A/N: Ok, so my respect for other fanfiction writers has increased tenfold just from doing the first two chapters. I'll spend a few hours writing, editing, and writing some more, and when I post, it's always like, "Wait, that's it? That much of the story took me that long to write?" But I'd like to think that I only take so long because I am nothing if not a perfectionist, and I'd also like to think that all the great reviews you guys have been writing would not be so flattering were it not for that perfectionism. But anyway, here it is: (one of) the moments you've been waiting for, the Ryan/Marissa meeting! Enjoy Chapter 3, and please continue to R&R!
Disclaimer: I still don't own any part of the O.C. If I did, I'd devote an entire episode to just Captain Oats and Princess Sparkles. Hee. That would be awesome.
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Chapter 3
"Ryan."
Seth whispered Ryan's name over his sleeping figure. At least, Seth hoped that Ryan was sleeping. The way he was responding to Seth's attempts to arouse him, Seth wouldn't have been surprised to learn that he'd slipped into a coma overnight. Not that Seth blamed Ryan for enjoying his rest; waking up was hard to do.
Waking up Ryan was even harder.
Seth glanced at the clock on the desk. 9:40. Ryan had exactly twenty minutes before the start of his first class at USC, which meant that he was almost certainly going to be late. And even though Seth knew that being late was likely to put Ryan in a bad mood for the rest of the day, he was kind of looking forward to the entertainment of watching Ryan run around like chicken on steroids to get ready on time. It was going to be amusing, if he ever managed to get him out of bed in the first place.
"Ryan."
Ok, so verbal addresses apparently weren't going to do the trick. He needed a more drastic plan of action. Seth briefly considered rapidly pulling all of Ryan's covers away from him, but the thought of seeing Ryan in only boxer shorts stopped him.
One word: Awkward.
Seth took another minute to think. 9:41. There wasn't enough time to come up with anything more creative. Resigning himself to the possibility of bodily injury, he came to the conclusion that there was no other way; he had to shake Ryan awake.
Scrunching his face up and closing his eyes, Seth gripped Ryan's shoulders and gave them two hard tugs.
"GAAAAHHH!"
The upper half of Ryan's body swung upward and his head collided with Seth's, the impact of their skulls making a small clock like two pool balls hitting each other. Seconds later, both boys were on the floor, clutching their foreheads.
"Jesus Christ, man! Is somebody just a little jumpy? And they call me the spastic one!" Seth's sarcasm was always in top form when he was in pain.
"At least having something very hard and very dense hit your head wasn't the first thing you felt all morning," Ryan replied groggily.
"Hey, I believe it was you who hit me, not the other way around."
"Yeah, well, maybe if you had chosen a less violent method of waking me up, I wouldn't have responded that way."
"Um, hello! Before I did that, you were as dead as the zombies in The Mummy! You know, before they all wake up again because of the curse."
"Somehow I don't think that's what really happened in The Mummy."
"So? The star of that movie is Brendan Frasier! Who gives a shit about it? Anyway, who appointed me your personal rooster? You know, Ryan, there's this really great new invention out. State-of-the-art. Completely revolutionizing the world as we know it. It's called an alarm clock."
"Seth, there's this really great new invention out. It's called a helmet."
"Ohhhhh, snap! Looks like I'm not the only one who needs one of those! By the way, going back to clocks and the time and things of that nature, it's 9:46."
"What?" Ryan opened his eyes for the first time that day to discover what Seth already knew: he was running late.
"Shit!"
It was a shame that the growing lump on Seth's forehead required most of his attention for the next ten minutes; from what he could see where he sat nursing his wound with a large bag of ice, Ryan Being Late was an even better show than he had anticipated. Clothes and other such items were flung everywhere, so that by the time Ryan stumbled out the door at 9:55, their dorm room was a jungle of cotton and denim. Not that Seth was going to bother cleaning it up.
Instead, Seth planned on sleeping until his 2:00 class. If Summer had her way with him that night, chances were he would need the extra rest.
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Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Oh, shit. Shit. Shit. Shit!
Ryan had abandoned his dignity and had broken into an all-out sprint in a last-ditch effort to get to class on time. He ignored the occasional finger-pointing and laughter from other students as the West Campus whizzed by him in a blur. 9:58. Great. He was kicking off his undergraduate education in California by showing up to his first class five minutes late, panting and out of breath, with a welt the size of Texas plastered onto his forehead. That was sure to make him a lot of friends.
