Thanks for the replies. It's good to know some people are still interested. :)

Chapter 2

Low-slung jeans, expensive fitted-sweater moulded to every inch of her ample breasts, make-up just right and fingernails shined up and freshly manicured. It was Summer all right. And she was pissed.

Summer stood. "I guess you're not too thrilled to see me?"

Ryan was shaking his head. Words were not coming to him no matter how hard he tried to think. "No, no. It's not..." Wait? Why was he apologising? She was the one that had been gone for three-fucking-months while he put his life on hold for her. He modified his tone, made it more casual. "Bad timing?"

"I'll go," Summer said, a quiver in her voice.

He hated that it got to him. That she still got to him.

"No! Don't. Please?" He caught himself sounding desperate. Looking to his right, he saw Adelina sizing up Summer and felt his face heat. Ryan Atwood begging? The boys at the shop would love this one. "Lina, could you...?"

Adelina had always been smart. She caught on quick. "Yeah. See you around, Atwood. Call me when you lose Prom Queen over here."

Ryan smirked despite the look Summer shot him. It was really just a natural reaction to hide his nerves, but he knew Summer wouldn't buy it.

It was so typical. The one day he decided to let loose after acting like a monk for three months and Summer just had to show up the very same day? The Gods had a very twisted sense of humour.

Adelina got into her beat-up Dodge and the engine groaned to life. Both Ryan and Summer were silent until the car was halfway down the block. They stared at each other, a little wary.

"Uh..." Why was it he couldn't complete a single thought in her presence?

Summer spoke before Ryan had the chance to continue. "So...I guess I wasn't so special after all." She'd forgotten about her tears. The only thing that seemed important was the anger burning through her blood.

Ryan took a step forward. "It's not like that."

Summer mussed her hair and wiped her face with her sleeve. She regretted it almost instantly when she remembered how much she'd paid for it. And that, right there, was why this unholy union had no chance of flourishing. Because she was still the same spoiled Newport brat she'd always been. Ryan had seen that three months ago when he'd christened her with the nickname Princess. They were too different. Their worlds were too far apart. Too much time had passed.

Well, this Princess had left Newport twice and was determined to stay away this time. "It doesn't matter. It's late, I'm tired and I need a place to stay. As soon as the sun comes up tomorrow, I'll be out of your hair."

"That's not..." Ryan shook his head. "Look, I didn't think you were coming back. It's been three months."

"I-I know." Summer concentrated on biting her lower lip instead of looking into his eyes.

"I thought maybe you'd gotten it all out of your system and had come to your senses, realized what kind of life you'd have if you came back." Ryan was steadily easing closer, almost close enough to feel the heat coming from his body.

She lifted her eyes and he was right there in front of her. Those big, blue eyes staring at her. And that smell. Motor oil, cigarettes and sweat, and underneath it all, soap. Ryan. She'd missed it. And now she remembered why she'd been pining away for him. Why she'd been so determined to come back here. "No, it wasn't that. I-I wanted to come sooner, but I was afraid... I thought maybe I was fooling myself."

Ryan seemed to accept that. He looked around.

Summer saw the curtains to the house across the street quickly close and a figure press back into the shadows.

Ryan fished around for his keys. "Should we go in?" Unlocking the door, he stepped aside and let her pass.

"Right," she scoffed as she walked by, "'cause we wouldn't want the neighbours to see me kick your ass."

Summer Roberts was angry and she was having no trouble expressing that anger. At least she was still the same. Still the girl trying to be tougher than she was. He really did admire that about her.

Ryan pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He searched his pants for his lighter and avoided Summer's eyes. "So, you're back," he said. He placed the cigarette in his mouth and lit it. It was all he could do to keep his hands busy. Touching her would be a very bad idea.

Summer crossed her arms under her breasts and cocked her hip. "I'm surprised you noticed,

what with the skank attached to your ear and all."

"Summer."

Summer rolled her eyes. "Spare me, Ryan."

She examined the room they were standing in. Ryan watched her. He didn't have a clue what she was thinking. The living room was empty save for a bunch of boxes. Paint cans and rollers sat on a tarp. There wasn't one piece of furniture in the room. Not a couch. Not even a lamp. Nothing.

"Okay, like, what happened to all the furniture?"

"Storage," he answered, blowing smoke out of the side of his mouth. "The, uh, the real-estate agent told me it would probably sell better if I did some work on it."

"Oh, yeah, I saw the sign. So...why are you selling it?" She bit her lip in that nervous way he remembered, and he knew she was feeling out of place, exposed.

