Seth stumbled into the living room, rubbing his bleary eyes with his right fist. A quick glance at the ornate clock on the mantle told him it was just after noon, and though he had slept well enough, he felt like he'd been rode hard and put away wet. Beaten up in an alley and left to die. Kicked hard when he was already d...
"I didn't know what you want for breakfast," Summer said, from the doorway of the kitchen. She was a vision in her peach silk robe; she tugged self-consciously at the fabric where it fell open, revealing the creamy swell of her breast. "But I left the oven on for you."
"Thanks," Seth said, when he finally caught his breath. Summer descended into the living room with her plate, which had a single piece of toast and an peeled orange. "So, what are we watching?" he asked, gesturing at the television, in a vain attempt to keep from ogling her.
"Dirty Dancing," Summer grinned, flopping down in the corner of the couch, pulling her legs up against her chest, balancing her plate on her knee caps.
"Oh, God, I remember torturous afternoons watching this with you," Seth groaned, settling on the other end of the sofa. "How many times have you seen this movie, anyway?" Realizing how insensitive that sounded, he cringed. "What I mean is, how many times have you listened... I mean, played the movie since..."
"Cohen," Summer interrupted his nervous fumbling. "It's okay. I've seen it 116 times."
Seth crossed his eyes comically.
"And that's only been since the accident!" she added cheerfully.
Seth groaned again, more piteously. "How many times total?"
Summer ducked her head, suddenly embarrassed.
"Summer..." he prodded. "How many times?"
"412," she said quietly.
"What?" Seth yelped. "How do you do anything else? How do you find time to sleep, or eat?"
Summer rolled her eyes, still smiling. Together, they sat through the dance lesson scenes, and the performance at the Sheldrake. If Seth remembered accurately, the love scene was fast approaching, and he decided to make himself scarce to avoid shaming Summer further.
He yawned, stretched. "I think I'm going to go take a shower."
She turned her face up towards him, and smiled shyly. "Okay."
Impulsively, he said, "...listen, since we didn't get to do our thing last night, what do you say we go out tonight?"
Summer bristled. She cleared her throat. "Where?" she asked, her voice cracking.
"Well," Seth leaned forward. "My band is playing tonight, down at a club about four blocks from here. I told them I couldn't play with them tonight, but that I would try to come. Moral support, I guess."
Summer got an odd, perplexed look on her face. "You ...you have a band?"
Seth resisted the urge to tuck a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. His hand twitched. "Yeah. I play bass."
She cocked her head. "When did you learn to do that?"
"Well, I was in the school band until the eighth grade... I played the guitar, and the drums. The bass isn't that much different from a regular guitar."
Summer's expression was a mixture of sadness and awe. "I guess we could go. What time should I be ready?"
Seth perked up. "The first set starts at nine, so we'd have to leave here about eight thirty."
"What should I wear?" she played nervously with the same hair that he'd so recently wanted to touch, to run his fingers through.
"Jeans is fine," he said. "Uh, but wear a light top, because it gets really hot at these things. All the people... crowds," he trailed off, a little helplessly.
Summer tried to smile, but it came off much too wooden. "Sounds fine."
"Great," Seth nodded with his entire body, rocking forward with excitement. He stared at her for a minute longer, before clearing his throat. "I'm gonna...go...shower."
"Scream if you fall, so I can come rescue you," Summer ribbed, turning back towards the television.
"Cute," Seth retorted on his way towards the stairs.
Summer just smiled faintly.
"Here, come this way," Seth's voice was muffled, seemingly far above her head as they elbowed their way through the crowd. His hand played lightly at the small of her back, occasionally touching, sometimes just brushing the thin fabric of her halter top. It was starting to drive her crazy; not in the annoyed-and-slightly-put-off way, but in the frustrating turned-on-and-can't-do-a-damn-thing-about-it way. He would also lean in every once in awhile and murmur something into her ear, ostensibly because the room was so loud, but his breath was warm against the sensitive skin of her neck, and just once his lips accidentally brushed the soft shell of her ear. She shivered.
Baseball, sweaty umpires. Grouting the bathtub. Micheal Jackson. Crickets. Farts. Torture. Thumbscrews.
She pressed her thighs together longingly.
"Here we are," Seth announced, leading her backstage. "Best seat in the house."
Summer tried to smile.
"Cohen!" A voice boomed from behind her, startling her. A sweaty body shouldered past her. "What the fuck, man? I called your house, like, fi'ty times. Ryan kept telling me to try your cell, but it's been off. Where have you been, dude?"
"Relax, Danno. This is Summer, my gir—my exgirl...she's my friend. Summer," Seth bumbled, wincing at the way his voice sounded girlishly high. The lead singer Carlson called that pitch 'The Nut-grabber.'
"Summer," Danno extended a beefy hand towards Summer, leering at first, and then frowning when she didn't reciprocate.
Seth jumped in. "Summer, this is Brad Danno, he's our drums."
