Author's Note: Sorry for posting chapter 13 twice. I didn't mean to. This will be a very dialogue filled chapter. Oh, and sex. Not much, but it's mentioned. Still don't own.. I wish I did. I'll try to update again soon.

XXX

Theresa checked her clock again, it had been exactly seventeen minutes since she had hung up the phone with Kirsten. And considering that California was two time zones away, Theresa would be lucky to stay awake for another hour or so. Given Ryan's history of speech, that was probably more than enough time than they needed. But she still needed him to call. Kirsten said he would. Kirsten wouldn't lie because... Because she was Kirsten Cohen surrogate mother to an estranged blonde that just so happened to own Theresa's heart.

Then the phone rang. So God does love me. Theresa smiled, and listened to another moment of glorious ringing before limping over to the kitchen and picking up the phone. "Hello?" she spoke into the receiver as she propped herself up on the countertop.

"Hey Theresa," the voice was warm and deep. "It's Ryan." As if he even needed to tell her.

"Hey Ryan," a continent between them, he could see her smile as she spoke. "How've you been?"

"Shouldn't I be the one asking you that?" Apparently being back in Newport revived Ryan's hidden sarcasm.

"I'm fine." The words escaped almost too quickly. "Really, I can walk now."

"Yeah? That's good." She couldn't tell if there was genuine happiness in his voice or he just wanted to continue the conversation.

"Yeah."

Quiet. It made Theresa's hands fiddle with the telephone cord, her hands slid around the counter searching for something- anything. They found a bag of Chips Ahoy and she began munching.

On the other end of the line, Ryan looked for words. But there really weren't any, and that's what made it all the more difficult to lay there in his pool house with a phone to his ear. He wanted to tell her to come to Newport because he missed her and he needed to see her. It just didn't seem right though. And with Ryan, everything needed to be right.

"What are you eating?' he asked finally, noticed the familiar sound of her chewing.

"Cookies," she said finally, after swallowing.

Laughter came from Ryan's end of the line. "Cookie monster returns."

"Shut up!" she was defensive. "I'm not eleven anymore."

"Eleven? You had cookie cravings last month."

"I was pregnant, Atwood. It wasn't my fault."

It was interesting how over the past few weeks, the pregnancy and miscarriage became a fact of life. It was never discussed in detail and feelings- the pain and suffering- never completely resurfaced. Instead, it was replaced with an odd nostalgic feeling that reminded both Ryan and Theresa of what it was like to be together.

"Oh yeah?" She would have bet all her money that as he asked that, an eyebrow was raised mockingly.

"It's not like I made that baby all by myself." Flashes of memories filled her mind. The candles flickered by the window, illuminating Ryan from behind, a psuedo-halo above his blonde head. The taste of his lips on hers, his tongue on hers, the taste of his sweat and skin. His hands on her, just on her, on her everything. Seeing his head leaned back against the pillow, watching her ride him. The look of contentment, of excitement in his face. Lingering scents of her vanilla perfume, his salty sweat and the tight smell of sex filled her as she sat silent, listening for his voice.

Ryan stayed silent for a moment.

She could sense the discomfort.

Theresa was probably the one person in the world who could always figure out what Ryan felt. His face stayed stone and his voice unheard, but she could tell the difference between upset, pissed off, unhappy, sad and the thousands of other gray moods of Ryan Atwood.

"Besides, since when don't you carry a condom?" She giggled after asking. That night, as his lips nipped at her collarbone and his hands expertly unhooked her bra, she stuck a hand into his back pocket before pushing his jeans to the floor. It was to her surprise that it was empty. Their misadventures in the backseat of Arturo's car and various other risqué spots taught her that it was habitual for Ryan to have a contraceptive with him. It was always there, no matter how unexpected the rendezvous. Always in his back pocket.

"Since I stopped carrying around cigarettes." Ryan didn't want to verbalize the obvious sentiment. He stopped carrying condoms around when he got to Newport. There was no exact date in his memory, but around the time he figured that things with Marissa would not become intimate, he put what was left of his pack of Trojans in the back of his closet, right next to his lighter.

"What happened to 'always be prepared'?" she teased, referring to his brief fascination with boy scouts.

"Hey, I never joined those uniform wearing losers okay?"

"Touchy, touchy." He smiled as she continued to tease, he missed this. "But you did join those costume wearing, singing and dancing losers, right?" she said, referring to his many years in musicals and plays.

"That's 'cause I was damn good." Same old cocky bastard. "You would have never lasted if it wasn't for me."

"Yeah, I wouldn't have."

It was one of their favorite jokes, how the two of them resented the rest of the drama group and stuck by each other. They were the fearless two, and without the other they would have never endured the Junior High teasing of bullies who though musicals were for losers. Theresa never failed to thank him for protecting her from those bullies, always claiming she could have never lasted without him. However, Ryan, the cocky bastard, took it as a testament to his talent. That it was his coaching that made Theresa a star.

"How else would you have gotten such great roles?" Same old same old cocky Ryan.

"Yeah, 'cause you were so great that you were Jet number four in seventh grade." Sarcasm oozed through her words. "Oh gee, tell me again, who was Maria in West Side Story?"

"Uh, the lead female role." Sarcasm, huh. Two could play at that game. "You know, Hispanic, in love with the wrong guy, that blonde dude, always getting into fights."

It was sarcastic and they laughed, but there was something about his last sentence that took the conversation away from musicals and back to real life.

In love with the wrong guy, that blonde dude, always getting into fights.

She had searched for years for a way to describe what her heart wanted and he, of all people, he had said it.

"I miss you," his voice was softer, gentle. A heated glow resonated inside Theresa's heart as she heard those words. The same heat turned Ryan's tan face into an unwilling pink.

"I miss you too." She decided it was time to apologize. "I'm sorry I didn't call sooner. I don't know why I didn't."

"Me too. It wasn't 'cause..." he hesitated. Did he really want to let her know?

""Cause what?" intrigued, she begged him to continue.

"It wasn't cause I wasn't thinking about you." That's what he had been longing to tell her. "I think about you all the time. I space out at work, I never focus on the TV, even if I'm talking to someone else." An enormous weight lifted off of Ryan's shoulders. Bottled inside him for three whole weeks were feelings about Theresa, the constant picture of her face in his mind and the unending question of why can't I tell her. It was gone now. She knew. She knew he was crazy about her.

"God, I wish you were here. Or I was there." He continued. "I'm sorry if I'm being emotional or sentimental or-"

"Ryan. Wait." She didn't want to hear what he had to say. Not right now, not over the phone. Phones, so impersonal. The sound of someone's voice in words thought up in places far away. She needed more than his words right now. She wanted his arms cradling her, his lips to smile halfway, his eyes to dance as blue as the July sky.

"What?" Immediately, he regretted his decision to tell her everything.

"Tell me tomorrow." Confusion fell upon his blue eyes and wrinkled his tan brow.

"Why?"

"Because." It would probably hurt her more to keep the secret than for him to wonder why. But she really wanted to surprise him. She had already talked to Kirsten and discussed her plans. Kirsten had promised to not tell Ryan or anyone else for that matter. They both wanted to see the surprised smile on his face.

"Uh, okay." Ryan felt wounded.

"Okay." Theresa smiled even wider. "I'll see you tomorrow."