.
And for those who care (or want a little mood-music): this is written to 'Ooh La La' by Goldfrapp, off the album 'Supernature
Also, I had to re-post due to a little typo that I couldn't live with, so sorry if you thought it was an update...
Enjoy!
I hand him the duffel bag, which he settles on his shoulder, kissing me hurriedly on the cheek. "I'll see you next week," he whispers into my ear, and the familiar twang of unease goes through me. I won't get to see him for seven whole days. It's not a happy thought. After college I swore I'd never go long without seeing him – the time in Paris, being away from him for semesters at a time, had been unbearable. But I smile, knowing that a week really isn't that long.
"Keep Seth out of trouble," I tell him, and the corner of his mouth lifts up in a smirk. I want to kiss it.
"I'll do my best."
"You'd better," Summer's voice cuts in warningly, and we both look at the small brunette standing near us. "I'm warning you, Cohen," she turns back to Seth, finger pointing, "there had better be no phone calls from the police or the hospital. Cause I'm not driving down to Vegas to bail you out." Seth ducks his head sheepishly, mumbling agreement to his fiancée.
"We'd better go," Ryan cuts in, wanting to help his brother out. It's adorable how protective he is of the boy. Seth gives him a thankful look, and opens the trunk, motioning for Ryan to start loading the bags. "Why do I have to?" he groans in annoyance, but starts throwing their stuff in anyway.
"You provide the muscle and the driving, I provide the tunes," Seth explains, waving his Ipod in Ryan's face. Ryan glares – so hot – but continues throwing their luggage into the back. He puts his own duffel bag in last, closing the hatch a little harder than is probably necessary.
"Have fun with the strippers!" I call cheerfully, loving the way he gets all embarrassed and twitchy. He tries to protest, but I roll my eyes. "Ryan," my tone cuts him off, "it's Vegas and you're going to a bachelor party. I want you to have fun, and if that means strippers, then go for it." Summer's looking at me like I'm insane, and Seth is shooting her hopeful looks.
"No, Cohen," she warns, and I shake my head in amusement at them. It's like a screwball comedy with those two all the time.
"You want me to hang with strippers?" he steps closer to me, leaning his head down so our conversation can't be heard by the other two. Not that they would hear us anyway – they're too busy arguing. I resist the urge to kiss him – it's something I constantly have to deal with when he gets close to me – instead opting to smooth out his t-shirt.
"Ryan," I sigh, tugging the hem of his shirt straighter, "I know you're not good at the whole relaxing thing, but this is supposed to be a fun weekend. So have some, ok?" I look up into his crystal clear blue eyes, getting lost in them. He's gone through so much in his life; he had to grow up so fast. I want him to just be a normal guy this weekend, with no cares in the world, just alcohol and strippers. Wait. "Except don't sleep with any," I add, trying not to sound like I'm rethinking this whole thing. It's not that I don't trust him, I do. Completely. But do I trust girls not to take advantage of him? God no. Hell, I had once been a needy girl trying to seduce Ryan Atwood.
He must see the uncertainty in my eyes, because he laughs, sliding an arm around my waist. "Nah," he bends forward to kiss me lightly, eyes shining with amusement, "I don't think I want to risk your wrath." I swat him on the arm, glaring up at him with what I hope is a convincingly angry look.
"Ryan, let's go," Seth calls, and his arm drops from my waist, and he gives me one last, quick kiss before he gets in the driver's seat. I give him a little wave as the car starts up, backing out of the drive and rolling down the street.
"I can't believe you're ok with them getting strippers in Vegas," Summer folds her arms over her stomach.
"Summer, it's a bachelor party."
"I know," she replies, a confident smirk curling her lips. "But telling Cohen he can't get any will make him feel guilty when he does – and I know he will. And if he feels guilty, then he'll be very attentive when he gets home… "
I gasp in mock horror, breaking into a grin myself. I should have known Summer would have her own plan – and it was a damn good one. Not that it would have worked with Ryan. If I had forbid him outright, he would obey me – feeling obligated – but I know he would also feel like I didn't trust him. Sometimes I wish he would get over that, his whole insecurity. He seems to think that no one trusts him, and he always seems to question why anyone would like him, or want to help him. I really hope he has a good time this weekend.
