Disclaimer: I own nothing, obviously.

Summary:

After his departure from Newport, Seth tries to reconcile with Summer over the phone. This short story is based upon the conversation Luke and Seth had in The Distance (2.01)

"That looks just like, uh," said Luke as Seth traces what appears to be a superhero figure closely resembling Summer. After an affirmation from Seth, Luke continues, "Talked to her since your Fourth of July blowout?"

"No, she stopped taking my calls so I stopped making them," Seth said sadly. " She doesn't understand that it's not about her."

This is what transpired on the "Fourth of July Blowout"

He had heard the words all too well and eventually he grew to hate all thirty-two of them.

"Hey, it's Summer. Obviously. You should know that since you called me. I guess I can't get to the phone or I am screening because you creep me out. Leave a message."

He called her often and it was quite often that her answering machine would reply. It was both heart wrenching and bittersweet at the same time. Sometimes he would call knowing she wouldn't pick up. He just loved hearing her voice, especially the way it inflected when she said "obviously". But an electronic recording was a poor substitute for the real thing. After all, nothing could compare to Summer Roberts.

He had called her two hundred and thirty-seven times within the past six weeks and she had only answered four of his calls. They were making progress though, or so he liked to believe. It was a wonder how she could still make his dimples materialize from all the self-hate he had conjured inside. Just to hear her call him "asshat" made his day.

The fourth of July was approaching quickly. His days were consumed by sailing lessons and his nights were wasted away with hours upon hours of virtual football. He had grown to like John Madden, partly because he had grown to like Luke. But it never ceased to amaze him that he could go sixteen years without so much as a glance from Summer and within nine months, he couldn't even watch The Valley without feeling a dead, sinking sensation in his stomach.

Luke was constantly urging him to come to grips with himself and "pre-occupy" himself with another girl, a girl like Jane, the master water skier. How was he supposed to pre-occupy himself with someone else when he was already pre-occupied by the one he loved?

Once Fourth of July came, Seth decided it was time to give Summer another call, just to make sure her hamburgers were thoroughly cooked. Or something like that. Truth be told, he wished he could just hop on a Greyhound and go grill some kalabasas for her. He had become the expert barbecutionist, much like Holly Fisher, and he knew how much Summer loved kalbasas. Who knew, it could have been a way to make her fall madly in love with him again. But that, of course, was a long shot.

He dialed the numbers. One ring. Two rings. Three rings. Her answering machine usually picked up on the fourth ring. He wanted so desperately to explain that his departure had had nothing to do with her. Maybe he would leave a message this time, in celebration of the holiday.

"Hello?"

She had answered. Suddenly he didn't know what to say. It was a first. His silence led him to discern all the details in the background. She was at a party. A Newport party. Suddenly he felt nostalgic, despite despising those senseless ragers. And then he heard her hissing at the others around her, telling them to shut up so she could hear what he had to say.