This is rated R. This is the last chapter so thank you everyone for your reviews.
Chapter 13
Summer had clothes back at the house she could slip into before people started to arrive but Ryan needed a sports jacket. He didn't own anything acceptable to attend a funeral in--even if it wasn't a real funeral--especially a funeral in Newport where every action was scrutinized.
"Summer?"
"In here." Ryan followed the sound of her voice into a large bedroom. Summer was sitting on the bed clutching an article of clothing. "Hey," she said.
"Hey." He sat down next to her and touched her back. He'd been tongue-tied and nervous the whole day. He wasn't sure what he could say that would comfort Summer. In his heart, he knew nothing could.
"This was their room. I haven't been in here since I was, like, five. It's changed a lot," she said, looking around the room. Ryan watched her. After a minute Summer shook her head and stood. "Here, this should fit you." She handed him a suit jacket and made to walk out the door.
Ryan grabbed a hold of her arm. "Hey, are you sure you're up to this?"
They both looked up at the sound of the doorbell. People were arriving and more would follow. "I have to be, don't I? Don't worry about me; I'm used to these people."
Ryan brought his hand to the side of her face, moving the hair out of her eyes. "I don't care about these people, Summer, I care about you."
Summer smiled. It was fake and watery. Ryan's chest constricted. "I'm fine. Now, put that on and come downstairs."
"Summer."
Breaking away from his grasp, Summer looked him in their eye. "What am I supposed to do, Ryan?"
"You don't have to do anything you don't want to."
"I wish that was true." Her voice was full of sorrow. Ryan stood motionless, watching as she exited the room.
Summer hated herself for playing her role as the 'good daughter.' So many times in the past she'd strolled into parties and acted as if her family was a happy cohesive group, if only to drum up more business for her father, or to make her step-mother look good in front of her Newpsie consorts. And now she was doing it one last time. Playing the dutiful daughter while everyone looked at her and believed the lies they had been perpetuated throughout the years.
Summer squeezed between the mourners to the spread of food. She couldn't remember the last time she ate. It was probably before Shirley had delivered the devastating news. It was definitely before the casserole gesture. Looking at the appetizers didn't increase her hunger, but she knew she had to eat. Picking up a sandwich, she held it to her mouth and forced herself to take a bite. The bread was stale. It scraped the skin off the roof of her mouth as she chewed. She couldn't even taste anything.
If she heard one more story...one more lame joke or false condolence... Summer was going to scream from the top of her lungs. She had to escape. Retreating to her room might have seemed like the coward's way out, but she couldn't pretend any longer. She couldn't face these people anymore.
It had yet to sink in. Her father and step-mother were dead. Dead. That meant she had no living parents. No relatives. No one.
Slipping up the stairs unnoticed was easy. Everyone was too busy gossiping to notice her retreat.
Inside the sanctity of her room, her stomach churned. She was going to be sick. Running to the bathroom, she got down on her knees and braced herself against the toilet bowl. Dry heaves wracked her body and made her stomach pull tight. The tears running down her cheeks were the only thing making a splash in the toilet water.
Everything in her body hurt. Pulsing, pin drops of pain, that faded and came back worse than before, paralysed her. It was the worst pain in the world. And she knew she was making it happen. It wasn't real. There was nothing wrong with her, but the stress bore down on her like a heavy fist and released itself within her immune system. The word alone wrapped around her brain and squeezed until it was all she felt. Blackness threatened to overwhelm her and she fought against it. She was reminded of a poem, by Dylan Thomas, they'd read in English class last week. Do not go gentle into that goodnight. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
When she'd shed all her tears, Summer pulled herself up and stared at herself in the mirror. She was angry, confused, resentful and in mourning. But she was alive.
Shaky legs walked her back into her bedroom where she let herself fall on top of her comforter and grip the soft material in her fists.
The minutes ticked by and later-though, she was uncertain how much time had passed- Ryan entered her room looking just as tired as she felt. He mounted the bed and wrapped his body around hers, hugging her into his chest. "You okay?"
"No." It was the only word she could manage. She wasn't okay. She might not ever be okay again.
He kissed her neck and squeezed her hand. "Talk to me."
"I don't know what to say. All these people are here for my parents and I don't know anyone." She turned in his arms so she could look him in the eye. "And, all of this... It's all mine. All of it. The house. The cars. The money. It's all mine and I don't want any of it. I just wanted to be important, to matter."
Ryan rubbed circles on her back, holding her so close she could hear his heartbeat.
"Ryan?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you think he loved me, even just a little?"
Ryan didn't hesitate. "Of course he did."
Summer thought about it. It had to be the truth. She had to believe in something now. A moment ago she'd felt so lost. And now... Well, Ryan had found her, hadn't he? "I'm so tired of being alone, Ryan."
"You're not anymore"
Salty tears were running down her cheek. She could taste them in her mouth, but she was too tired to brush them away. She was just so fucking tired. "I know. I know that, I do. I'm just tired. Aren't you? I don't want to pretend anymore. Let's just send everyone away and lay in bed and just hold each other."
"I'll go tell everyone to get lost."
