A day had passed. Seth sat in the kitchen of Zach's parents large Cabo house. It was still early and the house was quiet. Seth hadn't got a night's sleep in the past two days, and this time it wasn't because of comic books and coffee. The image of Zach and Summer having wild sex was seared into Seth's brain, regardless of whether they were doing it or not. Things had been, to say the least, awkward. Seth had managed to intertwine himself into everything Summer and Zach had done the day before, and it was obvious that Zach was getting fed up. Summer, on the other hand was keeping quiet, consequently enough, about everything. Seth drummed his fingers on the nearby countertop, and looked quickly over at the clock. Two seconds later, he looked down at his watch, and his leg began bobbing up and down, the sole of his shoe tapping against the tile floor. This continued until Summer walked sleepily into the kitchen. She glanced over at Seth, but made a beeline for the fridge, pulling it open and standing in front of it.

Summer: We should have gone to the market.

Seth: Yeah…

Summer closed the fridge and turned around, looking at Seth. He was in yesterday's clothes, part of his hair standing up straight, and while his drumming had ceased, his leg was still moving frantically. Summer eyed Seth up and down, she glanced at his always moving leg, and then noticed Seth's black duffle bag and portfolio sitting at his feet.

Summer: What's going on?

Seth shook his head and waved his arm in the air.

Summer: Cohen, where are you going?

Seth: Home.

Summer: What?

Seth's gaze dropped to the floor, and Summer hesitantly took a step forward.

Seth: I can't stay here, Summer…this…

Seth waved his arms in the air to emphasize.

Seth: …this whole thing; was a mistake. A big mistake…I shouldn't have come.

Summer stared a Seth for a few seconds, and then stared down at the floor awkwardly.

Seth: Look, I called a cab…it'll be here in about fifteen minutes. I'm just going to go to the airport and get on any flight back to the states…after that, I'll take a Greyhound…I don't know.

Summer: Seth…

Summer took a step towards him, but Seth held his hands up.

Seth: No, Summer…this is it. I'll go, and you and Zach stay…and, just…be happy…okay?

Summer: Seth. I don't want you to leave.

Seth: What?

Summer took another step towards Seth.

Summer: I don't know…just, don't leave.

Seth looked at Summer curiously, he opened his mouth to speak.

Zach: Morning.

Seth and Summer both jumped slightly and turned their heads looking at Zach. He made his way over to the coffee pot and began to prepare some. Seth looked at Summer, who was looking at the floor guiltily. Seth moved his leg over and pushed his bag behind a cabinet and out of sight.

It's late afternoon in Newport Beach and Kirsten, Marissa and Samantha had gone out shopping earlier in the day to buy Samantha some new clothes. Sandy sits on the living room couch watching an old black and white Kung Fu movie. Ryan enters through the kitchen doors, noticing the movie playing on the large plasma TV. Ryan walked towards the couch, looking briefly at Sandy before taking a seat and turning his attention towards the movie. As Ryan looked to the screen, Sandy looked over at Ryan, and then went back to mindlessly staring at the TV.

Not a word was spoken between the two for the next hour and half. The final credits rolled off the top of the screen, and Sandy picked up a remote, turning the TV off. He turned towards Ryan, eyeing him up and down. For the first time since Sam had arrived, he realized just how tired Ryan looked. His sandy blonde hair had that one-day-old dirty look to it, and the bags under his eyes, while expected, were also blatantly obvious.

Sandy: You look like you could use a drink.

Ryan turned his head quickly, looking over at Sandy.

Ryan: Is it that obvious?

Sandy laughed, and smiled larger than he had in some time. He slapped his hands against his knees before standing up and crossing the room, walking towards the small bar area.

Sandy: So, what's your poison?

Ryan shifted a sideways glance in Sandy's direction.

Ryan: You're serious?

Sandy: Well, I could use a drink…

Ryan: It's two-thirty in the afternoon.

Sandy shrugged his shoulders and smiled. Ryan stood and walked hesitantly towards the bar.

Sandy: It's after five o-clock somewhere.

Ryan smiled and placed his hands on the bar top.

Ryan: Got any bourbon?

Sandy: Hmm…

Sandy looked down at the shelf full of various bottles of alcohol. He leaned down to get a better view, pushing bottles aside with his hands.

Sandy: I know Kirsten keeps our bar fully stocked…

Ryan leaned over the bar to get a better look and heard the clank of two glass bottles.

Sandy: …ah…here it is.

Sandy set the bottle on the bar top, blowing some dust off the top.

Sandy: You're a bourbon man, huh?

Ryan shrugged his shoulders, and Sandy smiled, reaching behind him and pulling out two glasses. He set them on the bar in front of him.

Sandy: Personally, I'm a scotch man, but…

Sandy began to pour bourbon in each glass.

Sandy: …bourbon sounds good about now.

Sandy finished pouring and set the bottle back on the bar. He slid one of the glasses across the bar and towards Ryan. Sandy picked his glass up, and raised it in the air.

Sandy: Cheers.

Ryan hesitated momentarily, and then grabbed hold of his glass, clicking it with Sandy's.

Ryan: Cheers.

Sandy smiled and took a gulp of bourbon, while Ryan politely took a sip. The corners of Ryan's mouth curled up slightly as the bourbon ran down his throat. It had been a long time since he'd had a drink.

Ryan: Do we have any 7-Up?

Sandy: Y'know…I don't think so. Mountain Dew?

