Summer's got it all planned out.

It goes like this: She's trying on clothes at Marissa's. They're talking (well, Marissa's talking and she's listening) about boys. Marissa is distraught, crying. She's pretty when she cries: her lip trembles and one tear works its way gently down her cheek, her eyes are big and moist. She hugs Summer, clings to her: "Why?" Why are they both so mean, why is it so hard, why do I have to choose? Why am I not happy? Doesn't matter what she's really asking, or if she's really asking anything at all. Summer rubs Marissa's back, lifts her chin. Tells her she loves her. Marissa's confused, so Summer shows her what she means. Slow fade to candlelit skin and soft violins.

Summer knows it's cheesy. But what else is she gonna do – bust in there, rip off Marissa's clothes, and throw her on the bed? She may be tired of subtlety, but she still knows the meaning of the word. Knows when it's necessary.

Knows that you've gotta use a soft touch with some people, because you'll scare them away if you get too rough.

When she goes over there, she stands on the step for a few minutes before ringing the bell. Going through the plan again until her fingertips are itchy. It's time. Breathe. Relax. It's time.

Marissa comes to the door and for a second Summer sees something strange in her eyes. There's an intentness there, a ferocity completely at odds with everything she knows about Marissa. Then Marissa tucks her hair behind her ears and it's gone, she's just Marissa again.

Summer must have imagined it, obviously. This is Marissa. This is Coop. Good old Coop, the sweet one. The innocent one. The one who won't let her boyfriend of six years go down on her because she thinks it's too dirty. (Summer couldn't believe it when they had that discussion. She thinks maybe Luke did try, once, and got it so horribly wrong that it scarred the poor girl for life. But Summer'll show her how it's done.) For fuck's sake, Marissa's so sweet and wholesome she probably bleeds bubblegum.

She probably tastes like it, too, Summer thinks. Bubblegum and lip gloss until you get down to the real girl underneath. The way she imagined Britney would taste, when she was still crushing on her, before she realized Marissa was the same thing and a whole lot more accessible.

She's been wanting to taste that for so long she can hardly stand it, and when they get up to Marissa's room it's all she can do not to pull her down to the floor right there, practically still out in the hall. But she can't scare the girl, gotta take it slow, remember? So she takes her top off instead. She's wearing new lingerie, an insubstantial little number from Vicky's with a matching thong, and even if she doesn't get anywhere with Marissa (doubtful, because Summer knows she's irresistible), she's certainly not going to let it go to waste.

She's just dropped her shirt on the floor when Marissa's there, way into Summer's personal space, and what the fuck is this? Summer backs up a step and Marissa follows, crowding her against the wall.

"You take your top off an awful lot around me." Marissa's voice is lower and dirtier than Summer can remember it ever being, and she's slipping one nail down the strap of Summer's bra. "This is nice. New?"

Something is very wrong here, things are not going according to the plan at all and that look is back in Marissa's eyes, and if Summer didn't know better she'd say Coop was looking positively predatory right now, but that's not possible, it can't be possible. If she could just catch her breath, if she could just have some time to regroup. "Coop?" Her voice comes out much softer than she'd like.

"Summer." Marissa's actually smirking right now. "What exactly are you playing at here?" Her hand is on Summer's chest, right below her collarbones, pressing her into the wall just a little too hard for comfort. But Summer's not focusing on that because Marissa's mouth is hovering maybe two inches from her ear now and everything she says in that rough new pack-a-day voice is sending little shivers down Summer's spine, and all she can think to do is repeat the question.

"What am I…?"

"You're really not as innocent as you pretend, Summer," grated into her ear, and shit. Shit. Marissa knows. But it's okay, she hasn't done or said anything really incriminating, has she? She could just deny, pretend she doesn't know what Marissa's talking about, no problem, the situation can still be saved, just gotta stay cool. Her fear must be showing in her face because suddenly Old Marissa is back, smiling up from under her lashes, stepping back a little and saying, "That's okay. Don't worry. Neither am I."

Summer calms down a little even though the words don't exactly go with the innocent face. She closes her eyes for just a second, relieved, but when she opens them the predator is behind Marissa's eyes again. And she's taking off her shirt.

Wow.

And she's not wearing a bra.

Summer can feel all her higher brain functions powering down but there's still that nagging thought that something's wrong here, maybe Marissa's been abducted by aliens or something because this isn't right, it shouldn't be happening or at least not this way, and what happened to the fucking plan? So she pushes Marissa away, just getting a little distance between them. A few inches of air so she can take a deep breath and ask her what's going on, why is she acting so weird.

She doesn't push her away immediately. Summer waits until Marissa's kissing her, and that makes it harder because yeah she feels amazing, and strangely enough yeah she does taste like bubblegum and lip gloss.

So she lets herself be thoroughly kissed before pressing Marissa's shoulders back and separating them. But hey. Summer can be forgiven for a moment of weakness, right? She's only human, after all.