Tranquilize - AU R/M

[xsweetnightmare]

I'm bored. Really bored...this is a new fic that I'm putting up here because I'm, well, bored.

Tranquilize

Summary: After the sudden death of her boyfriend, Marissa moves with her family to Newport Beach for her senior year of high school. Ryan, meanwhile, is trying to escape his problems with drugs when he meets the girl next door.

Prologue

Only a few hours earlier, Marissa Cooper was the complete opposite of her current state. She had been in her bedroom in the family mansion, idly looking at her collection of lipgloss and attempting to select the best one for the night. And who better to ask than her date? Unfortunately her boyfriend, Chris, was half asleep by that point. The Beverly Hills summer night was balmy, but they were far too used to it to be affected much. It was one of Chris’s apology dates. Which sounded bad but really, it wasn’t. He was the one who insisted on them anyway. His theory was, he had been an ass, so he had to make it up to her somehow. Marissa had been feeling, well, happy in general, and there wasn’t much to disrupt her good mood.

After dinner, they were driving home, bickering pointlessly over the CD player. Marissa insisted that her punk prevailed over her boyfriend’s ‘talentless mainstream crap.’ They were driving on one of the creepier back roads behind their small, secure, gated community. Marissa hated driving here – she pointed out that if you got attacked by some kind of lunatic, no-one would be able to hear you scream. Chris thought she was paranoid, but then again, he was Chris Harper, and he was more than slightly reckless. It wasn’t like he was stupid and ran around acting like a lunatic, he was just…him. Convinced, like many teenagers, that he was bullet-proof. Marissa just hope he wouldn’t get to genuinely test the theory, though he’d had some close calls before. He had a tendency to get in trouble, but Marissa had been dating him for two years and knew he didn't set out to do it. She had recently remarked that he would be lucky to get through their upcoming senior year with his track record. He would give her one of his usual looks, and point out that despite being just a few fries short of a Happy Meal (that always made Marissa smile), he really did have an astonishing amount of luck.

Chris was currently sulking because Marissa won out on the CD player. Things were relatively calm for a few minutes; Marissa was just wishing they would get off these roads. They were like something out of a horror movie, and decided to voice the opinion: “Chris? This is creeping me out.”

“Creeping me out too,” he muttered, turning the volume down on the stereo. She glared at him.

“No, you jerk, I mean this stupid road.”

“Oh,” he said, putting on his best ‘surprised’ face which, despite her annoyance, made Marissa laugh. “Would you get over it already? You’re such a girl.”

“I thought you were into that,” she responded dryly.

“Clever.”

“I know,” she said proudly, and silence descended over them again, the only sound the soft purr of the sports car as it continued on its winding path. Chris slammed on the brakes hard, startling her thoroughly. Before she could ask if he was trying to scare her on purpose, he spoke first.

“What the f*ck was that?”

Marissa blinked at him. “Quit being an ass,” she muttered.

Absently running a hand through his dark brown hair, Chris pointed out, “Do I look like I’m kidding? Seriously, I almost ran over something. Probably a…a rabbit or something, don’t look at me like that. It definitely wasn’t a dog, or a cat, so don’t start crying on me.”

The blonde girl sighed, chewing on her lower lip for a moment before saying, “Well…I guess you should check.”

“Probably got away,” Chris went on in an attempt to reassure her. “I didn’t hear the car go over anything.” Noticing Marissa blanch, he escaped the car, muttering, “You’re so sensitive.”

“And you’re not,” she said, winding down the window to receive the cool, California breeze. For some reason she was flushed and had this uneasy feeling in her stomach. It wasn’t just because Chris might have run over something, she wouldn’t freak out that badly unless it was maybe someone’s pet, but still…there was something wrong and she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Hell, she didn’t want to. Watching her boyfriend move towards the front of the car, partially bathed in the clear glow of the headlights, she watched him. He was looking relieved, so chances were he hadn’t hit anything.

“Lucky bastard,” she heard him mutter, only to see him frown slightly, hazel eyes puzzled as he glanced at something under the car. Apparently dismissing it, he returned to the driver’s seat. “Nope. No trace of random animal.” He noticed she was on the verge of tears. “Are you okay?”

“Please,” she said quietly, hitting the button to automatically wind her window back up, “Please. Can we just get out of here?”

“Sure…” Chris said, starting up the engine, which sounded slightly off. “If this thing breaks down…” There was a joking element to his voice, but Marissa was finding it increasingly difficult to breathe.