Summer stuck her hand out, but misjudged by several inches. Seth gave Danno a pointed look, and the boy returned it, bemused. He shook her hand harder than necessary.
As soon as he let go, Summer wiped her palm against the thigh of her jeans, disgusted by the slick clamminess. Danno didn't seem to notice.
"Get your ass out there on stage, man. The crowd wants you," Danno lurched off without waiting for an answer, raising his hands high above his head as he entered stage left. The crowd gave a mild cheer, clearly unimpressed.
Seth's hand was at the small of her back again. Summer sighed. She knew that he probably wasn't even aware that he was touching her, but she couldn't find the courage to call him out on it in front of all these people that she didn't know—his friends. She shied away from his hand, wrapping her arms around her body protectively.
"You know, you can play with them, if you want. You don't have to babysit me," Summer offered, her voice a little too loud in the small space behind the stage. Her words echoed off the plywood walls. The bare light bulb above them flickered ominously.
"Are you sure?" Seth asked dubiously; his uncertainty almost overpowering her.
"Of course, go. Play with your friends. I'll stand here and listen," she smiled, forced.
"I'll...I'll um, find you a chair," Seth bounded off. "Stay right there," he called back, over his shoulder. Summer rolled her eyes, more out of habit than actual irritation. She really had to twist his arm there. He returned a moment later, with a padded chair, and he resisted the urge to take her hand as she sat down, knowing instinctively that she wouldn't appreciate it. Especially not for what it would have been—just another excuse to touch her, to feel her velvet skin.
"It'll be about forty minutes," he explained, taking off the t-shirt that he had layered with, revealing his worn gray undershirt. "Hold this for me?"
Summer nodded, balling up the shirt in her lap. "Go. I'll be fine," she shooed him off with her hands, and he gave her one last look before leaving her. The crowd went nuts as soon as he stepped on stage, and Summer furrowed her brow, wondering what the big deal was. It's not like he cured cancer, or ended world hunger or anything. It's just Seth. Cohen. Seth. Damnit.
"Hey Summer," Ryan's voice was behind her, then above her, as he approached from the bowels of the seedy bar.
"Where did you come from?" she asked sharply.
"I come in the back," Ryan explained, finding a seat near her feet, crossing his legs underneath him.
"You always sit backstage?" she asked imperiously, knowing she sounded snobby but being almost unable to stop herself.
"They love him," Ryan offered in explanation. "I feel like I'm in the way out there. Plus, I don't want to make him nervous."
Summer was touched, and a little stunned. Ryan had uttered more than five words in her presence. He hadn't done that since... what? High school? His devotion to Seth was as obvious as it ever had been, jealously gnawed uncomfortably at the back of her mind. She shifted in her seat.
"Seth made me come," she blurted.
Ryan's eyebrow rose. The drummer started clicking his sticks together and the cymbals crashed as the first song started.
Summer wondered silently if they mostly played covers, or if they wrote original stuff. She wondered if any of the songs had been written about her. She thought idly about Gwen Stefani... she rocketed No Doubt to stardom writing songs about some guy, lost love... The band had a sound that was a little more punky and fast-paced than what she was used to, but it was Seth, so she found herself getting lost in the music.
It was just over a half an hour later when a silence fell across the stage. Seth cleared his throat over the microphone, feedback erupted for just a second, drowning him out. "She smells like springtime, Summer's breeze. This song is for her."
The opening chords of an old Jimmy Eat World song began to fall over the hushed crowd. Summer's nipples hardened almost painfully, making her body hyper-sensitive to every breath, every movement. It was funny, the way her entire life seemed to teeter on the edge between pleasure and pain. Losing her popularity to be with Seth Cohen. Losing her father to gain her freedom. Losing her sight to be reunited with Anna, her dearest friend. And now back to Seth, again...
"Oh, God," Summer's throat constricted, her words barely audible. Ryan slid a glance over to her, gaging her expression carefully. It was caught somewhere between melancholy and hope, but misguided hope, hope that wasn't really sure where it belonged. After a moment, she managed to say, "I didn't know that Cohe...that Seth could sing."
Ryan's lips quirked. "The song about Jesus and Moses and the beards didn't wow you?"
"Hardly," Summer quipped, turning her face back towards the stage. Seth's voice reached her ears softly, warmly.
"You'll change your mind ...come Monday. And turn your back on me. You'll take your steps away with hesitance ...you'll take your steps away from me."
The air around her pounded with potential, with lust and raw emotion, like the steady beating of a drum, like the rhythm of her heart. Laced with a little sorrow, a little joy, the space around her sang with a sort of electricity, a melody. His song snaked around her body, pushing, pulsing, playing against her sweat-slicked skin. Her heart was caught in her throat, making it dry, cracked. Like the desert, in August.
"I'm making my peace, I'm making it with distance. Maybe that's a big mistake, you know I'm thinking of you."
