Chapter Two

"So, are we just going to stand here all day or…"

"Oh, yeah, sorry about that….this, come in," Marissa gestured through to the living room of her apartment as she held the door open for the man she was going to be spending the weekend with. "I'm all packed. My bags are in my room…just down the hallway."

"If you want," Ryan offered graciously, "I could carry them outside for you."

"Would you? That would be great. Just let me say goodbye to Ariel and Sebastian, and then we'll be able to get going."

Surprised, he stopped in his tracks and turned around to look at her. "You have kids?"

"What….no!" Just as confused as he was, she pointed to a pair of sleeping cats reclined out upon her couch so that their bodies occupied as much space as possible. "They're my kittens."

"They look more like cats…and fat ones at that." When she glared at him, he stopped talking and just watched her curiously.

"They're not fat," Marissa contradicted as she picked up the first one, a cat with long, deep orange, almost red, fur. "I just tend to over feed them slightly, but they'll grow into their extra body weight. They're still young."

"And I take it that one is Ariel," Ryan guessed, smirking. "Little Mermaid fan, are we?"

She simply said, "perhaps," before kissing the still sleeping cat goodbye and picking up the second.

"That doesn't explain Sebastian's name though," he continued. Neither of them had any idea why he was pursuing the inconsequential conversation. "With his light fur, it would have made more to name him Flounder or even Triton."

"Sebastian isn't named after The Little Mermaid; he's named after Cruel Intentions. I used to love that movie when I was a little girl."

"You had a messed up childhood, didn't you?" When she simply shrugged her shoulders in a motion that neither dismissed his statement nor confirmed it, he turned around and moved down the hallway towards her room, mumbling under his breath. "Man, I don't want to meet your Mother."

And in less than ten minutes Marissa had managed to accomplish both of her first two goals: make Ryan volunteer to carry her luggage to the car and turn him away from Julie Cooper's clutches. If the weekend continued moving along just as smoothly, her five thousand dollar investment in an escort would turn out to be wise and even an inexpensive way to regain her dignity. That was if no one discovered their ruse.

"You're either going to have to call a U-Haul truck to cart all this luggage to the hotel, or you're going to have to leave behind about 95 of all that you packed, because there's no way this is all going to fit in that little car out front." Ryan's masculine voice floated through the apartment, a sound that was unique and foreign to the space, and, despite herself, Marissa found that she liked hearing him talking in the normally silent and lonely two bedroom residence.

"Trust me," she reassured him, "it'll fit. Do you think this is the first time I've ever gone away before? If I could fit enough luggage in my car for a trip abroad for two weeks, there's room for two day's worth of clothes."

"Two days for twenty people maybe," he complained, entering the living room weighed down with her bags and sulking the entire way out to the waiting car.

"Now, while you load," Marissa instructed, forgetting to ask him if he would be willing to help her or even waiting for him to volunteer, "I figured I could tell you about this weekend. Basically, it's going to be one long, formal party with a bunch of up and coming socialites and business tycoons, people I didn't like when I went to school with them and people I dislike even more now. There will be dinners and dancing, informal gatherings such as golf outings and spa treatments, and formal galas. We'll learn more about the exact itinerary when we get there and get our information packets. As for getting to know each other, I assumed that I could just make up your information. No one there will know you, so they'll believe anything I say. However, they all know me, so I'll have to give you a brief biography of myself so they won't suspect that we really only met today."

"That's fine," he dismissed everything she had just said. "I'll do whatever you need me to, that's a part of the job description, but what I don't get is why you're going to this thing. You obviously don't like these people, you're not interested in seeing them or going to these stuffy, close minded events, and you don't have to worry about impressing anyone, because you're obviously successful. So, what's the deal? Why is this stupid reunion so important to you?"

