The Drama-less College Years….. Right?
By: jvogel54321
Disclaimer: The OC and everything wondrous attached to it is still completely independent of me. There are a few original characters introduced last chapter the are generic, but at least mine.
A/N: Please keep those reviews coming. FYI – I would still love some audience input on what they think Seth and Marissa's song should be. I have a pretty cool idea for it becoming this little ongoing mystery that isn't revealed until the season finale.
Episode Two: The Brave New World (Chapter Eight)
'Well that wasn't so bad,' Caitlin thought as she waited on the steps for Julie to pick her up. It wasn't that she would not have preferred to be more popular, but she did ask God for at least one friend and true to form, He delivered on the bare minimum. Besides, if she wanted to be accepted by most of these kids she would have picked a different after school activity. Before she left for boarding school, she had been part of Newport's Young Equestrian Society. Even with a horse as bald as Dr. Phil, at least she was accepted and popular with the snootiest of the snoots. She smiled thinking back on how much Marissa would have hated that kid at 14. Watching a group of cheerleaders giggling amongst themselves and eyeballing her, she realized how much she would have hated that kid at 14.
As the cheerleaders passed within a few feet of her, heading down the steps, she overheard some not-too-subtle digs at what 'that trailer girl' was wearing. Fighting down the urge she wouldn't have been able to a few months ago to confront them and maybe start a fight, Caitlin instead looked over what she was wearing. Okay, she admitted, maybe jeans wasn't the typical Newport girly-girl acceptable uniform, but she was worried enough about starting high school without guys trying to look up her skirt. And she didn't live in a trailer, anymore. Looking after the cheerleaders, she remembered how the freshman boys had dropped a lot of pencils today and mumbled, "Apparently some people don't mind."
"Don't mind what?" Jesse asked riding his bike down the hill next to the steps. He pulled around and walked the bike backs towards her.
"Don't mind being thought of as nothing but a walking, talking sex witch," Caitlin responded.
"Oh, okay," Jesse said and then added, "Well, if you're talking about me then no I don't mind, but keep it in your pants Caitlin, I'm not ready to commit."
"Wow, did track not work out and now you can fine tune your jokes in preparation for that dream job at the circus?"
"Oh, har-dee-har-har. You happen to be looking at the newest member of the JV track team. Hey, do they even still have circuses?"
"Honestly, I don't know," Caitlin said after thinking about it for a minute. "I remember going to one with my dad and sister when I was like five, but, man, I can't remember the last time I even heard of one."
"I think its part of the deprogramming they do when you become a teenager, erase all reference to all things innocent and child-like to prepare you for the real world. So hey, what are you doing here an hour late, parents forget about you or can you not tear yourself away from this place?"
"While option one might not be that surprising," Caitlin explained, "I somehow let my sister's boyfriend talk me into thinking I should join the school paper."
Jesse kicked his bike stand down and sat down on the steps next to her, "See, nobody told me I was sitting down to lunch with the next Bob Woodward."
"Well, before I became the poorest girl in Newport, I worked on the yearbook at the boarding school I went to, but Seth, the boyfriend, warned me that wasn't the clique I might enjoy hanging with in school, not that the journalists are that much better."
"What type of clique is that?"
"Them," Caitlin said, pointing at a group of two cheerleaders and Fanny Foster, this year's new social chair, as they drove past in a convertible.
"Wow, is the yearbook still taking applications?" Jesse joked.
Punching him in the arm, Caitlin responded, "Sorry, Track Star, I don't see you giggling enough to be allowed to determine how future generations will know who was more popular in the Class of 2010. Plus, of the little group we started, you are the only representative who can bring glory to mighty Harbor on the field of battle."
"No problem, I learn to giggle, get down with the yearbook and you can join the boxing team," Jesse said, rubbing his arm. He stood up as a new Ford truck pulled into the parking lot ahead of them and a large black man got out and strode towards them.
"There's my man," he said, embracing Jesse. "How'd it go?"
