"Out of Season:
Part Two
By Sister Rose
Disclaimer: The characters of "The O.C." belong to Fox and no infringement on those rights is intended in this fictional work.
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Ryan Atwood was surprised to still have a job at the end of the day. He was surprised again when Seth drove up, swirling dust.
"Nice ride," Ryan said.
"My mom finally gave in and got me a car," Seth said. "About two years after everyone else in Newport. I was the oldest person at Harbor still skating to school. Finally convinced Mom that I absolutely HAD to have the wheels, that I didn't care what they were, and I got this from Luke's Big Gay Dad. Mom liked it because it looked safe. I didn't really care what it looked like, but it's nice not to use my feet to get around anymore."
"It's a nice car," Ryan repeated. "Turbo?"
"I have no idea."
They stared at each other. Just before the long silence got awkward, Seth offered, "Coffee?"
"Where?" Ryan said.
"There's a shop on campus," Seth said. "Parking's kind of fierce, though. I could drive us."
"Sure," Ryan said. He opened the car door and realized he couldn't sit on the nice upholstery in his work clothes.
"I'm kind of dirty," he said, closing the door and talking across the car's roof. "How about I follow you?"
"Oh," Seth said, halfway inside. "I can get it cleaned, if you get it dirty. It's due for a detailing anyway."
"No, really," Ryan said. "I'm not dressed for a coffee shop. There's a diner about a mile away. How about I meet you there. Nina's."
"OK," Seth agreed.
Inside his pickup, Ryan gave himself a couple of mental thumps. Idiot, he thought. Seth's used to frappuccino latte caramel grandes with half-skim, half-soy or something. He won't like the stout trucker coffee at Nina's
Ryan pulled into Nina's lot and waited for Seth to park. He banged the pickup door's sweet spot twice absently, trying to open it, and dredged up every detail he could about the best time of his life. What did Seth like to do? What did Seth want to talk about?
Seth's car door slid open with the buttery mechanics of expensive equipment, and Seth's lanky legs hit the pavement. Ryan opened his mouth to offer to follow Seth to his favorite coffee shop, to apologize for the surroundings, to say something, anything, but Seth started talking first.
"Do they have pancakes?" he said, eagerly. "I've always wanted to do the pancake tour of North America. I could start right here."
"They have pancakes," Ryan said, watching Seth's purposeful trek toward the diner door. Ryan followed.
At the table, Seth poured syrup over his double stack, cut out a gooey wedge and stuffed his mouth before sucking back half a cup of sludge that had been sitting in the pot since breakfast, as far as Ryan knew.
"Ah," Seth pronounced. "Nirvana. And speaking of bands, who are you listening to these days?"
"I don't really listen to music that much," Ryan said, hesitantly. He didn't actually listen to music that much, and it would be easier to agree with Seth if Ryan didn't express a preference. Ryan added sugar to his coffee and stirred. If he drank it slowly, it might fool his stomach into thinking it had food inside.
"Seriously? That's kind of weird," Seth said. "You remember Marissa, the girl who lived next door to me? Well, it turned out we had all the same taste in music and we were sharing CDs right up until she killed herself. OD'd in Mexico after she found out her boyfriend was cheating on her. But she was cheating on him, so I don't really know why she got so upset about it."
Seth had continued stuffing in pancakes during this recitation.
"Aren't you having any?" he said. "These are pretty good."
"No, I get them enough," Ryan said. "I work here on the weekends."
"You do?" Seth said. "Doing what? I can't see you in that cute little waitress outfit."
Ryan looked around. The waitress outfit in question featured a skirt that was at least two inches longer than it needed to be to keep the waitress out of jail for indecent exposure.
"I work in the back," he said. "What are you doing these days? Where are you going to college? The last time I saw your dad, he said you were considering the East Coast."
"You've talked to my dad," Seth said.
"Yeah but not in a while," Ryan said. "He was my lawyer until ..."