"Because my Mom RSVP'd for me, and, if I don't show up there looking utterly perfect with a piece of arm candy attached to my hip who obviously worships the ground I walk on, he won, and everyone in this town will know. They'll know that pathetic, little, spinster Marissa Cooper is sitting at home with her two cats eating ice cream and watching chick flicks while her ex-fiancé is proposing to the woman he cheated on her with and buying a house. I may be alone and miserable even though it's only been six months since my world was blown to pieces around me, but no one is going to realize that."

Watching her closely, he finally responded, "you do know it's okay to take more than six months to get over a broken heart?"

"Yeah, well, maybe you're right, but my pride cannot take another beating. I'm going to this thing," she said resolutely, "and I'm going to show everyone, including my ex, that Marissa Cooper is back and better than ever."

"Alright then," Ryan agreed, slamming the trunk of her car closed with a firm, swift motion. "Everything's packed, your mind's made up, and you've said your goodbyes to your cats. Give me your keys, and we'll be on our way." When she hesitated to do what he said, he asked, "what? What's wrong now?"

"You can't drive my car."

"Why not?"

Incredulously, Marissa snapped, "you're not on my insurance policy! What if something happens, and…."

"Get in the damn car," he ordered, moving up to her quickly and snatching the keys out of her loose grasp. Once they were both seated and buckled in, he started the car, turning to her. "How would it have looked if you showed up at this reunion and your boyfriend was not driving?" When she rolled her eyes and crossed her toned arms over her ample chest in a petulant pout, Ryan smirked, laughing to himself, before pulling out of the driveway. "Perhaps I should be in charge this weekend."

"But I like to lead," she protested, not realizing how her words, when taken out of context, could direct them to a very interesting and ultimately embarrassing conversation.

"I'm sure you do," Ryan responded. His tone insinuated many things besides control in a business situation, and they both knew it. "However, sometimes trust can be a more effective tactic than power or independence. If you have faith in me, Marissa," he promised her, "I won't let you down. I'll help you get exactly what you want and, perhaps, even more."

"You're pretty confident, aren't you?"

"Well, when you make almost $100 an hour, you better be able to deliver," he explained his poise and self-assurance. "So, what do you say, Miss Cooper, do you trust me enough to let me help you?"

He stopped at a traffic light, facing her while they waited for it to turn green again. Holding out his hand, Ryan remained still while he let her make her decision. It only took a moment, and, before he knew it, her small, delicate, baby soft hand was in his much stronger, slightly rougher palm, shaking it. In that brief moment, she had given him her hope, and he knew he would do everything within his power to live up to his word.

\ \ \

"This is not what I was expecting."

"What do you mean," Marissa asked as she went to get out of the car. Needing a minute to talk to her, Ryan signaled for the hotel employee to give them a moment of privacy before opening her door for her. Confused, she turned to him, concern written plainly across her gorgeous face. "I told you we were going to a resort."

"Yeah, and I was expecting something like a Holiday Inn. This is…."

"This is Newport," she explained with a frown. "I didn't tell you where I went to high school, did I?" As he shook his head no, she offered him a sympathetic smile. "I went to Harbor, one of the most expensive and elite private academies in the entire United States. This," she motioned to the exclusive resort, "is just par for the course."

"And the golf analogies start already," Ryan mumbled under his breath, making her attempt and fail miserably to hide an amused smile. "Marissa, I'm not prepared for this. When you said formal, I brought dress pants and oxford shirts, not ties, cufflinks, and smoking jackets."

Immediately, she burst into laughter. "You know what a smoking jacket is?"

"Shut up."

"Okay, listen, calm down. This is not a big deal. Personally," she confessed, "I could care less what you wear. That doesn't matter to me. As for everyone else, they're going to more concerned about figuring out who you are and where you come from and not paying attention to your clothes. Besides," she added cheekily, "I hate ties, cufflinks are pretentious, and I loathe the smell of cigar smoke, so you're just going to have to retire those fantasies of smoking jackets until your next job."

Opening the driver side door, Ryan stepped out of the vehicle and rounded it to open her door for her. "You're going to hassle me about this all weekend, aren't you?"