And goddamn him, he wanted to kiss her. Was it possible for Summer to have gotten better looking in three months? She looked good. Sexy. The pants she wore outlined her ass in a way that made Ryan think she knew exactly what she was doing when she got dressed that morning. He shook his head. He wouldn't let himself be dragged into her life again. Into her problems. Because she was a walking problem. A way to complicate his simple life. "There's no reason to keep it and I can't keep busting my ass to make payments for a house that I'm barely in to begin with. Some people have to work for a living."

Summer's eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

"Well, it sounded like an underhanded dig at me." Her eyes were so dark and full of heat that Ryan had to look away. It was too easy to get caught up in her again.

Ryan smirked. "I was just stating a fact...Princess."

Summer cocked her hip and pressed her arms tighter around her torso. "Yeah? Well, here's another fact: I don't like you very much! What happened to you?"

"What happened to me?! What happened to you?"

Summer looked more than offended, murderous more likely. "What?! How dare you!"

"Look, Princess, I'm no good for you; I thought you would have figured that out by now. Why don't you go home to daddy."

Summer shook her head, looked at her shoes. "This isn't you."

"How would you know?" Ryan responded, frustrated.

"I guess I don't. It doesn't matter; tomorrow I'll find another place to stay."

They really didn't know each other. Not at all.

Looking at her, pouting expression and dangerously dark eyes, he had to wonder to himself why he hadn't gone looking for her himself. It really hadn't sunk in how much he had been pining away for her until she was right in front of him with her brazen little attitude in full bloom. And it wasn't until then that he realized how scared he was of his feelings.

Fuck! Why was he being such an ass?

Because it was easier.

It was easier if she hated him than the alternative. What did he know about rich girls and their needs? What did he know about relationships at all? Because that's what she wanted. She wanted him to be that person he was three months ago and he knew if she got to know him he'd only disappoint her.

Ryan smoked his cigarette and watched Summer; Summer shifted her weight and looked at the half-painted walls.

It was obvious that she was determined to stay in Chino, with his help or not. He knew she had no where else to go. He decided to take mercy on her. "You got any stuff?"

"Stuff?" she said, coming out of the trance that she'd settled into so she wouldn't have to look at him. "Oh yeah, my bags are in the car."

"I'll get them," Ryan offered. He could be civil for one night.

She hesitated. "Are you sure?"

"Wouldn't want Princess to break a nail now, would we?" His tone was just light enough to let her know that he was teasing; that he was trying.

She smiled. "No, we wouldn't, especially since I just had them done." Summer threw him the keys. Ryan caught them easily. "Everything's in the trunk."

"You can sleep in the room you had last time."

Summer nodded and turned to go.

Ryan stepped outside and threw his cigarette on the ground, stubbing it out with the toe of his boot. This was going to be interesting.

The beds had already been taken apart. He'd moved all of his Mother and brother's junk out of the house. And there was hardly anything in the fridge. Grocery shopping hadn't been high on his priority list. He got most of his meals at the little restaurant across the road from the shop. Sometimes Randy's wife would stop by with his lunch, and, knowing Ryan didn't have anyone around caring for him, would sometimes bring him in baked goods and sandwiches and tell him to make sure he ate because he was still growing. Ryan always humoured her because she was a good cook, and because he liked her. They'd both been really good to him. They made better parents in the year he'd known them than his own mother and father had his entire life.

Between night school and work, Ryan had barely been home. The only time he got to relax was when he was sleeping. On the weekends, he worked repairing little things around the house to make it more 'presentable' and 'appealing.' Ryan would have been resentful if he had the time to be.

And now he had Summer to worry about. As if he didn't have enough burdens on his plate. At least this burden looked good in a tank top.

He turned the keys in the lock and opened the trunk. Inside were two suitcases and some smaller bags. He hauled the larger suitcases out of the car and closed the trunk, bringing the bags into the house. Ryan set Summer's things in the middle of the living room and wiped his forehead. They weighed a ton.

Summer came out of the bathroom wearing baby doll pajamas a.k.a. practically nothing. Ryan had to force his jaw not to drop. He was not going to get to sleep tonight.

"Oh, good. I need my toothbrush," Summer said, walking into the living room. She bent down and unzipped one of the bags, rummaged around a minute and then produced a toothbrush in a pink plastic container. "Found it!"

Ryan nodded. His mouth was dry and his eyes wouldn't focus. He'd bet anything that she done that on purpose. Tease.

