(Disclaimer: I don't own anything at all. So don't sue me. Please.)

A Note from the Author: SORRY! Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry. I am a bad, bad updater and I don't even deserve to kiss the ground Captain Oats walks on! I just had a hellish month of end-of-year exams, but I promise to take up writing again on a regular basis. Well, actually, since it's summer vacation (almost!), maybe I won't be updating like every three days, but dammit, I'm finishing this story even if it kills me! I drew up a plan, so if things go well, I will be following my predetermined directions until completion. You guys have been really great; I am not worthy! Okay, no dawdling now, onwards to the chapter…

Chapter Thirty-Two

Ryan cringed as he opened his eyes to meet the harsh light of early morning, becoming gradually aware that something was different. This was his bed, and he was inside the pool house, nothing out of place. It was quiet except for the occasional gentle swaying of a light breeze. Newport winters didn't count for much, but Ryan just didn't do cold. And in only his wifebeater and worn-out sweatpants, he was starting to feel like Frosty the Snowman. Not wanting to lose the pleasant feeling of being half-asleep, he started patting in random places around him in search of his runaway blanket. Then his hands finally rested on a warm mass on the edge of the bed.

Figured that Summer would hog all the covers.

He pulled at them delicately first, trying not to wake her. She shrunk into a tight ball, pulling the sheets more tightly around her, and Ryan tugged at them even more insistently. At last he gave up, out of options. Flopping back to his side of the bed, he tried to tune out the cold and shut his eyes in silent contemplation. It was almost unfathomable that two teens could spend the night together, yet not actually have done anything (not even some subtle inappropriate touching!). But here were him and Summer as a prime example that it was totally possible.

The fact that this went against everything that he grew up believing was also somewhat terrifying.

Having a bedroom next to Dawn's wasn't the best thing in the world, if you wanted to come away from childhood without being scarred for life. There were certain signs that the innocence of adolescence could ignore, but by the time Ryan reached his early teens, he was beginning to understand how really happy adults could be when they were alone with each other.

Or at least, they sounded happy.

His curiosity about male and female relationships was satisfied (in more ways than one) by an older women, some acquaintance of his mother. He couldn't really remember how it all started, but before he knew it, they were intimately involved and he was humming the song "Mrs. Robinson" under his breath. There had been no feeling in it, though. She had taught him a lot, sure, and he was grateful for that, but nothing went past their mentor-student sentiments.

It was this, however, that led him to become a man-whore in every sense of the word. Maybe he was confused by his first sexual encounters, maybe it was just the general atmosphere of Chino… but he was beginning to accept that you didn't have to care for someone to sleep with her. It almost became a routine, going to random parties, clubs, raves, etc., then picking up a girl and going back to her place for some one-on-one time. He'd gather his belongings, leave in the morning, and the next time they'd see each other, it was under the pretence of being complete strangers.

That was, until Liz Parker. The setting was some party Eddie was throwing, and Ryan's eyes met hers from across the room. Of course, they went back to her house, had a couple of beers, and went upstairs to bed. That was normal. When he shut her front door behind him the next morning, he had never expected to see her again. That was normal too. He was proved wrong, however, when she accidentally stumbled into him on the street a couple of weeks later. She was shaking and looking quite unsettled, and when she glanced up to apologize, he noticed that she had a black eye.

And that was how it all started.

Something kicked in; it could have been his guilt from their one-night stand, his anger at his own abusive family life, the feeling that this shouldn't be happening, all this hurt and pain at such a young age for them… and somehow, she became the second woman to be in his company for more than one time. Subsequently, she became his first girlfriend.

Many more followed, predictably, and plus his relationship with Liz didn't last that long. All of his following girlfriends had been abused, downtrodden, defeated in a way. And Ryan was there to pick them right back up. He had felt the urge to save every single one of them, and solve all of their problems. And he had, for the most part, given them the comfort that they needed at that point in their lives. And when there was no more conflict, when they were back on their feet, both agreed amicably to a mutual break-up.

He didn't know when he started mistaking the satisfaction at seeing them healed for feelings of affection. This certainly wasn't helped by the fact that some of the women mistook their gratefulness at his valiant deeds for love, also. Gradually, he began to care for them more and more without even realizing it, and let himself accept the idea that being the hero was something he was meant for.

This all came to a head when he met Marissa.

At their first encounter, he thought her a naïve, perfect little specimen of a future trophy wife. She had asked him for a smoke, although he could tell she didn't do it often. He could also tell that she was attracted to him, so he flirted noncommittally, entertaining the idea that she might be good for a one-nighter. That was, until he saw her being dragged up her driveway by two crappy friends, drunk out of her senses. Until her dad lost the family savings and her parents split up. Until Luke cheated on her in Tijuana and she tried to commit suicide. Yeah. Until that.

He didn't even know where to begin. She was like the ultimate charity case.

They dated (obviously), and their relationship was strong because he thought he liked her a lot, maybe even loved her despite her messy life. He helped her get her act together and go to rehab, and he did everything the perfect boyfriend should have done. They had something that seemed to be reciprocated by the other. Everything was going fine. And then she met Oliver, another righteously fucked up individual. Some kind of camaraderie probably stirred inside of her, and that's when she decided to reject Ryan in favour of the crazy stalker.

Of course he had been angry; who wouldn't? But the more and more he thought it over at his 'fortress of solitude' (that nickname was Seth's idea), the more and more it made sense. He realized that he hadn't loved her at all; that in terms of giving and taking, theirs had been a one-sided relationship, at the most. While all of her problems were being solved, it seemed as if the number of his were growing. And he couldn't be bitter because he had felt nothing for her in the first place, had gained nothing from her company. Sure, he did his duty and saved her from the danger Oliver's gun posed, but that would be the last time, he had decided. And it was.

Then there was Summer. To be together with her… was the most selfish thing he could've done. It seemed absolutely wrong, but at the same time, for lack of a better term, being with her felt so right. She was unlike any other person he'd met before, independent, brash, tempered with just the right amount of humility. And he knew that even though he may have at some point pitied her when Seth left, it wasn't about saving her in any way. That their relationship was at that incredibly blissful point where both were well-adjusted and nothing could go awry (which was exactly the time when two people would usually break up).

Yet, they hadn't gone their separate ways. They were just two goofy people in love. It felt nice, Ryan had to admit.

Pause.

…Wait.

Love?