“I don’t care if you drive a hundred miles over the limit, just get us home.” She folded her arms over her chest.

“You’re really freaking out. I swear on my life, I did not run over anything.”

“I don’t care about that,” she managed, her heart nearly beating out of her chest. “I have this…this feeling, and I don’t like it. Please…just drive.”

“Okay,” Chris said, and Marissa seemed to get calmer as he started the car up. Then, out of absolutely nowhere, the headlights went off. “Son of a bitch.”

“Oh, god,” Marissa murmured, starting to feel faint.

“It’s straight road from here. We’ll be fine,” he attempted to reassure her, reaching for her hand.

“We should pull over and wait, but if we do, no-one will see us, but if we keep driving…” Marissa looked at him with wide, anxious eyes, apparently waiting for him to figure it out. “Could you call your dad? He’s like five minutes away.”

Pulling over to the side of the road, Chris managed to locate his phone. “Hey, dad…no, I’m on the road behind the community thing…yeah, the creepy one. My headlights just cut out and Marissa’s kind of hyperventilating, so could you help?...yeah…I don’t know, she scares easy…”

Marissa had this bizarre urge to scream at him for that. She curled up on the seat, feeling gradually more sick, her heart going unnaturally fast. She had broken into a cold sweat, and by the time Chris had hung up, he was starting to wonder if maybe he should take her to the hospital. He’d never seen her in this state over something relatively small. Okay, she was a little easy to scare and he loved frightening her, but not in that total asshole, cruel type of way. He didn’t mess around with the headlights and he didn’t pretend to hit anything. He knew she despised this back road but it was a shortcut, and they’d never had the slightest problem with it before. Well, besides her complaints about it. Gently, he pushed her hair off her face, her forehead damp with perspiration. She swallowed thickly. “You’re a mess…are you coming down with something?”

Marissa forced a smile, appreciating his concern. “I really hope so. A virus would be so much better than my current mental state.”

Chris glanced into the rearview mirror and announced, “Truck coming.”

Laughing nervously, Marissa deadpanned, “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“He can see the taillights now…and we’re on the side of the road.”

“It’s a narrow road,” she squeaked, blue eyes filled with fright.

Chris hated to admit it but she was really scaring him. Marissa didn’t act like this. And this situation? Straight out of a movie, and not the happy romance type either. Hopefully, the truck driver wasn’t blind, and chances were even if he didn’t see them, he would go straight past. His dad would be here any minute now, right? Nothing to worry about.

“See? He’s nowhere near us,” Chris said triumphantly, and Marissa’s breathing eased a little.

The next thing she remembered was something warm and sticky. It took her a few dazed seconds before she realised it was blood, and she was preparing to scream only to notice that taking a breath wasn’t as simple as it should be. She could also feel beneath her fingers the cold surface of the…road…? Blinking, she got a hold of herself long enough to realise she had been placed on the road she despised so much, and she had a cushion or…no, it wasn’t a cushion (she had a minor obsession with those.). It was Chris’s jacket. But that meant he was okay, right? She was too exhausted, too tired to move so she shifted her gaze around, eventually locking on him. He wasn’t looking the best; he was clutching his side, his breathing harsh and uneven.

“Chris?” she asked quietly.

“Hey,” he returned, and Marissa’s eyes widened slightly at the wreckage. It definitely wasn’t as bad as it could have been – it looked like the truck had managed to stop quite quickly, but the back of the car was completely crumpled in. It was a wonder that Marissa and Chris were out of there. Although she was slightly confused over what had happened.

“Where’s the truck driver?” she asked, alarmed by the unintentional faintness of her own voice.

“Gone to get help. I have no idea where the hell my dad went…it hasn’t been long,” he added. “About ten minutes, the truck driver – this guy called Gerald – helped me get you out, I think I got off pretty easy…you were unconscious the whole time. So never scare me like that again.” Marissa chuckled, then was rewarded by a sharp pain in her abdomen. Chris noticed. “You okay?”

“Take a guess. What about you?”

“A couple of broken ribs, bruising…Gerald managed to stop before we got to the total write-off stage.”

Sighing with relief (and getting another pain, this time in her lungs), Marissa did her best not to be scared. A few minutes time,someone would have to show up. Then she would go to the hospital and she would be fine.

“…next time you tell me not to do something, I’m gonna listen to you.”

“Good idea. And you look really pale.”

“It hurts,” he pointed out, effectively stating the obvious. “But it’s not like I’ve never had broken ribs, I’m just worried about you.”

“Hope I’m not dying,” Marissa mused conversationally. Always the optimistic one.

