A/N: I know I said this before the last chapter, but it's pretty important, so I'm going to say it again: Trust me. Not that you guys don't, or anything like that – not at all. It's just, I'm planning on this being a really, really long fic – at least 25 chapters, if not more. Stick with me. At times it's going to seem like I hate Ryan and Marissa, and that I actually enjoy keeping them separated in my story for as long as possible. This is not the case. I know exactly where I want this story to end up, and I have a pretty good idea of how to get it there. It's just going to take a while. Honestly, I can't wait to actually post the penultimate chapter- the big climax of the fic. I've got it all writtenout in my head. And I promise you, if you are any kind of an R/M fan, it will bring you to your knees. But hang in there for me until I make it there. Thanks again to everyone who reviewed, and please continue to R&R!

Disclaimer: Everything that you think doesn't belong to me, doesn't belong to me. No lawsuits, please. It would be pointless to sue me for anything, because I wouldn't have any money to give you.

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Chapter 6

This. Was. So. Awkward.

Ryan was hunched over the railing on the top floor of Troubadour, listening to the band below him whine about improperly named glove compartments.

And trying to ignore Sethummer, directly to his left, cuddling and flirtatiously bickering and forgetting that he even existed, let alone that he was standing next to them.

And trying even harder to ignore Marissa, who was positioned on his right and hadn't thought of a thing to say to him since they'd gotten there besides the customary, "Hi, Ryan."

Currently, Sethummer's conversation was invading his left eardrum, so he found it hard to concentrate on anything else.

"Seth, move your arm! I can't see!"

"Shhh, Summer! I can't hear Death Cab!"

"Seth, the music is so loud they can probably hear it in Hawaii."

"Well, I like it that way so I can appreciate all the finer subtleties of the music."

"We've been listening to their music for the past hour."

"Yes, and it's been the greatest hour of my life."

"I thought that the greatest hour of your life was when we had our upside-down kiss in the rain."

"I changed my mind."

Summer drove her elbow into Seth's stomach directly behind her.

"Okay," he wheezed, clutching his gut, "I changed my mind back."

Ryan rolled his eyes and tried focusing his attention on the lyrics of the song that was playing all around them.

Sometimes it seems that I don't have the skills to recollect

The twists and turns that turned us from lovers to friends

I'm thinking I should take that volume back up off the shelf

And crack its weary spine and read to help remind myself

Terrific. A song about remembering a breakup. Just what he wanted to hear when Marissa was standing next to him, not speaking to him. Involuntarily, he shot a sideways glance at her, and their eyes met briefly before quickly darting off in other directions. He would've been able to shrug it off if he hadn't known that she was thinking the same thing he was thinking. This song could be about us.

But if I move my place in line, I'll lose

And I have waited, the anticipation's got me glued

I am waiting for something to go wrong

I am waiting for familiar resolve

I am waiting for another repeat

Another diet fed by crippling defeat

A small part of him was dying to talk to her. To ask her what she'd been doing for two years without him. To ask her why things between them ended the way they did. To ask her what she thought of him now. To ask her why she'd thrown away what they'd had. Because he wasn't sure, but he'd thought that what they'd had was…different, somehow. Special. He guessed that he had been wrong.

A larger part of him was really wishing she had just stayed on the East Coast. Things would've been a hell of a lot less complicated.

And I am waiting for that sense of relief

I am waiting for you to flee this scene

As if you held in your hand a smoking gun

And on the floor laid the one you said you loved

He felt Marissa tense up next to him, and wasn't surprised to discover that he was contracting his muscles and holding his breath. The lyrics hit way too close to home.

Ryan's long-dormant habit of protectiveness stirred, and he looked to his right to see if Marissa was okay.

She was gone.

He turned his body around just in time to see her long, dirty blonde hair fleeing down the steps of the club. Fleeing the unwelcome memories.

He paused for a moment, waiting for Seth and Summer to notice.

They didn't.

Ryan hesitated a bit more, then released his ironclad grip on the railing to follow her.

He pushed his way through the throngs of people with their eyes fixed on the stage, smiling and enjoying the music and not considering the possibility that the words could be more than abstract musings, that they could be real to someone.

And it's strange that they're all basically the same

So I don't ask names anymore

Ryan stepped out the door into the warm night air, his eyes scanning Santa Monica Boulevard for any signs of Marissa. He set off down the street, picking up his pace as he went, his anxiety increasing with every step. Hollywood was no place for a defenseless 20-year-old girl to go wandering around at night.

