Archive of Our Own ^beta

Newport, 2003.

Ryan wraps his arm around her as the confetti falls around them, chants of a countdown being drowned out by the moment she knows will be sealed in her memory.

“I love you,” he says again, and her ears are ringing, her eyes adjusting to the handsome planes of his face.

“Thank you,” Marissa counters, smiling wide. God, I love you too.

She thinks of it like a snow globe, confetti falling around them as they cling to one another. His kiss is so sweet. She never wants it to end.

The music swells and the crowd noise doesn’t abate, and Marissa hears it all like a bubble being burst. As if time stood still for them for those few moments.

“Can we go?” Ryan asks, his hand curled around her hip, confetti sitting in his hair. His face is still close.

She nods, her face pink.

Grabbing his hand, Marissa pulls him toward coat check to retrieve her coat and clutch. Ryan waits with her, arm wrapped around her waist.

“What took you so long?” she asks, lips quirked.

“To come here?”

She nods, smiling.

Ryan’s hand rubs circles on her hip, feeling her warm skin. “Seth’s aunt had a party.”

Marissa lets out a surprised chuckle. “Hmm.”

“I’m serious.”

“Okay.”

His eyes narrow, smiling back. “It was a mess. We got locked in the poolhouse.”

She narrows her eyes in playful skepticism, accepting her belongings when the attendant hands them to her. She tosses the coat over her arm, moving with Ryan toward the door.

They have to share the lift with about five other people so Marissa tucks into Ryan’s side. Not that she minds. He told her he loved her. He loved her. She kisses his cheek in the elevator, smiling. He turns his head toward her, eyes light.

Walking toward the exit, she grabs his hand, head running a mile a minute thinking about getting to the poolhouse. Maybe this’ll be the night.

But when they get to the valet line, both of their heads fall. It’s impossibly long, and Marissa’s hopes drop by the second.

“I kind of just left the car,” Ryan says sheepishly. “Didn’t think about parking up the street.”

She hums, trying to count the amount of people waiting ahead of them. “Guess we shouldn’t be surprised.”

He nods, biting his lip. His hand grips hers tighter, pulling her away. “Come on. We’ll be here all night anyway.”

Marissa shrugs, retreating into the Four Seasons.

They pass a busy ballroom and a packed bar, the guests decked out in glitter and tipsy grins. She feels no pull to join them, content with exploring with the boy holding her hand.

Ryan ducks into a room to steal them two bottles of Perrier, Marissa keeping lookout.

Finally, they find an empty coat closet, and she feels her cheeks flush once again. The way he looks at her is overwhelming sometimes. Ever since that very first meeting she’s felt something electric and palpable between them. Ignoring it for weeks didn’t really work out that well.

His hands find her hips again. She likes the way he holds her. It’s not possessive like Luke, but there’s a comfortability she’s surprised developed so quickly between them.

“I like your dress,” Ryan murmurs.

Marissa grins. “I picked it out with you in mind.”

His brow raises in question. “And what if I’d never showed up?”

She slings an arm around his neck, bringing his face close to hers. “I was gonna show you somehow. Have Sum take a polaroid or something.”

Ryan smirks. “Of all the fun you were having without me?”

She nods, tipping her head toward him for a kiss. He kisses her softly, his hand touching the skin at her side. She smirks against his lips, feeling confident in her dress of choice.

“Thank you for coming,” Marissa mutters.

He pulls away from her for a brief second. “Thank you for– for saying what you did.”

“That I love you?”

It sends a rush of something warm down his spine hearing it again. He nods, bringing a hand up to her cheek. “Sometimes I don’t feel worth it. Any of it.”

Marissa’s eyes narrow. “Ryan–”

“No,” he says, “I’m working on it.”

And she knows he is. Little by little, every day, she sees him working at making the life he’s living feel like more than a dream he doesn’t want to wake up from.

She nods, moving a hand to his chest. “You are worth it.”

He looks down, feeling the warmth of her against him. “I’ve never felt like this before. About anyone.”

Marissa feels her heart lurch. “Me either.”

Their eyes meet.

“I love you,” she says, kissing his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, finally his lips again.

Ryan smiles against her, says easily, “I love you, too.”

Newport, 2004.

10… 9… 8…

He doesn’t see Marissa when the countdown begins even though his eyes are searching for her, and Ryan feels an uncomfortable flare of shame at the thought. Lindsay looks to him, expectant but shy when the crowd starts counting down to midnight. They’re at the Bait Shop. Ryan’s eyes find Seth talking to Alex by the bar.

3… 2… 1…

The small crowd around them erupts. Ryan leans in to kiss Lindsay’s cheek and moves to the corner of her mouth when she turns her head toward his. He lingers there, unsure. They haven’t really talked much about who they are to one another now. After Chrismukkah, he’s just glad she’s still taking his calls.

“Happy New Year,” she says over the band, some big get that Seth and Alex are really proud of for some reason.

His lips spread in a smile. “You too.”

Before he can help it, his eyes wander. Suddenly the crowd feels stifling. Not that it didn’t before. He hates live music. Doesn’t understand why people do this.

“I’m… I’m gonna get some air.”

Lindsay nods, eyes dimming.

Ryan heaves a giant sigh once he gets outside. He hears someone setting off fireworks on the beach and drunken slurs nearby from people he vaguely recognizes from Harbor. It doesn’t really feel like the dawn of a new day. He checks his watch, willing Seth to agree to leave telepathically. It’d been his idea to come.

When Ryan’s eyes find Marissa at the end of the pier, stubbing a cigarette butt out on the railing, he feels his feet moving toward her without thought.

She’s getting another smoke out of her pack when he approaches.

“You missed the countdown.”

Marissa doesn’t glance his way. “I could hear it from here.”

Her gaze is on the dark water before them, waves hit by the shining moon above. When another firework goes up, it explodes into red and blue.

“Happy New Year,” Ryan says, his hands steadying on the railing.

She lets out a mirthless laugh, bringing an unlit cigarette to her lips. Flicking her lighter, it glows orange. “Yeah, you too.”

Ryan lets out a long sigh. It wasn’t supposed to be like this with her.

When Seth told him Marissa would also be coming to the New Year’s Eve party, Ryan had immediately clammed up, remembering the recent tension at Chrismukkah before all hell broke loose. He’s tried to forget about that particularly uncomfortable meeting before the larger bomb dropped.

Marissa had shown up to the Bait Shop earlier in the night with Summer on her arm, and Lindsay had been the one to point the blonde out. Ryan had needed to turn his head so his jaw dropping could appear less obvious. He’s not sure he succeeded.

She’d worn the same dress as last year, this time her shoulder-length hair the only real difference. That and her steely countenance.

“She looks great,” Lindsay had commented, and Ryan knew it was bait.

“So do you.”

His mind had raced, thinking over their previous interactions. Was she mad at him? Trying to throw a wrench into his new whatever-it-was with Lindsay? He’d shaken his head then, cursing himself for overthinking. Marissa hadn’t even come over to say hi.

Sometimes he wonders why things are the way they are with her. Wishes he’d said things he can’t say anymore.

Ryan feels something sit next to his hand, and he turns his head. Her pack. Marissa shrugs. A peace offering.

He thinks about it. The smell of tobacco and Marissa next to him is as enticing as ever. He feels that same pull, the one that dulls itself every so often. But he made a choice when he came back from Portland to do things differently. “I’m cutting back.”

She breathes out smoke. “Right.”

Looking over at him finally, she sighs. So much she wants to say. Things she doubts she ever will.

“Nice dress,” he says finally, breaking the dam.

Marissa smirks. “Thanks.”

He wonders if she’ll give him an explanation, but she keeps quiet. It briefly reminds him of the Marissa he first met over a year ago. Beguiling and alluring. He veers to a safer topic. “Where’s Summer?”

She shrugs. “Calling Zach, I think. And dodging Seth.”

Ryan nods. “That I get.”

Marissa smiles, blowing smoke into the wind. He can’t quite meet her eye, but he likes being with her like this. He knows it can’t last very long. They don’t get these chances very often anymore. He’s not sure who’s to blame for that, really.

Moving the cigarette to her other hand, she turns toward him. Her eyes are dark, her mouth twisting in hesitation. Somehow, she knew he’d find her out here.

His eyes travel south, her dress as tantalizing as he remembers it. Maybe moreso now, when he stands at least a foot away unable to touch her. Unable to be who they once were. It reminds him of how much has changed in a year. His eyes meet hers finally.

“Coop!” they hear in the distance.

Marissa breaks their gaze, and Ryan is grateful.

Summer calls from the entrance, “Coop, I wanna go.”

Nodding at her friend, Marissa gives Ryan a smile that doesn’t meet her eye. “Happy New Year, Ry.”

Newport, 2005.

Summer gets invited to a New Year’s bash on the beach from a girl on social committee at Harbor and Marissa joins the chorus in getting the boys on board.

“Can we ever just have a quiet night in?” Seth asks, setting his controller beside him on the floor.

Ryan nods in agreement, sitting parallel.

“That’s all we do,” Marissa argues, lying at the foot of the bed behind them.

“Exactly, Coop. They had their sad little Bait Shop New Year’s last year. This time I want fireworks and people.”

The boys’ heads fall dramatically.

Summer rolls her eyes at them, stalking to the main house to refill her iced tea. Seth follows soon after.

Marissa leans her head on Ryan’s shoulder when he slouches against the bed. “Do you really not wanna go?” she whispers.

He lolls his head against her, her soft hair tickling his cheek. “No, we can go.”

“You sure?”

He nods.

She smiles, kissing down his cheek to his jaw. “Thank you.”

From the way she smirks against his skin he knows it’s a double entendre. Ryan turns his head and smiles softly, meeting her lips in a kiss.

He holds onto her the whole night, his hand a permanent fixture on her hip. She leans into it too, enjoys the feel of him next to her when talking to former classmates and sometimes friends.

“Coop,” some of them say, a mixture of fondness and surprise. “You never come out anymore.”

Marissa purses her lips. She’s not even sure they know she switched schools. “Not my scene,” she tells them airily, her back hitting Ryan’s chest.

“Scott’s always liked you,” Ryan grumbles when they find a quiet corner.

She shakes her head. “How do you know?”

“Soccer team,” he tells her. “Though he never said anything when Luke was around.”

Shrugging her shoulders, she brings an arm around his neck. “He’s always been a tool.”

“Coop,” she hears through all the noise and rolls her eyes at the interruption. But it’s only Summer dragging Seth through the crowd. Ryan picks up a beer from the nearby cooler.

“Sum,” Marissa says, accepting when Ryan offers her one too. They’d talked about it earlier and Marissa said she was okay so long as she only had three drinks max. The brunettes make their way over and Marissa notes that Summer is decidedly tipsy. “Having fun?”

“Oh yeah,” Summer giggles. “Cohen tried to do a keg stand.”

Ryan smiles. “Please tell me you have pictures.”

“Of course,” Summer says, holding up her phone. “Blurry or not these will be going on my wall.”

Seth shrugs, grabbing a beer for himself, knowing better than to give one to his girlfriend who has repeated throughout the night that she detests the stuff. “So these are the famed Newport parties, huh?”

“Like you don’t know,” Marissa counters. “Remember Donnie?”

Ryan winces. “Don’t remind us.”

Later that night, close to midnight, Marissa pulls Ryan outside.

“Where’s your other dress?” he asks, his hand coming back to her hip when they find a quiet spot amidst the teenage chaos.

“You don’t like this one?” she tilts her head with a laugh.

“No, I love this,” he says quickly, running his hand up her side, hooking his thumb into one of the grooves of her dress. If anything, this one might be even more revealing.

She smiles to indicate her teasing. Moving her own hand, she rests it against his chest. “It’s lost somewhere from the move,” she explains.

“Shame.”

Marissa nods, smiling against his kiss. He tastes like malt and the licorice they shared earlier.

60… 59… 58…

Pulling away, they hear someone setting off the fireworks too early.

“I thought the whole point of coming tonight was to be in there,” Ryan says, fully content to stay where they are.

“It was, but… I just want you right now. Just you.”

“Right now?” he asks with a smirk, her skin warm against his touch.

She rolls her eyes, smiling.

“It’d be a really good way to start the new year,” he jokes.

Marissa smiles, leaning against what Ryan figures is some glorified shed. More fireworks go off but they stay put. She knows he’s kidding. The only outdoor locale they’ll ever have sex is the lifeguard stand or in one another’s cars in the dead of night. Not to say it doesn’t make her think for just a moment.

“I just– I wanted to say this somewhere quiet,” she starts, shyly moving her hand up and down his chest. She digs her sandal into the sand, eyes moving upward.

