"You are so beautiful, you know that?" Seth was on his side, lying in their bed and staring at his girlfriend. She was prancing around the bedroom, practically naked, under the guise of getting dressed for a 'girl's night out' with Lauren and Marissa.
"I know you think so," Summer answered, smiling lustily, evasive. She hummed, her voice sleep-roughened and husky.
Afternoon naps were her pleasure, her indulgence.
Seth rubbed his erection discreetly; Summer grinned. She came over to him, knelt on the bed across from him, and his eyes swept over her body hungrily.
She was wearing his favorite pair of her lingerie, a satin jade-green demi-bra and panty set that made him salivate every time she brought it out of the bureau drawer. Most of time when she wore the green, they weren't even able to leave the room without Seth ravishing her completely. She trotted it out regularly, knowing what it did to him.
"Are you trying to torture me?" he asked, looking up at her too-innocent face.
"You're the one staring at me like I'm the answer to all that ails the world...hunger, famine, drought..."
"There are a lot of problems that could be solved by the green underwear."
She threw her head back and laughed, dislodging the pins that were holding up her raven hair in the process. Dark locks tumbled around tanned shoulders, framing her face.
You're vicious like the blue sky...
Oh, yeah, she knew exactly what she was doing to him.
He watched her as she prepared to go out, dancing through spritzes of expensive perfume, the perfect application of makeup. She shimmied into a silky emerald confection, a dress, without even giving him a backwards glance in the mirror. She was driving him insane with lust, and she knew it. She reveled in it.
She glanced at the delicate silver watch around her wrist.
Seth approached her from behind, wrapped his arms around her waist, pressed loving open-mouthed kisses against the honeyed skin of her shoulders.
"I love you," he mouthed sensuously, his fingers curling upwards into her hair. She turned in his arms, kissed him madly.
They didn't even bother to take off her dress.
"Hi Summer," Seth said bashfully as he came through the front door of the apartment. He'd left that morning before dawn, taking a run through the park to clear his head and compose his thoughts. He hadn't done that since college. And thinking of his sore calves, he remembered why.
He'd gone back to his own apartment to take a shower and get dressed for the day. Ryan's eyebrows rose to his hairline seeing Seth come through the door, but per usual, he didn't comment.
Seth put on jeans and his Stop Potato Violence! shirt, and nodded to Ryan before leaving. He was in the diner on the corner two blocks over ordering burgers and fries five minutes later. The waitress smirked at him.
"You don't seem very committed to your mission," she pointed her pencil eraser at his shirt. Seth blushed. She smiled again and stuck the pencil through her ponytail before hollering his order over her shoulder at the fry cook.
"Is that..." Summer's button nose wrinkled, "hamburgers?"
"And fries!" Seth chimed in cheerfully.
"Cohen, it's eight a.m.," she retorted disdainfully.
"Never used to bother you before," he pointed out. A beatific look crossed her face ever-so-briefly as she remembered breakfasts of burgers and fries down on the pier, and later, at Berkeley. After long nights spent cramming, they would go down to the greasy spoon down the street from their apartment and pig out before class. They had called it brain food, and laughed.
Summer scoffed. "Well, I've grown up," she said, imperiously.
"Could've fooled me," Seth muttered.
"What?"
"I said, 'Glue is a great adhesive.'" He cleared his throat. "Just an observation."
Summer frowned. "Cohen, you are just so..."
"Witty? Charming?"
"Disturbed?"
"Au contraire, women fall at my feet, they swoon at my glance. There have been many women over the years to find me witty and charming," Seth bantered.
"Oh yeah, name one."
"You." As soon as it was out of his mouth, Seth was kicking himself.
Silence descended throughout the loft, making the air thick between them. Rain began to slap at the windows in lazy splashes.
The single word hung on the air heavily, as if to be indelibly imprinted on both of their minds. Seth cleared his throat, moved past her to the doorway of the kitchen.
"You've had breakfast already," he said needlessly, seeing the skillet soaking in the sink.
"Yes, eggs," Summer replied stiffly, feeling her way over to the couch, where she sat daintily and picked up her novel. She had once loved to curl up in bed with a good book when it began to rain, a rare occurrence in Newport Beach. Perhaps that was why she cherished it so much. She had stopped indulging in rainy days long ago.
"Well, I'm determined then to be very hungry," Seth said, almost too quietly.
"What?"
"I said that I wasn't aware that you knew how to cook," he said, loudly.
"I'm blind, not deaf, Seth, and if you wouldn't mumble, I wouldn't have to ask you what you just said, and then you wouldn't have to yell at me something completely different that what you had just mumbled."