"Of course not," Marissa quipped, "I've been planning jokes to make fun of you for two weeks. I have more than enough information to drop the smoking jacket comment right here and right now."

"Doesn't mean you're going to."

She merely shrugged her shoulders in a non-committal manner, and they made their way inside of the hotel while a bellhop followed closely behind them with all of her numerous suitcases and his lone duffel bag. As their playful banter continued, neither of them noticed several of the other guests turn to stare at them, watching their movements and interactions closely. Everyone was curious to see how the scorned and humiliated Marissa Cooper would act that weekend. Several bets were places ranging from her showing up drunk or with her Mother to the point where some said she wouldn't show up at all, but seeing her laughing and smiling with a perfect stranger, a man who appeared to be confident, successful, and definitely good looking, was the last thing they had expected. However, most people were not brash enough to approach her, to insist upon being introduced to her date, but Summer Roberts was not just anyone; she was distinctly one of a kind.

"Summer Roberts," she immediately announced, holding her hand out for Ryan to greet her, "but you can call me Sum if you want. All my friends do."

"Ryan Atwood," he responded, but the spunky brunette had already turned to address Marissa.

"Coop, where did you find him? He's hot! Does he have any friends, perhaps a co-worker?"

"I'm sure he does," Marissa answered with a mischievous glint in her eyes, "but I also doubt if they would be your kind. Ryan's a part of the working class." The tall blonde noticed his wary, puzzled glance in her direction, but she quickly dismissed it with a simple shake of her head, letting him know they had nothing to worry about.

"Oh, what do you do," Summer squealed in interest. "Are you a lawyer, in real estate, perhaps you're a doctor. My Dad's a plastic surgeon, so I can get free procedures any time I want."

"I can tell," he offered her a compliment laced with sarcasm and offense, but only Marissa, who had a hard time reigning in her laughter, understood his dig at her old friend. "However, I organize social events."

"Like a party planner!"

Before Ryan could say anything else or before she could lose control of her thinly disguised amusement, Marissa laced her arm through Ryan's and started steering him towards the elevators. The bellhop had already taken their luggage to their room, and, because of the special circumstances of the weekend, they were able to skip the annoyance of check in and simply received their keys upon arriving at the hotel.

"Would you look at the time," she exclaimed despite the fact that she was not wearing a watch. "My boyfriend and I really need to get to our room to, you know," she winked at Summer, "get ready for tonight. We'll have to catch up some more later."

The petite woman tried to protest, but the blonde couple left quickly without a second glance in her direction. As soon as they were safely on the elevator and in private, Ryan turned to Marissa and shook his head in a disapproving manner.

"That's what you call letting me lead?"

"What," she protested defensively, her wide, innocent eyes and slightly pursed lips making her appear as guiltless and pure as a five year old.

"Don't you think you were laying it on a bit thick back there, what with the sexual innuendos and declaring me as your boyfriend? I think they'll be able to assume for themselves that we're a couple by the simple fact that we're here together and going to be sharing a room."

"You can never be too obvious in Newport. Subtlety is not a word Newpsies understand," she explained. "If I don't make it clear that we're together in every sense of the word, they'll either assume that you're gay…."

Interrupting her, Ryan assured, "I don't think you'll have to worry about that."

"Or they'll think that you're my long lost, illegitimate brother who felt sorry for his new sister and decided to help her by pretending to be her date," she finished.

"Where do you get this stuff," Ryan asked with a chuckle. "People don't meet illegitimate half siblings when they're twenty eight years old."

"They do in Newport."

"Alright, fine," he conceded, "perhaps in your world we'll have to be slightly more conspicuous, but you agreed to trust me. Are you backing out of that promise?" She shook her head no. "Good. Now, tell me," he demanded as the elevator arrived at their floor, "are all your old friends from high school as insufferable as that Summer character?"

"Summer's not that bad, really," Marissa excused. "Yeah, she's a little on the crazy side, loud, demanding, nosy, and obsessed with status and wealth, but, underneath all of that, her heart is normally in the right place."

