-1The Hook, Line, and Sinker
Comforting Ryan in the poolhouse takes on the qualities of an out-of-body experience over the next few days. Summer is sure it happened - her memory is far too vivid to be a dream - but she doesn't see or hear from him again and she starts to believe that maybe it was all just a product of her overexcited imagination. Either way, she completely forgets about her suggestion for a group get-together over the weekend.
Unfortunately, Seth isn't as easily distracted - nor is he deterred by her claim of not feeling well. "It'll be fun," he promises, his grin so hopeful that she can't bear to say no. "Just the thing to make you feel better."
Fun. She resists - barely - the urge to roll her eyes. If his idea of fun is slowly inserting red-hot iron rods into his eyes, then, yeah it'll be a blast. Excuse her if she'd rather do anything else than sit and watch Ryan and Marissa make googly eyes while she sits there and tries not to think about how recently she's been in his arms.
Despite her objections, come Saturday night Summer finds herself pushing her way through the usual crowd at the Bait Shop, counting down the minutes until she can go home again. Her feet hurt - her heels were brand new and hadn't been broken in, but she'd wanted to look cute for reasons she refused to examine closely. Her head hurts - whoever was in charge of booking bands here had either terrible taste in music or a twisted sense of humor. And she's already feeling sick to her stomach from the way Marissa clings to Ryan's hand like a drowning woman would cling to a life preserver.
At the booth, she slides in next to Seth exactly as she is supposed to, then grimaces as Ryan plays the gentlemen and lets Marissa go first, meaning that he winds up directly across from her. Summer automatically sits up straighter and grabs a menu to study.
"Aren't you just going to get your usual?" Seth asks, noticing the attention she's giving to the list of items that haven't changed since 1985. "I thought you hated everything else they have here."
"I might like something different," she replies without thinking, and flushes a deep red as her own words sink in. Across the table, Ryan's eyes are on her, serious and unreadable as ever. "On second thought," she says, deliberately setting the menu down, "I think I'll stick to what I know."
Ryan's eyes drop to the Formica surface and Summer feels like kicking herself. Not only is she acting just as guilty as she feels, but she's saying all the wrong things. Now Seth is satisfied but Ryan looks hurt, which isn't really fair. It's not his fault that everything she says or does seems to come back to her being madly in love with him.
The waitress comes and goes, filling in the awkward silence with polite chatter while she takes their orders and making it all the more pronounced when she leaves. Ryan bites back a sigh and shifts uncomfortably, trying to stretch out his legs without nudging Summer's feet. He doesn't know why he even agreed to this torturous trip.
Actually, that's not true. It was a combination of Seth's nagging and an unhealthy desire to see Summer again that convinced him. But now that he's here, he's sure that almost anything else would've been a better idea. He's sitting so close to Marissa that their thighs are brushing and all he wants is to reach out and touch Summer - just lay a hand on her shoulder, brush her hair back from her face. She looks nervous.
As if she knows what he's thinking, Summer jumps up from the table abruptly. "Bathroom," she says by way of explanation, and looks at her best friend. "Marissa?"
Marissa is peering well past Summer, trying to get a better look at the stage. "No, thanks, I wanna hear the band. I've heard they're good."
Seth follows her gaze and nods enthusiastically. "Hey, I've heard of them, too. They're supposed to be great live. Have you ..."
Neither of them notice Summer hurrying away from the table, or the way Ryan watches her until she's been swallowed up by the crowd. When she returns a few minutes later, she finds him alone, stirring the straw in his Coke and watching the ice swirl.
"Where is everyone?" Summer asks, glancing around cautiously, as if she's wary they're playing some kind of trick on her.
"They wanted to get a closer look at the band." Ryan gestures in the direction of the stage, still avoiding her gaze.
Summer wrinkles her nose. "Why? They suck."
He laughs at that - a loud, genuine laugh that surprises them both. "They really do," he agrees, wondering - not for the first time - what it is that keeps Summer and Seth together. They have nothing in common other than having best friends who are dating. But, for that matter, what keeps him and Marissa together? He barely recognizes her anymore, barely recognizes himself when he's with her. The only thing the four of them share is the past.