"Well I didn't make the freshman team," Jesse said, shocking his father before adding, "I made JV."
"Way to go, son. I think Mom is making a congratulatory cake right now."
"Sweet. Oh, hey Dad, this is Caitlin. Caitlin, my dad; Jim Thomas. Woodward here is so far the only person here cool enough to hang with my new crew."
"Well, she must be pretty cool, bud."
As Mr. Thomas extended his hand, Caitlin rose and shook it. "Nice to meet you, sir."
"We should get back to Mom, son. If you want some of that cake left for you that is. You need a ride, Caitlin?"
Arriving on cue as always, Julie pulled up behind Mr. Thomas' truck and waved at Caitlin. From her beaming smile, Caitlin had a feeling things went well for her today with Kirsten; i.e. she won the argument. As Mr. Thomas greeted Julie and introduced himself, Caitlin leaned over towards Jess and whispered, "Woodward?"
"Yeah, if I told all my friends back in Seattle that my new best bud was named Caitlin, I'd never live it down. Without my pride, I'm nothing."
"Well, you should come to homeroom with clothes of the non-athletic gear variety in the future then."
Pacing in the living room, Kirsten held the portable phone tightly, her knuckles turning white. In her other hand, she held a piece of paper with Seth's new phone number scribbled on it. Twice she started dialing and hung up. Space, give him space, she thought. It had only been a day and se didn't want to be accused of smothering him. Even if she did want to, she didn't want Sandy accusing her of wanting to do so. Of course she just knew that if she called Seth that sooner or later Sandy would hear about it and then there'd be an unhealthy amount of gloating on his part. Then she decided, if not Seth, she could at least call Ryan. That wasn't as likely to get back to Sandy and it would calm her nerves, even if she was only doing half the smothering she wanted to be performing.
As she walked over to the counter and began flipping through her address book, Sandy walked in carrying a bag of Chinese take-out. Slamming her book shut, she returned his smile as innocently as possible.
Of course, Sandy knew Kirsten and it didn't take her slamming an address book shut to clue him in to what's going on. He had figured out what each of her smiles meant ages ago. It was just like how she always knows when he skips out of work early to walk down by the pier. Long since content that there weren't going to be many well-hidden secrets between the two of them, Sandy decided not to let the opportunity to have a little fun slip away.
"Hey honey," he began, kissing her. "Who you calling?"
"Well, uh, you. I wanted to let you know Julie wants to take us out to dinner to celebrate the new offices, but I guess you left work a little early."
Dang it, Sandy thought. "Well, it was an interesting day at the office like usual..."
"Yeah sure."
"But I just missed you so much."
"I missed you to and don't worry, we can save this for dinner tomorrow. Then you can put in a full day with… what interesting project are you working on now?" Kirsten asked. The lilt to her voice convinced Sandy he had better change the subject. Somehow this had all backfired on him. He really had to figure out how she kept doing that to him. But Sandy Cohen was no amateur at the game of back and forth with his wife.
"Nothing, we can't discuss later. Say, isn't the office on speed dial? What's with the address book?"
"Well, it's on my cell phone. I couldn't find it."
"Oh," Sandy replied, lifting the cell phone off of the table in front of him.
"Hey you found it!"
"Hey I found it," Sandy repeated as he handed her the phone. As she turned to walk away, he added, "So how's Seth?"
"I wouldn't know. Fine, I suppose."
"And Ryan?"
"All right Sandy," Kirsten smiled as she gave up. "I'm allowed to worry. And I never dialed the number… well all of them… so no holding this over me."
"Kirsten, I'm shocked. You think me the type of man to do that?"
"I know the man I married," she answered smiling brightly for the first time that day.
"Damn right you do," Sandy said.
Picking up the boxes of take-out, he began placing them in the refrigerator. Just after he set the last one down and close the door he noticed something on the bottom shelf.
"When did you get these?" he asked, pulling up an economy-sized box of pudding cups.
