The plane landed after what had been an uneventful flight. Hand luggage, and Summers', in hand Seth stepped down the rickety staircase onto the runway and waited for her to join him. When finally Summer managed to totter down the stairs in her four inch Manolos he slung an arm around her shoulder steering her towards the airport to go pick up the rest of their bags.
"New York is like bad for my complexion," Summer pouted.
"Huh?" Seth squinted.
"The smog and city-ness blocks the pores," she mumbled, twisting a piece of hair between her fingers nervously.
Seth took a moment to watch her, stopping to hold open the door as they headed towards the luggage pickup.
"It'll be okay, Summer, it'll go great.. Well, maybe not great but as good as, you know, one of these things can go," he attempted to comfort.
She sighed softly, "okay," she raised her face until they were eye to eye, "you promise?"
"I swear on Captain Oats' life," he answered solemnly.
"You love that dumb horse," she smiled through threatening tears.
"And I'd never let anyone hurt him, so when I swear on his life it's only in circumstances that I know for definite that I'm right. Which is most of the time, but still you gotta get some wrong, let the little people think they're still in your league," he rambled.
With a half-hearted slap to his arm Summer let herself be scooped up against Seth's chest, a few of the threatening tears spilling out onto his shirt.
"I don't want to go, Seth," she cried against him, "I don't want to go anymore."
He kissed the top of her head lightly, tightening his hold on her as other passengers started to pay them attention. He wanted to shield her away from their questioning looks and curious eyes.
"It's okay, Sum. It's okay, we can just go home if you want," he murmured into her hair.
She swallowed hard, wriggling a hand up between them to wipe her eyes before facing the rest of the airport.
"No, I— I just don't want this to be so hard," she stuttered, which was something that Summer rarely ever did.
"But it has to be hard, or you'd be like some empty, hollow person."
"If I was like that then I'd be at home drooling the remnants of Xanax onto the carpet like my Step Mom," she smiled with difficulty.
"Not the most attractive of hobbies," he nudged her arm gently, snaking his hand down to wrap his fingers round hers.
Summer accepted his hand with gratitude, leaning her head against his side as they walked towards the conveyor belt where Summer's over packing was now arriving.
The buzz of their surroundings had come back to its normal level, everyone in New York was too busy with their own lives to bother eavesdropping on a crying girl at the airport. Chances are it was some melodramatic teen saying goodbye to her boyfriend of a month who was going to Paris for the summer. Nothing that would hold their interest for very long.
Summer's situation may have been different, but she still felt like the stupid crying girl, making a fool of herself in a public place. Her father had always told her that crying was a weakness and she had trained herself to do it as little as possible.
Seth had just finished loading their bags onto a trolley when Summer came back to herself, pushing past the few people who had placed themselves in front of her she joined him, heading for the exit and their taxi which, all things going as planned, should be waiting for them by the door. Summer hoped that nobody had stolen their cab because if there was one thing she wasn't doing it was walking to their hotel. She didn't even know if it was possible to walk to it, and she didn't want to find out, especially with streaky mascara and smudgy eyeliner.
The cab was there.
The pair remained quiet when they got into the back, Seth breaking the silence only for a moment to tell the driver where they were headed. They stayed in a tense silence for almost the whole journey until a corner onto the street that ran down past their hotel.
"You okay?"
"Uh huh," she replied vacantly.
"I think you talked to me more in third grade," he mused.
"I never talked to you in third grade," she protested.
There was a long pause, "I know."
Summer broke from her reverie, reaching out a hand to Seth, squeezing his knee gently and letting her hand rest there. She attempted to smile, but it was half-hearted and lopsided.
"I'm sorry."
"No, Sum, I'm sorry. You're, you're going through something. A big something and I'm acting like we're five again. I just, I just feel like you should talk to someone about this whole thing, like you should talk to me. You shouldn't do this by yourself," he tried to clarify his feelings.
"I'm not," she smiled at him, almost full this time.
"But you would be if I wasn't so persistence," he was exasperated, drained from trying to get his girlfriend to open up.
She rubbed his leg gently, "And that's why I keep you around," she joked softly.
He swallowed, letting her have her façade, "That and my devilish good looks, of course."
"God, Cohen, ever heard of modesty," she laughed roughly.
"Have you?" he reached out, tickling her side.
Summer squealed a little, their play fight dying out as she shuffled up the seat until she was almost sitting on top of Seth, "No. But it's overrated," she sighed, exhausted.
"At least for such fine specimens as us," he charmed, leaning in for a kiss which was short lived as the taxi pulled to a halt signalling their arrival.
