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Ryan brought Seth his clothes, checked to make sure he was okay and then went off to soccer practice. Thankful for something to wear that didn't remind him of the 1970's, Seth changed and spared a glance at his eye in the small mirror beside the cot where he'd laid, embarrassed, the whole afternoon. It looked as bad as it felt. He tried making a mean face in the mirror to make himself look tough, but that only stretched his all ready tender skin and caused him to wince. Shaking his head, he gathered his stuff and tried to salvage his dignity.
Seth walked into the auditorium, hindered slightly by the bag of ice he was holding against his eye; it made him misjudge his steps, so he pulled it away, noticing Devon watching him right away. He ignored him as he made his way onto the stage. There was no way he was going to give him the satisfaction of quitting, he was only more determined to perform in the play.
Summer was laying on the couch, her arm spread over her eyes dramatically. "You're late, Cohen," she said without moving.
"How'd you know it was me?" he asked, instantly forgetting the awkwardness the last time they'd spoken and how they had left things. Summer had a tendency to do that to him. To make him forget how much she confused him and that no matter what he did, she just wouldn't open up to him. She wouldn't let him know her.
Pulling her arm from her face, she sat up. "You make a lot of noise when you wa- Oh, my God! Your eye!"
"Yes, I have two of them."
She scowled at him, but her eyes instantly softened. He didn't miss the way her eyes flickered over to where Devon sat snickering. "Cohen, what happened?"
"Dodgeball."
"Dodgeball?" she asked, incredulously
Seth gave a weak attempt at a laugh. Humour was always his best line of defence. "See, the thing about dodgeball is that if you don't dodge, things like this happen."
She stood on her tip-toes, her hand edging toward the ice pack. "Let me see."
"I'm fine," he snapped. He did not need Summer, of all people, to feel sorry for him.
"And like you said to me before, you're not fine. Let me take a look."
Reluctantly, he moved the ice off of his eye and Summer cringed. A deep purple-black bruise was already forming and his eye was bloodshot and puffy. Summer clicked her tongue, shaking her head. "Was this Devon's doing?" she asked, point-blank.
"Devon? I told you, we were playing dodgeball in gym and you and I both know, I wasn't made for organized sports."
"It looks bad. Does it hurt?" Seth opened his mouth to speak, to make some sarcastic remark, but Summer cut him off before he had the chance. "Forget that, of course it hurts."
"It's not a big deal," he said, deflecting attention away from himself. "How about you? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," she replied automatically. And he was back at square one.
Mr. Birdman came stumbling in through the auditorium doors, looking like he'd been put through the ringer. His dress shirt was untucked and his thinning hair was standing up, his glasses slightly askew. "People, gather round," he called once he'd mounted the stage. "We've had a huge set-back. The artist that was painting the set fell off a ladder yesterday and won't be able to complete the job, which means it's up to us."
The assembled cast and crew groaned. They'd all been working so hard and the news wasn't impressing anyone. Seth spared a glance at Summer, who was, to his surprise, the only person in the room smiling. Correction, maybe not everyone was dreading painting the set. He felt his own smile forming and when it reached his cheek, he hissed from pain. Summer looked at him curiously, but he just brushed it off.
"In addition to rehearsal tomorrow, we'll also have to work on the lighting as well as the sets and my word, we still haven't had the fittings for costumes yet... Perhaps tomorrow we could work on the sets, but that would cut into rehearsal time... there's always the morning, but that may be asking too much," he recited more to himself than to the group of kids waiting for instructions. Mr. Birdman's face reddened and he wheezed a little. The guy looked about ready to collapse. Clapping his hands together, Mr. Birdman, took a deep breath and relaxed slightly. "Let's get to work, there's still lots to rehearse and opening night is fast approaching."
Everyone scattered and Seth and Summer took their places on stage.
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Seth woke up early that morning, figuring he could get to school early and fulfil his promise to help paint the sets. He dragged himself out of bed, showered and dressed, downing three cups of coffee just so he could function.