"Sorry, your highness," he answered, before taking a big, loud bite of his cheeseburger. The crunchy bacon helped. After a few silent, pregnant minutes, he stopped eating so emphatically and she actually began to read instead of just sitting there, moving her fingers across the same page repeatedly. His heart clenched painfully. She was so beautiful, still. She had an uncanny knack of knowing when he was staring at her, so he tore his eyes away and concentrated on his breakfast.
After eating, he busied himself cleaning up the kitchen, though there wasn't much to do. Summer and Anna had a very neat, organized life. He supposed they would have to, considering everything had to be in the exact same place all of the time so that Summer could find it.
He couldn't explain it, but at some point, he had stopped wanting to cry every time he thought of her condition. Pity didn't do either of them any good, and if Summer sensed his, she would resent him even more than she already did. He wiped off the counter and breakfast table with the bright pink sponge that was balanced on the kitchen sink. The clock that ticked from the wall above him was unbearably loud.
Seth washed his hands, poured himself a cup of coffee and wandered back into the living room, searching for the morning paper that he'd brought in with him.
He coughed. "So what's on the agenda for today?" He grabbed the paper from the top of the entertainment center.
Summer raised her head in surprise. "What do you mean?"
"What do we have to do?" Seth clarified, coming to sit on the couch, a respectable distance away, of course. The folded paper remained in his lap. The room grew darker as the black storm clouds obscured the last remaining bit of sunlight the day had to offer.
"To do? Nothing, that I know of."
Seth steepled his fingers together, contemplating. He decided to go at the issue from a different angle. "What do you normally do on Saturdays?"
Summer sighed, closed her book over her arm so as not to lose her place. "Well, ordinarily Anna and I grocery shop on Saturday mornings, but she did that before she left and we're fully stocked. In the afternoons, we might run errands, to the cleaners or the hardware store, stuff like that. Sometimes we go to the library or to the park in the afternoons. I do my yoga at three, then I take a long soak in the tub, and then we usually order up and watch a movie. We live a dull live, I guess, but we like it. Any other questions, Pinkerton?"
"No," Seth shook his head. After a moment, he continued, "...well, the park is out because of the rain." He chose his next words carefully, "...but if you wanted to go to the library, I'd be happy to come with you."
Summer snorted. "No thank you. I went last week." She opened her book again, pretended to read. A bolt of lightening zinged across the ever-darkening sky, the lights flickered. Summer didn't flinch.
Three seconds later, a crash of thunder boomed through the apartment, making the picture on the wall rattle dangerously. Summer shivered.
"Still afraid of storms?" Seth asked, idly, more to himself than to her.
Summer nodded, but didn't speak. It amazed Seth that though she could no longer see, he could still read every emotion, every nuance, through her expressive dark eyes. In this moment, she was fearful, but trying very hard to be brave. He had the sudden desire to kiss her, to hold her close and make her forget the rain, the way that he used to.
"Well, I guess if the rain lets up, we'll go out to dinner," Seth finally said, standing.
Summer closed her book again with a thud. "What?"
Seth turned back towards her, grinning. "Now that time I know I didn't mumble."
"Seth, no. Dinner? Out? In public?"
"So? You do other things out in public…walk, shop…go to the park."
"Yes, but eating?"
"You didn't have any trouble last night," Seth argued reasonably. His heart tugged at him, nagging. Why was Summer fighting this? Why was she fighting him?
"I haven't eaten…out, I mean out out, since…the accident," she confessed. Realizing how vulnerable she sounded, she stiffened her resolve. "I'm not ready."
"You are ready, stubborn. I've seen you. You're perfect," he ducked his head in embarrassment at such an obvious display of his affection; flushing.
Summer's eyes narrowed. "No means no, Seth."
"And if we were in bed together, that would be applicable. This is dinner."
"I don't want to!" she shouted at him. He could see her trembling.
He forged forward, dauntless. "So you're just a coward, then?"
Summer's face burned hot with anger. "Don't you dare say that to me! You don't get to make snap judgments about me anymore! You have no idea what I've been through!"
"But I'm sure that you'd be more than willing to tell me all about it!" Seth yelled back.
She jumped to her feet. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Seth finally lost his temper. "It means that Anna may coddle you, but I won't. I'm not here to listen to your sob story, or to be your slave for the next two weeks. I'm here to be in the house at night, to keep you safe, and I'm here to make sure you don't accidentally stick a fork in a light socket, that's it."
"Then listen to yourself, assface. You're not my keeper, you don't feed me, or dress me. I'm not an invalid. And quit trying to make me do something I don't want to do!"