His joking demeanor disappears, replaced with a quiet smile. He knows what’s coming, but it still makes his palms sweat.

“I just– I just love you,” she says, voice sweet like honey.

Marissa kisses him after she’s said it, her tongue hot against his. She kisses him like she hasn’t in weeks, the feeling so loose and adolescent. He’s always feeling much older than he really is. But here, tonight, with her, he feels 17.

19… 18… 17…

“Wait,” Ryan says, agonizingly pulling away from her tight embrace. “I–” wanting to say it before the countdown ends. His hands are gripping her sides. “I love you, too. A lot.”

Her responding smile is so sweet, almost shy. Considering their position, he’d normally find it funny. As if they have anything left to hide. But his ears are red, his lips hovering just over hers, and he knows how much she needed to hear him say it back. Marissa touches the buttons of his wrinkled dress shirt. “A lot?”

His cheeks flush crimson. “Yeah.”

She lets out a contented hum.

6… 5… 4…

He kisses her again, her apricot lip balm familiar against his mouth.

3… 2… 1…

More fireworks are set off and they part slightly, eyes moving up toward the glittering sky.

“Happy New Year,” she says quietly, tucking into his chest.

Ryan holds her to him, resting his chin on her head. His arms encircle her, content. It feels more fluid than it has in ages.

“I, uh,” she says then, picking up her head. “I think– I mean, we could check the poolhouse for the dress. Just to make sure.”

Santorini, 2006.

Marissa thinks about it for five minutes into the new year before mumbling fuck it and dialing Ryan’s number. Extricating herself from her friends and her date for the evening, one she’s regretting, she flees down a marked path until she reaches the shore. Even if she gets his voicemail, it’ll be a welcome reprieve from the celebration lining the streets and skies.

He picks up on the third ring, his voice gravelly when he answers. “Marissa,” he says, clearing his throat. “Hey.”

She smiles to herself, kicking off her sandals and sitting next to the sea. “Hey, Happy New Year.”

She didn’t come home for Thanksgiving or Chrismukkah, not that Ryan expected her to, but it was odd gathering with Kaitlin and Julie for those holidays without Marissa hot on their heels. He’s only heard her voice a handful of times since she left but they’ve emailed. Marissa once joked in their email correspondence that it’d been the most they’d ever actually talked. He wasn’t sure how to take that one, but he’d responded in kind, remarking that maybe it felt like growing up.

He sets his pen down, the notes he was taking right before a distant memory. “Same to you. I didn’t think I’d hear from you today.” But I hoped.

Marissa nods, thinking about his words, watching the small waves crash. “What time is it there? I wasn’t sure if you’d be out.”

Ryan moves to his bed, kicking off his boots in tandem. “Summer’s dragging us to some party later. Seth’s complained about it twice now. It’s just past two.”

“Oh, right, it’s not even nighttime there.”

“No,” he says, smiling softly.

“I didn’t– I knew it was ten hours, I did, but I guess I just lost track. I don’t– I don’t know why I–”

“I’m glad you called,” Ryan says, able to articulate it better when it’s to her ear and not her face.

She runs a hand up her arm, lip curling. “Yeah?”

“It’s weird that you’re not here,” he admits.

Marissa lets out a hot, unexpected tear. “Yeah.”

“Ten hours…” he remarks, staring up at the ceiling.

“It feels like longer,” she says softly, like a secret.

He lets out a long breath. He’s dated around at school. Nothing’s stuck quite yet and he’s not sure he wants it to. In Summer’s more frequent Marissa updates he’s heard that there’s been a boyfriend on the ship, a bartender or a deckhand. Something like that. Marissa’s never mentioned it in any of her emails and he’s mildly glad.

“Where are you now?” Ryan asks, wanting to picture her.

“Santorini,” she says. “My friend, the waitress I told you about, she knew people here so we came. It’s alright.”

“Only alright?”

She pauses, and he listens to her steadying breaths. There’s the soft background noise of waves lapping on the shore. If he closes his eyes, he can pretend she’s only a short walk away.

“Remember what I said about Berkeley living up to the hype?”

Ryan nods to himself, thinking back. “It’s not working, huh?”

He wishes it would. Not to say that he loves her being half a world away. He really doesn’t. But when she made the decision to go, he felt happy for her. The idea that he wouldn’t see her for months on end was only okay if it meant she was happy and finding the light she so desperately deserved.

Bringing her tote to her head to use as a pillow, Marissa leans back on the sand. “It is. At least in some ways. But a place is still just a place.”

He bites his lip, hoping she’ll elaborate. She’d indicated as such in her emails but he knew she was still sure she’d made the right decision. Floundering in Newport for months hasn’t exactly benefitted Seth all that much.

“I guess I wanted to feel brand new. To belong.”

“You don’t?” he asks kindly.

“Sort of,” she says, looking up at the sky. The stars have faded in favor of the fireworks going off in the distance. “I guess it just takes time.”

“That makes sense.”

Water sloshes at her feet, and she digs them further into the sand, feeling the granules touch her skin. “Has Berkeley done that for you?” Marissa asks.

“It’s… been good. There’s good people.”

She knows he’s fond of his roommate, Mark, another transplant from an unsavory home life. “I’m so glad, Ry.”

“I miss Newport sometimes,” he admits, looking around the poolhouse. “The dorms offer little in the way of privacy.”

“I seem to remember the poolhouse having privacy issues too,” she reminds him, voice picking up.

“Right, last Thanksgiving, who could forget,” he flirts back.

Kirsten had opened the door right as Marissa had been removing her bra and straddling his hips. It was an incident Ryan had had to answer for in another of Sandy’s talks the day after. Yes, we’re being careful. Yes, I know how to lock a door. No, I don’t want a repeat of sophomore year, Jesus.

“I recovered well,” Marissa says, feeling herself sink into the sand just a bit. She’d covered herself in a sheet immediately, cheeks aflame.

“You did. Thanksgiving wasn’t nearly as fun this year.”

She chuckles into the phone, unwilling to think further about what this conversation means in the grand scheme of things. Maybe for once she and Ryan can just be.

“Mine wasn’t great either. Dad made me a turkey sandwich and it was less than ideal. Next year can be better,” she offers. “Er, well, this year for me. Still ‘06 for you.”

“Next year,” he mutters, almost wistfully. Sometimes he has to pause and remember why they aren’t both at Berkeley, his hand attached to her hip at a freshman mixer.

They sit in companionable silence, listening to the other’s breaths. If Marissa concentrates, she can hear Journey faintly in the background.

“I forgot to mention,” she says conspiratorially, smirking. “I forgot my dress.”

“I was gonna ask,” he says with a chuckle, the sound soothing after so many months. Closing her eyes, she can almost feel his stubble rubbing against her cheek, his breath hot in her ear.

“Two years in a row now. It’s somewhere in all my boxes. I’ll have to dig it up next year,” she jests, adding, “If mom and I don’t move again.”

“Next year,” he repeats, his voice deep. “Can’t wait.”

Providence, 2007.

His vantage point from the back of Summer’s car lets him see Marissa before either Summer or Seth do. They’re at the Providence train station two days before the new year.

Ryan watches Marissa tuck her honey blonde hair behind her ear and search the bag on her shoulder for what he guesses is a cigarette. For a moment he considers getting out first and joining her, the two brunettes in the front seat be damned. But it turns out to be a mirror and lip balm. She applies it carefully and Ryan sees what he realizes is a nervous toss of her hair. It makes him grin. Maybe she’s anxious too. He’s not sure why he is. They just saw each other not even a week ago at Chrismukkah. Even if she had to go back to New York for a few days in between for work.

He rubs his hands on his knees anyway, content to watch her.

He knows Summer’s spotted Marissa when the driver’s side door is opened and shut in a flash, the brunette rushing toward her best friend.

Ryan watches the two hug as if it’s Marissa’s return from Europe all over again. That reunion had been full of loving shouts and tears, the girls talking a mile a minute to one another at a volume the boys had trouble discerning.

Popping the trunk of the car with her key, Summer tugs Marissa toward them.

“Cohen, backseat,” Summer orders from afar.

“Second fiddle once again,” Seth quips, opening his door. “You’d think NYU only being three and a half hours away would make these reunions less intense.”

Ryan chuckles, opening his door too when the girls approach.

“Hey guys,” Marissa greets, handing her duffel to Seth. “Happy almost New Year.”

With a quick hug, Seth brings her bag to the trunk. “You too. Feels like we just saw you.”

She rolls her eyes at him. “Careful, Cohen. Sum’s told me you forgot what day it was every day this week. I think you’re losing it.”

“The week between Christmas and New Year’s shouldn’t even count as a real week. Nothing happens,” Seth says.

“Speak for yourself, Cohen,” Summer responds, opening her door and getting in the driver’s seat. “Coop here’s been working.”

“Right,” Marissa says, her voice wavering for just a second. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she finally faces Ryan. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he responds, moving to hug her when she initiates it. It’s all too brief but lasts long enough for him to wish it didn’t have to end. She feels warm from the train, her cheeks flushed from the wintry Rhode Island air.

“Coop,” Summer chides from inside the car. “It’s cold.”

Ryan pulls away from Marissa reluctantly, their eyes meeting for the first time in days. Chrismukkah was too busy to ever really get alone time with her. From Julie and Kaitlin to her visiting grandparents from Palm Springs she always had something on her schedule. Their families had dinner at the club on Christmas Eve but even then they’d been surrounded by too many people to really reacquaint themselves.

Marissa gets into the passenger seat, picking up the cd case sitting in Summer’s console. “Cohen, to thank you for switching, this one’s for you.”

She inserts Transatlanticism into the cd player and both Summer and Ryan groan from their respective seats.

“Finally, someone with taste,” Seth says, exchanging a smile with Marissa. “So this is the new year,” he sings, earning an endeared eye roll from his girlfriend pulling out of the parking lot.

At Summer’s apartment, Marissa sets her bag down dramatically, announcing to the room. “I think I need some fresh air.”

Her eyes meet Ryan’s on the way out, albeit briefly.

Summer, sitting at the kitchen counter typing away on her laptop, says, “I think that’s your cue, Atwood.”

Seth smirks from the couch.

Ryan’s cheeks burn but he puts his jacket back on and follows suit.

He finds Marissa sitting at the base of the stairs, flicking her lighter over and over again until it finally catches on the end of her cigarette. She always did buy shitty lighters at gas station counters.

“Hey,” he greets, sitting beside her.

She smiles in return, inhaling for a long moment and meeting his eyes. His breath hitches. She knows what she’s doing. He leans into it, the feel of her familiar.

“I think that’s the opposite of fresh air,” he quips, smirking.

Marissa rolls her eyes, pushing her pack his way with a grin.

Ryan takes a cigarette out, eyeing the lighter in her hand. Placing the cigarette in his mouth, he scoots closer to her. His hand gestures to the lighter but she leans herself toward him instead, eyes daring him to challenge her.

The corners of his mouth spread, throwing caution to the wind. His cigarette lights against the flame of hers and he feels her face only inches from his for the first time in a year and a half.

He stays there for just a moment, the mix of her and cold and smoke overwhelming all at once. Breathing out smoke, Marissa’s the one who breaks eye contact. Running a hand up her arm, she flicks away ash.

“Did you really have work?” he finds himself asking. There was something in her expression earlier.

Her eyes cut to his quickly, pointed. She takes another drag, exhaling from the corner of her mouth. “Yes and no.”

Eyes sharp, Ryan leans back against the steps. “How so?”

Marissa lets out a long breath, cigarette hanging off her hand. “I… we have an issue coming out the first week after break.” He nods, remembering something about a literary magazine. “And they asked if anyone could work over break.”

“So you volunteered?”

“I– sort of. I guess. Is that a bad thing?”

He shakes his head. “No, of course not.”

“It feels like it is,” she admits.

“How?”

Stubbing her smoke out with the heel of her boot, she rubs her hands together for warmth. He watches her think it through, and he’s reminded of how much she’s changed in the last year and a half. She’s still herself, but she’s blunter with him nowadays. He wonders if it’s to do with their emailing that started when she was abroad. The form didn’t allow for them to be so coy or subtle. Turning back to catch his eye, she still looks like the girl he’s always known. Contemplative and quiet. He finds himself falling into her yet again. It was only a matter of time, anyway.

“Being back home is still weird for me,” she says, low but assured.

Ryan nods, blowing out smoke. She hasn’t spent longer than three weeks in Newport since graduation. “I get that.”

“Seeing you is also strange.”

“Me?” he asks, surprised though he shouldn’t be, his cigarette down to the end.

She smiles small. “Yeah.”