"Of course it is," Ryan joked, "because, if it's not, her doctor Daddy can just have it repositioned for her."

Smirking at him, Marissa pressed, "trust me," her tone resembled that of mock reassurance, "compared to some of the others we're going to meet, Summer is going to quickly become one of your favorite people."

"Never have I heard a scarier statement." As she laughed at his paranoia, Ryan unlocked their door, pushing it open to let her enter first. But, before he could follow her into the room, she came to a dead halt just inside of the door, alarming him. "What's wrong?"

In a nervous whisper, she declared "there's only one bed."

"Is that it? Marissa, move into the room," he ordered, "so I don't have to stand in this hallway all night." Once they were both inside of the room, he continued. "If you're that uncomfortable sharing a bed with me, then I'll just sleep on the floor."

"Really, you don't mind?"

"I've slept in worse places," he asserted. "Now, let's get dressed. The sooner we get down to this meet and greet dinner, the sooner we can leave."

"Good point," she concurred. "Do you need to use the bathroom?"

"I showered before I met you at your house. I'm good. I'll just get dressed, and then, when you're done in there, I'll finish up."

"Thanks," Marissa smiled at him. "Be out in a few." A mere forty-five minutes later Ryan noticed as he glanced down at his watch, she reemerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam and mist dressed only in a robe. At least her hair was dried and her makeup applied. "Oh good," she said enthusiastically, "you're ready, so you can help me."

"Help you do what," he asked hesitantly.

"Pick out my dress."

"Listen, I really don't think I'm the person to ask for fashion advice."

"Of course you are," she dismissed his objections. "You're a man; you have base, animalistic instincts, so you're perfect for the job as my stylist. All I need you do is tell me whether or not you would be attracted to a woman if she was wearing the dress I have show you or not. Can you handle that?"

"Fine," Ryan agreed, "but how about I ask you questions about yourself while you get ready to help us with this ruse."

"Works for me."

"What's your favorite movie?"

"Pretty Woman," she teased, making him groan in impatience and scrub his face harshly. "Okay, tell me what you think of this one, and I'll answer honestly." She held up a knee length, white strapless dress with red and white dot embroidery, and it had a full skirt and a sweetheart neckline. "I have red peep toe pumps to go with this."

"It's….nice," Ryan responded to the dress, shrugging his shoulders.

"Nice is the kiss of death. This option is out," she announced, tossing the dress aside. "And my real favorite movie is Meet Joe Black."

"So, you have a thing for dead guys, good to know," he retorted ironically. She merely rolled her eyes at his acerbic banter. "Favorite food?"

"That's a hard one," she answered, pondering his question while holding up the second dress, a strapless lace, mid-calf length one that was ruby in color with a white underlay, tonal lace trim, a banded tie waist, and a full skirt. "A girl just can't pick one thing. I'd have to say my top five favorite foods though are goldfish crackers, my next door neighbor and best friend when I was little girl got me hooked on those, fruit rollups, apples and caramel, raspberry poptarts, and grilled cheese sandwiches."

"I love grilled cheese sandwiches, too," Ryan grinned up at her. "And the dress….it's….pretty?"

"Yeah, pretty doesn't cut it." She quickly tossed it aside as well.

"Alright, what's your dream vacation," he asked.

"I want to see everything, go everywhere," Marissa confessed, showing him the third dress. It was a midnight blue mini dress with a seamed empire waist that had sheer sleeves that hug to her elbows, a sheer hem, and a v neckline. "But if I could only go to one place in the world, I'd want to visit Ireland. That's where my family is from."

"I like that one," Ryan commented on her dress, "but doesn't it seem a little wintry?"

"You're right." With that, it was tossed away in the discarded pile as well.

"As for Ireland," he continued, "that sounds amazing."

"Where would you want to go," she asked him, her curiosity shining through her bright, blue eyes. As she waited for his response, she held up a fourth dress, a strapless, short, pleated number that was raspberry in color, had an empire waist, and a bubble skirt.