Ryan shook his head immediately.

Ryan: How about club soda?

Sandy: We've got that.

Ryan smiled gratefully, and Sandy poured the club soda into Ryan's drink.

Twenty minutes later, Sandy stood behind the bar wearing a pair of board shorts, a blue towel slung over his shoulder. He had just finished refilling both glasses, adding club soda to Ryan's. He picked up both glasses and walked towards the back door, and then into the back yard. Ryan exited the pool house, dressed similar to Sandy, a towel draped over his shoulder as well. Ryan smiled and nodded to Sandy as he reached out, taking his second glass of bourbon, and tossing his towel onto a nearby chaise lounge.

Sandy eased himself into a steaming hot tub, setting his drink on the concrete lip next to him. Ryan quickly followed suit, slipping into the hot tub across from Sandy, and dunking his head underneath the water. Ryan emerged from the water and draped each of his arms on the lip of the hot tub. Sandy was staring out at the horizon, while Ryan reached for his drink, taking quick sips.

Sandy: So, why bourbon?

Ryan shrugged and took another sip of his drink.

Ryan: I don't know, my mom used to drink bourbon.

Sandy: Ah…Dawn Atwood.

Ryan: Yeah…

Sandy: You ever wonder what she's doing?

Ryan: Sometimes…I don't know; it doesn't matter. She's not my mother anymore.

Sandy: She'll always be your mother, Ryan.

Ryan: Yeah…I guess.

Ryan took a gulp of his drink and Sandy did the same.

Ryan: How about your mother. How's she doing? With the chemo, and everything.

It was obvious that Ryan was looking to change the subject, and Sandy was willing to oblige.

Sandy: She's doing okay, or hanging in there at least. I spoke with my brother a few weeks ago; he said she's responding to the treatment.

Ryan: That's good.

Sandy: Yeah, they're still unsure of whether or not it will go completely into remission, but at least it will give her more time.

Ryan: Are you going to go see her?

Sandy: I was thinking I'd go over the summer.

Ryan: Do you like going home?

Sandy: New York hasn't been my home for a long time.

Ryan nodded knowingly and took another sip of his drink. The two sat in silence for about ten minutes. Ryan let his body sink a little deeper into the water, he allowed his head to fall back against the lip of the hot tub and closed his eyes. Eventually, Sandy broke the silence.

Sandy: Ryan, I wanted to talk to you.

Ryan kept his eyes closed, but responded to Sandy.

Ryan: Figured you'd liquor me up first.

Sandy laughed and took another sip of his drink. Ryan smiled, opened his eyes and did the same.

Sandy: No…we'd have this conversation drunk or sober…it's just more fun this way.

Ryan returned his drink to the ledge and looked over at Sandy.

Sandy: College…

Ryan let out a small groan and turned his attention towards the horizon.

Sandy: …I'd like to know what you're thinking.

Ryan: I don't know.

Sandy: Okay…well if you did know, what would it be?

Ryan shot Sandy a small death stare and he smiled.

Sandy: Alright, so hypothetically…if you were to get accepted to say…

Sandy looked at Ryan and waved his hand out in the air, hoping he would fill in the blank. He didn't. Sandy slumped back a bit, and looked at Ryan for a few seconds.

Sandy: You applied to Berkeley, right?

Ryan nodded his head.

Ryan: They have a good environmental design program there.

Sandy: Okay…so that's something you're interested in.

Ryan: It's the way architecture is moving. I mean, we're basically killing our planet, we have to build structures, and use materials to build those structures that won't hurt the environment.

Sandy: You sound like Kirsten.

Ryan smiled slightly and looked down at the jet, blowing bubbles into the hot tub.

Sandy: So what other schools have good architecture programs?

Ryan: Cal Poly San Luis Obispo has a great program, but…

Sandy: But what?

Ryan: It's kinda in the middle of nowhere…

Sandy looked at Ryan curiously, he wasn't sure what he was getting at. Ryan eyed him for a few seconds; maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was Sandy's persistent questioning, either way, Ryan finally explained.

Ryan: Okay, look…here's how I see it. I have three choices. One, I stay here and get a job till I have enough money to move out on my own. Two, I stay here, go to school and get a job till I have enough money to move out on my own. Or, three, move away, go to school and get a job that hopefully will pay all my bills.

Sandy laughed and took another sip from his glass.

Sandy: I knew you knew.

Ryan: Yeah, well…as Seth would say…it's a shape of a plan.

Sandy: It's an interesting shape; I'll give you that. So let's say…hypothetically, of course…that you got accepted at San Luis Obispo. Would you go?

Ryan: Probably not.

Sandy nodded once, squinting his eyes as if that would make him have a better understanding of the situation.

Ryan: If I'm going to move away…I'm going to need help. I mean, I could do it on my own if I had to…

Sandy: But you don't have to.

Ryan: That's what they keep saying.

Sandy and Ryan both smiled. Sandy looked down at his almost empty glass and then up at Ryan.

Sandy: Refill?

Ryan brought his glass to his lips taking a large gulp of the remaining bourbon and club soda combo mixed in his glass. He swallowed hard and passed his glass of to Sandy.

Sandy: All right…

Sandy hoisted himself out of the hot tub, and wrapped his towel around his waist, patting his legs down.

Sandy: …this conversation is to be continued.

Sandy turned and walked back into the house leaving Ryan, not quite drunk and alone to his thoughts.