Summer pulled back and looked him in the eye. "You will?"
Ryan smiled softly. "Yeah."
Summer nodded. It didn't matter what people would think anymore. She just wanted everyone to go away, except for Ryan. She wanted to keep him close. "Okay, okay. I'll stay here."
Ryan sucked up his pride. He'd have to do a little schmoozing to get rid of the crowd. Be falsely polite. That tended to be the trick with these people. He made the rounds, asking individuals to please see themselves out. It was taking its toll. Desperate women insisted on clinging to him with fake concern in their eyes for Summer, and men in expensive suits kept slipping him their business cards. 'That poor girl. Is she your girlfriend?' 'Invest wisely. Give me a call if you need advice.' Ryan got sick of it and decided that polite had never been a word he particularly liked, much less abided by. These people didn't give a damn about Summer. Sick of the hypocrisy, he insisted the people that continued to doddle should put down their drinks and get out of the house before he got irritated with them and did something he didn't want to. It was an idle threat, but it cleared the room and freed him up to go back to Summer.
She was still curled up on the bed when he came back to her room. The blankness hadn't left her eyes. Ryan was starting to get worried.
"Everyone's gone," he whispered as he got on the bed with her.
"Really?"
She sounded distant. It frightened him.
"It's just you and me." Ryan wanted to help. He needed to help. If she were an engine he could look through one of the manuals Randy kept around the shop and figure out what to tweak to solve the problem. But Summer wasn't an engine and he didn't know how to fix her.
"Thank you," she said.
There were tears in her eyes. Ryan brushed one off her temple as it fell. Running his fingers through her hair, he attempted to comfort her. "Have you figured out what you want to do yet?"
Summer closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them again, there was life and fire shining through the blackness. "Sell everything. Give it away to charity. Rent it out. I don't know. Do I really have to think about it? I just want... I need you."
With a comforting smile, Ryan pulled her closer. In that moment, she looked so tragically beautiful. It didn't scare him anymore that he would do anything for her. He'd do anything to get that broken look out of her eyes. "I'm here."
Her eyes fluttered to his lips, then back to his eyes. "No, I really need you. I-I want..." Her tiny hand landed on the buckle of his belt and Ryan knew what it was she was trying to say.
Together they peeled off her clothes and then his, until they were both naked on the bed she'd slept in since childhood. It was awkward. It felt like it was the first time he'd touched her. He wasn't sure where to start.
Obliging her should have been easy. But she was operating out of a sense of urgency and desperation. She was working through her grief, trying to figure out the preciousness of life through him, with him. And he wasn't sure he could do and say all the right things. There was so much of her he wanted to touch and taste, but there didn't seem to be time. What she wanted was to feel secure and safe, to feel connected. And maybe he needed that too. Because for the first time in both their lives they had someone that mattered; someone that chose to see and accept them for what they were.
He skimmed his fingers over her back, slowly moving over the curve of her hip until they were pressing against her thighs, encouraging her to open her legs. She was already wet when he finally touched her. Summer closed her eyes, pulling her lip inside her mouth. Wiggling against the pressure of his hand, Ryan didn't need to do much before her breath was unsteady and her hips were rocking, riding his fingers. A moan broke free of her throat and she came against his hand, her shuddering breaths fillings the silence.
Her eyes were black with desire when she opened them. She released her lip and Ryan could see bite marks swelling where her teeth had been. Throwing her leg over both of his, Summer straddled him. The response was instant. He wanted her and he was sure she could feel him hard against her, but she didn't move. At length, she stroked the hair from his face, touching his temples lightly and just staring at him.
When her eyes finally left him, she let her mouth find his nipples, first one and then the other. Heat spread though his body from her warm mouth, her hot tongue and her vicious teeth. Ryan let her set the pace. Which, later, he would regret. Because Summer knew exactly how to tease him; how to work him into a frenzy. She rocked against him. The small movement sent tremors through his body. Summer smirked, lifting herself so they weren't in such intimate contact. Her hand played with his cock, working it from root to tip with excruciating slowness. She was killing him and she knew it.
Kneeling above him again, she slowly lowered herself onto his shaft only to stop and catch his eye. She rubbed herself against the head of his cock, ever so slowly, gyrating her hips. It felt like his entire body was burning. Again, she lowered herself, only to rise up, grazing his flesh as he hissed, and then sliding back down, tightening her muscles around his throbbing erection. Sliding her fingers across her chest, she let them linger on her breasts before bringing them down between her legs as she touched herself. It was a sight that left his mouth dry, and, if possible, made his cock even harder. Something primal roared in Ryan. If he didn't have her soon...
Eyes closed in concentration, Summer bit her lip again and arched her back, pulling him deeper inside. All the way inside this time. She was so tight, wet, and hot, gripping his cock like a vice. Moans and sighs fell from her lips as she sought her release, trying to drag him with her.
His control slipping, Ryan found her hips with his hands and pulled her down sharply, making them both moan. His hips thrust upward as she bucked above him, her breasts bouncing. Moving his hands from her hips, he filled one hand with one of her breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers and found her clit with his other hand.