"I picked them up on the way home, just a little something to drown my empty nest syndrome in."
"Wow, you're really going to take that bastard down," Sandy mused, admiring the size of the box. "Tell you what, I think after we get back from dinner with Julie, we will both have earned a little phone time with the boys."
"You mean it?"
"Hey, you know the man you married," he said. "Would I lie?"
"Yes," she replied kissing him. "But you're in a lot of trouble if you're lying this time."
"You are in so much trouble Cohen."
Looking up from his video game, Seth stretched all the way over to see an upside-down Marissa looking none to happy. Thinking the better of a smarmy response, he instead sat there waiting for her to explain why she was mad. But she didn't continue. Apparently, this was something that Seth should realize on his own he did wrong and apologize for without reminder. Nothing coming to him after a minute, he noticed her getting madder and she began tapping her foot on the kitchen floor. Finally, his old instincts got the better of him.
"Are you looking at me angrily or is that all the blood rushing to my head?"
Oh, no you don't Seth, Marissa thought as she approached him. She wouldn't let him get out of it that easily. No way was she smiling at one of his jokes. He had promised her and still done nothing. He hadn't even noticed that she was mad when she came in the door with the pizza and slammed it shut. As she stood over him looking down, he kept his eyes on her, his face beat red from the rush of blood of leaning over the back of the couch.
"Oh, are you mad because I didn't put those shelves together?" he ventured with his biggest puppy-dog face on, which Marissa realized she could never admit was hilarious with his face so red.
"Yes, Seth. You promised me four days ago you'd put them together while I was putting the kitchen together and I didn't say one word when you spent the entire day playing videogames with Caitlin—"
"She insulted my manhood. I had to defend it, if not for me than for you."
"And again you told me to go get the pizza and you would take care of it and I come back and you still haven't opened the boxes, you're just sitting here playing some old game."
"Hey, hey, hey," Seth replied flipping over and kneeling on the couch so he could look at her, without passing out at least. "First of all, this is the original Super Mario Bros., not just some old game. Second of all, did you really think I'd let you down?"
"You did Seth and don't be funny. I am trying to be intimidating here."
"Well, don't because it doesn't really suit you as well as adorable and understanding does."
"Seth…"
As Marissa raised her voice, Seth decided he didn't want to push his luck any further. Grabbing her hand, he lead her towards the bedroom and his surprise present.
"Oh, if you're thinking that I'm just going to.."
Her voice trailed off as she stepped through the doorway. When she left the bedroom had been a disaster area comparable to a small nuclear meltdown. Now the piles of clothes were neatly put away in the closet or dresser, their new books for school were now organized on matching little blue and pink bookshelves. A new full length mirror was propped up in the corner and while Seth's computer was set-up on a flimsy desk on wheels that couldn't have cost more than $25, her laptop was set on top of a large brown desk next to the window. It reminded her of the desk her father used to have in his office. It might have been a little smaller, obviously to fit down the hallway and into the room it had to be, but it seemed so nice and professional, especially sitting next to Seth's cart on wheels.
"When did you?"
"Well I bought it last week when you thought I was at the comic shop. It was getting delivered this afternoon, hence the insistence that you go get dinner. I thought for sure you knew something was up when I didn't spend the rest of the week bagging and boarding comics."
Wrapping her arms around his neck so tightly he could barely breath, Marissa rubbed a couple tears into the shoulder of his shirt. When she released her kung-fu grip, Seth started to take in a deep breath of air before she nearly slammed their faces together in a deep kiss. After a minute, Marissa came up for air. She smiled at Seth (and his once again red face) as he caught her breath.
"Wow, you sure know how to take a guy's oxygen away," he said after a moment. "So does that mean you'll help with the living room?"
"Well, get enough pizza in me and you might be able to make me just about happy enough to lend a hand," Marissa said as she practically skipped to the kitchen and opened the box of pizza.