"See above, re: coddling," Seth retorted. He steeled himself, prepared for the worst of all rage blackouts. "If you want to waste away in this apartment for the rest of your life, BE MY GUEST. But while I'm here, you're going to eat with me, where and when I want to, or you're not going to eat at all!" He stomped off down the hall to his room, leaving Summer speechless, her jaw hanging open. He slammed the door extra-hard, for her benefit.
A second later, her bedroom door slammed in retaliation.
He sank against the wall, exhausted, grateful for its support. He knew it was an empty threat, but he was so angry he just couldn't see straight. What had happened to proud, independent Summer? What happened to brave, sassy Summer? Why had God done this to her? To him, to them? He knew Summer's motives hadn't always been pure, and she'd done her fair share of cruel, childish pranks. But she wasn't a bad person; she'd grown out of that phase, as most children did. What had she ever done to deserve this?
Across the hall, Summer's thoughts mirrored Seth's exactly. Her back was against the door, desperate for the support. How dare Seth give her an ultimatum like that? He must have truly lost his mind if he thought for one second that a.) he could ever enforce his dictatorship, and b.) that Summer would put up with it.
She conveniently left out that she'd lied to him. But damnit, he didn't get to know everything about her, not anymore.
She sank down to the floor, the carpet rasping painfully against the sensitive skin of her knees. She lied to him. She'd lied to him. Again. She had lied to him enough in the past that this small infraction shouldn't bother her in the slightest. But it did.
It bothered her more than even she could explain. Seth always seemed to find out the truth, no matter how she tried to hide. Case-in-point, the very reason they were both sharing the same apartment, once more, and now on opposite sides of the hall; the ubiquitous elephant for any room, now available in five colors at a retailer near you!
Sure, she'd been out to eat since the accident. But showing up at Mr. Wong's fifteen minutes before closing and eating in an empty restaurant with Anna and Kurt, was very very different than allowing Seth, her Seth, to take her someplace fancy with a roomful of other people, and knowing that she couldn't touch him, couldn't smile at him. She'd never be on a date with Seth, not ever again. The thought made her breathless, it made her want to scream, to throw something. She wanted to break something, to hurt something, someone, to cut herself open to the pain.
She wiped hot tears away. There was more than one way to hide from Seth, and she knew from experience that the best way was to put herself out there; to make him believe she wasn't avoiding him. Deceive, Inveigle, Obfuscate. If she went to dinner with Seth, he would think he had won. He would retreat, he wouldn't press her again, not for a while. Agreeing to accompany him to dinner didn't mean that they had to converse, or even look at one another. She was tired of being the emotional woman, the nervous wreck. She wasn't some fluttering girl. She wasn't upset. Hard heart. Stiff upper lip.
Across the hall, Seth cranked up the stereo. Journey. Open Arms. Summer rolled her eyes. Two could play at this game...
Summer threw open the door to Seth's room several hours later, her hair upturned in a twist, as lustrous and sleek as mahogany silk. The short satin robe she wore did little to hide the curves of her succulent body. Jesus and Moses, she was so beautiful... Seth crossed his legs.
"Yes?" he squeaked. He cringed, and then tried again, "yes?"
"Where are we going?"
"Going? You mean tonight?"
Summer sighed, didn't answer.
"Why?"
"Why what? I have to know what to wear," she explained condescendingly.
"What does where we're going have anything to do with what you wear?"
Summer sighed, "you know perfectly well that I like to color-coordinate. If we do Italian, I wear red; Chinese, black; Indian, brown..."
"French," he answered, his voice thick.
"Blue it is, then," she answered, moving to leave.
"What about green?"
"What about it?" she asked over her shoulder, not turning to face him.
"Where would I have to take you to get you to wear green?"
Summer paused. "I don't wear green anymore."
"Oh," Seth got very quiet.
"I'm just going to go...uh..."
"Take a bath?" Seth suggested helpfully.
"Yes, a bath," Summer left, almost ramming herself into the door frame in the process. She escaped to her room, hurrying to the bathtub and spilling several tablespoons of the rose-scented bubble bath under the running water. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment.
Jesus and Moses, how she wished this could be easy. She untied her robe, letting the luxurious fabric slip to the bathmat that was caressing her uncalloused little feet. She just had to be strong, brave.
Stepping over into the tub, she realized immediately as the scalding water enveloped her ankles that she'd gotten the water too hot. She yelped and jumped backwards, reaching her hands to catch herself on the lip of the garden tub. In that instant, she lost her footing, slipped, and her pretty head snapped against the fiberglass cruelly. She had no other thoughts as her world tumbled into an inky darkness that was as unforgiving as the black heart of the sea.
To be Continued...