Her head snapped back, her hips grinding into him at an excruciating pace. "Fuck, Ryan..."
He flipped them over. It was all the incentive he needed. He was too close to the edge to keep going the way they were. If he came first, he was afraid that she would forsake her own release. He had to get her off first.
Kissing her hard, his slipped his tongue into her mouth and felt the need and heat bleed into him. He absorbed the sorrow on her tongue, trying to banish it away. Pressing kisses anywhere his mouth could find, Ryan thrust inside her, pushing deep and fast, bringing Summer closer to orgasm while trying to delay his own. He could feel her tightening around him. "That's it," he whispered raggedly against her ear, encouraging her. Her hips raised off the bed, and her hands found his shoulders...back...ass. Wrapping her legs around his legs, her feet pressing against his calves, she brought him in deeper still. He could hear the hitch in her breath, knew she was right there. Jerkily, she convulsed around him, dredging out his own climax a second later.
It had been quick and clumsy, but he knew it was what she had needed.
Summer had been petting the back of his head when he rolled them over and settled underneath her, but now her hand had stilled and her breathing had evened out. Feeling wetness on his chest, Ryan raised his head to try to look at Summer. What he saw confused him. She was...crying? "Summer?"
"I'm sorry."
He gently rolled her over so he could look at her, propping his head up with his arm. "Hey, hey. What are you sorry for?"
Summer brushed the tears off her face and turned her head. "The sad sex."
"The what?"
Summer sighed. "The way I keep making you have sex with me because I'm so sad and it makes me feel alive. You know, Sad sex."
Ryan laughed. He couldn't help it. Not even the indignant look on her face could stop the smile on his face. "Making me have sex with you? That's not what happened here," he assured her, shaking his head, a last chuckle escaping his throat. "I'll take any kind of sex I can get. Even sad sex. Okay?"
She looked at him shyly through her eyelashes. "Really?"
"We can do it again if you want? Right now. Come on." Ryan grabbed her hips and pressed her body flush with his so she could feel just how serious he was.
"Stop it!" she squealed. "You're seriously not upset?"
"No." He leaned forward and captured her lips, kissing her slow. Pulling away he watched Summer lean against her elbow, supporting her head with her hand, mimicking his pose.
Her eyes were serious again. The last remnants of mirth faded.
"Remember last time you promised me you'd be there when I ran away again?"
"Mmm-hmm."
"Make me another promise, Ryan."
Ryan smiled and warmth flooded into her stomach. "Okay, if I can," he said, drowsily.
"No, you have to! You have to do this."
Ryan's eyes were wide and she could tell she had his full attention. "Okay. Okay, what?"
"We fight, right? We fight and we get upset at each other because it matters; because some things are just worth it, right? But we don't mean it, do we? We don't ever mean the things we say, not really." She wasn't making sense and she knew it, but she couldn't stop the torrent of words that slipped from her mouth. She needed him to understand something she didn't even quite get.
"Summer, you're losing me."
Summer took his hand. "Promise me, Ryan. Promise me that when we're very old and I've lost my looks and gotten fat and you've gone bald, promise me we'll still fight."
Summer dreamed that fighting would keep their love alive. She dreamed of these fights and of the love they explored and exploited; furious love interwoven with deep, aching passion that could only be controlled by these fights, all-out screaming matches, without fear and regret. A love that burned like iodine. Love that accepted everything, spread and healed itself. Honest love. Love they would fight for because it mattered.
Ryan's brows crinkled in confusion. "What?!"
Summer dropped his hand and brought her hand to his face, smoothing out the lines on his forehead. He relaxed instantly. "Don't shut down on me like you sometimes do; the silence would kill me. I mean, I know we're young and we don't know what's going to happen-" Summer stopped, collected herself. A future without Ryan was almost too painful to think about. "I just feel like we'll be together, like somehow we'll make it--" She was well aware that she was just rambling now and half the things coming out of her mouth weren't making sense. "That's not the point, though. The point is: you have to promise me, whether we're here or in Chino or anywhere else, promise me we'll always fight and you'll let me smash things and call you names I don't mean and be loud and you'll tell me I'm being a spoiled Princess and you'll tease me about it later, but we'll never mean it and we'll both know it... and then we'll make up all night until neither one of us can move. Promise me we'll always fight like that."
"Summer."
She was adamant about this. It was what her parents lacked all their life: a reason to fight. Her life had been filled with too many silences. And she didn't want that for her future. It wasn't that she wanted to fight with Ryan because she didn't. She just wanted the potential for things to be important enough to fight for. Because once a person stopped fighting, they gave up. And she didn't ever want to give up on her love for Ryan. "Promise me, Ryan."
Ryan was silent for a long time and then he smiled. "You're not going to shut up until you get your way, are you?"
"Nope. I'm a Princess; it's what we do," she said, half sniffling, half laughing.
Ryan leaning in, pressing his lips against hers and then pulled away. "Okay, I promise."
The future was a giant haze, but one thing was clear. They weren't running anymore. They'd found their home in each other. Whatever they did, it would be together. Always. Forever.
End.
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