"I've always wanted to go to Russia," he revealed. "I know it's freezing there, that certain parts of it is desolate, and that it's really hard to get into, but there's something about all those basilicas and castles that I just find beautiful. I like old buildings, architecture, history." Stopping for a moment to look at the dress she was holding up for him, he asked, "you really like red, don't you," and had to watch as she threw yet another outfit aside. "Come on, Marissa, we're going to be late."

"It's fashionable to be late."

"Yeah, perhaps fifteen minutes," he conceded, "but an hour, a week, a few years late is not fashionable."

"Please," she huffed, "every single woman there is going to be late. What about this one?" Her fifth option was a knee length, orange halter dress that tied in the back and softly flared to the knee. It was low cut, demurely seductive, and fun. Ryan simply nodded his head swiftly in response, and she knew she had finally found her dress for the evening. Within five minutes, she was ready, and they were making their way out of the door in order to head to their first event of the weekend. As they boarded the elevator, the two of them were talking and laughing as if they had been friends for years, and, for the first time in six months, Luke Ward was the furthest thing from Marissa's mind.

\ \ \

For the past hour, Ryan had watched the woman beside him turn into a shell of her former self, the enthusiasm in her step, the rosy glow of her cheek, and the light in her deep, soulful eyes all disappeared as one callous, insolent person after another came up and approached her with rude, prying questions about her personal life tumbling forth out of their rouged lips and alcohol reeking mouths. There had been only one person who had come to see her that had genuinely been interested in her life, who she had been happy to see, and that was the same friend she had mentioned while she was getting ready. While he listened to them catch up, discussing various things from their families to comic books to the next political election to their varied and eclectic taste in music, he had learned that young, curly haired man's name was Seth Cohen, that they had been best friends until her Mother had married his grandfather and then proceeded to take him to the cleaners in their divorce settlement, and, although neither of them held the other responsible for their family's actions, the relationship became strained due to the distance between their parents. But not even the presence of her favorite childhood friend could stop the others from bringing her pain and despondency with their uncouth comments and questions.

After listening to them belittle her, her family, her job, and her social life, after seeing her inner fire be extinguished by the compliments and praise her former fellow students heaped at her ex-fiancé's new soon-to-wife's feet, after witnessing the tears they brought to her eyes when they told her she had overreacted to the whole debacle, Ryan had just about had enough, but, when one particularly rude woman approached their table, pulled a chair up to Marissa's side, and proceeded to ask her about her supposed suicide attempt, something that was a complete lie, he was finally pushed over the edge of reason. Standing up, he held his hand out for Marissa and interrupted the woman on her other side.

"Dance with me," he asked. The immediate appreciation that filled his eyes as she looked up at him only made him regret that he hadn't asked her earlier. As they strode to the center of the dance floor together, he asked her once again, "do you trust me," in a whisper only perceptible to her ears. She simply nodded to show that she did, and, without another word, he pulled her into his arms, his hands going to rest possessively on her lower back, and motioned for her to lay her head on his shoulder as she, in turn, held him closely as well. "It's okay," he soothed her, his warm breath tickling the side of her face while his hands rubbed gentle circles against the silk of her stunning dress. "I won't let anyone hurt you. Let it go," he encouraged. "If you need to cry, I'll hide your tears. You're safe with me, Marissa."

That was all she needed to hear, and, within moments, he could feel the delicate woman in his arms shuddering against his body with her silent sobs. He hated them, each and every one of them, for making her feel so wretchedly. Although he had only known her for a few hours, Ryan knew that she was a good woman, that she would never intentionally hurt anyone, and the simple grace and beauty she exuded, the naïve vulnerability she showed the world, made him want to protect her from everything and anything that could ever hurt her. True, she was only his client, but, for the two days he would know her, he would do everything in his power to make sure no one made her cry again, and that was a promise he made to himself.