To his relief, he eventually found her alone in an alley near the club, sitting on the gravel pavement with her back slumped against a wall. He was immediately flooded with concern. Marissa would never sit down in a dirty alley. At least, not when he'd known her.

She looked up at him as he approached her, but for some reason, she didn't seem surprised to see him there. "Hey," she intoned blandly, with an expression he couldn't read.

"Hey," he replied, not taking his eyes off her.

"You found me." He took a seat next to her.

"I seem to be pretty good at finding you in alleys."

She looked over at him with the smallest hint of a smile, then quickly erased it and went back to staring blankly ahead of her.

He realized his mistake too late. Great job, Ryan, he thought. As if she needs any more reminders of traumatic experiences right now. Why don't you rehash the Oliver debacle and her mom's affair with Luke, while you're at it? He could hear Seth in his head, proclaiming him the recipient of the "Sensitive Guy of the Year Award."

They sat in silence for a little while. Ryan had no idea what to say, or what to do, and Marissa wasn't giving him any helpful hints.

He used to be an expert at this sort of thing. When they were dating, he could read her like an open book when she was upset. He would always know if she needed him to stroke her hair, or pull her into an affectionate hug, or simply hold her, or talk to her, or give her a reassuring kiss, or some combination of the above. He'd known that on some level, he was her Knight in Shining Armor, and he'd sort of embraced it. It was nice to be needed.

Now they were complete strangers, and the only thing they had in common was the past. A past he didn't feel like revisiting. Still, he was somewhat taken aback that he didn't know how to help her. He wasn't used to it. But he had the feeling that she wanted him to do more than just sit there. Thinking that any physical gestures of intimacy would probably be inappropriate, he opted to talk to her.

"So…" he began. She didn't follow his lead. "…you okay?"

"I guess," she responded vaguely.

He waited for her to say more, but it didn't come. Just as he cringed at the prospect of thinking of something else to say, she spoke up.

"I forgot about that song. I haven't listened to that album in forever."

"Don't really listen to Death Cab much. Music in general is not really my thing."

"Nah, your thing is punching people." First she chuckled at her joke, then swallowed nervously as she realized the potential awkwardness of that statement.

"Haven't punched anyone in a long time," he said, sealing her embarrassment.

They sat. Occasionally he shifted his position, but she didn't move. If her eyes hadn't been open, he would've thought she had fallen asleep.

"I'm sorry," she said suddenly.

He was about to tell her that it was okay, when it occurred to him that he had no clue what she was apologizing for. She could be saying sorry for a million different things. So, he sought clarification.

"What for?" He hoped that the casual way in which he phrased the question hid the fact that he desperately wanted to know the answer.

"For ending things the way I did."

He sucked in a long, slow breath. He hadn't expected her to bring that up. He smiled sadly, slowly shaking his head from side to side. She was unbelievable. "So that's it?"

"What's it?"

"We haven't seen in each other in two years, and when we do, you just expect a 'sorry' to make everything better?"

"I didn't say that, that's not what I meant, I just…wanted us to have a chance at being friends again, I guess."

"Friends?" he echoed in disbelief. "Friends? You said it yourself at the Kickoff Carnival. We were never just friends."

"Well, I mean, wasn't that all a long time ago? Haven't we both grown up a little since then? Haven't we gotten over it?"

No.

"I…dunno," he answered, staring at the ground. "It was kind of a big deal. We dated for a pretty long time."

Marissa gathered her thoughts before replying. "Look, I know…that I hurt you," she said delicately.

The understatement of the century.

"But…" she went on, "I meant it when I said I was sorry. And let's put it in perspective – we were in high school. How many people find their soulmates when they're sixteen? Did we really think we were going to stay together forever?"

Maybe, he thought. But I guess I was wrong on that one, too.

"I guess you're right," he conceded, twisting the palm on his right hand up slightly and bringing it back down on top of his left. She was correct on at least a few things. It had been a long time ago. And they had been, what, eighteen when they broke up? Had he been foolish to think their relationship had really been that serious?

"So, does that mean we can be friends? Or at least…try? For Seth and Summer," she added as an afterthought, though he doubted that this was really about Seth and Summer's happiness.

Somehow, he didn't think that was such a good idea. Some inner siren was blaring in his brain, telling him that pursuing a friendship with Marissa Cooper was as emotionally dangerous as crossing over a river full of crocodiles on a broken-down bridge. But then he caught a glimpse of her expression.

