Chapter 1

"Okay, Ryan, so here's what I'm thinking we should do tonight, and I'm sure you'll agree that it will add a new definition to the word 'Fun' "

As usual, Seth was in mid-conversation before he ever stepped into the pool house, but he stopped abruptly inside the door. Just as he'd expected, Ryan's homework supplies were spread out on his bed, but Ryan wasn't studying. He and Lindsay lay twined together, surrounded by somewhat crumpled notebooks and some runaway pencils. At the sound of Seth's voice, they pulled away from each other, their faces flushed, lips bruised, and hair disheveled.

"Ah. Lindsay. You're here. Right. Well, that's cool. It just means I need to make a few revisions, adjust the itinerary of the night for three people instead of two. . ." Seth plopped down on the foot of the bed. He smiled obliviously as Lindsay scrambled to sit up and pull her top back in place.

Ryan shifted so that he blocked Lindsay from Seth's view. "Seth," he growled. "Not a good time."

"Au contraire, mon frere, it looked like a good time to me. Not that I was looking, because I wouldn't do that"

Ryan's foot shot out and kicked Seth to the floor as Lindsay, blushing furiously, grabbed her purse and bolted for the door.

"I should go," she stammered. "Ryan, you'll call me about . . . you know . . . and I'll see you . . . or I'll call you . . . so just . . . good night."

"Lindsay, wait," Ryan protested, but she shook her head so vigorously that her hair veiled her face, and left.

Ryan glared down at Seth, who lay sprawled where he had landed. "Really nice, Seth. Can't thank you enough."

"Well, come on, Ryan. How was I to know you weren't just in here being all Stuart Student?"

"Door closed? Blinds drawn? Buy a clue, man."

"Buy a lock," Seth countered. "Seriously, Ryan. At least put it on next year's Chrismukkah list. It will make life less complicated for all of us."

Ryan sighed and ran a hand through his hair as Seth sat up. He knew what was coming.

"So, I guess it's just the two of us after all since Auntie Mame left . . . "

"Seth," Ryan warned.

"Auntie Em? Auntie Bellum? Ryan, bro, sing it with me: we are fam-i-ly."

"Lindsay and I are not family, Seth." Ryan bit his lip, hearing how icy his voice sounded. He paused, then tried for patience. "We've been through this. There is no real connection between Lindsay and me."

"Hate to point out the obvious, Ryan, but I saw many, many connections between you two when I came in. Real ones too."

"Hate to point out the obvious, Seth, but I will so whip your ass if you don't shut up. And I thought you said you weren't looking."

"I wasn't looking," Seth explained, "but my eyes, they couldn't help the seeing. "

"Don't be glib, Seth."

"I can't help it. Glib is what I am."

"That's one word for it," Ryan muttered, as he began to gather the stray school supplies.

Seth's mouth tightened, but he continued, "Anyway, back on point, Ryan. You're now single for the night, I'm single for the –well, the foreseeable future, unfortunately—and there are worlds out there to conquer. So what do you say? You and me, checking out the action on the pier? I hear there's a new club opening, and since Alex and I broke up, the Bait Shop just isn't what I consider congenial anymore. I really need a new venue, a new forum, a new space . . ."

"You really need to come up for air. Take a breath, Seth."

"Okay, breathing now. But you're on board, right?" Seth prompted. "Or on bike? Or I bet we could have the Rover tonight."

"Not tonight."

"No? Because I don't think Mom is using it . . . "

Ryan straightened the covers on his bed, smoothing out the wrinkles regretfully. Then he made a neat stack of his notebooks and turned to open his school bag. "No," he said over his shoulder. "I mean, I'm not up for going out tonight."

"Not the books," Seth groaned. "Come on, Ryan. You were up for Lindsay. Well, I don't mean 'up' for Lindsay . . . Or that too, but anyway, you know what I mean. All you ever do anymore is study or spend time with Lindsay, or sometimes you consolidate and you study with Lindsay, with is very efficient of you, but come on, Ryan. It's lonely here in singles land."