As the song ended, she moved to step away from him, but he merely pulled her closer to his body, holding her tighter and whispering, once again, in her ear. "I think you're right. We do need to be obvious." She lifted her head from his shoulder in confusion, connecting their gazes together as she searched his cerulean blue orbs for answers to her confusion, but what she found there made the questions disappear and her breath catch in her throat. The way he was looking at her made Marissa feel as if she was the most important, most exquisite woman in the world, and the feeling was utterly addictive. Before she knew what was happening, their lips were joined together in a tender, shy, reverent embrace, and she didn't know who had made the first move to kiss the other. At first she knew the compassionate clinch was nothing more than his way of stopping the idle gossip circling around the reunion about her, but, as he deepened the embrace, drawling her mouth into his and letting his tongue beg for permission to enter the sweet recesses of her mouth, Marissa started to wonder if perhaps the kiss meant more than Ryan simply performing the duties of his job. She obliged, welcoming him to join his palate with her own, and, by the time they were forced to pull away in order to take in shaky, desperate breaths of fresh air, she noticed how his light lashes fluttered for several moments in a delicious awareness of sensory bliss before fully opening to reveal passion filled, dilated pupils that nearly eclipsed the sparkling oceanic blue of his mesmerizing eyes.

"Come on," he suggested huskily, "let's get out of her."

Without a word, she agreed, holding his hand as he led her out of the dining room and through the French doors that would take them to the gardens and eventually the beach. As they made their way to the sea, neither of them said anything. Desperate to know what their kiss had meant but knowing Ryan wasn't going to say anything, her mind started working as she attempted to sort out exactly what had just transpired between them. By the time he helped her sit down in the sand, joining her, Marissa concluded that, even though the embrace had seemed to mean more to him besides just something he had to do because she was paying him to pretend to be her boyfriend, he obviously had just gotten swept up in the moment, and it really hadn't meant anything to him at all. After all, she thought, there was no way he would ever be interested in her.

"Can you tell me what really happened between the two of you," he asked, breaking the silence. "I know it's a painful topic, but I'm a good listener, and I thought talking about it with someone who is objective might help."

"Okay," she agreed, but then the quiet descended around them again for several minutes while she gathered her thoughts. Just as he was going to say something else to make her feel comfortable with the idea of confiding in him, she spoke up. "They called us the perfect couple."

"Who?"

"Everyone," she answered, laughing loudly. Her mirth held no humor though. "My friends, his friends, his parents, our teachers, even the town busybodies held us up on this ridiculous pedestal of what the ideal teenage, Newport couple should resemble. He was the popular jock that had fooled everyone into believing he was a perfect angel who cared about his community and the common good for everyone, but his friends knew who he really was. He was a shallow, judgmental hypocrite who could not accept anyone who was slightly different than he was, and that made him cool. Anything Luke Ward wanted, Luke Ward got, and, looking back at it, I guess, for some reason, he had wanted me.

"I was the golden child, the teacher's pet, the apple of my parents' eye. I got straight A's, was social chair, and I volunteered on every charity committee the school had to offer. I was respectful to my elders, loving and caring to my little sister, and as innocent as a schoolgirl. That all changed though when I met Luke.

"Most people didn't see the changes in me; they were subtle, but my parents did, especially my Mom. I kept up appearances for the rest of Newport, for I didn't want to tarnish my perfect reputation, but, outside of the public eye, I did anything Luke wanted me to. I would drink so much I'd black out and not remember the night before. I experimented with drugs, was his personal whore, and let him walk all over me just so that he would stay with me. I thought that if I was with Luke Ward, then I was someone who mattered. My Mom hated him, and we started fighting over my relationship with him, and, when my Dad left us after his business went bankrupt, things only got worse. Luke was my only tie left to society. As long as I dated him, Newport still accepted me, so I stayed with him even though I knew he fooled around behind my back and dismissed me to his friends.

