~This is my favorite fic that I've written. I really like Summer and Ryan
together. I wouldn't mind Ryan and Theresa hooking up in front of Marissa
though( Please review.
Ryan knew without looking up that it was her. Somehow, he could sense her. It was if they had a connection, but connections didn't really exist. They were bullshit, just made up to comfort people. Then again, she was his comfort so maybe there was some truth to people forming connections.
"You're late," he spoke without glancing at her.
He sat outside, his back against the pool house. He liked sitting out here at night. The weather was cool, and he could thing. He did a lot of thinking these days. Ever since he had alienated himself, he seemed to have more time to contemplate his existence. He had thought about why was here in Newport and came to the conclusion it was because he was impressionable. He was gullible and had allowed himself to believe.
During the course of his suspension, he had considered running about a thousand times. He got as close as to pack his bag with bare necessities and pick up the phone to call Theresa. After dialing 6 of the 7 digits, he gave up and hung up. Defeated, he ran from the pool house. He had smoked half a pack that day, welcoming the burning sensation in his lungs.
Remembering that she was there, he turned his head looking at her for the first time. "You're late," he repeated again.
She stared long and hard before bending down to be at his level. She reached into his coat pocket and pulled the pack of Marlboros. Taking a lighter out of her Prada purse, she lit the cigarette, illuminating her face.
"Took more time than I thought to snatch this," she said revealing that she had a bottle of whiskey with her. "Figured you needed it, and hell I do too."
She sat down next to him, placing her hand on his. It was meant as a sign of comfort but was a more personal gesture than the two usually shared.
She reached into his pocket and pulled out another cigarette. She lit it with her own and handed it back to him. "You look like you need it," She said in a simple tone of voice that was matter of fact. It lacked compassion, but she had her own problems to deal with. Having mutual problems or "baggage" as she liked to refer to it as, was what started their ritual. They would spend hours together saying nothing. They sought nothing from each other but understanding.
She opened the bottle and took a swig, relishing in the familiar burn of the strong liquid running down her throat. She took another gulp and handed the bottle to him. Deep down they both knew this was wrong, but it was familiar and therefore comforting.
A half an hour passed and in the midst of thirty minutes, half the bottle had been drunk. Both teenagers knew how to hold their liquor. After all they had years of practice and many reasons to seek comfort in drinking themselves to the point of passing out. To them it wasn't self- destruction; it was how they were taught to handle their problems.
She stared at him, trying to read him and failing. Maybe it was the alcohol, but she felt like bearing her soul. She needed to tell him despite their unspoken agreement to be silent. Getting up the courage, she spoke:
" You know I risked giving up everything I knew for him. I worked for years for that and gave it up to be with him, and he didn't even care."
Tears began to fall down her face and she fiercely wiped them away with the back of her hand. "He didn't fucking care!"
As more tears fell, her once perfectly done makeup smeared. Black mascara smudged across her face leaving her looking years younger than she normally appeared. Ryan liked her better this way. It revealed the lost little girl she was. It reflected her flaws.
Sadness quickly turned to anger as she picked up the bottle and hurled it as far as she could. As the bottle broke, so did she. She collapsed into Ryan crying. As he stroked her back, he realized the only difference between the inhabitants of Chino and Newport was that in Chino, people downed the alcohol before they threw the bottle. As for Newport they wasted the alcohol, knowing they could go buy another bottle the next day.
Ryan knew without looking up that it was her. Somehow, he could sense her. It was if they had a connection, but connections didn't really exist. They were bullshit, just made up to comfort people. Then again, she was his comfort so maybe there was some truth to people forming connections.
"You're late," he spoke without glancing at her.
He sat outside, his back against the pool house. He liked sitting out here at night. The weather was cool, and he could thing. He did a lot of thinking these days. Ever since he had alienated himself, he seemed to have more time to contemplate his existence. He had thought about why was here in Newport and came to the conclusion it was because he was impressionable. He was gullible and had allowed himself to believe.
During the course of his suspension, he had considered running about a thousand times. He got as close as to pack his bag with bare necessities and pick up the phone to call Theresa. After dialing 6 of the 7 digits, he gave up and hung up. Defeated, he ran from the pool house. He had smoked half a pack that day, welcoming the burning sensation in his lungs.
Remembering that she was there, he turned his head looking at her for the first time. "You're late," he repeated again.
She stared long and hard before bending down to be at his level. She reached into his coat pocket and pulled the pack of Marlboros. Taking a lighter out of her Prada purse, she lit the cigarette, illuminating her face.
"Took more time than I thought to snatch this," she said revealing that she had a bottle of whiskey with her. "Figured you needed it, and hell I do too."
She sat down next to him, placing her hand on his. It was meant as a sign of comfort but was a more personal gesture than the two usually shared.
She reached into his pocket and pulled out another cigarette. She lit it with her own and handed it back to him. "You look like you need it," She said in a simple tone of voice that was matter of fact. It lacked compassion, but she had her own problems to deal with. Having mutual problems or "baggage" as she liked to refer to it as, was what started their ritual. They would spend hours together saying nothing. They sought nothing from each other but understanding.
She opened the bottle and took a swig, relishing in the familiar burn of the strong liquid running down her throat. She took another gulp and handed the bottle to him. Deep down they both knew this was wrong, but it was familiar and therefore comforting.
A half an hour passed and in the midst of thirty minutes, half the bottle had been drunk. Both teenagers knew how to hold their liquor. After all they had years of practice and many reasons to seek comfort in drinking themselves to the point of passing out. To them it wasn't self- destruction; it was how they were taught to handle their problems.
She stared at him, trying to read him and failing. Maybe it was the alcohol, but she felt like bearing her soul. She needed to tell him despite their unspoken agreement to be silent. Getting up the courage, she spoke:
" You know I risked giving up everything I knew for him. I worked for years for that and gave it up to be with him, and he didn't even care."
Tears began to fall down her face and she fiercely wiped them away with the back of her hand. "He didn't fucking care!"
As more tears fell, her once perfectly done makeup smeared. Black mascara smudged across her face leaving her looking years younger than she normally appeared. Ryan liked her better this way. It revealed the lost little girl she was. It reflected her flaws.
Sadness quickly turned to anger as she picked up the bottle and hurled it as far as she could. As the bottle broke, so did she. She collapsed into Ryan crying. As he stroked her back, he realized the only difference between the inhabitants of Chino and Newport was that in Chino, people downed the alcohol before they threw the bottle. As for Newport they wasted the alcohol, knowing they could go buy another bottle the next day.