He remembers their call from the year previous. “It’s strange for me, too. I didn’t know if I should come.”

Her eyes meet his, tilting her head in question.

“But Seth’s been trying to get me out here for a year. And I barely saw you at Chrismukkah.”

She nods, looking at the trees in the distance. “Newport brings up a lot of shit. I don’t know. Sometimes I think it’s cursed.”

“Seth says the same.”

Marissa smiles. “It’s dumb.”

“I’m glad you’re on this side of the Atlantic this time.”

She flushes. “Me too. And I’m glad you made it.”

They get closer and closer as New Year’s Eve drags on. A touch against his chest here, his hand on her hip there. Looks from across the room. She stands between his legs when he sits on someone’s desk surveying the party below, telling him about the professors she hates, the ones she loves. Her hand sits on his thigh for a moment as they laugh over something innocuous. She even grabs his hand at one point when they navigate the party Summer and Seth have brought them to. Marissa acts unfazed, as if it’s something she always does, and Ryan goes along with it. He’s tired of pretending like he doesn’t want to. Seth meets his eye at some point, pointed in question, but Ryan ignores him.

Seth’s building off campus turns out to be livelier than any of them expected. Summer introduces Ryan to their circle of friends and some of them remember Marissa from homecoming.

“That was fun,” Marissa laughs. “Seth fell on his ass.”

Summer cackles, remembering. “The pregame wasn’t the best idea.”

Seth shrugs, picking up a seltzer. “Jungle juice should be outlawed.”

Ryan smirks.

“Atwood wasn’t invited,” Summer jokes to her friends, refilling her solo cup.

He frowns. “I had my own homecoming.”

Summer shrugs. “So did Coop.”

“I live across the country,” he defends again. “It’s easier for her to visit.”

He’s met with another shrug.

“Ry, she’s messing with you,” Marissa cuts in with a laugh, hand on his shoulder. “Though you could’ve tried harder…”

He loops an arm around her waist, feeling weightless. “Oh, shush.”

Marissa giggles into his embrace, grabbing his hand again and bringing him to the outer edge of the party. Smiling, she leans in to kiss him as casually as she would’ve two years ago. Ryan readily meets her halfway, his hand landing above her hip, remembering exactly how she feels when she’s pressed against him like this. In the midst of their rapport, he must’ve set his drink down somewhere. Hands free, he brings one behind her neck and moves the other beneath the hem of her top at her hip. Her skin is a flame beneath his touch.

Her hand comes to his jaw, her fingers tracing his cheek as they slowly part. Their eyes meet and he feels a rush of so much at the same time. He can feel it pulsing in her, too.

“Come on,” she says, pulling him with her, and he doesn’t care where it is that she’s leading him.

It turns out to be the rooftop rather than Seth’s apartment where he’s staying. He’s only mildly disappointed.

Marissa kisses him again against the brick wall, his back hitting the concrete with a light thud. It’s feverish, and he relishes being able to taste her again, finally, after all this time. Her mouth curves against his, smiling. He hasn’t kissed her like this in ages. He’s not even sure he even remembers the last time he kissed her like this. Back when they used their tongues to fight over things that overshadowed what they were really fighting about. It feels like a lifetime ago.

Her mouth slants against his wantonly, her tongue warm, his hands gripping her hips in the way he’s been aching to do all night. All year, really.

Pulling away for a breath, Ryan keeps his hands against her. Their eyes meet, dazed, and they grin sheepishly at one another before breaking their gaze.

“I– I didn’t mean to,” she starts. “At least, it wasn’t my plan.”

“No?” he asks, a hand coming up to hold her cheek. It’s gone pink from the cold. He kisses her again because he can, her lower lip growing more swollen the more he sucks on it. The way she molds to him so perfectly is something not lost on either of them.

Shaking her head, she answers with a cool smile, “No.”

He gives her a skeptical grin, to which she chuckles. Emboldened, he says, “It was mine.”

Marissa’s eyes lighten, her gaze so big and blue. The smile she gives him is one he’s thought about so much over the last year. If he could stay in this moment forever, he would. The thought isn’t as scary as it once was.

A breeze comes through, and she shudders, retreating into his chest for a moment. Ryan rubs his hands up and down her arms to warm her, their coats thrown over a sofa somewhere downstairs. His heart rate returns to an acceptable level.

When she pulls back, it’s with a more thoughtful expression on her face. “I– I don’t know how to do this with you.”

At first he doesn’t understand. But meeting her big doe eyes gives him a better idea. He gulps. The real world always seems to interfere. “I don’t know how to do this with you either.”

With anyone, really. But with her it feels easier and harder at the exact same time.

She nods, eyes clouding over. “We’re a mess together.”

He wants to deny it. A large part of him thinks he should. But his eyes are too consumed with Marissa right in front of him, finally, soft and pink and wearing his kiss upon her lips. Looking at him the way she is.

“Friends?” Ryan ventures, to which she lets out a quiet laugh.

“Whatever that means,” Marissa says on a breath. And if he weren’t so distracted by her and the few drinks they’ve both had, he’d think about that more.

“You’re in New York, and I fly back to school in a few days,” Ryan says instead. There’s no denying the basic truth of their situation.

She nods, and he wonders what it is in her gaze that causes her to suck in a breath. Maybe it’s everything he’s feeling. “It– it wouldn’t work.”

Her lips purse after, and he wonders if she’s right. Their lips meet again in a much softer kiss this time, Ryan’s hand coming up to cradle the back of her head, his thumb swiping across her cheek. She smiles against his mouth, thoughts of missed calls and sad songs out of her mind at least for the time being. For the most part, at least. After all this time, they still know each other in every way that matters. It scares her enough to ignore. She wonders if he feels the same.

She fits against him as perfectly as she always has. Marissa angles herself in that way he’s always liked, giving him access to the hollow of her throat. He places kisses there, softer than she expects but welcome all the same. His teeth glide over her tender flesh and she keeps hoping he’ll leave a mark. Something to feel on her skin long after he flies home.

When his mouth hovers over hers again, Marissa wraps her arms around his neck, their breaths lingering.

Fireworks go off in the distance and she vaguely registers that it signals the start of a new year, preferring to focus on the boy in front of her still.

Newport, 2008.

She wasn’t supposed to bring a date.

Ryan shows up to the yacht club with his hands in his pockets, eyes alert. When Marissa shows up on the arm of someone he knows Julie Cooper will immediately approve of, Ryan’s good mood takes a nosedive.

Seth meets his gaze, sipping his cider. “She did mention–”

Ryan averts his eye to the amuse-bouche. “It’s cool.”

The brunette gives him a sarcastic smile. “Sure, man.”

“We’re not… anything. It’s fine,” Ryan says, pulling at his tie.

“You did bring a date to Chrismukkah,” Seth reminds him.

“So?”

Seth shrugs.

“Did you know she was bringing someone?”

“I… there may have been a talk–”

“You could’ve told me.”

“I thought you were bringing Lauren.”

“Why would I–”

“You brought her to Chrismukkah,” Seth says with another shrug, annoying Ryan further.

“It– it doesn’t matter.”

Ryan avoids her eyes all night, opting to engage in conversation with Sandy and Kirsten who are happy to have the kids back in town. Summer clings to Marissa’s other side anyway. Ryan doesn’t get it. They go to school only a train ride away from one another. It’s nothing compared to the plane ride needed to get from Berkeley to Providence and vice versa. Though Seth’s pre-sunrise chats were exhausting to him in high school, Ryan finds himself missing the rapport. Contending with time zones and varying schedules means on-the-books Seth-Ryan time only happens once a week.

A half hour before he and Seth are due to leave for Taylor’s beach party, Ryan escapes to the boats with a half-assed excuse to his parents about needing fresh air. They seem to understand, which makes him feel all kinds of pathetic. Marissa’s date charms Julie and Kaitlin effortlessly nearby.

He sits at the end of the dock, dark waters beneath him ebbing and flowing. Loosening his tie, he lights a cigarette and watches the soft waves hitting the dock. He flicks and closes his Zippo a few times just for something to do.

“Hey,” Marissa calls from afar.

He feels his shoulders tense, but he’s not entirely surprised to hear her voice. Looking over his shoulder, he greets her with a nod as she draws closer. Stubs his cigarette out on the dock before he’s even smoked half of it.

Setting her shoes beside him, she motions for him to scoot over. He wipes the ash away. “Missed you tonight.”

He lets out a sarcastic snort. His eyes stay on his lap, cursing himself for feeling so wounded. He feels so green.

“Ryan,” she says softly.

Reluctantly, he turns to her. She’s closer than he realized, her big eyes gazing at him intently.

“Who’s the guy?” he asks before he can help himself.

Marissa shrugs. “Someone from school. He’s from LA.”

“He doesn’t have a name?”

She rolls her eyes. “Greg. It’s not serious.”

“Greg,” he repeats. “Hmm.”

Moving her legs over the edge of the dock, she lets out a defensive breath. “You brought a date to Chrismukkah.”

And he knew it was a mistake the moment he saw Marissa’s face fall in the Cohen living room. She’d given him clipped answers all night and wormed her way into a seat between Summer and Seth at dinner.

Rolling his eyes, he counters weakly, “That’s different.”

“How?” she asks, eyes wide.

Looking at her, he knows what she’s trying to do. Knows what she wants him to say. Closing his eyes briefly, he feels his ears burn. “You know.” Because it’s the new year.

The smile she gives him is so sweet. Too sweet. Too knowing.

He looks away, embarrassed.

“Who was she?” she asks, tentative, her face turned away too.

Ryan purses his lips. “Um, Lauren.”

Marissa nods. “Is she your–”

He shakes his head. “No. I think she wants to be,” he says, flustered. “But I don’t think I really…”

“You don’t have to say, Ryan. Forget I asked.”

He looks off to the waves, feeling like he’s said too much and not nearly enough. He lets silence pass between them. They’d agreed a year ago that they could hook up on breaks so long as the other wasn’t seriously involved otherwise. It’d been an easy agreement. As easy as it could be, at least. Sorting out their issues wasn’t something that could be done bi-coastal anyway. He never intended on having a serious relationship outside of her, but that didn’t make it easier to mine the waters of whatever was left between them. It didn’t make it easier to watch her hold someone else’s hand on New Year’s Eve, either.

Sometimes he wishes he’d said more in Providence. More in Newport all those years ago.

She crosses one leg over the other and he gets an eyeful of skin as she does so. He wonders if she does it on purpose. Marissa meets his eye before he can look away. She smirks. Damn.

“Are you going to Taylor’s party later?”

He nods. “Yeah. Seth and I don’t really want to but it’ll probably be better than this.” He gestures to the club behind them. He’s never felt completely comfortable there. Something about the dress code and fifty-dollar entrées.

“Sum just left to help set up.” She runs a hand up her arm. “Where’s Lauren tonight?”

Letting out a breath, he goes for honesty. “With friends in Laguna.”

Marissa looks at him, eyes pointed in question. “You didn’t–”

“No.”

She bites her lip. “Why not?”

He sighs, gaze moving from her face. She’s always been too gorgeous for this world. “Just didn’t want to.”

Marissa looks away in tandem. He wonders if there’s another question she’s not asking. Wonders if he’d be more truthful if she was, too.

Ryan figures he should give her something. “She had no one to spend Christmas with. Her roommate had a family emergency and couldn’t have her over in Redondo. Which was her original plan.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

She uncrosses her legs. He keeps his gaze on the water before them.

“I shouldn’t have been short with you at Chrismukkah,” Marissa says, deflated. “I shouldn’t still feel– I mean, we’re in college, you know? We’ve grown up. At least it feels like we have. But with us, I guess I can’t always feel normal about it all.”

Ryan looks at her again. Of course she lays it out there. It’s something he’s always admired about her. He thinks back to how he felt when he saw Marissa walk into the club earlier.

“It just– it took me by surprise,” she murmurs, picking at her manicure.

“So did Craig,” Ryan offers.

Marissa rolls her eyes. “Greg.”

He shrugs.

“So this girl,” she clears her throat. “She wants commitment?”

Ryan chuckles. “What’re you doing?”

“We’re friends, right?”

“That’s,” he starts, smirking. “Getting less and less clear.”

She shrugs this time, the way they act around one another nowadays a decent turnaround from who they once were.

He thinks back to what happened last year. What happens whenever they’re in the same time zone for longer than a weekend. He’ll never stop wanting her. It’s just something he’s learning to live with. But she did say she struggled with something similar.

For just a moment, he wonders if it’s all been a mistake. Juggling who they are to one another only gets muddier on nights like this. Ryan watches her feet swaying above the water. Right now, they feel sixteen rather than twenty. It always comes back to this.

