6/5/2005

Chapter 5

Disclaimer- I don't own The O.C…However I am a proud owner of a pair of really cute yellow socks with ducks on them! And that's almost just as good as being Josh Schwartz…

A/N- Thank you to everyone who is reading and reviewing this story. You guys are the greatest! Your comments are really great and get me to think. I know some of you want Ryan and Marissa to get back together (asap) but I think that the UST is an incredibly important part of the story line. Don't be disheartened, it's coming soon!

The car pulled into her driveway at eleven o'clock. He looked over at her, and her eyes quickly followed, unsure of how to end the night.

"Thanks…" she whispered softly.

"Let me walk you in."

Marissa smiled and nodded, unbuckling her seatbelt and stepping out of the car. He met her in front, and looked at her with sincerity. Slowly, they made their way to the front door, his hand lingering gently on the middle of her back. Marissa took out her house keys, attempting to fit them into the keyhole, but her trembling hand made it difficult. He held her fingers in his, and together, they slid the key inside with ease. She gave him an appreciative grin, and pushed the door open, their eyes still fixed on each other. The anguish inside her was mellowing, until she stepped into the large mansion.

Immediately, the worried faces of her parents came running down the stairs, intruding on their peaceful time together.

"Oh thank God sweetheart, we were so worried about you!"

"Mom, it's eleven o'clock."

"And you didn't even bother to call!"

Julie paused, taking in the appearance of her daughter.

"What happened to your face?"

Marissa looked down at the white marble below her feet, fully aware of the condition she was in. Thin lines of mascara ran down her cheeks, and her eyes were still deluded with a red film of water. She didn't want to face her parents now; tell them what was going on. But Julie persisted, now directing her forcefulness to Ryan.

"What did you do to her?"

"Mom! He didn't do anything to me!"

"Are you drunk?"

Marissa let out a sigh, staring at her mother with almost venomous eyes. She couldn't stand it when she interrogated her endlessly, but when she insulted Ryan, it sent her over the edge. Trying to control her emotions, she looked away, and felt Ryan's hand plant itself firmly on her back.

"Come on," He started quietly. "Let me help you up."

She looked at him once more, with apology and appreciation lining every corner of her face. They began to walk towards the stairs, but not without facing the growing wrath of her mother.

"Excuse me! Where do you think you are going?"

They didn't turn around. Marissa leaned heavily on the banister, spending more time than usual in finding the first step. She got up the first two, and then stumbled over the next. Ryan wrapped his arm around her, tightly grabbing onto her side.

"Oh my God…"

Julie let her disapproving tone echo through the entire lower half of the mansion, but by now, Ryan and Marissa knew how to ignore it.

"Are you okay?" he asked her.

"Yeah…"

She smiled, and they continued to walk up the stairs together, defying the growing animosity that stirred below them.

"She needs to start seeing that therapist again, Jimmy."

Both Ryan and Marissa stopped dead in their tracks. The subject of therapy did not sit well with either of them, after everything that happened the year before. But it brought back more than just Oliver. An undeniable sensitivity surfaced in both of them when it was mentioned. It touched a part of them that rendered memories of their first few months together. When they had just met, both struggling to survive inside of their separate stories. Somehow, they had collided; they had become connected by something more powerful than they ever could have imagined. Therapy just brought back memories of the time, when they could be there for each other with nothing getting in the way.

The nostalgia scratched an unhealed bruise in both of their hearts. Ryan turned around, looking at Julie with warning eyes. She stared right back, an old tension pulling animosity between them.

"Give it a rest, Julie."

For the first time since Ryan and Marissa had entered the house, Jimmy spoke up. Julie looked as if she was going to say something cruel and unforgiving, but she stopped herself before the words left her mouth. Her family was reuniting, and she was trying hard to keep them together. Still, she wouldn't surrender completely to someone else's victory.

"We'll talk about this tomorrow. Go to sleep."

Marissa twisted the doorknob and stepped into the cool bedroom. The opened window let the night's breeze fill the air, calming their heavy pulses. He stepped in after her, and closed the door, looking at her with questioning eyes. It was never clear to him whether his presence was welcomed, but he wasn't going to just leave after what she had just gone through.

"So thanks…again. For everything."

"Do you want me to stay with you?"

"That's okay…I'm just gonna go wash up. I'm sure I'm a mess."

"Well, I'll wait. Until you're settled."

"Thanks."

She smiled at the sincerity in his voice, and paused a moment before breaking their eye contact. Slowly, she opened the dresser drawer and pulled out a pair of pink flannel pajamas. Ryan grinned.

"Should I close the window?

"Yeah, sure. Thanks."

Marissa walked over to the bathroom and stepped onto the hard tiles, the square patterns spinning slowly in her mind. But she closed her eyes tightly and forced herself to think coherently. When she looked back down, the floor had stopped turning, and she shifted her eyes to the unforgiving mirror on the front of the medicine cabinet. The energy had been drowned out of every contour in her face, and her cheeks were flushed with a glazed over redness. Marissa tried to wipe off the stains of mascara from under her eyes, but they had dried a long time ago. Slowly, she turned on the faucet, letting the cold water run over her dull hand. She dipped her head down into the large basin and splashed it onto her face, letting it trickle down the dry traces of her own tears. When her face was a bit more awakened, she twisted off the cap of her cold cream and spread it over her entire face, trying to erase the evidence of her meltdown. Still, when she washed it off and patted her skin dry, the grief couldn't be hidden.

