Rating: heavy PG-13 for language and heavy sexual innuendo.
Feedback: Greatly appreciated. I won't withhold writing for feedback, but it certainly makes it feel more worthwhile. I'd love to hear anything, a sentence you liked, a piece of the story, your general thoughts. Anything.
Author's Notes: The title and poetry are from the poem The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Elliot. This may be my favorite passage, because it fits the chapter so well. Here's the long promised Seth appearance — I hope you enjoy it!
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Chapter 9: Soaked
I am no prophet--and here's no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.
And would it have been worth it, after all
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Saturday, September 7th, 2002:
It was going to be one of those rare rainy days. Summer could see it already. The grass and houses were still brightly lit as if by sunlight, but the sky was already an angry, bruised blue, shot with threads of grey light. The neighborhood felt like a sound stage, quiet and still, as if waiting for direction. In a few hours the palm tree leaves would be flipped sideways in the wind, and the whole of Newport would be fully soaked in the downpour.
Summer shivered and crossed her arms, wishing she'd thought to bring a jean jacket. It had been so gorgeous yesterday.
Okay, Mom, I heard you! Marissa charged out the front door and let it slam behind her. She hurried down the steps towards Summer, her ponytail swinging with the force of her angry stride.
Everything okay, Coop? Summer asked, her gaze on the gathering clouds.
I don't know, she's being a total bitch. Marissa crossed her arms in an impatient stance, foot tapping. She shrugged violently, an affected gesture. Whatever. She hates me no matter what I do.
Summer resisted the urge to inform Marissa that Julie didn't hate her, that it was Marissa who was being so difficult. That was the surest way to piss Marissa off. Instead she opened her purse to check for her cell phone. You want me to call Celeste? She could drive us.
No, she said she was coming. Marissa glanced behind her. She just has to drop Kaitlin at her riding lesson on the way. And stupid Kaitlin's taking forever.
Okay, we'll wait. Summer wasn't in any rush; she had the whole day. It was the first Saturday of the school year, and she was happy she'd decided on easy classes this year because she had absolutely no homework yet.
It barely even felt like the school year had started. She'd slept over at Marissa's the night before, and now they were going to the mall for a whole day of shopping before the party tonight. It was going to be the first big party of sophomore year; Greg's parents were going out of town, and he'd invited practically the entire grade. Summer and Marissa both were expected to be there.
And they were expected to look good. Summer glanced down at her casual tan capris and baby blue t-shirt: they were cute, but not party material. I need a new skirt, she announced, settling her sunglasses on her nose. The strange pre-storm brightness hurt her eyes.
You've got a million skirts.
I know, but I need something new. Summer tried to sound casual. You know, it's a new year. A new me. I want something...flirty.
Marissa shot her an appraising look. She never missed a trick. This wouldn't have anything to do with Greg Bliss's personal invitation to his party, would it?
Ew, of course not! Summer planted her hands on her hips. That is so over, Coop, and you know it! I'm completely over him.
If you say so. Marissa looked like she was fighting a smile, which only made Summer angry. But, you've been pret-ty excited about this party since you talked to him yesterday.
I'm excited about the party, not Greg. Summer lifted her hair off the back of her neck, heaving a dramatic sigh. Ugh, it's so humid today! She fanned at her face a little, not meeting Marissa's eyes. The truth was, she had been flattered when Greg had sought her out after homeroom yesterday. She'd spent all of last year being furious with him, but she just couldn't say no to those wide blue eyes. Especially when she knew that he'd dumped Marcy last June, and had spent the summer single and with his grandparents in Nantucket.
She glanced to her left, away from Marissa, just in time to see an tall teenage guy skateboard into the driveway next-door and pause at the bottom to pick up the newspaper. He was angular and dark haired, with jeans that hung so low on his narrow hips that she could see the edge of his boxers. She pulled off her sunglasses with one hand, watching as he paused to flip through the paper, and nudged Marissa hard with her elbow.
Marissa complained.
You never told me you got a new neighbor! Summer said.
What are you talking about? Marissa looked perplexed as she followed Summer's gaze, then choked back a laugh and grabbed Summer's arm. Omigod, Summer, no! That's Seth Cohen!
Summer cried. Her voice carried farther than she meant and the guy turned around. Sure enough, now that he was facing her she recognized him: that lopsided mouth of braces, the upturned nose, the strangely short haircut. she wailed quietly, whipping around and trying to pretend she hadn't been looking at him. Did he see me?
Kind of, Marissa said through her smile. She waved. Hi, Seth! How are you?!