"Well," I say, pushing thoughts of the boys out of my mind, "let's get ready for your bachelorette party."
We're going to have a fun week ourselves.
I try to tune out the music – some underground indie band singing some song that sounds all happy, but is actually satirically condescending. Wait. 'Satirically condescending'? I've been hanging out with Taylor way too much.
Anyway, the music sucks, and I'm just itching to disconnect Seth's IPod and pop in Escape – Journey's best album to date, hands down. But it's his bachelor's party, and for some reason, he doesn't like Journey. Who doesn't like Journey?
Taylor likes Journey.
I feel a little guilty about this trip – Vegas, strippers, alcohol – but she said it was ok… that's what I love about her. She never tries to guilt-trip me - ok, she did when my dad first showed up – but she only does it when it's important. Only when it's what's best for me. And even with the whole birth-father thing, she let me make my own choice, she said she'd support me whichever way I went. She lets me do my thing – brood, get some distance, what have you – and she doesn't ask questions. It's nice.
She's the best thing that ever happened to me, and I was lucky to get her when I did. God knows the last thing I needed after Marissa's death was another controlling girlfriend. Although, if you ask Seth, Taylor does control me, but it's because I choose to let her. It's fucking hot when she takes charge…
I shake my head vigorously, trying to get those thoughts out of my head, because I'm driving, and those thoughts are going to make me drive into a tree or something. Luckily I have the perfect thing to keep me distracted.
"So are you excited about your bachelor party?" I ask, flicking my eyes sideways at Seth, and now that I think about it, I'm surprised he isn't already talking about it. I mean, we've already been driving for twenty minutes.
"I'm not sure 'excited' is the word I'd use, Ryan," he mopes, and I sigh blissfully, his ranting pushing all thoughts of dominating Taylor out of my head. "More like 'scared' of what Summer's gonna do when I get back, or 'nervous' because the last few times we went to Vegas, things didn't end so well. As you may recall, we spent the first time getting ripped off by a sneaky prostitute and her evil pimp, and the second time we spent the night chasing a green alien and getting ditched by our women. I also recall getting prematurely engaged to Summer, and you… well you didn't get laid, and that in itself is tragic – and also a little hilarious." I grin and shake my head at him – he really can ramble. "I'm actually surprised you planned a Vegas thing, though. It's not really your style… way too flashy."
"It wasn't actually me," I confess, a little chagrined. "It was Bullit…"
Seth turns to me, eyes going hilariously wide, "The Bullit planned my bachelor party? Are you crazy? We're going to end up arrested, or… dead."
I shrug, "he heard I wanted to do something quiet, and he flipped out. Not rage-flipped out, but he went into this frenzy… I didn't have the energy to stop him. But hey, upside? At least any prostitutes we run into at the party are going to be prepaid…" I let the sentence hang, and Seth chokes back a laugh. We both know he would never cheat on Summer – he's too whipped. And to be honest, so am I – although I'd never admit it out loud.
"Well, mi amigo, I fully expect to die this week, so it was good knowing you."
Summer throws her arms up in the air with a loud holler, and the stripper gyrates his way towards her. I grin at the sight: Summer's completely smashed, slouched on the bench seat, a roll of one dollar bills in her right fist, a content grin on her face. I take my phone out stealthily and snap a few pictures, making sure to get the shirtless man in there as well. The stripper – I'm calling him Joe in my head – undulates his hips, unbuttoning his pants and slowly pulling down the zipper. Summer stares at him hungrily.
Kaitlin eggs her on from the sideline – still as rowdy as ever, even though she's older and cleaned up her act a lot. Julie's just as enthusiastic, gulping down champagne and dancing to the pounding, base-heavy music. I'm a little tipsy myself, but not too much. Kirsten's the only one of us not drunk – the downfall to being a recovering alcoholic, and she seems slightly embarrassed by everyone's antics. I grin at the thought. She's watching her future daughter-in-law shove bills into the g-string of a man who is definitely not her fiancée.
"Don't worry," I walk over to her – with minimal stumbling – and she looks up at me with a smile.
"I know. I'm not worried. Summer would never cheat on Seth." I watch her as she glances towards Summer, and the look in her eyes makes my entire body warm over. Kirsten is just so full of love, it makes me wonder how my own mother was born without any. She looks back at me, and I want to cry when the look doesn't go away. Sometimes it takes me by surprise – the fact that people actually love me now.