Coming up behind her as she started eating a slice, Seth wrapped his arms around her waste and leaned over her shoulder, saying, "Alright, food first. But then we clean and after that I'm holding you to that earlier statement."
Letting him take a bite of her pizza, Marissa grabbed his arm, holding herself in his grasp.
"Pepperoni pizza, a clean apartment and a night alone with Seth Cohen. I must be the luckiest girl in the world."
That night, Ryan sat on the steps to the side door of his dorm, Dykstra Hall, smoking his last cigarette. He looked over at the main entrance of the dorm where a dozen or so smokers were congregating. At first he thought it was odd that among people as rebellious as college students. He wondered why more didn't just disconnect their smoke detectors or lean out the window. But he didn't start smoking because he particularly cared for it. It was just something sociable thing that guys on a construction site did together. Same rules apply all around, he thought as he watched the others talking and laughing amongst themselves. Of course, he wasn't feeling very sociable at the moment, so he sat brooding; quite contently so, in his dark little corner.
For a good portion of the day, he managed to at least distract himself with the Crowne girl he had spent half of biology class staring a hole through. Then after eating dinner alone, he got another voicemail from Seth. Just your standard Seth ramblings, he had asked if Ryan had gotten the previous message and let him know he could call anytime. All he wanted right now was for Seth to back off and give him his space. Of course, he would have to talk to him to tell him and that wasn't an appealing idea at the moment. He could just ignore the calls until they stopped coming. But knowing Seth that would be a very long process. So here he found himself alone. For the moment that was fine with him.
"Well, if it ain't Creepy Bio Boy."
Ryan turned his head and met the green eyes he had managed to use as an effective diversion most of the day. Well, if it worked once…
"It's Ryan actually."
"Yeah, I suppose that fits just as well," she answered as she sat down on the narrow stairway next to him. Together they blocked anybody else who might want to go in or out of the side door.
"So Ryan, why don't you play nicely with the other children?" she asked pointling towards the main door.
"Didn't especially feel like a crowd tonight."
"Do you generally?"
"Not lately it seems."
"Oh, I get it," she said taking a pack of cigarettes out of her jacket. "Have ta say I agree with your point. Never seen so many idiots so excited to find other idiots that prefer the same method of slow, painful suicide."
Ryan smirked at the comment, taking his cigarette in his hand; suddenly he wasn't in such a hurry to finish it. She placed her cigarette in her mouth and looked at him.
"So I figure the least ya'll can can do for nearly running me down outside of class is offer a girl a light."
Sitting up slightly Ryan took his lighter out of his pocket and offered it to her. She looked from it to him and then leaned back laughing rather loudly. Ryan looked at her confused, then noticed some of the other smokers heard and were looking over towards them.
"What's the problem?" he asked raising his voice slightly to be heard over her.
Sitting back up to him she leaned over and set her head on his shoulder.
"What the hell am I supposed to do with you Ry? You never did this before?
"Smoke?"
"No you idiot, flirt, hook-up, whatever," she responded. After a moment, she put her hand on his chin and pushed up to close his mouth. "See that's how it works. Girl sits net to you for no good reason and asks you for a light, she's flirting. Now the entire point of askin for a light is for you to turn the lighter on with one hand and shield it from the wind with the other. It doesn't matter if there isn't any wind, cause it doesn't matter. I don't just want a light. It's all just some way of getting your hands near my face. Don't ask me why, I just had the one Psych class so far. Think it has to do with reminding you of the way you caress someone's face when your having sex."
After a moment, Ryan barely got out an "um," but at least he could say he added something to the conversation.
"But in case you're as big an idiot as you look, this isn't some excuse to try and nail every girl asks for a light. Some girls just want a light. Some just want to flirt. But seeing as you actually just offered me the light without thinking about it, I figure you're not the type needs to be told something like that."
"You're kind of scary," Ryan said with a smirk.
"Well, you're kind of monosyllabic, buddy. And not exactly the deepest class I'm taking right now either."