"Aren't you going to get ready for bed?" Somehow that question didn't seem innocent coming from Summer in her barely-there pajamas (if they could even be called that) and her sex eyes.

Ryan cleared his throat. "No. I have to paint."

"Now?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, okay. Goodnight." She smiled. It was soft and made her eyes darken and made Ryan hard.

"Night," he murmured, turning his back on her.

Ryan peeled his work shirt off and threw it on the floor. Grabbing one of the paint cans, he'd abandoned the day before, he poured some paint into a tray and took up a roller. At least this would take his mind off of everything. For now.

Summer had listened to Ryan working on the house almost the whole night. Picturing him in the next room, bare-chested, sweating and hard at work, did nothing to make falling asleep come any easier. She had to bite her lip to prevent herself from sneaking around the corner and taking a peek. It was the steady sound of paint slurping onto the wall that had finally lulled her to sleep.

She was thankful she had no where to be, no one to report to. Not that her father had been the militant type -half the time he had no clue where she was and vice versa, but still, it was good to be her own person, living on her own terms, even if that had been the case for only sixteen hours.

When she had dressed, she walked into the kitchen.

Summer yawned. "Morning."

Ryan was sitting on a chair with a mug of coffee. His hair was still wet from the shower. It hung in his eyes and dripped water down his cheeks and eventually his chest. In just a wife-beater and undone coveralls tied to his waist, Ryan personified sex.

"Hey," he said, standing.

Even his voice was sexy.

Summer took in a deep breath. That had certainly woken her up. As much as she wanted to hate Ryan, she just couldn't. Not when he looked like that.

She took another look around, for the first time noticing the strong smell of paint and turpentine. She turned up her nose.

Ryan leaned against the counter. "There's coffee. I, uh, don't really have anything to eat."

Summer nodded, filled a mug and took up the abandoned chair. "I've decided I'm not going back and I'd like to stay here if you'll let me."

"What?!" Ryan sputtered, close to choking.

Summer folded her legs and leaned back. She'd thought about it a lot last night. She took a long sip of coffee before she spoke again. "I don't know who that girl was last night and I realize I have no real claim on you, but you were good to me once and I'm hoping you'll let me stay here again until I can make it on my own."

It was clear Ryan was taken aback. "Yeah, no. Stay as long as you want. And that girl? She's no one. I mean, I haven't..." Ryan sighed. "I didn't think you were coming back."

Summer scoffed. She didn't mean to be so pissed, but it hurt and she couldn't pretend it didn't. "You don't have to explain anything to me."

Ryan ducked his head, sipping his coffee. "So your dad doesn't know you're here?"

Summer concentrated on her nails, the polish was a deep shade of red and perfect. Why couldn't everything be so beautiful?

Because the world was an ugly place, she thought.

She didn't want to talk about her father. Not with Ryan. Not with anyone. The hurt was still too fresh, too deep. "I'd rather not talk about that with you."

"I just thought-"

"I'm fine. I've got it covered...for a while, at least."

Ryan set his mug in the sink and turned on the tap. Returning to the side of the counter, he leaned against it and folded his arms across his chest. The muscles in his arms jumped. Summer had to force her eyes away.

"Running away isn't going to make things better. It only took him two days to find you last time. How long do you think it's going to take before the police are busting down my door?"

"They won't. I told my father I got accepted to this elite foreign exchange program. He thinks I'll be in France for an entire year. When he finally figures it out, he'll be so mad he won't care where I am." Summer didn't care how smug she sounded; she was proud of the lie she'd concocted.

Ryan scoffed. "You don't really believe that."

"It's true. You'll see." Her tone was sombre. She knew it as the truth even if Ryan couldn't see it. "Good thing he doesn't know french."

"Do you know french?"

"A little. Enough."

Looking into his eyes, she remembered the night she'd sobbed all over him while she spoke of her crummy life and realized how stupid and selfish she must have seemed compared to him and his real problems. 'Wah, her daddy didn't love her.' But at least he provided for her. At least he gave her a home and food and clothes. That was more than Ryan's parents were giving him. That was more than a lot of people had.

Things had been so easy before. Of course that may have had to do with the fact that Summer had been distressed and Ryan had come to her rescue. Now, with all things being equal, everything was more difficult, complicated. If she was honest with herself, she'd allow Ryan to hold her again like he had three months ago. And this time, she might ask him to never let go. But Ryan was already picking up his jacket and not looking at her anymore. He was out the door and off to work. And she was doing nothing but watching him walk away. Ryan had moved on.