"He loves this song," Ryan muttered, playing with the laces of his worn Sketchers. They were Seth's shoes, or had been at some point. The black had become muted, and then it had become gray. They were comfortable, stretched, perfect for his foot.
"I remember," Summer's voice was husky, struck dumb with surprise and memory. They sat in silence through the guitar solo, and the last verse.
"Seth...he still cares about you," Ryan said, stilted. Summer barely heard him over the roar of the crowd as the band finished the song.
Summer's answering smile was sad, her eyes watered. "Maybe so, but that's all over now." The entire audience was standing, applauding and Summer clapped furiously with them, to avoid further conversation.
Ryan began clapping too, after a moment.
Seth came backstage, sweat coated his forehead and face. He lifted the hem of his undershirt to wipe his brow. "Ry." Ryan handed him a cold bottle of water wordlessly, and their eyes met for a long moment, exchanging words that neither of them said aloud.
Don't do this. She's trouble. It's been so long.
I can't, man. I love her. I still love her.
Maybe so. But that's all over now.
"So that's it?" Summer asked, a little disappointed. A solitary drop of sweat rolled down her spine, making her shiver with the sensation, and something else... something a little like anticipation.
"That's it," Seth answered, still a little breathless. He wiped his face again, took a long drink of water.
"You guys are really ...good," she said. She wondered if that was insulting. Good. Should I have said something more musical? You guys sounded really ...well timed? No, that sounded ridiculous. Cohen ...Seth knew that she didn't know anything about music. She would have felt stupid trying to prove herself, trying to be someone different.
"Thanks," Seth smiled, genuinely thrilled that she liked the band. He turned towards Ryan and handed the bottle back. "We're going to go. I'm going to get her out of here before the entire band tries to take her home for a gang bang."
Summer threw her head back and laughed. Seth and Ryan both turned towards her, surprised. She caught her breath, "Gang bang?"
"Hey, I'm trying to save you, here. They hit on everyone. I'm just circumventing an ugly scene in which I suddenly become forced to defend your honor."
Summer shook her head silently, still grinning hugely, and handed him his shirt. She stood and Ryan picked up her chair, disappearing behind the old black curtain that obscured the wings of the stage from the crowd. Seth escorted Summer down the back stairs out into the alley, and she found that when his hand fell to the small of her back, she didn't mind it so much anymore.
Seth was uncharacteristically quiet on the taxi ride home from the show, which was actually perfect because it gave Summer a much needed opportunity to think.
Chino was such a jackass, telling her that Seth still cared about her. How patronizing, how pretentious. As if she'd even asked for his opinion. What possible purpose could be served trying to stick his big nose in her business anyway? Caring was what people did for elderly aunts, and small neighbor children. Maybe he'd been trying to tell her that Seth was never the love of her life to begin with, and she was just fooling herself to believe that he was. Sure, Seth would always care about her, but that meant nothing, in the long run.
And even if Seth still cared for her, the novelty of her presence would soon wear off, and her blindness would become a burden, just as it had with her father, and with Marissa, and with Anna... Although, maybe it was unfair to lump Anna in that category so soon. After all, it wasn't as if Anna had told her (yet) about Kurt's proposal, but eventually she would, because it was inevitable. Even the fact that Anna hadn't told Summer was evidence enough that it was because Anna had to figure out who she could dump Summer on so that she could accept. And then she and Kurt would move into a big house in the country, and have like, ten thousand babies, and dogs and goats, and...
"Turn here, please," Seth instructed, his voice a little gruff.
The cabbie obeyed and Summer went back to ignoring them.
Anna would leave her eventually, just like everyone did. And why shouldn't she? Wasn't Anna allowed to have a life, too? Wasn't Anna allowed to be happy? She shouldn't have to bear the responsibility of Summer, not forever.
Regardless, letting Seth back in, letting him think she was open to the possibility of being close to him again was inviting trouble. She wasn't going to put herself in a position to be dumped on, to be left behind. It wasn't like he even tried the first time, anyway. He just let her go without a fight. She wasn't even worth fighting for, worth trying for. Maybe that's what Chino had been trying to say. That Seth would always care about her, some part of him; just like Summer would always care about Seth. It didn't mean that they were ever destined to be more than casual friends, little more than acquaintances. It didn't mean that she had to reach out to him, or even humor him. She wasn't going to be on the short end of that stick, not again.
The cab screeched to a halt in front of her building, and Seth took her hand to help her out of the car, she snatched it back almost immediately. They rode to the third floor in silence, the tension between them mounting with every breath.
As soon as they entered the apartment, Summer hung her coat on the rack and headed back towards her bedroom. Seth followed, a little unsure, and Summer turned on her heel at the threshold of her door. "I don't want to do anything like that again."
Seth frowned, "...but...but I thought you had fun."
Summer's expression hardened into a glare. "I said I didn't want to go. Stop pushing it." She shut the door in his face, a little harder than necessary.
Seth let out a long, beleaguered sigh. "One step forward, two steps back," he muttered, to himself.
To be continued...