"What about this one?"
Kirsten Cohen took a sip of her morning coffee and looked at the picture that her son's girlfriend, Summer Roberts, had slid across the table. Nodding, she considered it. "It's nice. It's kind of a mute color," she critiqued.
Summer looked at the photo again, her head to the side. "It is kinda drab, isn't it?" Tossing it ito the "Don't" pile, Summer perused another page of the portfolio before her. Choosing the right fashion was hard.
"What about this one, Marissa?" Kirsten asked as Marissa Cooper extended her thin arm to accept the photo. "It's tasteful and elegant and still a little edgy."
Marissa looked over the photo. She had to admit, her boyfriend's "almost mom" had exquisite taste in fashion. But Marissa turned her head to one side and scrutinized the gown. "I don't know, though. It's kinda fluffy at the bottom. Don't you think it'll make my ass look huge?" Summer and Kirsten both shot her withering looks. "What?" she asked innocently. "I'm not allowed to have body image issues?"
Summer shook her head and continued to search the collection before her. "Not with those legs," she said distractedly.
"They are great legs," came a voice from behind the girls.
Turning, they saw Ryan Atwood and Seth Cohen standing near the sliding glass door. Approaching, Ryan slid his arms around his girlfriend and looked over her shoulder. "What's all this?" he asked, dropping a kiss on her neck.
Marissa relaxed against his chest – no matter how many vacations she went on and how many resorts she stayed in, she would never feel as safe or happy as she did in this place, in his arms. She sighed and breathed in his freshly-showered scent. "Hmm," she sighed, pointing to the photos on the counter top. "Kirsten's helping us pick out our dresses for the Festival of Fashion."
"The Festival of Fashion?" Ryan asked, letting go of her waist as he set off in search of a coffee cup.
Summer gave a huff and a hard look toward the clueless outsider at the coffee pot. "It's, like, the biggest event of the year," she insisted. Ryan raised an eyebrow in her direction. "It's Newport's equivalent of Fashion Week?" Still, he gave her a blank look.
But before Summer could sink into an infamous rage blackout, Seth jumped into the conversation. "Let me see if I can put this into words you can understand, my friend. Bunch of Newpsies, bunch of expensive clothes, bunch of drooling, maybe some catfights," he stopped and looked at his mom, and then his girlfriend, before casting his gaze back at his friend. "Ya know what? Nevermind. It's exactly like every other event." He accepted the mug that Ryan was offering. "So, when does this fastidious frenzy of fashion fun take place?"
Summer was currently studying a Versace gown, so Kirsten answered her son's question. "It's next weekend, Seth," she said.
Seth's eyes grew wide, and he shook his head frantically. "Next weekend? Summer, that's Death Cab in San Diego. We've had tickets for two months."
Rolling her eyes, Summer slid a photo toward Kirsten. "We've seen Death Cab, like, five times, Cohen."
Kirsten nodded and slid it back to her. But Seth didn't care about stupid fashion and designer dresses. "And this stupid thing happens every year, so you've seen it, what? Ten? Twelve times?"
"Yes, but I can't wear this," she turned and leaned against the counter, holding up a photo of a revealing, silky, slip dress, "to Death Cab, can I?"
Seth swallowed the lump of shock that was rising in his throat. "Sure, you can. Who's stopping you?"
Kirsten rolled her eyes and started to say something, when Sandy came in with a stack of paper in his hands. "Mail call," he announced. "Bills," he rolled his eyes and dropped two envelopes on the island in front of him. "Ryan," he held out an envelope to the young man at the end of the island. "Sale papers," he handed those to Kirsten. "More bills," he groaned. "Seth."
"You got mail?" Summer asked, trying to peer over his shoulder as he opened the card. "Awe, it's so cute," she gushed, reaching out to take the invitation from her boyfriend's hand.
"What is it, Seth?" Kirsten asked.
Summer answered for him. "It's an invitation to a reunion at his old summer camp," she giggled, holding the little card up for everyone to see.
"Ah, Camp Tacaho?" Sandy asked.
Kirsten took the card from Summer. "That sounds like fun, Sweetie."
"Sure," Seth agreed. "When I was, like, twelve. I've matured though, Mother. I have a girlfriend now, and tickets to Death Cab, and actual friends to go with me. Camp Tacaho is a distant memory."
Sandy nodded. If Seth didn't want to go, there was no point in continuing the conversation – he wouldn't go. "What about yours Ryan? What'd you get?"
Shifting uncomfortably, Ryan stood, shoved his mail into his back pocket, and moved his coffee cup toward the dishwasher. "It's, um, it's not that important," he said. "It's, um," he shook his head. "What's on the agenda for today?"
