A/N: Thanks for the reviews. You guys are the greatest - I appreciate all of your support more than you can know. Years of writing for no one but myself seems to be paying off, and I can't say enough about how great you all are. I wish I could give you all a personal thanks, but I don't know the protocall on that sort of thing. So, anyway, enjoy the chapter and I'll try to get more up soon.

There was something about expensive Italian silk against her skin that made it seem as though the sun was shining just a little bit brighter. And as she stood on the tailor's stool in the middle of Kirsten's office, the sun seemed downright blinding. "I love this color," she complimented the woman pinning her dress at the bodice. The dress Kirsten had suggested was a designer original, created by an old high school friend of her's.

"It looks amazing against your skin," the man said, taking a moment to savor the bright coral against the dark tan of the woman before him. "You are going to make my dress look stunning, Miss Cooper," he added.

"Well, I kinda think it's the other way around," Marissa blushed.

The telephone on the desk rang and Kirsten stopped her survey of the fitting to answer it. At the same moment, Summer burst through the door, her arms full of shopping bags. "I got your shoes and your bag - the jewlry wasn't ready for pick up yet, and I found the cutest bra to wear with my dress," she sighed, dropping the sacks and waving at Kirsten. Her boyfriend's mom had already done more than enough, helping them choose their dresses. But now she was insisting on buying them and facilitating the necessary fittings, as well. "Oh, and I have a question for you," she pointed at Marissa. "Is Ryan going to the festival with us?"

"No," Marissa stated evenly, watching the hem of her dress being raised. "He's going to Chino to visit Cassie and TJ. You know that, Sum," she scolded softly.

With a pout, Summer dropped into an overstuffed chair and looked with huge eyes at her friend. "Do you trust him?" Marissa cast a glance at Kirsten, who had stuffed a finger in her ear to finish her own conversation, and then nodded. "Even though you know she's probably the closest thing he's ever had to love, before you, and he was telling us all those stories about how great it was to grow up with her? You still trust him?"

"What the hell, Sum?" Marissa asked, turning slightly to the left as the tailor continued his work. "Is this really about Ryan?"

Summer rolled her dark eyes. "Of course it's not about Ryan. It's about Seth and his stupid summer camp reunion thing. He wasn't going to go, but then she called, and she reminded him of all the fun they used to have and now he feels like he has to go, and blah, blah, blah," she rolled her eyes.

Marissa tried to suppress a laugh as she processed the crazy ramblings of this mad woman before her. Kirsten hung up the phone and turned her attention to them at that moment. "So, what's going on?"

With a nod toward Summer, Marissa said, "Summer's jealous of a girl that used to go to summer camp with Seth when he was, like, ten," she explained.

Kirsten nodded with understanding, but Summer just stood. "He was twelve, and do not mock my pain. You don't get it," she sighed, her hand on her hip. "Her name is Sara and she loves comic books and Death Cab and Goonies. She always used to pick Cohen first for Capture the Flag and share her tapioca pudding with him at lunch." Perching on the edge of the desk, she looked pitifully at Kirsten. "They shared pudding. How am I supposed to compete with that?"

Kirsten touched her arm gently, but thought better of offering any advice. Whatever she said would just sound like it was coming from her boyfriend's mom. Instead, she motioned for Marissa to speak. "Sum, do you love Seth?"

Summer's thin shoulders slumped as she stared at the floor, drawing some abstract shape in the carpet with her toe. "I do, Coop. I love the dumbass. And don't ask me why," she trailed off, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ears.

"We don't have to ask why," Kirsten assured her with a loving smile.

"Oh, no, we know why," Marissa added.

"Then could you clue me in? Because most days he makes me so furious, I could spit. He'll be charming and witty and generally perfect, and then he'll say something so cheesy and dorky that I could just vomit on those expensive shoes that he wears, even though he pretends they're not expensive." She turned to Kirsten. "Why does he do that? Everyone knows you guys have more money than God, but he never spends it. But I know he has it, because we went to Gucci the other day, and he bought me the cutest handbag in the world."

Marissa bit her lip to hide the smile. "Sum, you love him because he adores you. He worships you, always does what you want to do, when you want to do it. And you love him because he spends all that "rich kid" cash on anything he thinks you would remotely like."