“We’re the kind of friends who do other stuff sometimes,” she continues with a cheeky grin.

His smirk deepens, his eyes taking her in again. “When is ‘sometimes’?”

“School breaks and your birthday in New York in case you forgot.”

“I could never.” He shakes his head, moving closer to hers. “I mean, when does this ‘sometimes’ thing start?”

Marissa looks at him coyly. “Come to the party and find out.”

“We didn’t have to come,” Seth says. “Honestly, it’ll probably just be a bunch of Harbor blowhards. You’d think we’d be past that.”

Ryan shrugs, parking his Range Rover on the street. “It’s better than the club.”

“Hard not to be. Low bar,” his brother retorts, closing the passenger door.

It looks no different than the Harbor parties they attended years prior and that’s somehow a comfort. Seth tsks when they pass a table of jocks but otherwise keeps mum.

After greeting Taylor, they find Summer at the bar. She eyes Ryan. “Coop’s somewhere mingling.”

Ryan narrows his eyes in annoyance at the implication. She laughs at his expression, drink in hand. “Oh, relax. You guys do your thing.”

“It’s probably our fault,” Seth says, picking up a red solo cup. “Providence is the ultimate aphrodisiac.”

“Ew, Cohen.”

“Deny it, then, woman.”

“I deny it whole-heartedly.”

Seth leans down to kiss her and Ryan turns toward the bar to get his own drink when his phone buzzes.

He reads the text and smirks. Outside and lonely.

Ryan finds Marissa soon enough. She’s not exactly lonely, but her eyes light up when he makes his way over to her. She’s sitting on the wooden railing leading to the beach and he spots a few people he vaguely recognizes dispersing around her.

“Hey,” she says, arms open to give him a proper hug. He realizes they haven’t had the chance to do so yet over break.

His hands land on either side of her, holding her to him. She leans her head into the crook of his neck. “You came. Finally.”

He tickles her sides. “Went home to change and Seth took forever.”

Marissa giggles at the touch, aiming to kiss his cheek but getting the corner of his lips instead as she pulls away. She hands him her bottle of beer. “Here.”

He tips the liquid into his mouth. It’s lukewarm and stale but with her in front of him he barely notices. Her cheeks are flushed pink and she’s wearing an oversized sweatshirt over her dress.

Ryan leans forward to kiss her full on the mouth. She smiles against his kiss, a hand coming to the back of his neck. If she’s surprised at his boldness, she doesn’t show it. He drops the beer bottle into the bush behind her, arms snaking around her frame. When their lips part, he keeps his arms steady.

She smiles easily. “Kaitlin’s here, by the way.”

“Oh,” he says. “I think she’s seen worse.”

Rolling her eyes, Marissa grins. “Probably.”

And all he wants is to be with her. To make her smile like that. To answer her late-night calls about nothing in particular or something far more serious.

After a cursory glance at the party, she gets off the railing, grabbing his hand. “Walk with me.”

“You’re over halfway done with college. Almost three-quarters, really,” she points out, the cold Pacific washing over their feet. “How’s that?”

Ryan shrugs. “Weird. I never thought I’d go to community college, let alone Berkeley.”

Marissa tugs on his hand. “I knew you’d do great there. I saw it from the beginning.”

He blushes and hopes she doesn’t see. “I heard you made the dean’s list.”

She lets out a breath. “Oh God, just barely, though.”

“Still–”

“True. Yeah, it was a rough semester. But a good one.”

Marissa walks toward a large rock and sits, the December breeze moving through her hair. She grins up at him before he joins her.

“Sometimes,” she starts, arms sitting on her knees. “Sometimes I forget how much I like it here.” His brows rise and she rolls her eyes with a grin. “Just, like, the beach and all that.”

Ryan leans back on his elbows. The ocean is a wide, dark expanse. He nods, his ears filled with the sound of waves crashing and the echo of the party half a football field away. “I get that.”

“And,” she says. “Well, you know.”

Ryan smiles softly. “Yeah.”

Marissa’s eyes dim just the slightest bit. “Do you ever think about it?”

It catches him off guard even though it shouldn’t. “Us?”

She only nods, lip caught between her teeth.

He takes a long breath, sitting up. The energy changes slightly. It doesn’t feel as uncomfortable to discuss as it would’ve a year or two ago, but it’ll always feel charged. And like the course of their lives could turn on a dime. “Sure.”

She doesn’t respond, her own gaze retreating to the ocean. He wonders if it means he should elaborate.

“I mean, you’re kind of why I’m where I am.”

Her brow furrows. “Me?”

“Sure. Berkeley and probably even Harbor. Newport in general.”

Marissa scoffs. “Ryan, please. You did all this on your own. Sandy and Kirsten took you in, but the rest was all–”

“If I hadn’t met you, who knows?”

She shakes her head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Take the compliment.”

“No.”

He pulls her into his side, drawing circles onto the fabric of her sweatshirt by her ribcage. “You always saw me for me. Not the screw up from Chino or the guy who burnt down a house. Of all the people that circle in and out of my life, you’re still there. So, yeah, I think about it.”

Marissa takes a long breath, her hand moving to his thigh. “I think about it, too.”

Ryan almost can’t look her in the eye. It’s the closest they’ve come to this discussion in years. They always skirt the issue, preferring to enjoy the fun that comes from being together in the same zip code rather than talking about it. Somehow, through the years, it’s made it easier to tackle the bigger issues without the parameters of an established relationship. He knows she dates around, and she knows he does too, but those worlds always seem to remain firmly on either side of the country. Chrismukkah was one of the first times he’d seen a crack in her glass about it all, and it’s driven him crazy ever since.

When he does meet her gaze, he finds that her eyes are glassy. There aren’t any tears, but he wonders if she’s holding them back.

I miss you, he thinks. Like I’ve never–

She leans up to kiss him then, her hands coming to either side of his face and holding him against her. He feels her trying to tell him something through it, but it passes in a flash. He moves a hand into her hair, their mouths moving in sync in a way that always feels exciting. Her lips are soft and he tastes lip balm and malt on her tongue. When she pulls away from him, it’s with a smile. Soft and serene. It’s on the tip of his tongue, to ask if she brought a date to make him jealous. Or if she did it because she thought he was bringing one too. Because he was the first to do it a week prior. Something he’s regretted in spades based on the look on her face. And then there are other thoughts. Only ever having her like this never feels like enough. A clandestine holiday. How much is enough?

The moment snaps shut, and then she’s standing beside him, arms spread in the air, taking in the view. “Come on, the fireworks should be going off soon.”

“I like it here.”

Marissa grins. “Sure, but the quicker we do the whole sparkler thing the quicker we can get to the ‘sometimes’ part of the bargain.”

He lets her pull him up from the rock. “I don’t let my other friends push me around like this.”

She laughs, rolling her eyes. “I must be your best friend, then.”

“You’re one of them,” he says, a touch more earnest than he intended but truthful all the same.

The smile she gives him feels heavy, her gaze faraway, like he’s broken the dam holding their history behind it. To be fair, she brought it up first. He wipes sand off his jeans as a distraction. This is what we do, this is what works.

He wonders what she’s thinking as they make their way closer to the party, echoes of a countdown bouncing off the waves. Marissa grabs his hand when they get closer to the commotion, but she doesn’t say another word.

London, 2009.

They all visit Marissa in London for the new year, though Ryan comes reluctantly. There’s a serious boyfriend, or so she’s said in her emails. Summer knows more but she isn’t telling.

“It’s between you guys,” Summer says from the window seat of the plane, leafing through a magazine.

Ryan scowls. “Since when has that stopped you before?”

Seth interjects from the middle. “Hey, we’re the ones who told you to bring Sarah.”

The blonde bristles. “She’s in Aspen with her family. And I couldn’t ask someone I’ve been dating for six weeks to go with us on a trip. To Europe of all places. That’s way too soon.”

Summer shrugs. “Then that’s on you, Atwood.”

Ryan rolls his eyes, thoughts of being a fifth wheel eating at him. Not to mention his relationship with Sarah is dicey at best. He’d embellished a little too much in a conference call they’d had with Marissa on Christmas Eve who had stayed in London for the holiday because Julie and Kaitlin had opted to visit her instead. His relationship was new and good, but Sarah had been clear about not wanting anything serious. Which would have normally been fine, but in this case only served to make Ryan more anxious. Marissa had never made it a point to tell him a relationship was serious before.

She meets them at Heathrow baggage claim, Summer running ahead of the boys to fling herself into her best friend’s arms. “Coop!”

The blonde holds Summer tightly, the reunion more emotional than she expected it would be considering they speak daily. “Sum, I can’t believe you’re here!”

“God, Coop, I swear you get taller every time I see you.”

“You date Cohen,” Marissa reminds her with a squeeze. “You should be used to it.”

They spot the boys from afar.

“Speaking of,” Marissa says, engulfing Seth in a hug when he walks up to them.

“Coop,” Seth says, and Summer lightly smacks his arm. “Sorry, yes, Marissa. Or should I say Cosmo Girl?”

Marissa tilts her head. “Maybe. Is there another issue in you?”

He shrugs. “There might be. One of my professors seems to think so.”

“Seth, that’s such good news,” Marissa says with an easy smile. “Your last collection made Marcus crack a laugh. He’s always going on about his dry, British sensibilities. I didn’t think he’d get it.”

“Thanks, I think,” Seth laughs, to which Marissa giggles and reiterates that it’s a good thing.

“Where’s, um–”

But Ryan rounds the next corner soon enough, his backpack hitched on his back and Seth’s carry-on in his hand.

“Shit, sorry buddy,” Seth says loudly as they watch him approach. “Guess I got the Ivy Leaguer’s.”

Marissa rushes over to Ryan in a small jog. She’s nearly breathless when she reaches him and he drops Seth’s bag when she draws near, pretense gone as she wraps her arms around him. His arms still for a startled moment before coming around her too, his face buried in her hair.

“God,” Summer mutters to her boyfriend as they watch from afar. “When are they ever–”

Seth smirks, looking away. “Someday.”

“You think?”

“Oh yeah, probably my next issue.”

“Cohen, you’re so lame,” Summer says with practiced affection. “Pull them apart so I can get some coffee.”

Marissa’s Southwark flat is tiny but feels like her. The thatched roof is something he’s liked imagining when she’s phoned him from her flat, the detail so simple yet helping him paint a picture.

There’s an eclectic mix of old and new, and Ryan spots one of Julie’s scarves sitting atop an Ikea lamp. “Recent addition?” he asks, pointing.

She looks to the corner. “Oh, yeah. Mom said it gave the room a nice glow. I was surprised that she was right.”

“How’s your dad?” he asks, looking up at her.

If she’s taken aback by the question, it doesn’t show. She’d mentioned Jimmy briefly during the Chrismukkah chat. Something about a gift sent in advance. She seems to think about Ryan’s question just a touch longer than he expects her to, though. “He’s… my dad. Always off somewhere.”

Ryan quirks his brow.

She lets out a breath, picking up her box of cigarettes and gesturing for him to follow. Her balcony is about the size of a flower box, just enough for two people to stand. Summer and Seth are sleeping off their jetlag on her couch even though their hotel is just down the road.

“Thanks for these,” Marissa says, holding up her pack. He’d picked up a carton for her at LAX duty free when she’d asked before they left. “They’re crazy expensive here.”

“Seems like everything is,” Ryan remarks, taking one when she offers it.

She laughs, nodding as she lights up. He takes her lighter after, ignoring the pull to light it how he wishes he could. He wonders if she thinks about that, too. Providence doesn’t feel that long ago but neither does his first night in Newport. It’s funny how time works.

“Dad,” she starts, “He’s become this guy I only hear from every few months. And I used to hate that– I mean, I still hate it. But it is what it is.”

Ryan nods, inhaling for a beat. “I guess it’s better than not at all.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, though he can sense her distaste.

“Ideally, our parents would just be our parents,” he says, blowing out smoke. “Not these people we see every once in a while.”

Marissa looks to him, eyes sad. “Yeah.”

It’s a bruise he only really shares with her, and though picking at its scabs from time to time when he’s not with her is an inevitability, it always feels a touch easier when she’s around.

“My mom,” he starts, looking off to the street beneath him. “She, uh– I haven’t even told Seth this, but we had lunch two weeks ago.”

Marissa flicks ash into the small planter she’s fashioned into an ashtray. Her eyes are big as she looks his way again. “How was that?”

“Weird,” Ryan says. “She called me when I was taking a final.”

Her eyes widen.

“It was off,” he reassures her. “But yeah. Said she was in San Francisco.”

“Ryan,” Marissa says on a breath. “Out of the blue?”

He nods.

“Jesus,” she gets out.