"Those aren't the only things I do, Seth."

"Do you want to see the proof? I can show you bar graphs, line graphs, or my personal favorite, pie charts. Pie charts never lie, Ryan."

"You're ridiculous, Seth."

"Fine. I am. Ridiculous. And lonely."

And then they stopped suddenly, because they both heard it: the edge of real annoyance in Ryan's voice, the undercurrent of bitterness in Seth's. Ryan set his book down and kneaded his knuckles; Seth stared at the ceiling.

It was safer and easier to pretend that they had just heard each other's words, and not the way they had been said. Then it was just their normal banter, and they weren't taking aim at each other. Even though that's exactly what they were doing.

"Look, Seth," Ryan began after a moment, "You've got other people you could hang out with tonight. What about . . . ?"

"Stop, Ryan. If you were about to suggest anything that includes the names 'Summer and Zack', stop. Just. Stop."

"I thought you were all friends."

"Yes," Seth agreed, sketching a triangle shape in the air. "We are all friends. They, however, are a couple, so our friendship, Ryan, it is a triangle, and that's not a friendly shape at all. Now if Alex and I were still together, we could all be a square. Or Alex and I and you and Lindsay could be a square. And what happens when you round the angles of a square, dude? Why, you get a circle, all harmonious and peace on earth and kumbaya. But what happens when you round the angles of a triangle? All you get is a triangle with no point. Or points. In other words, it's pointless."

He opened his hands and let them fall.

Ryan closed his book with a snap. "Seth," he said, and he couldn't keep the exasperation out of his voice, "you're just talking for the sake of talking now. It's like you think if you keep it up, I'll just give in and go with you because I can't concentrate anyway."

"Is it working?" Seth asked hopefully.

"No. I'm just not going out tonight, Seth."

"Okay. Well, that's cool. So we'll just hang out here. You can help me work out the fine points of my re-enter the social-scene strategy. See, I'm thinking that maybe it's just a matter of tweaking the wardrobe, you know, changing it up . . ."

"Seth, the problem's not your wardrobe."

"No? Good. So . . . wait. There's a problem?"

"No. I just mean . . . the problem's that I can't hang out with you tonight. Seriously, man, Lindsay really was here to help me with this, well, project. And it's important."

"Yeah." Seth's mouth twisted caustically. "I could see how hard you were both working."

"We had been working," Ryan insisted. "We were just . . . taking a break when you came in. But I do have to get back to it. And . . . why do I have to justify this to you anyway? I have things to do and you . . . have to leave."

Ryan pulled Seth to his feet and propelled him toward the door.

"Whatever happened to Seth-Ryan time, man?" Seth protested. "Whatever happened to 'united, we're unstoppable'?"

He turned at the door and faced Ryan.

"I mean it. What's happened to us here, Ryan?" He searched Ryan's face, then shook his head. "Never mind," he said, defeated. "I'll just go."

Ryan bit the inside of his cheek.

He watched Seth take two steps, sighed, and then called, "Seth, wait. I'm sorry. Look, I really do have to work tonight. But I owe you, okay? So next time you suggest doing something, I'm in. Promise."

"Yeah?" Seth asked. His voice was still tight, and it contained an undercurrent of doubt, but Ryan decided to ignore it. "You promise? Okay, then. Have fun with your big, thick, boring books. And don't worry about me, or anything. I'll find something to do. Alone."

Seth was late coming down to breakfast the next morning, and when he did appear, he was uncharacteristically quiet.

Kirsten frowned at him, concerned. "What's the matter, sweetie? Don't you feel well?"

Seth shrugged. "I'm fine."

"That's it?" Sandy asked, surprised. "You're fine? That may be the shortest answer ever from the mouth of Seth Cohen. No riffs on just how fine you are, son?"

"Sandy!" Kirsten scolded. She waited for the boys to laugh or make sarcastic comments, but they didn't. Ryan just twirled his spoon around in his cereal bowl, and Seth shrugged and slumped onto a stool.