Summer pouted and stood, stomping her foot. "Coop, you make me sound like a total gold-digging diva. I don't just love him because he pays all of his attention to me. That makes me sound selfish."

"I don't think she meant it like that, Sweetie," Kirsten encouraged, though it wasn't a completely inaccurate description. "I'm sure there are a million things that Seth could spend his money on, namely comic books and emo records. But I know Seth, probably better than either of you, and I know how he gets when he sees you smiling or laughing. I know that my son would give up every comic book he has if he could make you smile all the time. He's hopelessly devoted to you, Summer."

She shook her head, her eyes deep and sincere. No one ever got Summer's "I'm not as strong as I want you to think I am look" unless she was in a deep state of sadness. "That's not why I love him," she said, twisting her fingers together. "Well, that's part of it – the devotion and the romance and the gifts – but there's more," she shook her head and blinked back a tear that had crept up unexpectedly. It's not because of me at all, how he treats me or worships me or whatever.

"I love him because he's strong. Sure, he cries at chick flicks and he has this amazing eye for interior design. But he grew up a complete outsider, getting picked on all the time, and he never once complained about it. He just endured it, like, I don't know, some kind of Ghandi or something." She tilted her head and turned to Kirsten. "Is that the reference I'm looking for? Did Ghandi endure?"

Kirsten nodded. "Yes."

Summer shook off the thought. "He's like that. He just knows who he is, and he's not afraid to be that guy, even if no one else gets it. And that's all he wants from me, too. I mean, everyone else gets the Summer that has it all together and sits on top of the world, but Cohen doesn't want her. He wants the Summer that is scared of being rejected, who cried for an entire weekend when Holly got mad at me in seventh grade and wouldn't invite me to her sleepover. He wants the Summer that gets scared of being abandoned when my dad and stepmom fight, the one who hides in the closet with Princess Sparkle and an N Sync record, because those are the things I loved when my life was safe and stable.

"He wants the Summer that doesn't always get his vague references, who doesn't hide behind make up and designer mini-skirts. He wants me, even when I don't care about his interests or want to hear his problems. I love him because he's unlike anyone I've ever known in my life – because I don't have to try to get him to love me, he just does." She dropped into the chair again and let the tear flow down her cheeks.

Marissa was at a loss, her own tears flowing now. "Honey," Kirsten tried, "It's okay to love Seth. It's okay to feel like you do."

But Summer just sat up again stomped her foot. "I'm not crying because I love him, Kirsten. I'm crying because I'm going to lose him to that Camp Tacaho skank."

"Then you should go with him," she suggested.

Summer raised an eyebrow. "Are you kidding? We're talking about missing the Festival of Fashion here," she gasped.

"Sometimes, Summer," Marissa went back to stand on the stool in the center of the room, "you make sacrifices for love. You have to give up what you really want so that he gets what he needs."

Casting a glance at the bags on the floor and then her dress, hanging on the back of Kirsten's office door, she scrunched her nose. "You guys won't mind if I bail on you?"

Kirsten shook her head. "I would mind if you didn't," she said honestly.

Jumping up from her seat, Summer grasped her purse and then blew kisses to both women. "I gotta go save my man from the female version of himself."

When she was gone, Marissa and Kirsten shared a smile. "You know," Kirsten spoke in a firm tone, "that I don't mind if you want to go to Chino with Ryan."

Marissa shook her head. "I couldn't. You've already paid for these dresses. Besides, I don't think Ryan really wants company on his trip."

That's when Kirsten stood from behind her desk and moved to the young girl in the center of the room. "So you use the dress when you come back - I'll make reservations for the four of you in LA. It'll be a super-special evening, okay?" Marissa's wide smile started form. "As for him not wanting you to go - if that's what he's telling you - he's lying."

Laughter bubbled up from within Marissa's chest. She would skip all the pretentious fashion events of the weekend in favor of a relaxing time in jeans with the man she loved. This way, she could spend more time with Ryan, and keep an eye on him, as well. She hadn't lied to Summer, she did trust him. But that didn't mean she trusted anyone else who might set their sights on him. And she had yet to meet anyone from Chino who didn't set their sights on Ryan Atwood.

A/N: I'm going to try to update a few more chapters on this story this weekend, but I'm sort of hitting a wall on this story. I might put up a one-shot or two while I'm working through the block, but I promise I won't quit writing all together.