“Well does it hurt when you breathe?”

“Yes.”

“Well….well, I mean, you were in a car accident…not surprising, right? At least you’re not dead.”

“Hmm.” Feeling sleepy, Marissa allowed her eyes to close.

“Marissa – Marissa! God, don’t do that.”

“Sorry.” Over the next couple of minutes, however, Marissa was becoming less worried about her own injuries and more worried about the fact that Chris looked increasingly close to collapsing. “There’s something really wrong with you, isn’t there?” she realised out loud.

“Just a bit of pain, Marissa, I’ll be fine.”

“You do realise pain is caused by something?”

“Yeah…”

“You’re probably in shock,” Marissa went on. “So eventually it’s going to hurt a lot more. Stop moving so much, at least. It’s worrying me.”

Chris looked at her. He could talk and think and move, he was fine. He wished she wouldn't make such a big deal out of it because again, he was starting to get nervous. She seemed to be hurt a lot more badly than he was. He insisted, “There’s nothing wrong with me, okay? At least nothing important in comparison to whatever’s wrong with you. Just wait it out…we’ll be fine.”

Marissa should have known better than to trust him.

Also, if anyone here's in the mood for reading, I've got another new fic called Bad Reputation that I can put up here...

[melluka]

It is a nice story!!!

you really like writing AUs, right?? I've read your fanfics in ff.net, they are very good!

[jenny]

wow that's amazing...
I started to feel a bit creeped out too, lol.

[xsweetnightmare]

Thanks guys.

And I read too much Stephen King. Hence the creepiness.

[xsweetnightmare]

Author’s Note: Ten bucks says you’ll be gobsmacked by the way I twisted the plotline towards the middle. If I had ten bucks, that is. I think I have about six. Also, I’m changing the summary before the new chapter goes up so as to show the bizarre twist. Big thanks to everyone who reviewed.

_______________________________


It was a bad idea in the first place. Marissa’s first night in a new town, and she decided that instead of grieving in her room and feeling pathetic, she would drag herself to a beach party that most of Newport Beach’s teenage population seemed to be attending. She met a few mildly interesting people, had a few drinks, but the whole time she noticed one person in particular had his eyes on her.

It wasn’t like he was sitting there with a dumb look on his face, just gawking at her. He was on one of the living room’s couches, his posture lazy and relaxed, and she could tell he was the last thing she needed, mostly because something about him seemed to scream both danger and trouble. But it wasn’t quite in a ‘run for your life’ way, more a very attractive way. And he was very attractive. And Marissa was tipsy and her boyfriend was dead and she was looking at some guy in a sexual way. Life was not good. It was confusing and weird and pleasantly hazy.

Ryan Atwood wasn’t the type to crush on a girl and ask her out and go out on dates. Definitely not. He saw someone he liked the look of, and if possible, he screwed her, then left it at that. There wasn’t a point in dating in high school anyway; it never lasted. Marissa could tell this about him, observing the blonde, blue-eyed stranger who had captured her attention. She could tell by demeanour alone that if he and Chris had known each other, they would be too different and disagree on absolutely everything. Chris was stubborn (and Marissa had seen him in plenty of bad situations because of it). This guy probably was too.

But Marissa retreated back into her guilt and turned back to Summer Roberts, discussing mundane things and not mentioning a two-weeks-dead boyfriend or any of those unpleasant things that would scare people off easily.

School was starting in just a few days. That was what Marissa was discussing with the petite and vivacious brunette. Finally she caved.

“Who’s that?” Marissa asked, nodding in Ryan’s direction and trying not to look at him any more than was necessary.

“Ryan Atwood. Resident drug dealer. Anyway,” Summer said, “I should go check on Cohen, the water polo players probably got to him again.” She rolled her eyes and wandered off into the crowd to find her boyfriend, leaving Marissa by herself and more uncomfortable than ever.

The whole time she had been there, she had an oddly twisted feeling in her stomach, like she wasn’t ready to be making new friends or being interested in school or just being out of her room in general.

She wanted to go home and mope.

Instead, Marissa reminded herself that it was only eight, and going home would probably make her feel pathetic. And she had had enough of feeling pathetic.

Mostly in spite of herself, she glanced over at Ryan and his friends once more. He had a cigarette in one hand, and even though smoking usually bugged her a bit, she found it oddly appealing.

What’s wrong with me?

Tequila.

Yeah, tequila, genius. That’s what’s wrong with you.