Summer dared a peek over her shoulder. Seth opened his mouth to say something, spotted her, and settled for trying to wave, grin, and look cool all at once. Embarrassed and flustered, he tripped as he started back up the driveway and half stumbled out of sight, behind the tall bushes between the two houses.
After a minute the front door slammed shut. The two girls waited, holding their breath in the silence after his exit. Then they burst into hysterical giggles. Every time! Marissa gasped, holding onto Summer for support. He can't ever say hi' without almost injuring himself!
I didn't recognize him! Summer covered her face, laughing into her hands. You can't tell anybody! Promise me, Coop!
Marissa asked innocently. She affected a high pitched, breathy voice. Who is that? Marissa, you have to introduce me to that guy or I'll just die! He's so handsome! She fluttered her lashes at Summer.
Stop it! Summer begged, giggling. She swatted at Marissa's shoulder. I had no idea who it was!
Okay, okay, Marissa was clearly struggling to keep a straight face. She slung an arm around Summer's shoulders. You know, in your defense he did grow, like, a foot over the summer.
Summer agreed, anxious for any excuse she could find. Didn't he used to be really short?
Yeah, he finally grew. Marissa nodded thoughtfully, and there was a brief silence. Then she snorted. I can't believe you just checked out Seth Cohen!
I did not! Summer pulled out from under Marissa's arm. I was not checking him out! I just asked who it was! Ew! She made a disgusted face. I feel like a need to go take a shower or something!
Hey, it's not that bad, Marissa said, her eyes sparkling. His acne's a lot better lately!
I hate you, Summer told her calmly.
Aw, you know you love me.
That's true. Summer put her sunglasses back on and smiled up at Marissa. But I try not to. Marissa stuck her tongue out and they both laughed again. Summer felt herself relaxing.
She just couldn't believe she hadn't recognized Seth Cohen. Admittedly, she hadn't had a class with him in a few years. He was in the smart classes, with people like Marissa and Luke. In fact, she didn't think she'd even had a conversation with him since elementary school. Which was probably a good thing, given the stories. Seth Cohen was the kind of kid who interrupted teachers to correct them, who actually told substitutes the truth about the lesson plan instead of letting the class get away with a study. Summer hated kids like that. Luckily there weren't very many of them in the dumb classes with her.
Okay, girls, I think we're finally ready. Julie exited the house, dragging a whining Kaitlin along by one hand. They climbed into the car, Marissa and Summer in the back seat. They hadn't even driven a block when Marissa and Kaitlin were arguing about whether or not Kaitlin could listen to Britney Spears.
After years of practice, Summer knew how to tune them out. It wasn't a car ride with the Coopers without the two of them squabbling. She settled her purse into her lap and focused on the outfit she wanted to buy. It was amazing how easily thoughts of a new outfit spun into imagining the party that evening, and from that to daydreams about Greg. Daydreams she wouldn't even admit to herself.
White cotton miniskirt, scarlet halter top. Hair pulled into a high ponytail, the loose strands around her face curling slightly in the humidity. Summer pulled a little at the hem of her shirt, loving the way the stretchy fabric clung to her every curve, then dropped her hands self-consciously to her skirt. All colored underwear had shown through and she hadn't been able to find her one white thong, so she was going commando.
It felt scandalous. She felt scandalous. And she loved it.
On the way back from the mall she'd made up an extended story about needing to talk to Daddy before going out for the evening, so Marissa and Luke were going to pick her up in a half hour. It was a blatant lie: he was out of town. The truth was, she'd just wanted to get dressed in private, so Marissa couldn't tease her about Greg anymore. Summer hated being obvious, but she really wanted to look good tonight. She wanted Greg to notice her tonight.
It was weird; she hadn't felt this giddy about Greg since the seventh grade. She'd spent a year listing off every reason why he sucked, trying to convince herself that he didn't deserve her. And she'd thought it had worked. But that smile from him yesterday had made her feel good about herself in a way she barely remembered. She hadn't even realized that feeling was missing until she had it back.
7:10. Just enough time to go raid the liquor cabinet. She really needed some vodka, as soon as possible. Especially if she wanted anything to happen with Greg tonight. Alcohol had been one of the terrific discoveries of freshman year. It was amazing how much easier parties were with alcohol. Even Marissa was able to cut loose when she drank, and her nosy, judgmental tendencies diminished with intoxication. Hurrying downstairs in her high-heeled sandals, Summer made a mental note to ply Marissa with a fair amount of liquor tonight.
