Chapter 6

During class Ryan could barely concentrate and was more than thankful for the fifteen minute break the teacher allowed them after the first hour of lessons. Smoking a cigarette, Ryan found a payphone and fished a quarter out of his pocket. As much as Summer seemed okay with being on her own, he knew that it was sometimes difficult to be alone in a unfamiliar environment. And that Summer, being the tough girl that she was, would never admit to being afraid. Not knowing the phone number by heart yet, Ryan pulled a paper from his wallet where Summer had written the number in her neat scrawl and dialled. It took three rings before someone picked up.

"'ello?" Summer answered, out of breath.

"Hey, it's me."

"Ryan? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. Everything okay with you?"

"Are you checking up on me?" He could hear the smile in her voice.

"No, I just..." Ryan fought the blush that tinted his cheeks. He rolled his eyes. God, what was she doing to him? "Yeah, I guess."

"Well, I'm okay, so stop worrying."

Ryan leaned his shoulder against the wall. "What were you doing? You sounded out of breath when you answered."

"I thought I'd unpack some of your stuff," she said.

"You don't have to do that." And she didn't have to do that for him. It was his responsibility. It wasn't her crap cluttering up the place.

"I know; I wanted to."

That surprised him. "Oh."

"I found a photo album," she said. There was a uncertainty in her voice.

Ryan straightened. "Oh, yeah?"

"Is it okay that I looked through it?"

"Yeah, it's fine." He took another drag off his cigarette.

"Maybe when you get home we can look at it together."

Ryan felt a tug at his heart. Home. "Yeah," he said, his grin widening. "Yeah, that'd be okay. Look, I gotta go. See ya when I get back?"

"Okay," Summer said, distracted. "Bye."

Hanging up, Ryan butted out his cigarette and followed one of the students--who'd been on the stairs sipping a soda--into the classroom.

It was past ten before Ryan got home. He used his key to open the front door when Summer didn't answer his light knock. For a second panic flooded him. The chain was off the door and there were papers, boxes and a bunch of his crap all over the place.

Then, he saw her, right in the middle of the mess, lying on the floor, photo album under her arm.

Summer was out cold.

In the kitchen, Ryan set his books on the counter. The smell of charred food hung in the air. He lifted the corner on the covered plate Summer had left out for him. It was cold and indistinguishable. Deciding that he wasn't all that hungry anyway, Ryan picked it up and placed it in their near-empty refrigerator.

Walking a few steps to the living room, he stood next to Summer. Stepping over to her, Ryan got down on his haunches and tapped her shoulder. She made small murmuring noises, but didn't wake. He looked at her body. She was curled up; her tan, smooth legs barely covered in a pair of shorts; her midriff was bared, the thin material of her tank top barely concealing her breasts; her collarbone and neck were lightly speckled with sweat, making her glow in the lamplight; her cheeks were slightly flushed from the heat and her hair was loose and tangled and slightly damp. She certainly made a picture. God, she looked so small. Ryan took in a deep breath, he knew that day at the bar that she was going to turn his world upside down, he just hadn't known that he'd be thankful for it months later. Moving one hand under her neck and the other under her knees, Ryan lifted her with ease into his arms. Her head lolled onto his shoulder, her arms automatically circling his neck.

He carried her into the bedroom and set her down on the mattress. She protested in her sleep and clung to him tighter. Ryan gently eased her hands from around his neck and pulled the thin sheet over her. Summer shifted and sighed. Ryan watched her for a minute before he caught himself. Sure she was asleep, he bent down and laid a soft kiss on her forehead, knowing she wouldn't remember in the morning. This was nothing like putting his mother to bed after one of her binges.

Summer looked so innocent and sweet and entirely too good for him.

"Night, Princess," he whispered.

Ryan grabbed a pillow from the bed, he shut off the light and closed the door behind him. He made his way to the living room where he settled himself on the couch. The air was hot and stuffy. There was no way he was going to be able to sleep in his clothes. Standing, Ryan pulled off his t-shirt and stripped his jeans, leaving him in a wife-beater and boxer shorts. He opened the window a crack and let the night breeze flood over him.

Sleep refused to come to Ryan. The photo albums sat in the middle of the room, taunting him. Sitting up, he turned on a lamp, stretched out and grabbed one of the books. Ryan thumbed the side of the album. The cover was faded and the edges were starting to peel. Opening the book, he saw his ten-year-old face looking back at him. It was a school picture. The kind with the horrible blue backdrop and washed-out lighting. There was no gap-toothed smile or shining eyes, or even a mischievous smirk on his face, just a full-on stare at the camera with no emotion.

