Summer woke to a gloriously sunny morning. At least she assumed it was sunny. Bundled up in her quilts like a big, fluffy burrito, with only her face peeking out, warmth bathed her exposed skin. Anna liked to leave Summer's curtains open—she always said it gave the room energy and vitality and a bunch of other new age crap—and it's not like Summer would mind, anyway. Despite the chill of the winter day, the sun coming through the window made her feel like a napping feline, stretched out and perfectly relaxed.

Until, that is, a flood of memories from the previous night crashed upon her, and tension filled her body, down to the smallest muscle in her neck. It twitched, uncomfortably. Damn Seth Cohen and his obsessive need to push people to their limits. He talked constantly, annoying practically everyone, and the incessant stream of noise wasn't enough—oh, no—most of the time his inane chatter was about himself. He bumbled, he babbled, he muttered. He drove her crazy with almost every other sentence that came out of his mouth. And he seemed bound and determined to use the two weeks he was sent to lord over her as an excuse to find new and obnoxious ways to torture her daily.

Hadn't God punished her enough? She'd finally gotten to a point her life where she had accepted what had happened to her. She accepted her blindness, accepted it as a new way of life, and adapted accordingly. There was no magic button, no surgery, no treatment, no cure. She would be blind for the rest of her life, and there was no sense in wallowing in self-pity or hatred for the world around her. As Anna had to remind her almost hourly in the weeks following the accident, she had so much to live for. She had her health, and her mind, and her courage. Anna reminded her that she could do anything.

Now, Seth Cohen comes barging back into my life, unbidden, unwarranted—unwanted. And he just flaunts it in my face that he has all of the power, and I have none. Just because he can see and I can't. That doesn't make him the boss of me. That doesn't make him anything to me.

The apartment, Summer noticed, was very, very quiet. She pressed the button on her watch, and the responding beeps told her that it was a little after ten a.m. She thought she probably should at least try and get out of bed, but she was so warm and cozy, and it wasn't as if she had anywhere to be, really. She wondered idly, where Seth was. He was probably still asleep, the lazy bum. She wouldn't blame him if he holed up in his room all day, considering how rude she'd been to him the night before.

It wasn't as if she'd really intended to be that cold, that cruel. It just sort of ...came out. It was like all of her emotions had been bottled up, held back the entire night, and his silence just sort of pushed her over the edge. The one time she would have appreciated his mumbling, he was as quiet as the grave. Which was just typical, really. It was almost as if he could sense her hesitation, her need for brevity. Seth had never been good at picking up her subtle clues, so why would he start now?

Summer stretched, yawned hugely, and proceeded to roll off of her mattress, untangling herself from sheets and blankets in the process. She found her robe, and put it on over her flannel jammies, and found her fuzzy bunny slippers at the end of the bed, tucked under the bedskirt. She figured she would try to make amends with Seth—a peace offering—since she would have to share the apartment with him for at least another week and a half. She decided she would make pancakes, a recently learned treat, but one that she was exceptionally good at.

Slipping out of her bedroom door, she felt around experimentally to see if his bedroom door was closed, and she discovered that it was. Deciding to let him sleep for a while longer, she padded down the hall towards the kitchen.

She worked quickly, the Today Show keeping her company on the tiny television Anna kept in the kitchen. Summer always warned her friend that Anna would lose a finger paying more attention to the tube than to whatever she was chopping; but today Summer was grateful for the distraction. She fixed two plates, and then tiptoed back down the hall towards Seth's room. She knocked, lightly.

"Cohen...it's me...uh, Summer. I made breakfast."

Her answer was complete silence. She knocked again, with a little more force. Maybe he was in the shower, or still asleep... She cracked the door open, and called out his name again. Still no answer. She crossed over to the bed, feeling tentatively across the end of the mattress.

Her hands felt only the cool texture of the blankets, pulled perfectly tight across the surface of the bed. She moved her hands to his bedside table, feeling around for books or papers. She knew he'd brought a ton of books with him when he came to stay, where were they now? The only resistance she met was the cylindrical touch-lamp that sat upon the surface of the table.

Summer stepped over to the writing desk, gingerly sweeping her hand across the top. Where was his suitcase, his backpack, his things? She knew he'd brought his stereo, his CDs, his laptop. There was nothing there; the top of the desk was as slick and as smoothly polished as it was before he'd come to stay. There was nothing of his on the bureau, or on the counter in the bathroom. She knew in an instant what her heart had been denying since the moment she stepped into the room. He wasn't there; he wasn't in the shower. He was gone. She suddenly, and very inexplicably felt completely lost. A broken sob rose in her throat. Had she finally been so much of a bitch that he had just left? Would he have at least called Anna to tell her he couldn't stand it anymore, and that Summer was in the apartment alone, by herself? He had some nerve, after Anna had paid him to stay with her!