"I don't want to, like, talk just for the sake of talking." Seth darted a glance at Ryan before hiding behind the Arts and Leisure section.

Ryan caught the puzzled look that Sandy and Kirsten exchanged, and he felt a flash of guilt and remorse. But mixed up in those feelings, there was anger too.

He stood up abruptly. "I'm just gonna . . . head out now."

Sandy frowned. "You don't want to wait for a ride?"

"Nah. I can ride my bike."

Ryan grabbed his schoolbag. As he headed for the door he could hear Seth saying, "Probably has to meet Lindsay early. Or study. Or both. You know, they've got that whole Curies-working-for-the-Nobel-Prize thing going on."

Once Ryan left, Seth filled the silence by reading aloud an article about the upcoming summer movies. Then he put his newspaper away and launched into a long, involved analysis of the decline of the cinematic blockbuster and the artistic vapidity of sequels, Spiderman 2 being the exception that proved his point. He paused only to wave goodbye to his mother when she left for work, and to chew a few bites of bagel.

"Nice to know you got over that 'not wanting to talk' thing, Seth," Sandy observed dryly. "I've just got to get some files from my office, and we'll go. Wouldn't want you to be late."

The kitchen was too quiet when Seth was alone. He rolled up the newspaper and began tapping an erratic rhythm on the counter.

He hated the silence. And that was a problem, because he had the feeling that somehow he and Ryan had wound up on the verge of not speaking to each other. Seth wasn't quite sure how that had happened, except that he was sick of begging for morsels of time from the person who was supposed to be his best friend. He hated the long-suffering look that Ryan would get sometimes when he was talking; it made Seth feel like everything he said was completely inconsequential, and Ryan was just humoring him by listening. Mostly, Seth resented the sotto voce sarcastic comments that Ryan made lately about his incessant rambling and his selfishness and his continued Summer-obsession. He strongly suspected that they weren't really meant in fun. They certainly weren't funny.

But none of that stopped Seth from being lonely, or from missing his and Ryan's old Butch and Sundance partnership.

"Ready, son?" Sandy called.

Seth threw out the newspaper and grabbed his schoolbag.

"Yeah," he said listlessly. "Ready.

Ryan sat in the school library, absently chewing the end of his pen.

There was something wrong with the equation. He couldn't figure it out. Being back with the Cohens + dating drama-free Lindsay + doing well in school + actually being able to envision a future that included college, and a career (not just a job) should happiness.

And Ryan was happy. Just not . . . quite. Not as much as he should be after adding everything up.

He knew the reason, but he hated to admit it: Seth.

Lately, Ryan found himself getting irritated with Seth, annoyed at his need to dominate every conversation, his surprise and inopportune visits to the pool house. He begrudged the feckless schemes Seth concocted, and the way he manipulated Ryan into joining them, or made Ryan feel guilty on those rare occasions when he did refuse.

In particular, Ryan resented Seth for refusing to let go of the person Ryan had been when he first came to Newport. Every time Seth mentioned wrist cuffs, or chokers, or fights, or bad boys, Ryan cringed. After his claustrophobic summer in Chino with Theresa, when all he could imagine was a life of calluses, sweat and crushing responsibility, Ryan had consciously put away all reminders of his past.

He hadn't thrown them away. Ryan still knew where he came from. He knew that Chino and everything it represented would always be a part of him. But he was trying so hard to move forward. Sometimes Ryan thought that Seth actually resented him for that, for trying to exorcise his old demons and build a new life for himself.

But Seth was his best friend. They should be enjoying Ryan's hard-earned sense of security and hope together. Seth should be adding to Ryan's happiness, not subtracting from it.

Ryan frowned. He shook his head like a swimmer emerging from water, and forced his mind back to the real physics equations that he was supposed to be solving. He was nearly finished when Lindsay slid into the seat next to him at the study table.

"Good morning." Her smile looked innocent, almost prim. But her fingers managed to brush up and down his arm as she arranged her supplies, and underneath the table her calf rubbed against his.