Flipping the page, he saw more of the same. A few pages later, there were some pictures with his brother, a picture of his father and mother, one of the house in Fresno and some of his cousins. In all of them, though, he couldn't find one picture when he was genuinely smiling. Times were tough back then. They were always poor, but they managed. They'd had some good times, maybe not that many, but enough.

The footsteps were light and slow, barefooted tiptoeing. Ryan looked up. Summer was standing in the hall, leaning against the archway, watching him.

"Hey."

"Hi," she said, her voice thick with sleep. "Did you carry me to bed?"

Ryan nodded.

"Thanks." She came fully into the room, scooting beside him on the couch. Ryan closed the book, but Summer took it from his hands and opened it.

He looked at the picture again.

"You don't look very happy," Summer said, yawning and letting her head fall against his shoulder.

Ryan closed the book, set it on the floor and gave it a gentle kick. "It's a school picture."

Summer rested one hand on his thigh, the other rubbed down his back. "In any of them. You don't look very happy in any of them."

He looked at her, caught her eye and tried to smile. "There wasn't a lot to be happy about, I guess."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Why did women always ask men that? Hell no, he didn't want to talk about it. He'd rather be put through Chinese water torture than talk about it. It was in the past and talking about it was not going to change anything.

"No," he said and settled back against the couch. He took her hand in his and examined it. "You've got tiny hands."

"Trying to change the subject?" she teased.

"Yeah, is it working?"

Summer settled back, fitting perfectly against his shoulder and chest. "Fine, you don't want to talk about it and I respect that, but if you ever want to-"

"You're the one to talk to. Got it." The air crackled with tension until Ryan broke it. "Thanks for unpacking my stuff and cleaning up."

"Thanks for not yelling at me for going through all your stuff."

"It's just stuff."

"Yeah, but some of it was pretty personal. You know, like your box full of porn," Summer teased, testing him.

"Hmm, I was looking for that."

Summer hit him with a cushion. "Ass!"

Ryan smiled and closed his eyes, putting his arm around Summer and bringing her closer.

After a minute, Summer spoke up. "This is nice."

Ryan nodded, his chin catching the softness of her hair.

"So, I was thinking..."

"About?" Ryan said, drained.

"About this whole friends/roommates thing..."

"What about it?"

"I was thinking it was a dumb idea."

Ryan opened his eyes. He looked down at her. She was staring at him. It was barely light enough in the room to see her face and her eyes were so dark it made it hard to believe her. Something had changed. Though, he wasn't sure what.

He knew they would end up here sooner or later. And the decision to take things further would rest on him. It didn't help that he was so weak when it came to her, especially when she was wearing so little clothing. Maybe she knew that. Maybe she used that to her advantage. Because she knew he would never turn her down. Only he had, hadn't he? Because she was still sixteen and with the innocence of someone half her age.

Summer didn't wait for a response. She reached over, stroked his face, and then angled his head down to hers. Her mouth was hot, sharp and not so innocent anymore.

He kissed her back, seeking her mouth with his tongue. Holding onto him, she let him lead them. Let him have control. She shouldn't have. It was too much. Not enough. Too fast. Too slow. Working his hands, under and up her shirt, Ryan layed her back on the couch. His hands filled themselves with her breasts, her nipples hardening against his palm.

Wiggling under him, Summer took his thigh between her legs. Rubbing against him, she stopped kissing long enough to gasp. It was torture. He needed to pull away. But all he could think about was three months. Three fucking months!

Her little hands worked his undershirt up and over his head. His bare skin touched her stomach and she shivered in his arms.

It was so wrong. She trusted him. Expected him to know when to stop. Expected him to stop.

She was killing him.

"Summer?"

"Don't stop."

Ryan sighed. Fuck! Why did she have to say things like that? And why the hell was he stopping?

Because it was the right thing to do, his conscience told him. She wasn't ready for this.

Pulling away and sitting up, Ryan ran a hand through his hair. "I just... I don't know why I can't, but I can't."

Summer closed her eyes. Ryan braced himself. He wasn't sure he could handle crying. And he was too tired to fight. And too horny to let his morals get in the way if she gave even the slightest indication that she really wanted this.

Summer sat up. Ryan moved to accommodate her. Letting her feet find the ground, she stood. Straightening out her clothes, she turned to look at him. "Well, come on. If you're not going to de-virginize me, we might as well go to sleep. This couch is lumpy."

Stunned. Ryan was completely and utterly stunned. "De-virginize?"

Summer smiled faintly. "What, it's probably a word!"

Ryan was still in shock. That was it? She wasn't going to get upset? She wasn't going to make him feel guilty? "That's not- forget it."

"I promise not to molest you in your sleep. Cross my heart," she said, motioning an X over her left breast. She held out her hand, waiting for him to come with her.

Ryan shook his head and took her hand, standing and letting her lead them into the bedroom.