Summer willed herself not to panic. How could he just leave? What would she do if he had? She couldn't call Anna back now, she wouldn't. Kurt was right, in his own overly-protective, blustering way. Summer was selfish, and she was a jerk, and it was right for Anna to want to be away from her, to want a break from her. She wasn't going to give Kurt the satisfaction of being right.

She took a deep breath, gathering her strength. She would just have to weather it out. If Anna called, Summer would pretend like everything was fine. She wouldn't tell Anna that Seth was gone; that he had left one morning and hadn't come back.

And him. Even if she'd been the most virulent shrew in the entire world, he still should have told her he was going, and if he would ever come back. If she ever met up with him again, so help her, God... It wouldn't be pretty. She closed the door to his room behind her, tried to quell the butterflies careening wildly in her stomach. The entire apartment smelled slightly singed, the odor of burned flour hung on the air like mist, like the smell of burned rubber. It was making her nauseated.

She thrust her untouched breakfast down the garbage disposal, and cleaned the kitchen, throwing open the sliding glass door and the casement window in the kitchen to get a breath of fresh air flowing through the stuffy room. She ignored the shivers that crawled down her spine as the icy wind whipped across her cheeks when she moved too close to the open door.

She left it open long after the smell of her long-forgotten breakfast had dissipated. She was determined to punish herself. It seemed only fitting. She would freeze herself to death because Seth Cohen found her too bitchy to bear? She really was getting melodramatic in her old age. Ha.

Though she tried to convince herself that she wasn't concerned, she still found herself pacing the living room like a caged tiger a half an hour later. She debated calling Marissa. Sure, she knew Marissa would fly home from Africa for her, or at least, she hoped Marissa would be that loyal. Hell, Marissa would probably thank Summer for pulling her away from her overbearing mother.

But why was she even letting herself go there? She had been the one to fight Anna to stay there alone, after all. She protested vigorously about the idea of Seth Cohen, a man she'd left far behind in her past, was plunged back into her life once again. I should be glad, I got what I wanted.

But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't make herself feel happy about the way things were turning out. She was so lost in her thoughts she almost missed the phone, ringing loudly from the table in the foyer. She dashed for it, stubbing her toe on the entry table in the process.

"Hello?" she croaked, wincing.

"Summer!" Seth exclaimed, panicked. "Are you okay? What's wrong? What happened?"

"Seth? Where the hell are you?"

"I'm at work. What's wrong with you?

"I just stubbed my toe, it's nothing," she brushed him off brusquely. Catching herself just in time, she softened her tone considerably. She heard his relieved sigh on the other end of the line.

"I woke up this morning and you weren't here, I got a little worried," she said quietly, her voice wavering just slightly at the end. She swallowed hard, resisted her own vulnerability.

"Well, I tried to tell you last night," Seth replied, peevish. "But you were determined to be a jackass, so I couldn't. My boss paged me after the show. I had to come back to work today, no matter what. He said I could take some time off later this week, but he needs me here through Wednesday at least."

Summer gritted her teeth, ignored his insult and his tone. "I'm sorry."

"Golly, that almost sounded like you meant it," Seth zinged back, merciless.

Summer clenched her right hand into a fist, pounded the table as hard as she dared, counted to ten. "I am sorry. I just...wasn't feeling well, and I said something I shouldn't have."

"Listen, I hate to cut you off, but my boss is headed my way. I'll see you later tonight."

"Yeah," Summer replied listlessly, punching the button on the cordless phone harder than she needed to. At least she knew now he wasn't gone for good. She couldn't decide if she was consoled, saddened, or angered by her own foolish suppositions.

Maybe it's just time to let them go, a voice whispered.

No. That would mean giving up, giving in. That would mean Seth would be hanging around all the time, trying to be buddy-buddy with her, and with Anna, so that they wouldn't think he was avoiding them purposefully. But maybe that wouldn't be so bad...

Summer sighed, heavily, feeling suddenly quite exhausted. She curled up on the sofa, imagining a quick nap would revitalize her for an afternoon of reading, or maybe even some light cleaning. Just a little nap...

Summer woke, hours later, hearing a key turning in the door. She sat up quickly, smoothed her hair down and cringed when she realized she was still wearing her pajamas. The ones with dancing bananas on them. It was too late to make a run for it, Seth would know she'd been the laziest bum on the planet; sleeping the day away on the couch, for God's sake. She straightened her shoulders, stifled a yawn.