It was a good thing that Daddy never thought to lock the liquor cabinet, and kept it well stocked. Sixth months of sneaky testing had proved that he never noticed if Summer took anything. Sometimes, she wished he would notice, would yell at her the way her friend's parents did when they got caught drinking. But tonight she was planning on making good use of her freedom.
Unfortunately, someone else had gotten there first. Celeste was standing at the counter, pouring rum into a glass with shaking hands. She whipped around when Summer entered the kitchen, sloshing a bit of the liquid onto the floor. She looked worse than Summer could ever remember seeing her: mascara smudged, blond hair hanging limp around her face. Her old pink dressing gown was belted loosely and had a bleach stain on the front. She looked Summer up and down, for once not bothering to hide her obvious dislike.
Do you know, Celeste asked slowly, her voice strained, where your father is?
Summer shrugged. He's at a conference. That was the standard lie; it had been for years. She knew Daddy had a new woman. She knew the signs. The late nights, the frequent his constant distraction even when he was around. Summer knew he'd been cheating for a few months now, but she hadn't bothered to say anything.
Celeste lifted her glass and downed most of the rum, then set it down on the counter so vehemently that Summer flinched. He's fucking some nineteen year old whore whose boobs he did a month ago. She held Summer's gaze. And you know it too. Don't you?
Summer stared back coldly, not giving an inch. She'd always hated Daddy's affairs, but when it came down to question of loyalty, she owed nothing to Celeste. Nothing.
Celeste drew in a sharp breath. she picked up her glass, feel smug now, because you'll be in the same place soon enough.
Summer crossed her arms. Oh yeah?
Celeste swirled the contents of her glass a little, drained it and set it down in the sink. Yes, sweetheart. This is what happens to girls like us. She crossed over to the cabinets and removed a bottle of pills, her voice getting more shrill as she went. Sure, you're hot shit now, and guys fall over themselves for you, they tell you you're beautiful, and you can get anything you want! But do you know what?!
Summer snapped.
Beauty. Doesn't. Last. Celeste swallowed the pills, then pointed to Summer with one manicured finger. Guys say they love you, but only until someone younger and better comes along. And then you have nothing.
Not if a guy actually loves you, Summer retorted. She hadn't meant to answer, but she wanted to sting Celeste, to prove her wrong.
Oh, honey, don't fool yourself. Celeste's tone dripped with condescension. Girls like you and me are nothing without our looks. We're decoration.
Summer felt her steely resolve slipping. That's not true!
Oh, I'm not trying to upset you! Now it was Celeste's turn to be smug. I'm just telling you the truth. And the sooner you realize it, the better off you'll be.
A car horn honked outside.
That's my ride, Summer said stiffly. She spun on her heel and left the kitchen, saved from having to argue, or worse, fight back tears in front of Celeste.
Three hours and several shots of vodka later, the conversation with Celeste didn't sting so much. Summer wove her way through the party, letting the bass beat of the music pulse through her veins. This was why she loved parties. She could just get lost in the crowd, in the noise, and no one noticed her unless she wanted them to.
She hadn't seen Greg in over an hour. He'd been down in the basement before, standing near her while they watched a beer-pong game, but he'd left before Marc had won. Summer scanned the room, taking in the stoners draped over the couch, the skanky freshman girls dancing by the speakers, the soccer guys throwing taco chips at each other by the stairs. The crowded, sweat-soaked scene reminded her vaguely of a party in her own house, years ago, but she shook off the memory. A cluster of her own friends by the windows caught her eye, and she pushed her way through.
Hey, what are we talking about? she asked loudly, slipping in between Ashley and Marissa. Don't tell me you're leaving me out of the gossip!
We're watching Derek, Ashley confided.
Summer craned her neck to search for Derek. He was standing with Luke and Peter by the keg, laughing.
Don't look! Rose commanded.
We're trying to figure out if he's cheating on Aimee. Holly offered quickly, before she was shushed by several girls.
Why do we think that? Summer asked, stealing a sip of beer from Marissa's red cup.
Aimee made a face, twisting the ring on her index finger. He keeps getting me stuff for, like, no reason. I mean, seriously! She held up the ring. He gave me this this afternoon! And these earrings last week! She looked disgusted. I mean, could he be more obvious?
About what? Summer asked, studying the ring.
Ashley offered conspiratorially, I was telling everyone that when my dad was cheating on my mom, he used to buy her tons of expensive stuff. Because he felt guilty, you know? Derek's been doing the exact same thing!
