A/N: Okay, thanks for reviewing. Okay, so when I'm writing, I forget that the readers might not understand some things if they aren't explained. I was talking to kutu about how the Anna/Carly thing might also stem from Carly briefly dating Ryan in UF1. Then she wanted to know why Ryan claimed he'd never dated her. Of course in my head, I felt the characters would understand that "I never dated Carly," meant that "I never dated Carly while we were together," because both characters knew that Ryan did in fact date Carly the previous year. I didn't want to use phrases like 'while we were together' or 'cheat on you,' but it was a wrong call. My apologies for any confusion.

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Ryan POV

"So are you trying to unnerve the couch?" Anna asked, looking up at me.

"Huh?"

"You're doing your stare thing where you turn the poor recipient of your 'evil look' to mush. And since you're staring at the couch, I was just wondering...."

I laughed. "I'm not doing anything – I'm just trying to visualize it in my apartment."

"Okay. What color are the walls?"

"Well, I believe they are white."

"Which means that almost any couch will fit – even if it's a black, leather, bachelor-couch like that one," she said, pointing at it, causing the ring on her finger to gleam.

I chose not to think about why the fuck she was wearing her ex's ring, so I got back to the conversation. "Bachelor-couch?"

"You know, expensive leather – something a man with plans on ever having kids should not have at his place."

"Since I'm only going to be living in LA for three months, I think we're safe on the kid front."

"You're sure?" she joked. At least I hoped she was joking.

She moved from the couch and walked over to an off-white, flowery, plush love seat. "What about this one?"

"It's cool, but I need functional furniture." And by functional, I meant non-girly.

"And this one isn't?"

I shook my head. It had been a month since she called me that evening and we'd kept in touch, talking about once or twice a week. The conversations were very casual, never venturing into anything of importance. It was the first time we'd met since then.

She sat on the couch, wiggled her butt on it, then said, "Ryan, this is really very comfy." She patted the cushion next to her. "Sit. Trust me, you won't regret it."

I did as she asked. "Anna, it feels like a couch."

She laid back in it and stretched her legs out. "Yes, it does – a very comfy couch. You wouldn't even have to get a bed."

"So you're saying that I should get this couch so that I don't have to buy a bed?"

She pursed her lips. "Hey, why are you looking at me like that? It was simply a suggestion. Just because your record company is paying for everything doesn't mean that you should be wasteful."

I chuckled. "Hmm... okay." I kept smiling till I realized that it had been months since she'd been so silly and easy or even comfortable with me. Why was she so different when we were together?

She stood up and started walking around the store again. "What about this table?" she asked, running her hands over the mahogany top.

Instead of looking at the table, I looked at her. "I like your hair," I murmured. Her hair had grown out since we'd broken up and I felt that it gave her a more adult look. I'd always thought she was beautiful but I really did like this version better.

She ran a self-conscious hand through her hair and said, "You like it? I was thinking of cutting it again."

I smiled. We fell silent so I looked at the dinning table. "You like that one?"

"Yeah, and the chairs look comfortable."

"Yeah, but I'm not sure I want a dinning table, though... I doubt I'd be entertaining that much. Plus, I need space for all my equipment."

"Equipment?"

"Yeah. I'll definitely be taking my keyboard with me, but I'm taking other stuff because I think I'll be making a few mixes before we go to the studio."

She turned around and studied my face. "You've started writing again?"

I nodded. It's amazing how much music you can create when things in your life ceased to make sense.

"That's great. I wish I could write music," she commented.

"Why?"

"I don't know – it's probably a way to get things off your chest... to try to figure things out."

If only that were true. Yes, it helped you sort through and figure out your emotions but it certainly didn't provide any solutions. If anything, it revealed open sores. Besides, that was what she had me for. Why the fuck couldn't she let me help her figure things out? And why the fuck was she wearing that ring?

"I think it's great the boys didn't ditch you though," she continued.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know, I would have thought that they'd have chosen to record this album with someone else."

I raised an eyebrow.

"What I mean is, now that they have sort of a name, isn't it customary in the music industry to ditch the old for famous and more established producers? I don't know, I would have thought that they'd have chosen to record this album with someone else."

"I guess so," I said offhandedly. "But the thing is," I wiggled my eyebrows, "I know where they live."

She laughed and we kept walking through the store, discussing numerous pieces till she stopped at a bed and sat and bounced on it, making the ugly ring shine in the process. When she stopped, I sat next to her.

"Ryan, it must feel nice to be going..."

"Why didn't you return my calls?" I interrupted. I figured it was as good a time as any to ask.

"Your calls?" she asked innocently.

"Yes, Anna, my calls."

"Oh," she said, showing so many teeth that there was no way the smile wasn't forced. "You know how it is," she started animatedly, "you get home late, you figure that you can call back the next day, you keep getting home late or forgetting, then it's like a month and you feel stupid calling someone and saying, 'Hey, I'm returning your call from last month.'"

Yeah right. The least she could do was try to lie convincingly. "Really."

"Really." She shrugged, "I'm really sorry." At that moment, she brushed her hair off, once again, showing me the diamond.

She looked restless, darting her eyes around, and after a few moments, got off the couch. Then she slowly moved to the other beds, looking them over and lightly clapping her hands as she walked.

I stood up and watched her. I wanted so badly to ask her about the fucking ring. I mean, why the fuck was she wearing it again? What was her problem? I was dying to ask her, but she was already nervous and I knew she'd probably not give me a straight answer. And frankly speaking, I wasn't in the mood for crap. We were supposed to be spending a lazy Saturday afternoon picking out furniture, and getting the store to ask their LA branch to deliver it to my apartment and I wasn't in the mood for unnecessary stress. Besides, I enjoyed seeing her smile again.

"So," I said, as I caught up with her. I took her hand and pulled her in the opposite direction, "Help me pick out a lamp."

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A/N2: Sixty's Chic, there are four more chapters. Elzed, I wrote UF1 when I was new to the fandom and hadn't seen quite a few episodes (still haven't) so I didn't know all about Ryan wanting to be an architect and all that. I know a few people in the entertainment industry who kind of fell into it, so I figured he could have done the same. Besides, I find musically inclined men extremely hot... I'm glad you like it.