Ryan ducked his head and grinned.

"Did you get any work done last night after Seth left?"

"More than I'm going to get done now." His voice dropped an octave. "Lindsay . . . "

"I know." She laughed softly. "I'm shameless. I just . . . missed you last night." She pulled her leg away and sat up straight. "So, is Seth okay? What did he want to do last night anyway?"

Ryan sighed, realizing that Seth had interrupted them again, without even being there.

"I don't know. He just wanted some company . . . " Ryan shifted uncomfortably, remembering Seth's face, and the feeling that things unsaid—things better left unsaid—were hanging in the air between them. There was no way he could explain that to Lindsay. He didn't understand it himself.

"Does that mean that you didn't finish your prospectus?" Lindsay's voice rose, anxious. "Ryan, it was almost done. Please tell me you finished. You have to fax it in today to meet the application deadline. The final interviews are next week . . . "

"It's done," Ryan assured her. "I'm sorry we didn't get to go over it together the way we did with yours, but it's done. And I already faxed it in."

"Oh, good." Lindsay visibly relaxed, and her foot began sliding along Ryan's leg again. "So now we just have to wait and find out if we're invited for the final interviews."

"Right. The interview. Meeting with the advisory panel. I could deal with the prospectus. But talking? Really not my thing, Lindsay."

"Well, Seth could help you prepare. Or Sandy. I'm sure they could give you tips to get through the interview process."

Ryan smiled in spite of himself. "Seth and Sandy, talking about talking? They'd love it. But I haven't told any of the Cohens about the internship," he admitted.

"Why not? Ryan, it was an honor just to be nominated for it. They'd be proud of you for getting this far."

Ryan knew that was true, at least of Sandy and Kirsten. But he didn't want to tell them just that he'd been nominated for an academic award. He wanted to win the internship, and then to offer it to them as a kind of thanks for everything they'd done. Or maybe, if Ryan was honest with himself, it was more than that: getting the internship would also prove, to them and to him. that he might actually be worth all the attention, support, and trust they'd invested, all the opportunities they'd offered him.

But Ryan had kept the competition secret from Seth for a different reason. Seth constantly mocked his study habits, and how hard he worked to keep up his GPA. This internship mattered too much to Ryan for him to let it become a punch line for one of Seth's jokes.

"I'll just . . . tell them if it all works out," Ryan hedged. "And you know, Lindsay, you're pretty good at talking too. I thought you could coach me for the interview . . . assuming I get one."

Behind a stack of their textbooks, Lindsay laced her fingers through Ryan's. "You will," she predicted. "Your application was great, you've got wonderful recommendations . . . Oh, Ryan, imagine how perfect it would be if we both won internships. Six weeks together at UCLA this summer. . . getting paid to study and research with graduate students. . . and it will look so good on our college applications."

"On scholarship applications too. But Lindsay, they're only offering three internships total. For us to get two of them would be pretty amazing."

"True. But I've learned recently that amazing things can happen. " Lindsay glanced around, then leaned over and kissed him. "I've learned," she whispered, "a lot lately."

Ryan's hand cupped her cheek. "A. Plus. Student," he murmured, kissing her back.

Mrs. Christenson, the librarian, cleared her throat. "Mr. Atwood. Miss Gardner. May I remind you . . .?"

"Ah . . . Right," Ryan conceded. "No PDAs."

He and Lindsay scooted their chairs away from each other. As far as Mrs. Christenson could see, they were model students, working industriously on their assignments for the rest of the period. Of course, she couldn't see under the table.

Seth was very proud of himself.

For the past week, he had made a concerted effort to give Ryan some space. He hadn't made any unannounced forays to the pool house. He hadn't barged in to report when he saw Summer turn on her heel and stomp away from Zack outside the coffee bar yesterday afternoon (even though that was a very promising sign and really deserved at least three solid hours of speculation, and the creation of half a dozen contingency plans.) When the new comic books came out, he hadn't insisted that Ryan accompany him to the store, and when Ryan announced after a mere half-hour of Halo2 that he didn't feel like playing another game, Seth didn't cajole or wheedle, or even point out the fact that, considering the score, Ryan had barely been playing at all.

