"I don't know if I, um, said this before but thanks for everything."

Marissa's eyes darted up to meet his at the opposite end of the bed. Seth and Summer had just left the poolhouse to get snacks.

"You know, for agreeing to lie to the police about Volchok and then pawning your necklace."

Ryan awkwardly rubbed the back of of his neck.

"Oh." Marissa appeared surprised. "Well, of course, I kind of introduced the problem in the first place. I owed you."

"Not really. You didn't force me to go over there and fight him."

"Anyway, it's not a big deal," she said, shrugging it off. Ryan sat up straighter.

"No, really, there aren't many people in my life who would have come through like you did."

His cheeks became slightly flushed.

She smiled at him and told him quietly, "You can count on me."

/

"I can't believe I dated you for two years and you hadn't read On the Road till now."

Ryan put Seth's copy of On the Road down and gave Marissa a bemused look.

"Do I need to point out that you dated Luke for how ever many years and he has probably never even read a book?" Marissa pursed her lips; Ryan smirked at her. "Exactly."

"Still," Marissa said at length. "You're best friend is Seth, you live with him. How did you get through three years without reading it?"

"You're forgetting his other love: comic books."

Marissa rolled her eyes and sunk further back into the sofa.

"Well, do you like it?" she asked. She seemed genuinely nervous of his reply.

"I'm only 50 pages in."

"And your first thoughts are?"

Ryan mulled his words over and then answered, "It's okay."

Marissa opened her mouth to speak, preparing an elegant speech on why On the Road is so much more than 'ok'. Instead, she grabbed a pillow and threw it at him. He burst out laughing.

/

Seth and Summer were meant to act as a buffer. The always hung out as a group of four, no risk of awkwardness or pained silences. It was Friday night, movie night. By 1am, Seth and Summer were fast asleep, curled up on the sofa, with Summer spooning Seth. Ryan threw them a nauseated look. Marissa caught it, laughed and commented, "It's cute."

Ryan gave her a suspicious glance before asking, "Do you want to sleep?"

"I'm pretty awake, actually," Marissa said

"Me too," Ryan agreed and nodded his head at the direction of the empty bottle of wine and beer cans in one corner. He was definitely a little buzzed. "You want another drink?"

"Um, are you sure?"

Ryan shrugged his shoulders and confirmed, "Yeah, why not?"

He head over to the kitchen and Marissa followed. She leant against the French doors leading to the patio and pool, watching Ryan as he produced a bottle of vodka and mixed it with coke. She threw him a curious look as he handed her the glass.

"What?" he said

"Nothing, just interesting choice of drink," she told him with a smirk.

"Well, it's your favourite," he remarked, smirking back.

Marissa smiled slightly, taking a sip. She was surprised by the amount of vodka Ryan put in.

"It's strong too," she commented.

"Complaining?"

"Never," Marissa said, a coy smile on her lips. She opened the French doors and stepped outside, walking over to the pool. Ryan watched her from behind, her figure framed under the moonlight. He sighed, disbelieving of how mesmerizing he could still find her after all this time.

He grabbed the bottle of vodka and walked over to where she was standing. He sat down on the pool edge.

"This is unlike you," she told him.

"Drinking?" he responded, an amused look on his face.

"A little unlike you, you have to admit."

"I guess," he replied, pondering her accusation. He leant further back, assessing Marissa more carefully. She glanced at him through a veil of hair.

"I think the most disappointing thing is that you don't open up more when you are drunk," Marissa pointed out, almost pouting.

Ryan laughed. "Maybe I've never been drunk enough."

"Let's change that," Marissa said, grabbing the bottle of vodka next to him and topping up their glasses.

"Fuck, Marissa," Ryan said, laughing. He reached out and placed his hand on her wrist stopping her. She looked at him, about to give him a smart reply but she was distracted by his hand on her wrist. His fingers stayed for longer than should, absorbing the feeling of her skin. She shuddered from the touch, so entirely unchanged from when they were together. Ryan lifted his hand, as unnerved as Marissa, and diverted his eyes. He took a gulp of his drink, letting it ease his nerves.

"Do you let anyone in, Ryan?" Marissa asked softly. "Would you ever?"

"I do let people in," Ryan stated.

"All the way in?" Marissa pushed.

"I did let you in, no matter what you might think. You know a lot more about me than most people," he told her, sidestepping her question.

"I would hope so," she said softly, half-teasing, half-serious.

"That first night when we met, what did you think?" he asked suddenly.

Marissa giggled at the question. "I thought you were really cute."

"Cute?"

"It's a compliment, Ry,"

"Marissa, I thought you were fucking hot, and I get cute," Ryan stated bluntly.

"I thought you were hot too, ok," Marissa replied, blushing deeply from his comment. Ryan grinned, watching Marissa get flustered. Ryan tilted his head, leaning it against his shoulder as he looked at her.

"You had me so fucked," he told her. He stared at her, his gaze intense, hers unwavering. He gave it a moment, and then added, "You still do, to be honest."

She appeared confused. "What do you mean?"

Ryan's mouth grew dry, back in familiar territory where the words fled him. But he kept staring. He knew what he meant. He found himself leaning in, face drawing closer to hers.

"Ryan…" Marissa murmured softly, her breath hitching in anticipation. He knew if he kisses her now, she would kiss him back. He wanted her to. But he stopped and looked at her for assurance. He was certain he wanted to fuck her.

Her fingers grazed his knuckles and then her hand moved to cover his. When she looked at him next, he knew.

/

He hovered over her, looking down at her, beautiful as ever. Marissa's hands dangled around his neck, legs wrapped firmly around his waist.

"Ryan," Marissa murmured forcing eye contact. "Are you sure?" she whispered.

He thought it over, momentarily wistful. Then he nodded.

"Yeah, I am."

fin.