"What?" I call loudly over the pounding music, trying to hear what Seth is saying.
"Dude!" Seth shouts drunkenly, tilting over. I catch him, holding him upright by the shoulder as he talks, "this party is awesome. Have you seen the dancers? They're hot."
"Yeah, man," I yell back, looking over at the dancers on poles. Somehow, I can't quite get into it. This club is too much like one we went to… God, ages ago, back in high school, where I saw Hailey dancing… ew.
"Hey baby," a smooth voice purrs from behind me, and Seth's eyes open wide. I turn to look at a half naked blonde whose hips are twitching to the beat of the music.
"Hello, you're pretty," Seth slurs, trying to reach for his drink but knocking the glass off the table. The girl giggles, raking her eyes up and down him. "She thinks I'm sexy," he whispers to me. Except it's not so much a whisper as it is a very loud shout, and the girl giggles again. I roll my eyes and turn to the girl.
"He's getting married in two weeks," I tell her, trying to spare her the time. The last thing she needs is to spend all night dancing with Seth, at the end of which he'll mope and whine and apologize profusely about how much he loves Summer, because she's Summer Roberts, and an angel sent from heaven, perfect, blah, blah, blah.
"So?" she slinks forward suggestively, reaching her hand out to run a finger down his chest. I catch her wrist halfway there, and she shoots me an angry look.
"He's happily getting married in two weeks."
"I love Summer so much," a sated grin takes over Seth's face, and his eyes glaze over. I let him drop into a chair, and he rests his chin on his fist, staring off into space. The girl huffs.
"And what about you? Are you 'happily' getting married in two weeks?" She glances down at my left hand, and really, I'm flattered – what with being the second choice of an obviously desperate girl – but I shake my head at her.
"Happily involved," I tell her, although 'involved' in no way explains my relationship with Taylor. Maybe if I had added 'with a girl I'm hopelessly, desperately, in love with'. She seems to catch my drift, though, and walks away. I see her begin a conversation with a group of guys not twenty feet from me. Wow.
The party's still going strong. Summer, Julie, Kaitlin, and a bunch of girls from G.E.O.R.G.E. are all dancing in the middle of the club I rented. As Summer's Maid of Honor, I spared no expense procuring various places for our week-long end of single-hood party. Tonight's agenda: booze, strippers, and dancing. It was going perfectly.
I'm taking a break, gulping down water – partly to quench my thirst, partly to replenish the water I had sweated out from dancing, and partly to diminish the hangover I would have tomorrow. The stripper, who had up until now been dancing with the girls, makes his way over to me with a smile. I smile back – if Ryan's allowed to have fun, so am I – and he extends his hand to me. I take it, and he drags me back over to the group. The music takes me over again, and I begin to sway. I look over at the basically naked man next to me, and I have a flash – I must really be drunk – that it's Ryan. But it's not. Too bad. I'd give almost anything to see Ryan dance around naked.
Maybe when he gets back from Vegas, I'll try to get him to strip for me.
I help Seth to his room, because seriously? the guy is a horrible drunk. I mean really, really, God-awful at handling booze. I let him drop to the bed, making sure he's on his stomach in case he throws up during the night – the last thing I need is Summer killing me because I let Seth choke to death on his own vomit.
When I get to my own room, it's blissfully silent – no pounding music, no drunken snores. I don't bother to get out of my clothes, because after playing babysitter for Seth all night, I'm beat. So I drop onto the bed, and it feels a little strange. I'm not used to sleeping without a warm little body next to me, burrowing into my chest and hogging all the covers. Sure, I'd done it all through college, but it's definitely not my preferred sleeping method. As much as I love silence, I'd rather be falling asleep to the steady sound of her breathing, the occasional French one-liner mumbled in her sleep.
Oh well, we can't have everything.
I stumble into my room, falling gratefully onto the bed. It's three in the morning, and we're just getting in from our night out. I'm thankful that I planned a more sedate evening tomorrow – a spa day with just Summer, Kirsten, Julie, Kaitlin and I. Hopefully I won't be too hung over.
Thus ends day one.
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