“Yeah.”

“Parents…” she huffs, cigarette smoke floating before her. “Like we’re waiting around for them.”

He lets out a breath and grins fondly at her. Of course she gets it. “It’s really good to see you.”

She stops, startled at the change in topic but still welcoming it. Her lips stretch in an easy smile. “You too.”

“So this guy…”

Marissa purses her lips. “Marcus. It’s good.”

He wishes that didn’t make his chest temporarily tighten.

“You’ll like him,” she says, meeting Ryan’s skeptical gaze. “Well, I think you will. He’s… quiet.”

“Quiet?” he asks, brow raised.

She laughs. “Yeah, quiet. Apparently, I have a type.”

Standing on a path near Vauxhall Bridge waiting for the fireworks to start, Ryan looks to Marissa and smiles. She looks happy. Beyond whatever tension that always seems to flow between them, he’s glad to have her in his life still. Glad that she’s out in the world doing things that make her happy. There was a time when he didn’t know if they’d ever make it here. Beyond their baser instincts, he enjoys her company. Will never stop seeing her as the first person he felt comfortable being vulnerable with. Who saw in her the same kind of raw familial longing and disappointment he himself possessed.

It’s not the way he’s spent the last two countdowns with her, but he’ll take what he can get.

Summer complains about the cold with each passing second and it makes Ryan chuckle. He thought she’d be used to the cold by now. Seth teases her for only ever wearing faux fur and she elbows him before pulling him close.

19… 18… 17…

Marcus tucks Marissa into his side, shouting along with everyone else, and Ryan lets out a long, shallow breath. It stings, but not terribly. The way she hugged him in the airport without abandon plays over in his memory.

10… 9… 8…

Seth moves an arm around his shoulders, and Ryan feels his gaze dragged away.

3… 2… 1…

He looks only at the fireworks when the countdown ends, taking it all in. Marissa’s said she’ll never do the cliché Times Square thing as long as she lives but he’ll have to give her a proper ribbing for this later. Maybe next year when she’s done with this program and back at NYU.

Later, strolling along the Thames, Ryan feels Marissa slip her arm through his. “Hey,” she greets quietly.

“Hey,” he returns, eyes searching for Marcus. He finds him in deep conversation with Seth ahead of them. Damn traitor.

“Happy New Year,” she says, carefully dragging her steps so that they fall behind.

“Same to you,” Ryan offers.

“I’m sorry if it’s weird,” she admits. “I was hoping it wouldn’t be.”

Her cheeks are rosy from the cold, the same way they were on a rooftop two years ago in Providence. “It’s not.”

She quirks a brow.

“I mean, sure,” he amends, realizing he means what he’s saying. “But it’s okay. Really.”

Marissa beams. “Good. That’s good.”

The Eye comes into better view, and she clutches his arm, eyes shining. “Isn’t it great?”

He nods. “It puts Harbor’s to shame.”

She stares at him for a moment, and he can’t decipher what it is she’s thinking. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that. Sometimes there are moments when they flirt with the line they keep redrawing between them that he wonders if they’re talking about two things at once. But then her lip curls and she turns her gaze back to the bright ferris wheel before them.

“He wants to take me up there,” she whispers. Summer, Seth, and Marcus are turning the corner toward the nearest tube station.

“Oh,” he huffs, reaching into his jacket pocket for a smoke. God, there’s that ache again.

“I won’t let him.”

He looks at her, eyes pointed.

Marissa blushes. “I– I told him I’m afraid of heights.”

Ryan feels himself smile. “That’s my line.”

She grins, her eyes meeting his for a moment. “Just wouldn’t feel right.”

He feels a warmth radiate from her smile, her whisper a secret just between them. He squeezes the arm that’s tucked into his, quickening their pace to catch up with the others.

San Francisco, 2010.

Ryan sets a bottle of water on the kitchen counter after he’s double checked that the coffee is ready to be brewed for when he returns from his morning run. It’s his normal routine. The only difference is the sleeping couple occupying his couch. Summer and Seth had flown up from Newport the night before to ring in the new year the day after next. Tiptoeing out of the kitchen, Ryan slips his running shoes on.

Opening the door, he watches, stunned, as Marissa walks up his path.

She’s holding a coffee carrier and a small duffel.

“Marissa,” he mutters, key still in hand.

“Hi,” she says, voice light as a feather, stopping a few feet away from him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ryan sees a yellow taxi leave his apartment complex.

“What– I mean,” he sputters, clearing his throat. He thinks back. No, no one told him she was coming.

“Happy almost New Year,” she greets, moving hair behind her ear. She looks tired. Still as breathtaking as ever, though. Sometimes he wonders if she knows how stunning she is. There were times back in the day she’d confess embarrassment about it. It jogs his memory enough to remember he shouldn’t blatantly stare.

He takes the coffees from her and sets them on the ground. Marissa drops her bag too. She rushes into his embrace, and he knows how his face must look, his chin sitting on her shoulder as he holds her. He hasn’t seen her in months. Ryan’s arms tighten around her, feeling her shake from the cold.

“You’re freezing,” he says, pulling away enough to get a longer look at all of her, hands running up her arms. She’s only wearing a thin long sleeve tee.

“I didn’t know it got that cold here,” she explains, lips quirked. “I thought we were still in California.”

Ryan grins. “The Bay Area can get really cold.”

“Apparently,” she says with a nervous laugh.

The only other times she’s visited have been during summer. He’s not sure when, it was probably his sophomore and junior years, but she’d spent most of her time in his bed. She’d been cold then, too, come to think of it.

“Are they in?” Marissa asks.

“Yeah, but they’re asleep.”

“Oh.”

“I can wake Summer–”

“No, Ry, it’s okay.”

Opening his door, Ryan grabs her bag, quietly stepping inside. She smiles to thank him. He looks around his apartment, thinking. His instinct is to take her to the balcony for a smoke, but, braving another glance her way, he can see her still shivering.

He walks her to his room, and he curses himself for not cleaning up a half hour earlier when he woke up.

Setting her bag down, he gestures to the bed. “You should sit. You must be exhausted.”

“Mm, yeah. No worries, though, Ry. I can take the office chair.”

“No,” he says, “The bed’s still warm. I’ll get you something warmer to wear.”

Marissa smiles again, giving up the issue. She looks around. It feels like Ryan’s place. She’s only ever seen his dorm and college apartment. This one doesn’t feel all that different, really. It’s less collegiate and more serious, but there’s still a Journey poster up on one wall and a lamp in the corner that she recognizes.

He opens his closet, and she giggles when a few shirts fall out. He turns to her briefly and grumbles good naturedly. It’s discombobulating to see Marissa on his bed. Finding his thickest hoodie, he brings it over to her.

For one small moment he expects her to shed her current top in favor of the one in his hands. Her eyes lighten and he wonders if she thought the same thing and thought better of it. Wonders if she can really read his mind like he sometimes thinks she can. Marissa tosses her long hair over her shoulder and slips his hoodie over her head in one fell swoop. It takes him a moment to realize that he shouldn’t stare again.

Shaking her head, she spots his own outfit. “Shit, you were on your way out.”

“Just a run.”

“You should still go. Don’t let me fuck your schedule or anything.”

He waves a hand. “No, it’s fine. I don’t think I could concentrate, anyway. Not anymore.”

Marissa bites her lip, grinning. Gesturing to the coffee carrier, she says, “I got you an Americano.”

He picks up the cup, tipping it her way in thanks. “So…”

She nods, crossing the legs in her lap. “I decided not to go to London.”

“I see that.”

Picking at his comforter, she meets his eye. “I– we had been having problems anyway.”

“Marcus,” Ryan supplies, leaning on his desk.

“Yeah.”

“I actually liked him. I was surprised I did.”

“He’s– he’s a good guy. And maybe if I hadn’t gone back to New York things would’ve been different. But I– I don’t know.”

Ryan takes a long sip of his coffee. “I thought you were doing long distance.”

She runs her finger around the rim of her own cup. “We were.”

He looks around his room just so his eyes don’t bore holes into her and reveal his every last thought.

“It kind of just happened. I didn’t plan– I mean I wanted to, sort of–” she starts and stops. Their eyes meet again, and Marissa shakes her head. “It just happened. I was moving back and we never broke up. And then these last few weeks… I don’t know. He told me he loved me.”

Ryan feels his stomach drop and tries to play it off. He schools his face into what he hopes is indifference, but then he remembers they’re supposed to be friends, and friends don’t actively feel like this for one another. At least they’re not supposed to. “I guess it’s not that surprising. You dated for over a year.”

Marissa shrugs, eyes bouncing around the room too. “That’s what he said.”

Legs like jelly, Ryan gets off the desk and moves to the office chair. Their eyes connect and he sees something deeper there than he had before. Lets himself look at her for longer and longer. Feels her uncoil the tiniest bit.

She sucks in a breath. “But I, I don’t know, I just didn’t feel it. The distance didn’t kill me.”

He finds himself nodding.

“He kind of– well, he kind of gave me this ultimatum.”

Ryan’s brow raises.

“Not, like, in a gross way but in a way where going to London for the new year meant staying together or, you know, not going meant breaking up.”

“And so you came here,” he states.

Marissa feels her cheeks flame. She nods. “I did.”

He feels the energy shift in the room.

She sets her coffee cup on his bedside table, eyeing him. “He always had a feeling about you.”

Ryan feels his throat run dry. “Me?”

She smiles softly. “Ryan, come on.”

His heart beats loudly in his chest. After all these years, she’s always been the best at that. Even though he doesn’t see her as often as he wishes he did, she’s always there in the periphery.

Marissa holds his hoodie around her tightly. “How’s your relationship? I heard you hit the six-month mark.”

He narrows his eyes at the change in topic. “We… also broke up.”

The way she arches her eyebrow makes him crack a smile. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you?” he asks, feeling looser. Getting used to her again. He thinks her words over. He always had a feeling about you.

“Sure,” she responds, shrugging. “Depending on how you feel about it.”

Ryan chuckles. “I’m okay. It was my idea.”

“Why’s that?”

He sucks in a breath, giving her a look. He takes a second to consider her question. He always had a feeling about you. Marissa meets his gaze, eyes imploring. “Come on.”

She gulps, eyes widening a fraction. Turning her own words around.

He watches her bite her lip. “She wanted me to open up more.”

That wasn’t why he ended it, but it didn’t help things toward the end.

Marissa leans back, stretching her legs. “Can’t say I blame her.”

He takes it in stride. “Yeah.”

“Did you,” she starts, looking at her chipped nail polish. “Did you think you could?”

“Probably. If I’d really wanted to.”

“And you didn’t?” She doesn’t ask it meanly but more directly than he expects her to. If anything, he likes this version of her. They let one another get away with far too much unsaid in high school. Only she can get to the root of what he’s feeling so succinctly.

Ryan shrugs. “I don’t know.”

Marissa moves her gaze up to him, quiet.

“No,” he finally says. They’re older and somewhat wiser. Keeping everything so close to the vest seems futile now.

She looks at him for longer than he expects. Longer than she has in months. Years, maybe. There’s a change in her expression that he wonders the meaning of. “I don’t think I wanted to, either. Love him, that is.”

He sits with this information, rolling it around in his head. Wonders if she’s saying what he thinks she is.

“I always come back here,” Marissa says softly.

Here. It makes his heart race. Her gaze is wide and searching his. It feels like a moment he’ll come back to again and again. “I like it when you do.”

She gives him the softest of smiles. Feeling the weariness of her travels, she leans back further, her back hitting the mattress. Her eyes close. “I’m tired.”

Ryan picks himself up off the chair, mind running a mile a minute. “You should sleep.”

We’ll finish this later.

Marissa nods easily. “Okay.”

“If you can,” he adds, eyeing her coffee.

She chuckles sleepily. “It’s decaf. Couldn’t sleep on the plane.”

“Ah.” With a short nod, Ryan walks out of his room, shutting the door behind him quietly.

Running through the familiar sloping streets of San Francisco, he thinks over their conversation. It’d been a whirlwind and all he can think about is getting back to it. I always come back here, she’d said, knocking the breath right out of him like only she knew how to do. He feels breathless in a way that seems completely unrelated to the run.

Checking his watch, he figures he should head back. Part of him hopes Summer and Seth will still be asleep when he gets there.

When he gets back to his apartment, closing the door with a light thud, he hears the shower running.

Seth is typing on his phone, still sleepily lying on the sofa bed.

“Hey,” Ryan greets.

“Hey, man.”

“Did you see her?”

Seth shakes his head. “No, she got up before me.”

Ryan narrows his eyes, confused. “No, man, Marissa.”

“See her where?”