The school was still in darkness when he got there and he had to get the janitor to let him in. It was weird being in the school when no one was there. It was eerily quite and lifeless. At the entrance to the auditorium, he noticed light coming from under the door. Someone had made it to school even earlier than him? That was dedication! He crept in quietly, surprised by the lone figure sitting on the stage.
Seth leaned his tall frame against one of the wooden posts still not painted. To say that he was surprised to find Summer all ready hard at work at such an early hour was an understatement. It looked like she'd been making great strides. She'd already completed an entire backdrop herself and was just settling into the next one when he'd walked in.
Summer leaned over various paint canisters, trapping the wooden end of her brush in her mouth as she attempted to tie back loose strands of hair, that had fallen out of her high ponytail. She slipped her silky strands easily back into place only for them to fall gently against her cheek two seconds later, but she didn't seem to notice or if she did, she didn't mind. Grabbing a nearby rag, she pressed it against the wooden board she'd just painted to add texture to the background.
Pulling the brush from her mouth, she dipped it in black paint and resumed her efforts.
"You just going to stand there?" she paused.
Seth's mouth dropped, he thought he had gone undetected.
"Aren't you going to help?" she asked, without looking at him.
Righting himself, he crossed over to her, bending his knees and checking her work. "Nope. I'm fine watching you."
She looked up then, a smile covering her tan skin along with a streak of green paint, gone unnoticed from her earlier work on the grassy exterior on the backdrop. "Get a brush, smart-ass." She smacked a brush into his open palm, giving him a light shove he wasn't expecting and sent him crashing onto the floor, paint spattering his jeans and sneakers.
Seth picked himself up and rubbed his knee. "You're so sweet. No one gives a bruise quite like you, Summer."
Summer was too far gone, laughing at him, to hear one word he said. "I-I'm..s-so-oory," she panted, holding her stomach.
"Glad you find it so funny. How long have you been here, I think the paint fumes have gone to your head."
Summer rolled her eyes and switched to a smaller brush to add detail. "Not that long. Besides," she said, shrugging her shoulders, "it's relaxing."
It was then that he did noticed just how at ease she seemed to be. There was no projected front she was hiding behind and not an ounce of contempt in her efforts. This was the Summer not everyone got to see. The one that was fine wearing old clothes and paint smeared along her cheek. The one that didn't bark commands or take herself too seriously. This was the Summer he couldn't take his eyes off of.
Fumbling with a can of paint, he nearly dropped it.
Summer turned and gave him a quizzical look. "I slipped. Someone got paint on my shoes," he said, narrowing his eyes at her and then breaking into a smile.
"There should be some rags with turpentine or soap somewhere around here."
Seth looked around, spotting a pile of rags and a squeeze bottle containing liquid soap. Kneeling down, he wiped off his shoe as best he could, deciding he'd leave his pants for Rosa to deal with. Snatching another rag, he lathered it with soap and inched over to Summer.
She looked up at him expectantly, biting her lip. "What?"
Seth pressed his thumb against her chin and she released her lip with a surprised 'oh'.
"You have some... a little paint right..." Touching the soft side of the rag against her cheek and he was surprised how low and quiet his voice sounded. "There."
Summer's hand instinctively covered his. "I can... You don't have t-" her sentence died on her lips. She was looking at him so intensely, he wasn't sure what was happening. Her hand went to his own cheek, gently brushing her fingers against the tender spots around his eye. "Does it still hurt?"
He swallowed audibly. "It's not... too bad," he strangled out, overwhelmed by the need to kiss her. He was going to do just that. Leaning in, he let the rag fall to the floor, so his skin was touching the smoothness of her cheek. He watched her breath hitch. Watched her chest rise and fall heavily. Her breasts swell. Watched as her eyes began to close. And then everything went to hell.