"Really?"
"Oh yeah, I can totally read you like a little Orwell novel. Let me take a shot in the dark, seeing as it is pretty dark out."
She moved her head back and studied his face for a moment before continuing, "You just got out of a relationship. You're pretty much Mr. Responsible. And despite the fact that anybody who looks you in those cute little eyes can tell that you're a complete sap, some people don't know you from that hardass image you seem to have devoted a ton a time developing. That's you to a complete T. You're Mr. Ryan Responsible."
"Well, you are a little insightful. If also off-putting and weird."
"Ah, that's just cause ya don't me yet. Give it a couple days and I promise you'll start thinking about me when I'm not even there."
Seeing Ryan's response to that of reaching up and rubbing his hand through his hair, she then continued, "Oh, are we ahead of schedule Ry? Well, Mom always said I moved too fast. It's nice to find one that can keep up with the conversation."
"You really need to stop calling me Ry. Unless you want me to start calling you Miss Crowne."
"No way. Ry at least fits you. You look like a Ry. People can buy into that. Can you honestly, take a look at me and call me Miss Crowne? Kind of kinky, I'll admit, but not my kind."
She actually sat quietly for a minute before leaning back on the steps and staring at the sky. Turning slightly and propping himself up on his right knee, Ryan studied her face again for a moment before saying, "This is the part of the conversation where you tell me your name."
"Really, I thought it was the part where we go at it on the dorm steps," she replied with a laugh. "Layla. Layla Crowne. And if you make one crack about me having you on your knees, I'll kick your little butt all the way to the library and back."
"And back?"
"Well, yeah as fun as a romp in the library might be, I'm an old fashioned girl that prefers a bed when trying out a new guy. Or at least a roomy back seat."
As much as he focused on her face, Ryan couldn't tell if she was serious or not. One second she looked like this completely innocent girl with deep green eyes that never heard of sex, but then he was constantly trying to figure out if all the things she was saying was an invitation or a joke. He honestly couldn't tell. Preferring to look the fool over looking like a jerk, he turned around then leaned back looking at the stars. Then he heard it. She giggled at him. It wasn't a laugh. Not the sort of attention commanding performance she gave earlier. It was a quiet little giggle. It seemed completely out of character and he felt a twinge of pain when he admitted it sounded like Marissa.
"Holy Shit!" She yelled, sitting up. "Where the heck did that come from? Listen, Ry, I don't know what kind of girls you're used to but I don't giggle. Man, the smart play here would be to bolt and never look at you again. Never pay attention when you stare in Bio, never run into you on purpose so I could see your face and definitely never have sex with you. A guy like you could really screw a girl like me up."
Like most of the night, Ryan waited for her to say something. He just couldn't get his bearings around her. As she got up, Ryan assumed she would head inside. Instead she dove on top of him and tried to smother him with her own face. When he was able to escape her mouth, Ryan felt the urge to be honest with her.
"Look, you were… right. I'm… I'm just get out of a big relation—ship," he tried to get out between kisses. Grabbing her by the shoulders he held her away for a moment.
"Yeah, that works surprisingly well for me. Rebound girl, whatever. Ignore the rant a second ago. The best thing for me would be to just do it. That way I can get you out of my head. It's this damn itch; let's just scratch it. You can ignore me tomorrow, cause I'm gonna ignore you. Just think of it as something warm to get you through the night. So is your roommate home?"
Tell her you can't, you shouldn't. The Ryan Atwood who lived with the Cohens wouldn't do this in a million years. His phone was ringing in his pocket. That would be his excuse. He could just send her away, go to sleep and forget about it. Maybe he could skip Biology on Wednesday. Maybe he could be her friend and help her figure things out. Figure out why she was acting like this. He could play Ryan the Hero for her. Mr. Responsible.
"I have my own room."
Taking her by the hand, he lead her inside, feeling her other hand rubbing his back as she replied, "Aren't I a lucky girl."