He's definitely cheating, Aimee said decisively, looking pissed. Should I dump his sorry ass now, or wait until I catch him in the act? The opinions from the group were mixed, and conversation descended into side comments.
Summer had to raise her voice to be heard. Is he around less than usual? When my...mom was cheating she used to have all these imaginary meetings and stuff. She wasn't sure why she'd said instead of but she figured it didn't really matter. The point was the same.
Holly asked. I never knew that.
Summer tried to sound authoritative. Like, once she went to the dentist three times in one week. And she used to blow me off all the time because she said she was She used finger quotes. That's how I knew she was cheating.
Holly nodded, for some reason believing Summer. This new idea was enough to prompt more flurried discussion, more questions for Aimee. While some of the girls offered more theories and advice, Marissa pulled Summer slightly aside. Why'd you say that about your mom? She left when you were three.
No, she didn't. Summer turned her head away, pretending to be distracted by watching Derek with the rest of the girls. Marissa was right, but for some reason she didn't feel like admitting it. She left right after my tenth birthday.
Marissa frowned absently. But I thought —
Summer cut her off insistently She left during fifth grade, remember? She chaperoned the field trip to the Museum of Tolerance!
She did? Marissa looked skeptical.
Summer shot Marissa an annoyed look. You probably don't remember. You were kinda busy with Luke.
Oh, right. Marissa looked embarrassed. She looked away, sipping her beer. Where is Luke, anyway?
Over there. Summer pointed, and watched absently as Marissa wandered off in the direction of her boyfriend. She had to allow herself a small grin of triumph at how easily she'd swayed Marissa's memory. All it took was a few confident details and she'd completely revised history. She'd always hated having to admit to anyone — even herself — that her mom had deserted her and her dad was a pathological womanizer. She hated being at the mercy of her parents' immaturity, hated having no say in the matter of her own life.
Now she did. A few careful alterations of the facts and she could shift reality. And no one even noticed. It made her feel powerful, like she was in control of everyone around her, deciding what was true and what was fiction. Picking and choosing what she wanted her life to be.
She did the same thing to herself sometimes. Last spring she'd been convinced that Greg had been an immature dick of a boyfriend: he treated her badly, ignored her to hang out with his friends, dumped her for Marcy. But now she couldn't quite remember why that mattered. All she could remember was the warmth of his grin, the dizzy feeling when he kissed her. The way he could be sweet and tender when they were alone together.
Summer decided she had to find Greg, as soon as possible. Holly was trying to get her attention but she brushed her off, moving away from the window to wind her way through the crowd. He wasn't with the the guys eating on the couch, or by the keg. Summer shoved her way over to Luke's crowd and grabbed Peter's arm. Have you seen Greg? Peter shrugged and pointed her in the direction of the kitchen. She continued through the crowd, avoiding a pretzel fight by the sink, asking around for the missing host. Finally a girl standing in line for the hall bathroom directed her upstairs.
Luckily, Summer knew Greg's house, back from when they were dating. The stairs had been blockaded at the top by a large wooden chest, but someone had moved it to the side and Summer was able to slip through. There was a light on at the end of the hallway, in the bathroom. Summer hurried towards it and leaned against one side of the door frame with both hands, poking her head in.
she said softly. Greg spun around, looking surprised to see her. He was holding a towel in each hand, standing in front of an open linen closet.
Summer, hey! He offered her a lazy grin, and gestured with the towels. Someone spilled beer in the basement and the carpet's soaked, so I was just grabbing, uh... he trailed off, shaking his head a little. What's up?
Summer stepped into the bathroom, shutting the door gently behind her. I missed you downstairs, she said, looking at him through lowered lashes.
Greg stared at her for a moment, taking her in. She leaned back against the door, not breaking eye contact. Grinning in disbelief, Greg tossed the towels onto the toilet-seat and crossed the four and half steps to stand in front of her. He'd grown in the past year, she was pleased to notice. She liked tall guys, but he'd always been on the short side. Slowly, very slowly, he lifted a hand and brushed a strand of hair off her face, his fingers lingering on her face. I missed you, he told her.
Summer shivered a little and closed her eyes. She was right. Guys didn't replace their girlfriends with new girls if they really cared about the first ones. Greg had tried things with Marcy, but he'd come back to her. He still wanted her. Now it was up to her to convince him she was worth wanting.
Summer opened her eyes, grabbed the front of Greg's shirt, and pulled his mouth to hers. He responded immediately, pinning her body to the door, dropping his hands from her hair to her hips, pushing closer to her. She gasped for air as he attacked her neck, fingers skimming under the hem of her shirt and lifting it to expose the skin of her stomach.