He maintained his speed as he flipped open the bag slung across his shoulder. He usually liked to make sure that he had all of his supplies before leaving his dorm, but on that morning, the fact that he had made it out his door with a shirt and a pair of jeans on had been a major accomplishment. Rummaging through his bag, he brushed aside notebooks, his laptop and an unbelievable number of writing utensils.
Double shit. Where was his cell? He could've sworn he'd put it in the bag last n-
BAM.
Ryan found himself on the ground for the second time that day, drowning in a sea of notebook paper and school supplies. Except that this time, instead of bopping Seth, he'd collided with an unknown female, who was already bent over, trying to salvage her belongings. Ryan quickly moved to help her.
"Here…I'm so sorry…are you OK? Let me help you with your stuff…"
He noticed that her hand, which had been working furiously to pick up papers, had suddenly frozen, and he looked up at her to see why. The first thing he saw was a pair of deep blue-green eyes staring back at him in unmistakable astonishment. Suddenly, his brain registered what he was seeing, and his mouth fell slightly open in shock. He'd know those eyes anywhere, even though he hadn't seen them in two years; without breaking eye contact, he could draw a perfect mental image of the rest of her features: the tiny, perfect nose, the heart-shaped face, the full, smooth lips. Ryan, never one for words, certainly didn't have it in him to say anything right then, and she wasn't talking, so they spent what seemed like an eternity simply staring at one another. Finally, she spoke.
"…Ryan?"
"Marissa? Wh-, wh-"
The word is what, Ryan. What.
"Whatareyoudoinghere?"
"I'm…living with Summer, what are you doing here?"
"S-seth…with Seth…"
Speaking in full, coherent sentences would be wonderful.
"Wait…you're Seth's new roommate?"
"Yeah. I…transferred."
"So…did…I…"
Their conversation seemed to be in slow motion, and everything took five times longer to say. Their mutual incredulity was reflected by the fact that they were both unwittingly inserting one-second pauses between every word.
"Seth…never…said…"
"Neither…did Summer…"
They both glanced around, as if they were searching for some explanation of what they were seeing, then looked back at each other. Again, Marissa was the one to initiate dialogue. Or at least an exchange of syllables.
"So…um, hi."
Ryan gave a slight nod. "Hi."
She checked her watch, then stood up, holding her books tightly to her chest. "You know what…I have to go – 10:30 class, but can you meet me at that bench over there at…12?"
He nodded again. Words were so far beyond him at this point.
"Ok…bye," she said, frowning and turning around to continue the way she had been walking before he'd run into her. Ryan remained on the pavement and watched her retreating back. Eventually, his blank mind stopped refusing admittance to any rational thoughts, and the full impact of what he had just seen hit him like a truck on the Autobahn. Marissa. Marissa was here! Not only was she here, but she was going here! Marissa was going to USC! She had transferred! He had transferred! Surely Seth knew. If he'd had any idea that Marissa would be here…
Ryan sighed and laid his throbbing head back down on the sidewalk. Any thoughts of actually going to his first class had been abandoned long ago. Slowly, all the images and emotions he associated with Marissa came trickling back, flashing on the screen of his mind like pictures in a slide show. Protectiveness. Kiss. Pain. Jacket. Understanding. Ferris Wheel. Hold. Touch. Smile. Happiness. Gun. Rescue. Grief. Lies. Dance. Leaving. Together. L-
No. He was not going to let thoughts of love invade his head after seeing her for all of five minutes. Love was merely a name for all the things he'd enjoyed about her back in high school. In retrospect, his New Year's Eve declaration seemed a little naïve; he hadn't really been in love. He'd been delusional. So delusional that he'd wound up paying for it in the worst way.
Something inside him, though, knew that he was lying to himself in a pathetic attempt to keep Marissa Cooper from casting her spell over him once more. Although, it was probably too late for that; one look and one exchange had been all it'd taken for him to fall – hard – in the first place.
"Who are you?"
"Whoever you want me to be."
That instant had ignited a spark which had never gone out, though he'd tried pouring the emotional equivalent of the Atlantic Ocean over it. And now she was back in California, looking as gorgeous as ever.
And there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.