"When we went to college, I went to the one he wanted, so that I could remain with him. Things seemed better there; he seemed to be more attentive, more interested, and more caring towards me, but, now that I think about it, it was just easier for him hide his unfaithful behavior. He proposed when we were juniors, I accepted, and I naively assumed we'd be together forever at that point. After graduation, we moved back to Newport, he took over his Dad's car dealership business, I got my job at Saks, and we started planning our life together. When he insisted upon a long engagement, I thought nothing of it. My mindset at that point was that we'd been together for so long that he'd never leave me. Eventually, my Mom accepted that I was going to stay with him no matter what she said, so she gave up, and we repaired our relationship, something I'm so thankful for, because I'm not sure I would have been able to get through the past six months without her.

"Anyway, it was two weeks before our wedding, and, although I had left the immature party behavior behind in college, Luke hadn't, and I got a call one morning from a bartender who was quickly getting fed up with his tiring antics. The man called me to pick him up, but, when I got to the bar, he was leaving with another woman, and I followed them. I followed them to a cheap motel where they got a room and had sex. The next afternoon, he appeared at my office with flowers and his usual smarmy smile, and I broke off the engagement and gave him back his ring and my key to the place we shared together.

"Going to my Mom and admitting that she was right, cancelling the wedding so close to the ceremony, becoming single again for the first time since I was child was the most humiliating thing I've ever done in my life. It was embarrassing, degrading, and it's still not over. I'm still the poor little girl that the wonderful Luke Ward cheated on, the juvenile child who threw away the best thing that ever happened to her, the woman who once was destined to have everything but will now live her life alone and miserable. Everywhere I go people stare and point at me, when all I want is for them to leave me alone. Is that so much to ask?"

"Why do you stay," Ryan asked her earnestly, turning to face her more squarely. "Why do you put up with it, all this utter bullshit? Why not pack up your things and just leave? Why not tell them all to go to hell?"

"I can't leave," she responded, "not when my Mom and sister live here. They're the only family I have, and, without them, I'd be lost. As for the rest of them, this town, if I left, I'd just be branded a coward, and that's one thing I promised myself a long time ago I'd never be. My Dad ran away when things got rough, and I've hated him for it ever since. I can't do to my family what he did to us." Carelessly, Marissa wiped away the tears that were threatening to flow from her eyes before laughing softly and quirking her eyebrow at Ryan. "What about you? Do you have any embarrassing relationship skeletons in your closet?"

"First of all, you should not be embarrassed about what happened between you and Luke," he corrected her, lifting his own calloused fingers up to finish drying her tears. "You did nothing wrong. As for me and my past, it's kind of hard to have a real relationship when you work in the escort business. Potential girlfriends don't see to it too kindly when your job is to date other woman for money."

She giggled before pressing him for more information. "But surely you dated some before you started….doing what you do."

"Where I grew up, people didn't exactly date; they just….hung out, and I started doing this as soon as I turned eighteen. It was the only way I could afford college."

"And what happened with that?"

"The job started interrupting with my course work, and then, when news spread around the campus that I was an escort, it didn't take long for me to lose all my financial aid and become black listed. I guess I could have tried to go to another school, but, by that time, I was just disillusioned with the whole idea of college. It wasn't what I thought it was going to be."

Curious, she queried, "what did you study?"

"This will make Russia more understandable," he joked, laughing. "I wanted to study architecture."

"So, Ryan Atwood is a man who's been disappointed by higher education, let down by society, and who has never been in love?"

"I guess so," he agreed. "But what about you," he pondered, explaining his question when she looked at him lost as to what he was asking. "Have you ever been in love?"

"I used to think so," Marissa mused to herself more than to him as she became lost in his inquiry. "I told myself that I was in love with Luke, that he was the love of my life, but, sitting here with you and thinking about our relationship, I'm not sure. I think I was in love with the idea of being in love and believing that someone loved me back, but if what I felt for him really was love, than I should have been heartbroken and crushed when I found him cheating on me not embarrassed and shamed." After a moment of silence, she turned to face the interested and considerate man beside her whose attention was solely focused upon her and smiled softly at him. "So, perhaps I've never been in love either. Perhaps you and me, Ryan Atwood, aren't as different as we thought."