"Seth! Summer! My stars, you're here early!" Mr. Birdman's voice bounced around the auditorium, booming into their eardrums. Seth pulled away, looking at Summer guiltily. She offered him a small smile and turned her attention back to painting. Seth overwhelming relief that Summer wasn't pissed took precedence over his desire to kill Mr. Birdman for interrupting their moment. "This is great! Excellent work! You don't know how relieved I am, I didn't know what we were going to do."
Summer looked over her shoulder and smiled pleasantly at the bubbling teacher as he praised them.
"Actually, I just got here, Summer did all of this," Seth piped up, grabbing the dropped rag.
"By yourself?" Mr. Birdman questioned. "You must have been here half the night."
Summer shrugged, her cheeks flushing a delicate pink. Seth considered that. He looked around and noticed all the work she had done and realized, that, yes, she probably was there all night, which was odd. Did her father just let her go gallivanting around at all hours of the night? And then he chastised himself for using the word gallivanting in his thoughts.
Mr. Birdman came closer to examine the backdrops and set props. "This is excellent work, Summer. You have real talent as an artist."
Summer's cheeks got redder and she barely spared a glance up. "It's nothing, really."
"I've never seen you in Ms. Fiore's art class."
"My schedule was too full," Summer justified, but the glint in her eye told Seth she was lying.
"Oh, that's too bad, I'm sure she'll want to see this later. Oh, I talked to the seamstress and she can only fit you two in during school hours, she's very busy with the Newpsie Annual Ball next week, so I'm going to get you a pass and you'll have to miss the afternoon to get fitted."
"Awesome!" Seth exclaimed.
"If you two will excuse me, I still have to make some phone calls and figure out the wiring for the lighting, there's a short somewhere." Mr. Birdman walked away without awaiting a response. Sometimes Seth wondered if the man was insane. It was true that drama teachers were always a little eccentric, but Mr. Birdman brought that stereotype to a whole new level.
"So we get out of class, that's a good deal, huh? I bet you're not regretting this whole play thing now."
"It's cool," Summer said, her concentration remaining on her art.
"So... Just how long have you been here?"
"I told you, not that long."
Seth came and sat beside her, crossing his legs and watching her carefully paint. "Summer."
She looked at him from the corner of her eye and huffed. "Okay, I snuck in through the girls' bathroom window in the middle of the night."
"Are you nuts? What about your folks? What if your dad finds out you're missing?"
Summer laughed, but there was no humour behind it, it was hollow and chilly. "He won't care. I've been sneaking out of that house since I was thirteen. Dianne's too doped up to notice and Daddy only pays attention when he feels like it, which is never." Seth edged closer so his knee was pressed against hers, his hand went to her shoulder. She dropped her hand from the backdrop and leaned into his touch. "I'm sorry I freaked out the other day."
"Don't worry about it. We all wig out once in a while." He let his hand slowly drop to her back where his fingers worked little circles against it. "I'm here if you want to talk. Or if you don't. Just...I'm here. You know that, right?"
Summer looked at him then. Her eyes were dark and unreadable. "Why do I believe you when you say that?"
"Because it's true," he said, pulling her closer to she rested against his chest.
"Cohen?"
"Hmm?"
"I don't want to fall for you, but I don't think I can help it," she said, so very quietly.
Seth took a deep breath, absorbing it all internally. "Maybe you shouldn't fight it anymore. I mean, I've given up fighting it."
Summer nestled in closer, taking a deep breath. "It's scary, I don't want to give up control. Can you understand that?"
Seth nodded, lowering his head, so his chin rested against her soft hair. "We'll take it slow if you want."
"I think I do."
"I'm cool with that. Besides, many a'women have tried to resist my charms, but I'm just irresistible."
"In your dreams, Cohen."
"You could try to be nice to me now that were sorta like, you know, together."
Summer yawned. "Together? Ew!"
Seth looked down at her and she smiled. Apparently she'd been through the Ryan Atwood School of Dry Humour.
"You're never going to be nice to me are you?"
"What would the fun in that be?"
"Right. My bad," he said, laughing and giving her a light squeeze. Without the witty banter, what fun would it be?