“She’s here.”

Seth smiles, eyes looking around. “Really? Where?”

The blonde feels his cheeks burn. “My room.” Seth tilts his head, joke forming on his lips. “Oh, shut it. She’s sleeping.”

“My little Brown bear must not know yet.”

Ryan shrugs, reaching for the water bottle he set down earlier. It feels like hours ago. “She took a red eye.”

Seth’s eyes narrow. “Did she? Huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Off the look Ryan gives him, Seth acquiesces. “I thought she was headed to London.”

“Me too.”

“Did she say why she didn’t go?”

Ryan thinks for a second. Wonders if he should say. With a shrug, he decides to go for abstraction. “Something to do with her guy.”

“Marcus said she was. I guess I could ask him.”

For just a second, Ryan remembers that the two hit it off in London last year. Remembers that they kept in touch. Remembers that when Marcus visited Manhattan in September, Summer and Seth had taken the train down to New York to meet the reunited couple for a weekend. It was at a time when Ryan had been too busy with his new job to really keep up with what his friends were up to on the east coast. It stings for just a moment. It’s not like he never introduced them to a girl he was seeing.

“No,” Ryan interjects, shaking his head. “Just… ask Marissa when she wakes.”

“Coop’s here?!” they hear from the hall.

It makes both boys smile. The love Marissa and Summer have for one another bleeds into every fabric of their foursome. Ryan’s just glad to have them all under the same roof after so many months. Over the years, meeting up for the new year had been a tradition he didn’t realize had come to mean so much to him. Thinking that this would be the first disruption in four years had been a blow no one was thrilled about.

“Yeah, she just got in,” Ryan says, gesturing to his room. “She’s asleep, though. Long flight.”

Summer quirks a brow, towel drying her hair. “Your room, huh?”

“You guys were hogging the couch, so…”

Seth grins. “Sure, buddy. Blame us.”

“Where’s she gonna sleep tonight?” Summer asks with her hands on her hips, smirk growing.

Ryan shrugs, cheeks flaming, moving to the kitchen. “I don’t know yet.”

Rolling her eyes good naturedly, Summer relents. “Okay, Atwood.”

“Did you think she’d come?” he finds himself asking. “I thought London was a done deal.”

The brunette takes a seat by the radiator, carding through her hair. “She had some doubts.”

Pressing the brew button on the coffee maker, Ryan turns toward Summer. “Doubts? That’s it?”

Summer narrows her eyes. “Chino, she doesn’t tell me everything.”

He purses his lips. Bullshit. She moves her gaze elsewhere.

The coffee begins to brew, and Ryan thinks back to his earlier conversation. He aches to re-enter his room to get a better look at her. Her hair had looked longer than how he remembered it, but he hasn’t seen Marissa since the summer. He grumbles when he remembers that Summer and Seth get to see her a lot more often than he does. Summer’s in the middle of her Master’s and Seth spaced his final credits out so that he could graduate in the following spring rather than in the winter.

“Okay, fuck it, I wanna see her,” Summer announces to the room.

Ryan’s brow furrows, mouth open to stop her.

“Atwood,” she starts. “Cohen and I have to catch a plane to Costa Rica in, like, three days. Then Cohen and Coop will be in their final semesters, and I’ll be all tied up with readings and presentations for my program that I won’t even see her until March, probably. I’m waking her up.”

He rolls his eyes, leaning against the range. It’s not worth it.

Seth comes into the kitchen then, grabbing a mug from the cupboard before pouring himself some coffee. “We can probably find a sleeping bag at Target, you know.”

It makes Ryan chuckle. He shoves Seth’s shoulder lightly. “Fuck off, man.”

“I like your place,” Marissa says later that night after dinner. They’re smoking on his balcony.

“Thanks,” he returns, eyeing her. She’s still wearing his hoodie. “It’s a bit small, though.”

She shakes her head. “It just seems it because we’re hijacking it for the weekend.”

Ryan smiles, blowing out smoke. She inhales for a long time, flicking ash over the railing. He watches it fall into the night.

She smokes her cigarette down to the filter and looks at him for a long moment after she’s stubbed it out in his ashtray. Biting her lip, she deliberately moves her elbows on the railing closer to his. He holds the remaining stub of his cigarette to his mouth, his eyes tracking her movements. Inhales and exhales.

“It looks good on you,” Ryan says, gesturing to the hoodie.

Marissa flushes, playing with the ties. A shadow of a step closer.

He watches her nervously bite her lip. “You chose to come here.”

She nods.

“Why?”

Their eyes meet. “You know why.”

He sits with that for a moment, taking a breath. It feels like a conversation that’s taken them years to have. He wonders if they ever will.

“I’m not allowed to miss you?” She says it with a mischievous grin, like it’s the final shot she has of making this conversation light. He knows it, too.

Ryan glances to the trees in the distance. “Feels like that’s what we’re always doing.”

Marissa sighs. “Yeah.”

They sit with that, looking into the dark woods, and he wonders, not for the first time, if this is all they get. The back and forth of coming together every few years. Too in their own heads to be more but unable to be nothing. It’s something he tried not to dwell on too much during college, partially because he didn’t want to and partially because he knew she didn’t want him to, either. But that didn’t mean he could ignore it completely. Occasionally when the sun came up and she was dressing quickly with distracted eyes, he felt it. When they told their families they knew what they were doing on holiday breaks and how it was no one else’s business but their own, thank you very much, he felt it. How Seth and Summer kept their mouths shut for the most part but would let a few things slip. He felt it then.

“Yeah,” she repeats. “It does. I’m tired of that.”

His throat closes briefly. He looks to Marissa, eyes searching hers.

He knew she felt those same things over the years, too. At least he was pretty sure. There were moments when he knew she was thinking the same thing. A birthday in New York. A slow drive to the poolhouse from the beach. A drunken call from her local pub. He wants to laugh at the idea that they’ve ever really been friends.

“Ryan, I’m just– I’m tired of missing you.”

He’s wondered over the years how she can say things so plainly, how vulnerable it leaves her. It’s something he’s always admired, and to a greater extent envied. It’s also something that’s always scared him. Her eyes are wide now, lips pursed. She’d been afraid, too.

For all that she says to him in no uncertain terms, there’s a lifetime they’ve lived where they haven’t had this conversation.

He tosses his cigarette onto the ashtray, embers dying. “Missing each other feels natural after all these years.” And he doesn’t mean it to sound as cutting as it does, but it’s certainly not a falsehood. “We’re always missing our moment.”

Marissa moves close enough to him that he can feel their elbows touching. “Natural like it should always be like that or natural like it’s something we’ve just gotten used to?”

Ryan turns to her, unable to keep his eyes averted. “The latter.”

“Look, I–” she starts. “I know it’s been me. Keeping us how we were.”

He thinks about fighting her on it, because it was never all her. She knows that. But over the years it became clearer to him that she was the one pulling away more when it felt too real. Too much. For all the talking they did in the interim as friends, and all the shit from their young adulthood they slogged through in bits and pieces, it felt almost easy to tackle them with her remotely. As easy as it could be, at least. To hear her voice and laugh with her over their ridiculous hometown and its ridiculous inhabitants. To smoke a cigarette in California and know she was doing the same in New York. To call her in late spring when he knew she was due for a nightmare. Doing so helped him see her more clearly than he ever did in high school, and he’s wondered over the years if it had had the same effect on her. Whether that was good or bad. Wondered why it never felt like they were ready at the same time. “It wasn’t all you.”

She hums. “Ryan–”

“But yeah, okay,” he finally agrees. He did enough running in their early days. Spent a good chunk of it blaming her, blaming himself, blaming every single person who came into their lives and turned it upside down.

Marissa moves a hand to the railing, her fingers curling into the crook of his arm, desperate to touch him somehow. “I don’t think I realized how much of myself was tied up in Newport.”

It feels like a change in topic, but her eyes tell him it’s not. He nods so she can continue.

She bites her lip, eyes lowering. “Greece, London, New York. They’re all great and I’d probably do it all again but the things I’ve been running from are the things that make me… me.”

His hand grabs hers, giving up pretense. But he doesn’t interrupt.

“And for a really long time, you were one of those things. I didn’t know how to, like, be what I thought you wanted. And thought it was for the best that I couldn’t.”

His lips part, ready to dispute it. But she squeezes his hand so she can continue.

“We were good at so much of it that I didn’t think we could, I don’t know, be anything more than what we could hold onto right then. If we could be together even for a little bit, I really thought– well, I convinced myself that was enough.”

This time he does interrupt her. “It was.” Their eyes meet. “I mean, at least it was something. That was better than nothing.”

And she nods. “It was.”

Ryan’s thumb runs over one of her knuckles. “What’s different now?”

Because for as much as they’re saying, it’s more or less crystallizing what’s been silently understood between them for years. Putting it into spoken word helps, though.

“What’s different now is I want you to know I miss you. And that if I keep missing you, and keep fucking up these moments we almost get, I’m gonna keep regretting it.”

His heart lurches. “I miss you, too.”

Marissa gives him a tiny grin, and he watches as her eyes water. “I’m scared of it.”

It probably shouldn’t resonate with him as much as it does, but her vulnerability cracks her wide open to him. Lets him seep inside to nestle himself there, too.

“We always have been.” He says it like a secret, the one they haven’t ever voiced aloud.

She sits with that. “All the shit we went through as kids, it felt like too much to ever make better. That doesn’t make sense, does it?” Her thumb runs over the back of his hand.

Ryan lets out a breath. “It does.”

Their eyes meet and she quirks a brow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I think one day I thought, maybe, we’d stop feeling this way. And maybe it’d be easier to be with someone who didn’t know every fucking thing about us.”

She chuckles. “Exactly.”

“It ended up feeling like pretending.”

“With me?” she asks.

He smiles from the side of his face. “No. I can’t with you.”

Marissa eyes him fondly. She brings her free hand up to his cheek, her fingertips soft, moving slowly.

He hasn’t been this close to her in a year and a half, and he’s surprised at how comfortable it feels. How normal. It’s charged, but he also feels incredibly at ease. It’s not the frenzied meeting it was in Providence or on the shores of Newport Beach. Marissa’s eyes are roaming across his face, studying him too.

“I should confess,” she says quietly. “I did know about your breakup. Seth told me last week.”

Ryan only smiles.

Marissa grins too. “In my defense, I– I was hoping it had a little bit to do with me.”

And it clicks. She watches as he realizes, and she hopes the blush flooding her cheeks isn’t as obvious as it feels. She was never going to London.

He grips her hip, bringing her closer, mouth hovering over hers. Desire clouds her eyes. He could drown in them. “It always has to do with you.”

She smiles into his kiss, arms wrapping around his neck. He pulls her flush against him and she lets him, and in this moment wishes the hoodie were as flimsy as chiffon. Her mouth opens for him happily, her hand twirling the hairs on the back of his neck. He hasn’t kissed her in so long, too long, but it feels as familiar as if he did it last week. No one else tastes as sweet or feels as much like home. No one else buries themselves inside his ribs and stays there no matter time or distance.

Marissa pulls away only for a moment, her breath mingling with his. He runs his hand up her side, feeling the warm skin of her hip above her jeans.

“I really missed you,” she whispers, eyes slowly opening. “I don’t want to anymore.”

He traces a pattern into her skin. “Mm. Let’s stop missing each other.”

Ryan wakes up the next morning with his arm curled around her. It’s a shock for the slightest of seconds but a welcome one at that. Marissa wakes up in tandem, her back to him, but she turns over sleepily to face him.

“Hey,” she mumbles, eyes closing again.

He tightens his hold. “Deja vu.”

She grins, burrowing further into his embrace.

They hear bickering in the kitchen along with the distinct sound of a frying pan dropping to the linoleum floor. Ryan groans.

“They’re probably waiting for us,” Marissa says, moving a hand over his chest.

He stays where he is. Checking the clock on his bedside table, he pulls Marissa closer. “It’s only nine.”

“Mm, okay,” she says dreamily, content.

One of their phones goes off and Ryan groans again. Marissa lets out a long sigh, detaching herself from him and digging through her bag on the floor for her phone. He finds himself watching her do so, her bare back silhouetted against the morning light.

“Oh, Sum says they’re going out for coffee.”

Ryan’s ears perk up. “Good.”

Marissa smirks, lying back in bed and bringing her phone with her.

“There’s a good place around the corner,” he says, running a hand up her arm.

She pauses, looking up at him. “You sure there’s nothing further?”

It makes him laugh. “Yeah, tell her there’s a few up the road. A few blocks.”

“Are those better?”

“Lie and say they are,” he says, pulling her against him. He kisses up her jaw.