The driver moved from his cab to carry their bags from the trunk of the car to the door as Seth slung an arm around Summer's waist, the weight of his hand on her side comforting.
"You ready," he asked quietly.
She let out a shaky sigh, "I think so."
"New York is like bad for my complexion," Summer pouted.
"Huh?" Seth squinted.
"The smog and city-ness blocks the pores," she mumbled, twisting a piece of hair between her fingers nervously.
Seth took a moment to watch her, stopping to hold open the door as they headed towards the luggage pickup.
"It'll be okay, Summer, it'll go great.. Well, maybe not great but as good as, you know, one of these things can go," he attempted to comfort.
She sighed softly, "okay," she raised her face until they were eye to eye, "you promise?"
"I swear on Captain Oats' life," he answered solemnly.
"You love that dumb horse," she smiled through threatening tears.
"And I'd never let anyone hurt him, so when I swear on his life it's only in circumstances that I know for definite that I'm right. Which is most of the time, but still you gotta get some wrong, let the little people think they're still in your league," he rambled.
With a half-hearted slap to his arm Summer let herself be scooped up against Seth's chest, a few of the threatening tears spilling out onto his shirt.
"I don't want to go, Seth," she cried against him, "I don't want to go anymore."
He kissed the top of her head lightly, tightening his hold on her as other passengers started to pay them attention. He wanted to shield her away from their questioning looks and curious eyes.
"It's okay, Sum. It's okay, we can just go home if you want," he murmured into her hair.
She swallowed hard, wriggling a hand up between them to wipe her eyes before facing the rest of the airport.
"No, I— I just don't want this to be so hard," she stuttered, which was something that Summer rarely ever did.
"But it has to be hard, or you'd be like some empty, hollow person."
"If I was like that then I'd be at home drooling the remnants of Xanax onto the carpet like my Step Mom," she smiled with difficulty.
"Not the most attractive of hobbies," he nudged her arm gently, snaking his hand down to wrap his fingers round hers.
Summer accepted his hand with gratitude, leaning her head against his side as they walked towards the conveyor belt where Summer's over packing was now arriving.
The buzz of their surroundings had come back to its normal level, everyone in New York was too busy with their own lives to bother eavesdropping on a crying girl at the airport. Chances are it was some melodramatic teen saying goodbye to her boyfriend of a month who was going to Paris for the summer. Nothing that would hold their interest for very long.
Summer's situation may have been different, but she still felt like the stupid crying girl, making a fool of herself in a public place. Her father had always told her that crying was a weakness and she had trained herself to do it as little as possible.
Seth had just finished loading their bags onto a trolley when Summer came back to herself, pushing past the few people who had placed themselves in front of her she joined him, heading for the exit and their taxi which, all things going as planned, should be waiting for them by the door. Summer hoped that nobody had stolen their cab because if there was one thing she wasn't doing it was walking to their hotel. She didn't even know if it was possible to walk to it, and she didn't want to find out, especially with streaky mascara and smudgy eyeliner.
The cab was there.
The pair remained quiet when they got into the back, Seth breaking the silence only for a moment to tell the driver where they were headed. They stayed in a tense silence for almost the whole journey until a corner onto the street that ran down past their hotel.
"You okay?"
"Uh huh," she replied vacantly.
"I think you talked to me more in third grade," he mused.
"I never talked to you in third grade," she protested.
There was a long pause, "I know."
Summer broke from her reverie, reaching out a hand to Seth, squeezing his knee gently and letting her hand rest there. She attempted to smile, but it was half-hearted and lopsided.
"I'm sorry."
"No, Sum, I'm sorry. You're, you're going through something. A big something and I'm acting like we're five again. I just, I just feel like you should talk to someone about this whole thing, like you should talk to me. You shouldn't do this by yourself," he tried to clarify his feelings.
"I'm not," she smiled at him, almost full this time.
"But you would be if I wasn't so persistence," he was exasperated, drained from trying to get his girlfriend to open up.
She rubbed his leg gently, "And that's why I keep you around," she joked softly.
He swallowed, letting her have her façade, "That and my devilish good looks, of course."
"God, Cohen, ever heard of modesty," she laughed roughly.
"Have you?" he reached out, tickling her side.
Summer squealed a little, their play fight dying out as she shuffled up the seat until she was almost sitting on top of Seth, "No. But it's overrated," she sighed, exhausted.
"At least for such fine specimens as us," he charmed, leaning in for a kiss which was short lived as the taxi pulled to a halt signalling their arrival.
The driver moved from his cab to carry their bags from the trunk of the car to the door as Seth slung an arm around Summer's waist, the weight of his hand on her side comforting.
"You ready," he asked quietly.
She let out a shaky sigh, "I think so."