He raised his eyes from the pavement and saw that her face had been overtaken by an unbearable expectancy. She was watching him with a strange combination of anticipation and eagerness and loneliness. She just looked so…hopeful. And he found that he didn't have the heart to turn her down.

"Ok," he agreed quietly, dipping his head into a tiny nod.

She smiled for the first time that evening, and settled back against the wall, satisfied. "Good. It'll be a challenge, you know. But I'm up for it if you are." She raised the pitch of her voice slightly as she said the last few words. It kind of reminded him of the way she'd said, 'I'll go if you go' before Cotillion.

What the hell, he thought. If I'm going to do this thing, I might as well go the whole nine yards. "I'm up for it."

"You know, it could turn out to be fun."

"Fun?"

"Oh, that's right. You usually don't think anything's fun." She pushed his shoulder playfully.

"Hey!" Ryan started to protest, but was interrupted by a loud screeching coming from the entrance to the alleyway.

"Ryan? MARISSA?" Summer was running toward them as fast as her 3-inch heels could carry her. Which was not fast. Seth seemed to have noticed this, and was trailing behind her, walking at a steady pace but pretty much keeping up with her.

"Uh-oh," Marissa muttered to Ryan. "She's using our first names. That's not a good sign."

"She still calls you 'Coop?'"

"Uh-huh."

"Some things never change."

Marissa laughed appreciatively as Summer stopped in front of them, looking extremely pissed off.

"You guys! What are you doing here? We have been looking all over for you! Why didn't you answer your cells? We left, like, 50 messages!"

Ryan pulled his phone out of his jeans pocket and opened it. Summer hadn't been exaggerating; the screen read, "You have 35 new messages." Whoops. His cell must have been on "Silence All."

"Sorry, Sum." Marissa apologized for both of them, because Ryan was doing his best not to laugh and was failing miserably, so he pretended he had suddenly been overtaken by a violent fit of coughing. Honestly, thirty-five messages?

"You have no idea how worried we were! We -"

"Summer, calm down." Seth cut her off. "Sorry about the rage blackout, guys," he deadpanned to Ryan and Marissa.

Summer whacked him with her purse.

"What? Chill out, woman! You sound exactly like my mother! Look, Ryan's a big boy. Marisaa's a b-" Seth faltered, noticing the glare Marissa had fixed him with. "Okay, Marissa's a skinny girl, but Ryan's still a big boy. They can take care of themselves. Or each other."

Ryan gulped and tried to look anywhere but at Marissa. Great wording, Seth.

"Okay, so that didn't come out right, I just meant -"

"Cohen." Seth opened his mouth to say something again, but took the hint from Summer and decided to close it. She turned back to her two friends on the ground. "Please promise me that the next time you guys decide to go wandering around in a big city, you'll let us know beforehand or give us some way of contacting you so we don't die of heart attacks before we're thirty."

"Yeah," Seth interjected, "considering that I want to have at least seven kids, we wanna live past thirty, because if we start when we're twenty-five and Summer dies when she's thirty, we can only really have five kids. Unless, of course, she has a couple sets of twins, or-"

"Cohen." Summer pulled out her 'Oh-my-god-you-should-have-stopped-talking-five-minutes-ago' stare and used it on Seth. Apparently he got the message, because he shut up.

"Anyway," Summer began more nicely, "the concert's not over yet, if you guys want to go back in…"

Ryan glanced at Marissa. Her eyes had glazed over, and she was biting her bottom lip. "I think we would rather just go home," he answered for her.

"Okay. Whatever you guys want to do." While Summer was fine with their decision, Seth seemed less than okay with bailing on Death Cab, but he followed Summer as she started out of the alley. Ryan stood up. Marissa remained sitting, doing a very realistic zombie imitation.

Ryan held out his hand for her. "Come on." She reached up and took it, and didn't let go once she was on her feet. Her palm was warm and smooth, just the way he remembered it being. And there was something slightly scary about the way it still seemed to fit perfectly in his.

They held hands for the entire duration of the walk back to their car. He spent most of that time wondering why he was holding her hand in the first place. Was he trying to reassure her, or to offer her comfort? Was he worried that she would be offended if he pulled away? Was he trying to prove to her and to himself that he was going to try to make an effort with this "friends" thing?

Finally, he gave up analyzing it to death and concluded that it didn't really matter why her delicate fingers were still wrapped around his. He'd forgotten how nice something as simple as holding hands could be.

And holding hands with Marissa was nice.