"...Until the divorce," Seth said. "He kind of dropped out of sight after that, I guess. I haven't talked to him in a while."
Seth shifted in the diner booth and stirred his pancake syrup with his fork.
"I'm sorry," Ryan said. "I shouldn't have brought it up."
Inside, he was cursing himself. He had forgotten how easy it was to talk around Seth, how easy it was to let go his guard and say too much. He had to be more careful.
"No," Seth said. "It's nice to talk to someone who doesn't hate him. That's all I hear from Mom and Gramps, about how ideals cost too much."
"He was really good to me," Ryan said. He wanted to say more, but he had a sinking feeling that he had been one of the overpriced ideals that had cost Mr. Cohen a marriage. Too, saying anything good about Mr. Cohen might be considered a slam at Mrs. Cohen or Mr. Nichol. "You all were. I don't think I ever said thanks."
Seth waved his hand, shaking off the gratitude.
"It was Mom and Dad," he said.
Ryan sipped more coffee.
"So where did you go?" Seth said.
"Your dad got me into a group home," Ryan said. "I lived there for a while. Now I'm working for Mr. Roberts."
Seth looked at Ryan for a long time. Maybe he was waiting for more. Maybe he was looking at the scars on Ryan's cheeks, the lopsided nose, and speculating. Ryan had left a lot of blanks in his story. Like the amount of time he spent in the group home, the amount of time he spent on the streets and the amount of time he spent in juvie after being picked up for being on the streets and violating his probation.
He couldn't afford to tell Seth much of the truth. Mr. Roberts knew Ryan had been in juvie, but he couldn't expect someone like Mrs. Cohen to be understanding about having a former juvenile delinquent working for her or talking to her son.
Seth might think being with an ex-con was cool, but Seth didn't do the hiring and firing, so Seth wasn't going to find out.
"He's been really good to me," Ryan added quickly, hoping to stave off more questions. "What about you?"
"Well, I'm a junior now, majoring in English," Seth said. "I'm thinking about sailing around the world this summer."
"I remember you talking about Tahiti," Ryan said.
Seth grinned. "Yeah, it's been the plan for a while now. Last time I went to Tahiti it was just for the summer and I was by myself and it wasn't so much fun. But this time the plans go a bit further. I'm taking the year off from college to sail around the world, or at least the Pacific, with a friend."
"Who's going with you?" Ryan said.
"I've changed the name of my boat," Seth said. "It's the Anna Away now, if that gives you a clue."
"Anna? Is that your girlfriend's name?" Ryan said.
"Not really my girlfriend," Seth said. "We're too much alike. But we're good friends."
Ryan hesitated, afraid what he wanted to say would sound wrong, then said it anyway, "I'm glad you have a friend now."
"I thought I had two," Seth said. "Aren't we friends?"
"Sure," Ryan said. It was nice of Seth to say. Ryan remembered Seth was always nice. It was one of the things he had liked about the rich kid. That and his naivete, his innocent confidence that the world would be good to him.
"And now that I know where to find you, you can count on seeing me more often," Seth said.
"Sure," Ryan said.
Ryan checked by the cash register. A souvenir Mickey wall clock said it was 7:20. He was going to be in trouble for being late. "I'm sorry to run. I've got to be somewhere. I'll take care of the check as I leave."
"I can get it," Seth said. "I invited you."
"Naw," Ryan said. "My treat. Besides, I get the employee discount."
He hollered toward the register. "Joyce, would you put this on my tab?"
"Sure thing, hon," she yelled back. "Just come up here and sign."
Seth smiled at the byplay.
"Maybe next time you'll come to the coffee shop with me and I'll make you drink a double mocha latte with half skim and half soy," he said, lifting himself out of the vintage vinyl seat. The vinyl squeaked and the foam sighed as Seth pushed out of the booth.
Ryan blushed and gave Seth his first real grin. "Maybe so," he agreed.