He thought his avoidance tactics might be working, in the whole absence-making-the-heart-grow-fonder way, because Ryan had seemed preoccupied lately. Almost broody, in a way Seth hadn't seen in quite a while. It was, he decided, a clear indication that Ryan was ready for some classic Seth-Ryan time.

And now Seth had that time all planned: a day trip on Saturday to Santa Monica to an industry conference where four major video game manufacturers were test-marketing new products. Seth had scored two free tickets by beating out other contenders in an online competition.

"Hundreds of people," he told Ryan excitedly. "Correction. Hundreds of thousands, probably. These were much coveted tickets, dude, major black market value, and they're ours, courtesy of my mouse-maneuvering ability and my nimble thumb."

"Saturday, huh?" Ryan asked.

"Yeah, Saturday. Is that a problem? 'Cause Ryan, you totally told me that the next time I asked you to do something . . . And come on, we get to preview new video games, have some actual input, be on the cutting edge, ahead of the curve." When Ryan said nothing, Seth added, just a little petulantly, "I thought you'd enjoy this. But if you have something else to do . . . some studying maybe . . . "

Ryan closed his eyes for a moment. He didn't have anything else to do. Lindsay had gotten a call on Monday informing her that she was a finalist for the UCLA internship and inviting her to a 9:30 interview on Saturday. It was Thursday now. And Ryan had heard nothing.

Around Lindsay, who continued to be stubbornly optimistic, Ryan pretended to believe that he still had a chance. Privately, though, he knew he didn't, and he was surprised how much that knowledge hurt.

Since coming back from Chino in the fall, he'd learned to hope, even to expect good things. He'd forgotten how dangerous hope could be. You should have known better, Ryan thought to himself.

Out loud he said, "It sounds great, Seth. It sounds awesome."

"So we're good to go?" Ryan was saying the right words, but he didn't look excited or even interested, so Seth couldn't be sure.

"Yeah." Ryan swallowed his disappointment about the internship—which, he decided had never been a real possibility anywayand smiled at Seth, who was looking both eager and anxious. "I don't have anything else to do on Saturday, Seth. We're good to go."

"Ryan? Hey, Ryan? Okay if I enter the fortress of solitude? I left my iPod here—or at least I think I did, since it wasn't in the first three hundred places I checked."

Seth stood outside the pool house, covering his bases by knocking and calling at the same time. There was no answer, but Seth still opened the door cautiously, his hand over his eyes, just in case. He peeked through his fingers, saw that he was obviously alone, and began his search mission.

Just as he spotted his iPod and grabbed it with a cocky "Eureka!" Ryan's phone rang. Seth heard the call transfer to the answering machine and was halfway to the door when the message began.

"Mr. Atwood? This is Maureen Dugan from the summer internship selections board. I would like to invite you to an interview this Saturday, the fifteenth. You're scheduled for 9:45 in the conference room in Hayden Hall. Please let me know if you have any questions. We look forward to seeing you on Saturday."

Seth froze.

The message made no sense to him. It was almost like a foreign language, or some kind of code. Ryan hadn't said anything about any internship or interview. In fact, he had distinctly said that he didn't have anything to do on Saturday.

Clearly, Seth deduced, the message meant nothing. Ryan would have told Seth if he needed to be anywhere important on Saturday. He definitely wouldn't have agreed to spend a day playing video games—even state-of-the-art, not-yet-available-to-the-general-public games—if he planned to go to some interview. Whatever this internship deal was, Seth figured it was pretty obvious that Ryan had already decided it wasn't worth his time.

So why complicate things? Especially when he and Ryan had a chance to spend a day together and reestablish the old balance in their relationship.

Seth's finger hovered over the answering machine. He hesitated just for a moment. Then he reached down and deleted the message.