"I've scheduled a whole day of nothing but playstation," Seth informed, ignoring Summer's rolling eyes. "You're welcome to join me, my friend."
But Ryan shook his head. "Nah – I've got a lot of homework to do," he said, shaking his head as he slipped out of the house and moved toward his own dwelling. He was almost to the door when he heard her voice.
"So, you gonna tell me what's going on?"
Ryan pushed the pool house door open and waited for Marissa to follow. He hated talking about things like this. He hated talking about his feelings with her. He hated talking about his feelings with anyone. "It's not that bigga deal, Marissa. It's just a birthday party invitation," he groaned, pulling the card out of his pocket and throwing it on the table.
Marissa picked it up. It was shaped like a soccer ball, with jagged handwriting inside. "Who's TJ?" she asked.
Ryan shifted uncomfortably before falling onto his bed. "Do you swear not to make a big deal out of this if I tell you. Because it's not a big deal," he warned.
Sinking to the bed, Marissa took his hand in hers. She was convinced that someday, maybe, Ryan would trust her with his secrets, with his emotions. But they weren't there yet, after two years, and she was starting to feel a bit discouraged. "You can tell me anything. You know that."
Rolling his neck, he spoke, "TJ is my nephew."
Her face dropped slightly, but she recovered quite seamlessly. "I didn't know. . . um, that. . . you have a nephew?"
"He's Trey's kid," Ryan added numbly. Truth be told, he hadn't even really thought about TJ in a few years, not since the "incident." And he wasn't sure why now, after all this time, his mom was sending Ryan an invitation to his birthday party. It didn't make sense.
"I had no idea," Marissa breathed, letting go of Ryan's hand as her gaze drifted over the room at random. "I mean, he's in jail."
Ryan let out a slight chuckle and then shrugged. "Yeah, well, that happens to dads sometimes," he reminded her.
Cringing inwardly, she scolded herself for saying something so stupid. Of course it did – it had happened to his dad, hadn't it? Dammit, Marissa, think. "Sorry," she whispered.
He put his finger under her chin, held her face close to his, and then offered her a smile. "Don't worry about it," he whispered, kissing her softly.
Marissa wound her arms around his neck and fell back on the bed, reveling again in the feeling of Ryan's arms around her, their legs tangled together, his breath on her neck as he trailed kisses to her collarbone. She wondered, after more than two years of doing this, being this close, how he still made her feel so wobbly and unsettled. It must have been love that made her stomach teeter on the edge of nausea every time he touched her.
After nearly an hour of rolling around on his bed, alternating between light conversation and deep kisses, Marissa cast her eyes to the bedside clock. "Are you hungry?" she asked. Ryan nodded. "We could go to the Crab Shack?"
"Yeah, let's do that," he agreed, rolling off of the bed and offering her a hand.
As she sat on the edge of the bed, wrestling with a tennis shoe, Marissa tucked her hair behind her ear and looked up through thick lashes at her boyfriend. "Ya know, if you want, I'll go to Chino with you next weekend."
Shoving his wallet in his back pocket, Ryan gave her a nervous laugh. "Um, that's very thoughtful. We're not exactly close, though, Marissa."
She nodded. "I get that. But they are your family," she reminded. "And if they want you around," she trailed off. Sometimes she wished her family wanted her around.
But Ryan just kissed her and pulled her to her feet. "They're Trey's family – who he told me to stay away from a long time ago," he insisted, kissing the tip of her nose and drawing a giggle. "Besides, we have San Diego next weekend, right? We'll do the concert thing, and then Seth and I got hotel rooms. So, you? Me? Hotel in San Diego? What do you say?"
Marissa pulled a sweater over her thin shoulders and led him by the hand toward the driveway. "Sounds like you've got it all planned, huh?" Ryan nodded. "Too bad I'm staying here for the Festival of Fashion with Summer and Kirsten." She stopped at the door of the Range Rover while he unlocked it. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled his face close to hers. "I'm spending my weekend in an incredibly sexy, totally amazing dress," she informed, kissing him again.
Ryan pulled back and licked his lips, a lazy look in his eyes. "You do know that's not enough to make me stay in town, right? I'm not going to a glorified fashion show just because you'll be all hot and amazing. I'm not as easy as Seth."
She took one baby step, pressing her body against his and sliding her arms down his back. Ryan's body gave an involuntary shudder. "Oh, you're pretty easy," she laughed.
"Oh, yeah?" Ryan asked, his lips finding hers one more time.
Sure, his family was in Chino. But his life was in Newport, with Marissa and the Cohens. Nothing was going to change that. Not even Trey.