Kissing Greg was different now. They were both more experienced than when they'd dated. Greg especially. He wasn't a clumsy boy anymore. But he didn't feel strange, either; being in his arms was wonderfully familiar. It was amazing and hot and exactly what she wanted right then.
There was a click. Greg had locked the door and was pulling away, his gaze hungry. He shook out one of the towels he'd dropped before and spread it on the clean white tiles of the bathroom floor. Summer didn't resist as he pulled her away from the door, down onto the towel. They were locked in an embrace again before he'd even lowered her to the floor.
The floor was hard and Summer wasn't used to having the weight of a boy's body on top of her, but she didn't care. At some point Greg had loosened her ponytail and was running his hands through her hair as they kissed. The rest of the party seemed to slip away. There was only her, and Greg, and this cold bathroom floor. She came out of her daze only once, stopping just long enough to remove his hands from the tie of her halter top. It wasn't like he wasn't already touching her breasts, but she didn't feel comfortable letting him see them yet.
Then his hand was sliding up her leg, under her skirt, and she suddenly remembered that she wasn't wearing underwear. She pulled away, startled, but he covered her mouth with his reassuringly. He moved slowly, dragging his fingers across the top of her leg to the inside of her thigh. Her skirt was riding up; this time she didn't try to stop him. She was embarrassed, and wished they could turn out the lights, but she just closed her eyes and kissed Greg harder.
Then he pulled away. At first she thought he was stopping, but he was just giving himself room to maneuver with his belt buckle. She closed her eyes as he fumbled with his boxers, not wanting to actually have to see anything.
he whispered hoarsely. She opened her eyes. He touched the edge of her face and breathed, You're so beautiful.
Summer froze, unable to resist the echo of Celeste in her mind. Girls like you and me are nothing without our looks. Suddenly, she felt like she'd been fooled, but she didn't know by whom. Maybe herself. Greg was leaning in to kiss her again but her hands were against his chest. No, don't.
he asked, looking concerned.
She pushed him back. I don't —
Don't worry, he said quickly, leaning up on one elbow. I've got a condom.
No, it's not that, I just — She pushed him back again, and this time he moved off of her, looking confused. It's not, I mean, it's just that... she struggled to explain as she pulled her skirt down, fighting back sudden tears. I'm not beautiful! she managed to choke out. Don't call me that!
Greg started to apologize but she ignored him. She pulled herself up and spun to grab the door handle. It took a couple of helpless tugs before she remembered that it was locked. Sometime during their lengthy make-out session the alcohol had caught up with her and she stumbled in her platform sandals as she ran into the hall. The head-rush from standing up so quickly wasn't helping either. She banged her knee hard on the trunk at the top of the stairs.
The noise of the party to her left seemed overwhelming, so at the bottom of the stairs she turned right instead and left the house, stumbling out into the heavy nighttime air. A vague ghost of the moon hovered behind the heavy layers of clouds, and in the distance a thread of lightning split the sky. Greg's house wasn't that far from hers, and she didn't feel like waiting for Marissa and Luke.
It wasn't until Summer had turned the corner that the whole day caught up with her and she choked on a sob. As if the sky was echoing her sentiment, she felt the first spatter of raindrops in her face. For a few minutes the rain fell gently while she walked, sniffling back tears. A car drove past her and she turned into the glare of headlights, hoping for a ride, but the wheels only splashed water onto her legs.
Her house was just ahead, and she hoped desperately that Celeste was asleep. The last thing she needed was the cold glare of I told you so. Celeste had been right, and that knowledge made her want to sit down on the wet pavement and give up. The street blurred before her eyes. The truth of Celeste's advice burned into her, making her feel dirty.
Even though she knew she'd be soaked through before she reached home, Summer couldn't shake the feeling that she'd never be clean again.
I apologize that this chapter took so long in coming. Finals and show performances and leaving school just caught up with me. That said, this chapter was a labor of love, a struggle to write, so I would really adore some extra special feedback for it. :)
In my original outline for this story, this was the chapter where Summer lost her virginity. Greg actually said You're beautiful! as he came, which was just that much worse. But then we found out she was a virgin and I had to change that.
Here you'll also notice my explanation for Summer's commenting on her mom's adultery in The L.A. She's got a bit of the pathological liar in her, trying to control her life by reshaping the truth. Probably gets it from her father.
Oh, and poor Seth, right? So awkward, but still more explanation of why he was so hated.
Thanks for being so patient and reading, guys. Don't forget to review! :-D