Ryan heard the faucet run once more, and stood around awkwardly. He had closed the window, which occupied about thirty seconds of his time. He didn't want to sit on the bed; it seemed intrusive and looked intimidating. But his body hung unnaturally in the middle of the room, as if he were some sort of timid statue. He started to pace back and forth, for lack of anything better do with himself, and the movement began to stimulate his brain. He was sure she was looking in the mirror at that very moment, appalled by the streaks of makeup and tears that clung to her face. He wanted to tell her so badly that she still looked beautiful. No matter what, she would always look beautiful. Even if she killed his brother, she was beautiful. Ryan shook the thoughts out of his mind. They weren't together anymore, and he was helping a friend. Still, even he couldn't believe his rationalizing lies.

Eventually, she walked out of the bathroom, her face clean and her body covered by the long flannel. She smiled at the awkward pose he had resumed to take when she came into the room, and he returned it, feeling more at ease. Marissa crossed over to her bed, and Ryan quickly followed, pulling the blanket from the sheet so she could get in.

"Thanks."

He smiled again and watched as she slid her body uncomfortably under the covers. If they had been together, neither of them would have felt the tension. He would already be lying on her bed, taking in the scent of her hair that remained on her pillows. She would have curled up next to him, burying her head in his neck, feeling his hands gently stroke her back. Instead, he was standing up, pulling the blanket over her shivering body. His hand lingered on the top of the covers for a little longer than it should have, if they were really just friends. But he wasn't ready to let go yet. After a few seconds, when he realized his fingers were grazing the top of her chest, he pulled them back awkwardly and kneeled down by her bed, resting his arms on its side.

He was staring into her eyes, intensity sinking deeply into both of them. When they looked at each other, everything stopped. And if there was nothing in their way, it was almost inevitable that something was going to happen. It was an undeniable force. Ryan moved his hand a little further on the bed, resting it gently on her side. Her heart was pounding as she felt it coming. He looked at her lips with consideration of every corner, every soft and smooth part. He considered their texture against his, their sweet taste in his mouth. And he considered the surge of feeling that conquered his entire being when they connected.

His feet pressed down on the floor as he leaned in a little bit closer to her. She began to breathe heavily, feeling his hand slide over the blanket to the middle of her waist. Undressing her emotion with his eyes, she felt naked and vulnerable. He looked again at her lips, at her forehead, at her eyelids, at every part of her face that he longed to kiss. His mouth lingered around a foot away from hers, and he began to slowly close the distance between them, when she sprung up from bed and exhaled heavily into the air.

"I…I just remembered…I meant to take some aspirin, or something…"

She rubbed her forehead gently, and leaned forward, exaggerating the mellow throbbing in her head.

"Right, and it's getting late so…"

"You should go."

She finished his thought, and waited for him to stand up. Soon, they were both standing next to the bed, an overwhelming uneasiness hovering above them. While he seemed to be frozen with complete incomprehension of what had just happened, she awkwardly nodded to the bathroom and began to walk away, quickening her steps as she got closer to the door.

Ryan looked around the room, once again standing alone in the middle of it. The climatic moment repeated itself in his brain, and the embarrassment seemed scarring. He turned around to leave, but stopped when a row of silver frames caught his attention. They were neatly organized, standing on top of her mahogany dresser. Inside of them were pictures of her sister, of her dad, of Summer, but mostly, there were pictures of the two of them. The one all the way on the end was of the night they had first kissed. They stood in front of the carnival's Ferris wheel, lights brightening the chaos behind them. Their foreheads were touching gently, and the smiles on their faces were genuine. It was like they were the only two people in the world. Everything else stopped. Everything always stopped for them. Ryan sighed and placed the picture back down on the dresser. He pulled the door open and started outside of the room, pausing by the entrance to collect himself.

When she heard his footsteps disappear down the hallway, Marissa walked over to the sink. She stared at her reflection once more, repulsed with herself.

"You're a murderer."

There was always some degree of agony that surfaced with the words, and she felt the undying need to inflict pain on herself. They had no relevance to why she hadn't kissed him, but still, they brought back the dormant tears she waited to release. The water flowed out of her tear ducts in a familiar pattern, and she closed her eyes, her hands leaning heavily on the edge of the sink. She shook her head, angry at herself for not letting him kiss her. She wanted him to so badly, but for some reason, as he came closer, an insurmountable anxiety took over her. It wasn't fear of him that scared her away. It was fear of what they were doing. It came so naturally to them; this connection that bound their hearts together. She had given into it so many times before, and somehow she always ended up with tears in her eyes. Part of Marissa knew that it the price you paid when you were in love. But another part of her was afraid to give into its power. She was afraid to succumb. If they kissed then, one thing would lead to another, to something they hadn't ever experienced before. Not with each other. And she didn't want to be standing alone in her room the next day, hearing him say that he couldn't be with her anymore.