Summer, who is trying hard not to be thinking of the same thing, shakes her head as she slides back into the booth. "So this is fun, right? The four of us, hanging out?"
"Just like old times," Ryan confirms, but his tone is just as forced as hers and after a long moment, they both burst into laughter.
"Here you go," the waitress interrupts cheerfully, setting down their plates. She glances at Ryan, then gives Summer a wink, as if to say Well done! "You two lovebirds enjoy, now."
That comment sobers them up pretty quickly. A quiet minute passes, then two, with both of them staring at their plates and not eating a bite, and then Summer cracks.
"We're being stupid," she announces, setting down the fork she hasn't even used. "I mean, so what if she thought we were together? It's an easy mistake to make, you know? Any two people sitting across from each other in a restaurant automatically look like they're on a date. No big deal."
This doesn't even come close to breaking the tension, as she'd intended it to. Instead, the air between them seems to thicken, clogged with both the excuse she's given and all the words she hasn't said. "You're right," Ryan says after a long pause, clearing his throat and picking up his fork. "No big deal."
Summer sits back in the booth, defeated. Her head actually hurts from how tense she feels. Her heart feels like it's been put into a blender and set on 'high'. She watches him for a second, shoveling food into his mouth and avoiding her eyes, and then she pushes her own plate aside and stands up.
"Summer," Ryan calls after her, but she can't stop, because if she stops there is a very good chance she could cry, and Summer Roberts doesn't cry. "Summer, hold up a minute."
She makes it all the way out of the Bait Shop, the night air making her shiver, before he grabs her arm and whirls her around to face him. "What are you doing?" he demands, concerned with how distraught she looks. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing!" She wrenches her arm away, trying to put more distance between them. "God. It's just ... why is everything so strange lately? It's like ever since Trey got shot, nothing's been normal and I just don't even know what to do with myself. I cant talk to Marissa, or Seth, or even you now. Since when are we awkward around each other, you know? This whole summer is just ... too much."
Ryan has gone silent at the mention of his brother's name, and Summer instantly regrets her freak-out. "Oh, God, I'm sorry," she rushes to backtrack, wringing her hands so as not to touch him. "I shouldn't have brought that up, about Trey, it was stupid of me. I ..."
"No, Summer, it's fine," Ryan interrupts, placing one hand on each of her shoulders to steady her. "I wasn't thinking about Trey. I was just ... I was thinking about how I agree with you."
"You do?" She frowns. "About what?"
"Everything," he says earnestly. He's still holding her, his fingers warm on her skin. "Almost everything. I can't talk to Marissa and Seth either. I don't know where I fit in after ... after everything. Except."
He stops talking and she's pretty sure her heart stops beating. "Except what?"
"Except when I'm with you." This time, her shiver isn't caused by the breeze. "I don't feel awkward or on edge or like I'm playing a part. It's not fake or forced or anything. I'm just ... me. With you."
Summer waits. When she doesn't wake up alone in her bed and no one bursts out of the shadows with a video camera shouting Gotcha!, she takes a deep breath and lets her forehead come close enough to his to touch. "I really, really wish that we had been on a date in there," she confesses.
The ghost of a smile plays across his lips. "Well, hey, any two people standing together outside of a club automatically look like they're on a date, right?"
Summer laughs, then glances over her shoulder. "We should probably get back inside before they realize we're gone."
"Wait." He spins her back as she starts to pull away, cupping her face in his hands. "Can I see you tomorrow? Just us?"
She knows what her reaction should be - to pull back, to let go, to shake her head and say No, impossible, wrong, wrong, wrong. She can tell he's bracing himself for a similar reality slap. But she doesn't want to be another person who disappoints him. She has been there for him before when he needed someone and she wants to keep being that person for as long as she can.
"Yes," she decides, a thrill going up her spine at even the idea of it. "Tomorrow. Just us."