Cabin Fever, Summer Flu
Author's Note: Summer and Seth broke up at the end in season one when he sailed away on a boat. Therefore season two and three never happened - Summer didn't turn soft and Caleb Nichol is not dead yet.
Prologue
"Fully furnished, in-demand lakeside property with a full view, isolated for your own privacy and relaxation. Built in 1920, this property here has history, charm, and happens to be our last available lodge this summer. Well, Ms. Roberts, what do you think?"
"It's perfect." Summer Roberts exclaimed breathlessly, clasping her gloved hands together. Enlarged dark oculars which peaked out from under the brim of a large white hat admired the intricate wooden finishings of the exterior of the lakeside cabin she was standing infront of. She turned to the landlord, "I'll take it."
Arcadia Lake's landlord was named, according to his crooked name-tag, Mr. Duncan Baker, a man nearing his late sixties with deeply tanned skin and sparse white hair. Mr. Baker extended his hand out to the young lady, giving her a firm and enthusiastic shake. "If you'll just come up to the front building with me, we'll get all of your paperwork out of the way, and then you can begin your vacation in one of California's most elite and secluded lake retreats." Summer clasped her hands and nodded, attempting to restrain the self-satisfied grin etched across her face as she followed Mr. Baker, making quite an effort to prevent her Manolo Blahniks from being ruined by the dirt path.
Meanwhile, at Arcadia Lake's entrance building, a very frustrated and unshaven Jewish man in a plaid flannel shirt with nothing but a backpack and duffel bag on his shoulders was arguing quite vehemently with a rather timid receptionist. The young man behind the desk bit his lip nervously as he glanced up from the glowing computer screen and tentatively met the other man's eye. He had only begun working at Arcadia Lake two weeks ago and he had hardly expected to be engaged in this much trouble. "I'm sorry, I'm not seeing a reservation for a Mr. Seth Cohen anywhere in our registry." He replied, for perhaps the fifth time.
"Well there must be an error in your system." A Mr. Seth Cohen replied back tightly, twiddling his fingers. He leant over the counter, "Do you want to check again?"
"I've already checked five times, sir." The receptionist insisted.
"Is there a manager I can speak to?" Seth inquired, glancing around the front lobby, "My parents have rented out cabin number nine every summer for almost twenty consecutive years. My grandfather used to own this resort, I just don't understand how there could possibly be a misunderstanding, I booked this vacation months ago. I talked to a boy named- uh, Willy? Wallace?"
"Wally?" The reservationist interrupted. "Well, that would appear to be your problem, sir." Seth gave the younger boy a curious look, silently beckoning him to continue. "Wally was fired last month for attempting to concoct cocaine in the lobby restrooms." Under his breath, the reservation managed to murmur as he checked the computer for the sixth time, "Apparently he mistook poison oak for the coca leaf, which anyone would know is indigenous to South America for the most part." He glanced up at Mr. Cohen earnestly. "Biology major."
"Allright," Seth announced, leaning over the desk and now lowering his voice to a quiet whisper. "If I haven't booked cabin number nine, then could you tell me who has?"
As if a higher power were directing a fated chain of events in an order which could certainly not be coincidental, the back door swung open and a very pleased looking landlord stepped across the threshold, clasping his hands together excitedly. He was followed by a petite woman in a white wide-brim hat and rather intimidating sunglasses. "Davis, my boy, go out to the front and get Ms. Robert's luggage and take them to cabin number nine! We're officially fully booked for the entire summer!" He said, looking very pleased with himself as he held the door open for his guest. "Well, Davis, what are you waiting for?" Mr. Baker asked, looking at him expectantly.
"Um," The young receptionist bit his lip, clearly a nervous habit, looking back and forth from Mr. Cohen to Mr. Baker. "Uh, sir, Mr. Cohen here has been insisting for the past half hour that he has a reservation for cabin nine. However, there aren't any records of such a thing in our database."
"...Ah." Mr. Baker said simply, his wrinkled grin constricting into a thoughtful line.
"Excuse me," The petite woman stepped forward from behind Mr. Baker, "Did you say Mister... Cohen?" She inquired, peeling down her sunglasses to get a better look at the man standing infront of the reception desk. Rugged face, toned arms, light tan... "Nevermind. I used to know a boy with the last name Cohen, but clearly you're... not him." She said simply, sliding her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose.