Phone still in hand, Marissa smiles. She types out the message before tossing her phone onto his bedside table.

Lying on top of him, she feels his heart beat against hers, his skin warm. She leans in to kiss him, hard. Ryan’s hand cradles her head, his fingers gently pressing against her hair. It feels like every morning should start like this.

Marissa kisses his lips over and over, little pecks that endear her to him all over again. His hand moves hair out of her face, and she smiles at him for a long moment, hovering above him. He wonders how he ever spent a morning without her.

“I don’t like just being friends,” she says. Maybe something she should’ve said years ago.

“Me either.”

She feels him against her thigh and smirks. “I’d say we have twenty minutes max.”

He kisses her again, not one to waste time.

“Coop, I never would’ve thought we’d be these people,” Summer says, sitting back on the couch with a bag of pretzels. “Vegging out indoors on New Year’s Eve.”

“I like it,” Marissa protests from the table where she’s sitting with Seth, Uno cards out before them as the two remaining players. “Ha, draw four Cohen.”

“Fuck,” Seth mutters, reaching for the pile. “This game is rigged.”

Ryan smiles at them from the kitchen, his two favorite people. Marissa looks over her shoulder at him, grinning. She’s wearing his shirt. He walks over to the table, leaning down to kiss her, ignoring their friends.

Summer coos and Seth throws a cheez-it at Ryan’s shoulder, chiding, “You’re distracting her.”

Marissa pulls away for a second, setting her wildcard down. “Uno, draw two, and blue.”

Summer laughs from the living room, curling into the couch cushions. “Cohen, just give up.”

Her boyfriend rolls his eyes good-naturedly, standing up and throwing another cracker Ryan’s way. “Fine.”

Ryan sits in his place and pulls Marissa into his lap. She smiles, her hair brushing against him. Their lips meet again, and he feels an easy pulse of electricity run through him. When she pulls away just enough to catch his eye, he takes the moment to study her. To feel her next to him again.

There’s a buzzing next to them on the table and Ryan watches Marissa’s gaze turn to her ringing phone. There was a missing call from Marcus earlier in the day that had tempered her mood during dinner. She’d returned it via voicemail but had wondered when the right time was to turn her phone off altogether.

“You gonna get that?”

She bites her lip, hand running over the collar of his button-up. “I should.”

Ryan feels an awkwardness flow between them. There’s still a lot to discuss. She seems to sense this too, hand finding his. “I know what it looks like, but I’m not dodging him. I talked to him before I left the city. There just isn’t anything left to say.”

And maybe that’s enough, but Ryan finds it hard to believe any amount of discussion would be enough to accept letting her go. “I guess I feel bad for the guy.”

Marissa’s mouth curves into a smirk. “Yeah?”

Ryan moves her hair to one side and brings his mouth below her ear, teeth grazing her flesh. Tongue warm and sinful. She lets out a low, drawn-out sigh that only he can hear. A sigh with potential to turn into a moan if he continues doing what he’s doing.

The phone rings again and she lets out a frustrated breath. Her hand reaches for the phone and brings it closer. “Oh shit, it’s Kaitlin.”

He nods, eyes more alert but pleased when Marissa makes no move to get off his lap.

“Hey Katie,” she answers, her free hand moving back to Ryan’s chest. “Whoa, whoa, hang on. Slow down. What happened?”

Ryan studies Marissa’s features as she talks on the phone to her sister, the way her face focuses on every word Kaitlin relays. For someone he hasn’t seen in months, and someone he hasn’t seen up close for even longer, nothing feels more natural than sitting with her like this. There’s a mole just under her collarbone that he’s fixated on one too many times over the years. There’s a bump on her left earlobe from when she got her ears pierced at the mall with Summer at thirteen. Being up close again, his eyes map every bit he hasn’t been able to see in ages.

“Alright, hang on,” Setting the phone down, Marissa brings both hands to either side of his face. “I have to go to LA.”

Ryan’s brow furrows. “Is she okay?”

She points a finger to the phone, and he realizes the call is still live. Marissa shakes her head. “Dad. Again.”

The way she says it hits Ryan in the heart. “Yeah, you should.”

Marissa nods, one hand still on his jaw as she picks the phone back up. “Okay, Katie, I’ll get on the next flight out.”

It shouldn’t make Ryan’s heart sink, but it does anyway.

“I’m sure they do,” she answers her sister, rolling her eyes. “Planes fly on holidays. You flew on Christmas a few years ago, didn’t you?”

There’s another back-and-forth exchange before Marissa hangs up with, “Kaitlin, it’ll be okay. I love you. See you tomorrow.”

“What’s happening?” Summer asks, moving toward them with Seth in tow.

Marissa places her phone back on the table, frown growing on her face. “Kaitlin needs me. Dad was supposed to be with her for New Year’s but he’s stuck in, like, Baja or something. At least that’s what he told her. Why the fuck he’s there anyway, I don’t know.”

“Is she alone?” Ryan asks, his concern growing.

“She’s got this shitty boyfriend,” Marissa starts. “Her words, I promise. And I think one of her roommates that she hates. So, basically, yeah.”

She looks distracted and he feels the tension radiate off her in waves. Wonders how much of this she carries with her.

“Jimmy Cooper pulling a Houdini. Sounds familiar,” Seth quips, and Ryan’s about to tell him to fuck off but it actually makes Marissa laugh.

“Yeah,” she says, eyes roving over her friends. “I never thought mom would be the one we could trust to be where she says she’ll be, but there you go.”

Summer puts a hand on Marissa’s shoulder. “Dad says they’re in Malta for another few days.”

The blonde nods, distractingly. Her eyes meet Ryan’s. He knows she’s feeling a whole host of things, not the least of which is feeling bare in front of their best friends. And even though they know and they care, and they’d never truly judge, it’s still a bruise they only share openly with one another.

He pulls Marissa up with him and holds her hand as he brings them to his room. She sits on the edge of his bed, looking up at him.

“She’s taking it hard?”

Marissa nods. “Kaitlin’s always been mom’s kid and I’ve always been dad’s, but he promised her he’d be there.”

Ryan’s eyes harden. “This isn’t the first time, is it?”

She gives him a look and he nods, understanding. “She just needs me to talk her down. Talk shit about him so her expectations can drop to zero like mine have.” His brow quirks, filing that away for later. “Take her to Rodeo or something.”

“I’ll go with you,” he says.

She smiles knowingly. “Don’t you have work?”

Well, fuck. Yeah. “I mean, not tomorrow. But after– I can take a few days off.”

Marissa bites her lip. He figures they’re stumbling on those real-world conversations they’ve only half-started. “Ryan, I’m coming back.”

And that’s the crux of it. He wishes it weren’t.

In the future he’ll wish he’d schooled his features better, but it’ll never surprise him that he can’t do it all that well in front of her. The doubt playing across his face makes her reach for his touch. His hands land on her arms and hers on the base of his throat.

“Kaitlin needs me, but I’m coming back. I’m always coming back.”

Ryan finds warmth in her eyes. It’s a promise. Maybe it’s all they can offer each other for now, but it’s something. “At least let me drive you to the airport.”

She grins, pulling him close. “Only if you pick me up later, too.”

He nods, bringing his lips to the crown of her head, lingering.

Marissa sighs. “I’ve got a lot of fires to put out.”

He nods again, thinks they’ve waited long enough.

Ryan rings in the new year with Marissa tucked into his side, his laptop in front of them both as he helps her book a roundtrip flight to Los Angeles that departs in only eight hours.

“Thank you,” she whispers against his jaw, sleepiness taking over.

She’s too close to sleep to realize the double entendre, the one that’s been so significant to them since they were sixteen.

But he feels it anyway. Thinks it fits.

New York. 2011.

“Sum, hurry the fuck up!” Marissa calls from her kitchen. “You had all day to get ready.”

“Well, excuse me for trying to strike the right balance between work function-appropriate and college rager.”

The blonde rolls her eyes. “Again, all day.” She runs a hand down the front of her dress, smoothing invisible wrinkles. “And it’s not a rager.”

“Is it not in a dorm?”

“No.”

“Coop–”

“It’s not. It’s in student housing, but, like, an apartment.”

“Coop, that’s a dorm.”

Marissa sighs, pacing. “Look, I’m not gonna explain New York real estate again, so let’s just go.”

“Hang on, does this work?” Summer twirls in front of the hallway mirror.

Seth kicks at the rug in the living room. “It works.”

“I wasn’t asking you, Cohen,” she chides, sending him a sweet smile anyway.

“It can’t be that difficult to find something that fits both parties,” he says, and regrets it a second later when the smile slides off her face.

“Cohen–”

Marissa opens and closes her clutch for the third time in five minutes. “That’s ‘cause you’re a guy.”

Seth shrugs. He eyes the tv remote in the corner and Marissa moves it out of his reach. “If you’re gonna take more time–”

“We’re not,” the blonde says decisively. “Sum, you look great.”

“Sexy for Manhattan architects but still sexy for horny co-eds?” Summer asks, laughing when she sees her boyfriend’s expression. “It’s a joke, Cohen.”

“Yes, yes,” Marissa replies, pulling her best friend by the hand to the door. She’s not convinced they’ll ever actually leave this apartment if she doesn’t.

Seth is huffing a loud breath as they start descending the stairs. Marissa’s just glad they’re out the door. “You couldn’t have picked a building with an elevator?”

Marissa rolls her eyes. “Fuck off, Cohen.”

“I’m just, like, thinking of you two with your heels.”

This time she lets out a laugh. “Sure you are.”

“Coop,” Summer gives her a look. They’re almost at the bottom of the stairs now. “He’s just mad because he knows we’re moving to New York and wishes it was his idea.”

Seth gives a mirthless laugh. “Providence has everything we need.”

“And it’s served us well but it’s time we moved on, no?”

Marissa watches Seth’s jaw clench. “Alright you guys, we’re already gonna be late so can we table this for, like, tomorrow at the earliest?”

“Coop, you’re too happy in your little bubble. Some of us are wondering why we’re still in our college towns.”

“To be fair, I’m in my college town–”

“Okay but your college town is New York, Coop, so you know that doesn’t count.”

The blonde nods, looking over at Seth. “Let’s go, you guys.”

“Can we just get a cab?” Summer asks as they shuffle out of the building. “I can’t even walk a block in these shoes.”

“Cabs emit more greenhouse gasses into the air than the subway does,” Seth says from behind them, just to stir the pot. “Those of us who care about the environment–”

It strikes a nerve, and he knows it. That’s her thing. “You know what, Cohen?”

Marissa rolls her eyes at them both.

When they finally get to the party, Marissa flings herself into Ryan’s arms, temporarily forgetting that the event is being hosted by his firm. But he holds her tightly anyway, breathes into her shoulder.

“You alright?” he asks when she pulls away, running a hand up her arm.

“We need new friends,” is all she says, and he laughs.

Summer and Seth follow shortly, both wearing scowls.

“What’s really going on with them?”

Marissa sighs, just out of earshot. “Honestly, I think they should’ve taken more time in college to figure themselves out.”

Their eyes meet. There was a break during Summer’s fall semester freshman year that’s still a grey area none of them ever mention.

“As long as us?” he asks, earning a chuckle from her.

“Maybe not that long.”

Marissa knows the moment the party becomes too much for Ryan.

They’re talking to his boss, or at least the boss of his boss. It’s hard to keep track of everyone’s names and titles. Ryan’s said in private that this guy in particular is the boss of no one and everyone at the exact same time, and it had made her laugh.

“Do you golf, Ryan?” the balding man asks.

And this had been an issue at his old firm in San Francisco, too. He didn’t play their game, just wanted to sketch and make buildings for people who needed them.

He knows better now. “When I can. My dad likes the links.”

It always warms Marissa’s heart when she hears Ryan refer to Sandy as such. Her hand squeezes his arm gently from where it’s tucked.

“Back home,” he continues, “There are some really great courses.”

“Where’s that?” the man asks, his eyes moving over Marissa in a way she’s used to by now.

Ryan’s jaw clenches. “Southern California.”

Marissa elbows him softly, imperceptibly, raising a champagne flute up to her mouth. “Newport Beach.”

“Wow, small world,” they hear. He waxes poetic about the satellite office they have out there and mentions the hotels and shopping centers their firm has in the works.

She knows Ryan hates small talk like this but is learning that it’s just part of the process. She also knows he has no interest in building Newport’s latest shopping metropolis.

Marissa makes a point of finishing her glass with a flourish. “We actually have to dash to another engagement but thank you so much for having us.” She makes eye contact with his boss, smiling kindly, and it reminds Ryan of the Marissa of long ago who spun the Newport social scene around her finger. “See you in the new year!”