Seth took one look at Summer as he came through the front door and wanted to burst out laughing. Her face was contorted oddly, like she was trying very hard not to laugh herself. There were smudges of flour across her cheeks, and some even in her hair, the remnants of some baking experiment gone awry, no doubt. Her pajamas had large gyrating fruit on them, and he wondered if she even knew it...who knows if Anna had told her how silly she would look when she...

"Hi, Co...Seth. Hi, Seth," Summer repeated, trying very hard to seem self-assured. At least she had excellent posture.

Seth took a deep breath, edging forward into the dim light of the living room. It was only five o'clock, but the winter day was already growing dark. Snow flurries were pelting against the windows hard, and fast, now. The light from the table-side lamp glimmered off the glass invitingly. Why Summer even bothered to turn the lights on was a mystery, but one that he was grateful for.

In that instant, he shivered violently, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw the gossamer living room curtains billowing against the breeze. His gaze shifted to the open patio door. He crossed to it wordlessly, and closed it with a snap. Summer didn't even flinch. Seth gazed at her for a long moment, uncertain why it saddened him so much that she would do such a thing. It was almost as if it were penance, for something. His beautiful summer queen was never one for the cold, she was a genuine California girl... And yet.

"Here, I um, brought you something," Seth said quietly, as he stepped back into the circle of lamplight.

"What is it?" Summer asked, dubiously.

"Um, just some flowers I picked up. Seems really silly now...since you can't...see them," he mumbled. "I'm sorry I was rude to you on the phone earlier." His eyes darted nervously around the room—to the coat rack, the mail sorter, her glass on the sofa side table, a small puddle of orange juice still welled in the bottom of it—anywhere but her. When he did finally look up, her crestfallen expression left him a little breathless.

Summer held her hands out, like a child would, charmingly insistent. She took the small bouquet in her hands, brought it up to her nose, smelling politely.

"Mmmmm, thank you." The warmth of her smile lit the entire room, the lamplight shone off her pearly teeth.

"You're welcome," Seth had to stop himself from leaning forward to touch her—to kiss her, sweep her hair off of her brow. "Listen, do you want dinner? Or maybe just some wine?"

"Wine would be good," Summer nodded slightly.

"I got your favorite," Seth called out over his shoulder, already halfway to the kitchen. "The Riesling, and I'm just going to go get a corkscrew..." his voice trailed away, and Summer could hear him rummaging through the drawers like a madman. No doubt trying to get that bottle open before she had another mood swing and kicked him out of the house. She bit back a laugh, wondering if he'd ever find it in their junk drawer. She decided to take pity on him, and followed his steps into the kitchen.

"You'll never find it," she rolled her eyes playfully, and stepped over to where he was standing, feeling out for the drawer handle. She realized in that moment how incredibly close they were standing to one another, so close that she could feel his breath on the back of her neck. She inhaled sharply, and reveled in the rush of blood to her brain that resulted.

"Here it is!" She exclaimed, trying to cover her trepidation with false cheer. After all, how long had she and Seth been apart? Did he still think she was as easy as the day he'd come over and taken her virginity?

Oh, God. Did he see her as some plaything? Some week-long fling that would end when he left; no harm, no foul? Summer willed herself to calm down. Overthinking this whole thing is what had gotten her into trouble in the first place. No assumptions. She took a deep breath. No assumptions.

Seth must have sensed her anxiety, because he took a large step back, rested his hip against the kitchen counter. "You go. In the living room, or where ever. Drink your wine...I'll just...make dinner. Start, um, start dinner. I'll make it." He had to get his erratic breathing and the wild stuttering under control. He took several long, deep breaths, counting to ten between each one. He had to be the one to stay in control. God only knew what Summer would be thinking, and how fast her mood could change. He just had to stay calm, collected.

"Seth...I just wanted to say, again, that I'm sorry for what I said. How I acted," Summer said, and Seth could see how difficult it was for her to admit that to him, to admit that she had been wrong. His heart leaped out to her, but he wasn't going to save her from herself, not this time. "It's been a long time since I've had to interact with anyone but Anna, or Kurt, or Coop...and I'm just a little out of practice."

Summer swallowed hard. Seth wasn't making this any easier on her; she could feel him staring at her, silently. "I guess what I'm trying to say...is that it would be really good if we could just be...um, if we could just be," she took a steadying breath, "friends."

She looked up at him expectantly, still so hesitant.

"Friends would be really cool," Seth agreed, his smile evident in his words, his gentle tone.

"Good," Summer nodded resolutely, and took the wineglass from him, ignoring the way his hand brushed hers tenderly in the process. She escaped from the kitchen, a hand to her chest, and took a long swallow of wine as soon as she was around the corner and out of his line of sight.

In the kitchen, Seth gulped from his own glass. He sighed heavily through his nose.

It was going to be a long ten days.

To be continued...