"Summer?" Seth exclaimed incredulously.
This time Summer ripped her shades off her face, "It is you! Oh, god." She made a disgusted expression before quickly regaining her composure.
"So you two know each other?" Mr. Baker inquired pleasantly, receiving a curt negatory nod which was indicative of "no" from Summer Roberts.
"We dated in high school!" Seth protested.
"I have no idea what he's talking about..." Summer trailed off, pulling out her checkbook, "So, how much shall I put down on the cabin? I'm very eager to move in, I'm quite exhausted by now." She said in an attempt to change the topic.
"No, no. This is not happening." Seth placed a hand over his face in shame. "I can't ever escape it. I always lose to Summer. You always take everything."
"If I could give you your virginity back, I would, Seth. Seeing as to how it suits how childish you're behaving right now." Summer replied nonchalantly, searching for a pen.
"No, Summer, I am not letting you get your way this time. I reserved this cabin months in advance, you just showed up here today." Seth glanced up at Mr. Baker. "Did I mention that my grandfather is Caleb Nichol?"
"I can't believe you!" Summer exclaimed. "You're pulling the Caleb Nichol card? Since when did you become just like all the 'trust-fund babies' you used to criticize?" Summer turned sharply towards Mr. Baker, her hair softly fanning around as it followed in suit. "Have you heard of a Doctor Neil Roberts, Mr. Baker? World reknown plastic surgeon, happens to be my-"
"I see you haven't outgrown your penchant for hypocrisy." Seth replied caustically, he turned to Mr. Baker. "Look, I made a reservation months ago. It was the negligence of one of your own employees which negated it, therefore it really is your responsibility to fix this. I think I could forgive you if you would just reinstate my reservation." Seth said condescendingly as he searched for his credit card.
"Um," Mr. Baker began but was quickly cut off by an incredulous-
"Whatever!" Summer interjected, placing her hands on her hips. She turned to Mr. Baker, "Don't let him talk to you like that." She glanced coldly back at Seth, "You're not the boss here, who died and made you king?"
"Do you hear that? That's the sound of nostalgia, because I believe king-sized is exactly what you called it." Seth said innocently. Summer's eyes narrowed and she raised a fist threateningly, taking a step towards him and creating a loud "clack" with her heels against the hardwood floor.
"Why you little-"
"Um, can I propose an idea?" Davis, the timid receptionist, inquired as he rose his hand in a student like fashion. Naturally, he went ignored.
"What are you going to do, Summer? Claw me to death? Aren't you afraid of breaking a nail?"
"Um, my idea-"
"You're not even worth the cost of a manicure-"
"HEY." Davis shouted, placing his hands on the reception desk and pushing himself up out of his seat. "Can you both stop acting like children for one second and start acting like adults? I have an idea." He finished simply.
"Best let him continue, he's the type to snap easily." Mr. Baker whispered to Summer, whom along with Seth had grown quiet. The two even refused to face each other though both bore an expression of mixed guilt and frustration.
"Look, cabin nine was built as a couple's suite. It's meant for two people, so if it really means that much to both of you, you could just just rent it together. It would cut the total cost in half and there's plenty of room for each of you to do your own thing for the most part."
"I'm afraid that idea's quixotic at best." Seth replied. "Summer wouldn't last five minutes in the same room with me without making an attempt on my life."
"What? I am perfectly capable of not committing murder, it's just that you can't stand being in a room for five minutes with me without taunting me!" Summer retorted.
"You really think you can last the entire month without trying to do me bodily harm?" Seth inquired incredulously, clearly on the verge of outright laughing.
"I'll even prove it." Summer countered, turning sharply to Davis, "In fact, you can go ahead and register cabin number nine under Summer Roberts and Seth Cohen."
"Uh-huh." Seth nodded, "But if you do try to do anything... let's say... before half our time there is up, then you have to move out and let me spend the rest of my vacation in peace."
"And if I do keep my hands to myself, then at the end of two weeks, you can pack your bags."
"If. If you succeed, then it's a deal." Seth agreed, "By the way, I realize this may be a difficult feat but that means you've got to keep your hands off me for two weeks."
"I know how long half a month is, Seth."
"Fine."
"Fine!" Summer huffed, crossing her arms. "Now go fetch my bags."