Summer and Seth catch their eyes from the corner and Marissa watches their moods elevate at the idea of leaving.

Ryan’s hand is warm in hers on the subway. He wants to run it up her thigh, and probably would’ve if they’d taken a cab like he wanted. But Summer insisted on them taking the subway, chin jutted in the air. Seth had rolled his eyes.

“Thank you for coming tonight,” Ryan says into Marissa’s ear. The subway is loud, and their friends are bickering nearby, but she knows he’d be sitting this close to her anyway.

She nods. “Of course.”

“Sometimes I just want to tell people like that to fuck off.”

Marissa smiles. “But you didn’t. And you wouldn’t.”

He raises a brow. “I don’t know about that.”

She rolls her eyes. “You like this firm.”

“Yeah,” he admits, reluctantly. “But not guys like him.”

The train sputters to a stop. Summer turns to Marissa who shakes her head. “Two more, Sum.”

“Where are we headed, anyway?” Seth asks.

“Williamsburg,” Marissa answers. “Dan texted earlier and said it hadn’t really picked up yet so we’re good.”

A sentence like that would’ve bugged Ryan into oblivion when they were teenagers, and Marissa’s insistence on befriending straight men with eyes would’ve bothered him too. But Dan’s someone they both consider a good friend, and he has his own fixation on someone Ryan’s met a few times on occasion around Dan's old circle.

“Writer guy?” Seth asks.

“Yeah,” Marissa says. “You met him once.”

“Twice,” Summer reminds them both. “Senior year, remember?”

Seth’s face contorts into awkward recognition, but Marissa rolls her eyes. She strokes Ryan’s hand. “Marcus was so threatened by him, I swear. If he only knew.”

Ryan pulls Marissa up by the hand as they approach their stop. He smirks. As if Dan could ever be a real threat. The guy recently wrote an entire sequel to the novel about his own girlfriend’s best friend. He opined to Ryan over a drunken game of pool that he knew what it was like to ache over someone you can’t have. How it helped his writing but it fucked everything else.

Marissa had revealed later that night when she was taking care of Ryan, washcloth held to his face, that it was something she and Dan used to commiserate over together. After that, Dan became Ryan’s friend too.

But even so, Ryan trusts her a hell of a lot more than he did when they were younger and Marissa knows it. Knows it and deserves it. Part of their healing over the years meant broaching those ugly topics without sharp tongues and guns blazing. He thinks that’s made the last year that much sweeter.

The apartment is lively when they arrive. It feels like a mix of the parties Ryan attended at Berkeley and the ones he found himself in by the beach in Newport. It makes him feel right at home and way too old at the exact same time.

Marissa meets his eye as they walk in, and she spares him a consolatory glance. “I just need to say hi.”

He shakes his head. “It’s fine. We’re here as long as you want.”

She kisses him quickly, resisting the urge to deepen it when his hand grips her hip under the suit coat he draped over her a half hour ago. “Mm. We have two hours to midnight.”

“Just preparing,” Ryan mutters, stealing another kiss. This one is decidedly less chaste. Her arm loops around his neck, her skin warm against his as she holds him close. His hand moves up her side briefly, feeling parts of her he knows he’ll be able to see and touch without abandon later tonight.

She pulls away for a second like she has the same thought, smirk pulling at her pink lips. His hand settles back at her waist, and he realizes with a start that this dress is dangerously close to resembling that same one from their very first New Year’s Eve together.

“This isn’t–” he starts, but she shakes her head with a small laugh.

“No, but it’s close, isn’t it?” The way she says it is low enough to make him stir. Her voice picks up in volume then. “I think that one’s lost to time.”

“Hey man,” Ryan greets Dan with a beer, eyeing the empty can sitting on its side next to him.

“Hey,” Dan greets, tipping the refill toward Ryan in gratitude. “Thank God you showed.”

“Mm?”

“Serena’s–” Dan starts. “It doesn’t matter. I heard your other shindig was a bust.”

“Pretty much. Suits, golf. All that shit.”

Dan nods, miserably. “Necessary evils.”

“Yeah.”

Ryan likes that he can sit with Dan in silence. Likes knowing that Dan grew up with a lot less privilege than it seems like he did.

Marissa pulls Seth by the arm toward them. “Cohen, sit.”

He rolls his eyes but plops down in the chair closest to Dan, careful not to spill his drink. Marissa sits on the ottoman in front of Ryan’s seat.

“What’s up with you?” she asks kindly.

Ryan’s gaze sharpens at her softened tone, and he knows Seth’s does too. He shrugs.

Summer is at the periphery of the party, talking someone’s ear off. If there's something Marissa and Summer have always been able to do, it's acclimate. Ryan and Seth still don't quite know how they do it.

“Seth,” Marissa starts. She takes a deep breath and leans back against Ryan’s legs. “Why don’t you wanna move to the city?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” Ryan offers, and that would’ve been enough to get Seth to move if this was high school. But Seth has his own friends in Providence, and an apartment he likes. A job he doesn’t hate. A girlfriend he loves.

Seth takes a long swig of his drink, and Ryan bites his tongue before asking if it’s jungle juice. “We’re happy. We’re comfortable. I don’t get what the big deal is.”

Marissa narrows her eyes, leveling with his. “Do you think maybe you’re one of those things more than the other?”

“You know, you two should get back to me when you’ve hit the six-year mark.”

It doesn’t come out as sharp as Ryan knows Seth wanted it to, but it still hangs in the air.

“Dude,” Ryan starts. “If you really don’t want to, you shouldn’t. But…”

Seth meets his eye, lets the words linger.

“But,” Marissa continues, gently prodding, “If it’s something else, you can talk to us.”

Her eyes cut to Dan who’s been taking in their conversation. “I’m a good listener, too.”

“And I thank you, Marissa’s-friend-I’ve-apparently-met-twice-before, but I just don’t get why. Why New York? Why now?”

Marissa knows Dan can’t help himself as a native. “Well, the why New York part is obvious. The best artists, the best food. I could go on.”

“Dan writes for The New Yorker. He could–”

“Sometimes.”

She rolls her eyes. “Sometimes he writes for The New Yorker. Your stuff is so good. Sum said you finished your next draft. And that your agent sucks. Imagine how much exposure you could get down here.”

And Ryan realizes it the same time Marissa does. That she’s hit on something immense, something bruising. Something really fucking scary.

“Seth,” she says softly. “I think you’d do really well.”

He shrugs his shoulders, eyes falling to his feet. Summer comes up to them then, leans against Seth and wraps an arm around his neck despite the tension that’s flowed from them since they arrived yesterday.

“Cohen, tell me that’s not jungle juice.”

It cuts through the tension of the moment with precision, and Ryan’s glad to see Seth smile.

It takes them half an hour just to get back to Manhattan. Summer and Seth peel off when they leave the subway and Ryan throws an arm around Marissa’s shoulders as they walk.

“I’m so tired,” she whines, cursing herself for her shoe choice.

“We’re almost there,” he says.

Marissa groans again.

“I could carry you,” he offers, and she giggles in response. “I’m serious.”

She grins at him softly. “I know you are. I– I’m okay. Two more blocks.”

Ryan’s arm pulls her close. “Let’s go home.”

Their apartment isn’t the lavish Nichol mansion or a fully stocked yet mostly unused poolhouse, but they love it all the same. A lot of Marissa’s decor from her college apartment mixes with the furniture from his in San Francisco.

By the time they get through the front door, Marissa’s letting out another groan.

“We can watch from the couch,” Ryan says, turning on the tv in the living room.

There’s a countdown to midnight in the corner of the screen and Marissa shakes her head. “No, let me just,” she takes off her heels. “I’m gonna change.”

Ryan knows his face doesn’t lower of his own accord.

Marissa lets out a breathy laugh. “No, the dress stays. Just my shoes.”

“You don’t know what I was–”

But she’s rushing to their room and he lets himself watch, smiling. He grabs two blankets from the ottoman doubling as storage next to the couch. His phone chirps.

Opening the text, Ryan calls out, “Seth says they’re gonna walk through the park.”

Marissa re-emerges from the bedroom with the same outfit on, barring the shoes. They’re her tried and true pink uggs. “That’s good news.”

He nods.

“When they move here he’s gonna monopolize all your time.”

“Thanks for that,” he says wryly.

She giggles.

When they get to the rooftop of their building, they’re not the only ones there. They find the emptiest corner they can, smiling at the elderly couple they pass who lives across the hall.

“That’s us in fifty years,” Ryan says, knowing full well how it sounds. Likes it, even.

Marissa sets the blanket down on the ground before smiling at him softly. She brings a hand to the collar of his dress shirt, the top button already undone, tie tossed on the couch downstairs. “You think?”

He wraps an arm around her, hand sitting on her waist, pulling her close. For as many New Year’s Eves he’s spent unable to do this, and it really wasn’t that many, to be fair, it makes it that much more of a revelation to do it every day with her. To live this crazy existence with her by his side. Her eyes are molten when they look into his.

A breeze comes through, and he’s reminded that it’s midnight in New York. Midnight in December, almost January. Sometimes when he’s looking at her, even after all this time, it feels like the warmest summer day.

He pulls them down gently to the blanket, moving his legs to either side of her. She hands him the other blanket to wrap around them both.

A few errant fireworks go off five minutes too early from the far away Statue of Liberty and Ryan only feels Marissa sink further into his embrace, his chin sitting on her shoulder.

She says the words to him all the time these days, and he says them back. But the occasion always feels bigger on nights like this. Especially on the holiday they marked as theirs when they were sixteen. Ryan’s heart rate picks up against her back and she turns her head to the side. They exchange a long look. His hand comes to her cheek, thumb running over her skin.

“Can I say something?” he asks.

She nods.

“I don’t regret the other times we didn’t get this right,” he starts, taking a short breath. “All those times, I don’t know if I was ready. And I don’t know if I would’ve been ready last year, either.”

He half expects her to object in his favor but she doesn’t, eyes understanding.

“I don’t know if I always have been or if I never would’ve been. I’m not sure I would’ve gotten on a plane like you did last year. But I’m really fucking glad you did.”

She smiles, fireworks going off in the distance and in her heart.

“And I love you. I really fucking love you,” Ryan finally gets out. “In the way that I'm sure I always have, but also in a way that feels… different. Good different.”

Marissa nods, eyes watery. “Better.”

“It’s better,” he agrees, palm gently holding her cheek. “Like it– like we have all this time.”

“We do,” she whispers, tears threatening to spill. Like it’s not ending.

His thumb wipes at the corner of her eye. “We do.”

Marissa shifts so that she can see him better. “You know, for a long time, I convinced myself we were just this thing from, like, youth that would pass.”

Ryan nods. More fireworks are set off in the park across the street from them. He hears his neighbors start a two-minute countdown.

“I had friends at school that would talk about their high school boyfriends and girlfriends in this kind of, I don’t know, passive way. Like they could forget their names tomorrow and it wouldn’t mean much of anything. But I never wanted that for us.”

She looks off to Battery Park and hears so many things all at once. There’s fireworks and a countdown and kids laughing. Their nearby neighbors are pointing at the city in color.

But she wants to see and hear Ryan. Wants his face in her line of sight and his heartbeat in her ears. Has always wanted that.

“It’s always you, and I always knew that,” Marissa says. “It’s always us. I just– I just love you so–”

And then he’s kissing her, and she hums against his mouth, tongue tasting his. It isn’t their most chaste kiss, and he didn’t intend it to be. He didn’t even intend to interrupt her, just wanted to feel her mouth against his. Wanted to kiss her all night like this. Wanted to suck a bruise into her neck from the very second he saw her tonight. Wanted to latch a hand onto her hip the very second he saw her dress. Wanted to hold her in his hands and remind himself that he gets to do this whenever they want.

“Ry,” she moans.

15… 14… 13…

He pulls away just enough to straighten his back and move her so she isn’t angled so awkwardly.

Marissa turns anyway, placing her hands at the base of his throat. “As I was saying, before you rudely interrupted.” He smirks. “I love you. So much.”

His cheeks are already pink.

6… 5… 4…

“It’s always us,” he mutters against her jaw before meeting her lips in another kiss, this one far sweeter.

3… 2… 1…

She nods, whispers, “Happy New Year.”

And when Ryan holds her after, watching the glittery skies, telling her he loves her again, he doesn’t think of all the times over the years that he could’ve said something, or even that he should’ve. He thinks about how often he can now, how much he wants to now. How she says it back easily, like she would’ve said it back to him all these years.

And when they kiss, his hands holding her so steadily, it’s better too. Better because they know they have another one coming after. Not because they’ve promised things like forever, but he figures that’s coming soon, too.