Her conscience/s had a point and Marissa scuffed the toe of her shoe on the floor, staring mindlessly into her drink. It wasn’t tequila this time. It was vodka mixed with something or other. For a moment, she wondered how much vodka was in there, then dismissed the thought. It didn’t matter.

She sipped her drink and looked around, observing the Newport residents with mild interest. It wasn’t that much different to Beverly Hills. Spoilt rich kids. Too much money, too little brains. Someone reached past her towards the nearest vodka bottle; Marissa glanced up and found herself looking into bright blue eyes. Very blue eyes. She was dazed for a second, or maybe that was just the alcohol.

“So are we gonna keep staring at each other all night?” Ryan asked, a slight smirk on his face. Marissa flushed, embarrassed, and stared into her cup. “I’m getting tired of tracking you the whole five feet you’ve been wandering.”

The pink tinge in her cheeks deepened, and for the first time since the accident, Chris wasn’t filling her every thought and wasn’t nagging the back of her mind. “Well…well, there’s no point in moving. I have access to stuff. I don’t have to strip to my underwear and run around like the other girls are doing.”

He looked her up and down; subtlety clearly wasn’t his intention. It had been a while since Marissa had noticed someone looking at her like that. “You don’t have to.”

Marissa knew full well that if she had half an ounce of sense in her, she would leave. Now. And quickly. But still, she couldn’t bring herself to move, probably because she could actually feel her heart pounding again. This – whatever it was – seemed to be the right thing to bring her out of her stupor. “You’re right, I don’t.” She meant to close the conversation with that line, but it just sounded inviting instead. She mentally hit herself.

Ryan reached behind her for another bottle, and his hand just brushed hers as he did so. Whether it was accidental or on purpose Marissa wasn’t sure, but she almost jumped at the contact. The rush of electricity startled the hell out of her.

She looked into her drink again and considered the possibility that some moron had spiked it. Damn it. Now she felt like she was being electrocuted when she touched stuff. Marissa let her hand rest back on the table, but didn’t feel anything from that. Weird.

“You okay?” his voice broke through her thoughts.

Marissa was startled yet again. “Yeah…um…I was just thinking, is all.” Ryan looked slightly amused.

“Good. If you weren’t I would be a little worried.”

“Shouldn’t you be sitting over there now?” Marissa pointed out, and gestured to the couch.

“I could be sitting there, but I’m choosing to talk to you.” Ryan wasn’t about to admit he was completely floored by her beauty because that sounded cheesy and incredibly weird. Just thinking that almost made him laugh. “You’re new here?”

It’s just talking. He doesn’t seem too bad. “Yeah…from Beverly Hills.”

“Why did you move?”

Marissa observed him defiantly, challenging him with her gaze. “You really want to know?”

“Probably not.”

“Good, because I don’t feel like explaining it.” The majority of her instinctive nervousness had abated by this point and she was feeling better. More drunk, sure. But better. Actually, she was most likely feeling better because she was drunk. And being drunk felt pretty damn good.

“It’s the ghost of old man Cheeseburger!” some guy yelled. For some reason he was naked and had a bedsheet tied around his head; not to mention he was wasted. Marissa didn’t know whether to laugh or roll her eyes, so she did both. She laughed at something. She was oddly proud of herself for that.

The guy passed out in the front yard of the house, and the party immediately went back to its previous state.

Marissa looked down at herself. She was wearing a low cut black singlet and a black and pink skirt that was really more like a belt. She didn’t appear any different to the other girls at this party, but she felt very out of place. And cold. It often got cold on SoCal nights, even in summer.

“Cold?” Ryan asked, having either read her mind or noticed her discomfort.

“Yeah, kind of.”

“You should know it gets cold here,” he said as if she were an idiot. Even so, he shrugged his jacket off and offered it to her. Marissa just stared at it. “This, sweetheart, is called a jacket. It’s probably unfamiliar to you, but -”

“Shut up,” she mumbled, but accepted the jacket and pulled it on. It was black leather, comfortable, and warm. She wanted to sit down and snuggle up in it. Unsurprisingly, it was big on her, but she definitely liked it. Marissa automatically glanced at her watch again; it was a nervous habit. She wasn’t used to guys talking to her like that, because they knew – at least back in Beverly Hills, at least before the accident – they would end up getting their asses kicked by a very pissed-off boyfriend Marissa had once upon a time. And it was a time that felt about a decade ago. Almost disconnected.

Hurry up; say something intelligent.

“You’re short.”

Nice job, Marissa.

“I can make up for that, believe me.”

And there she went blushing all over again. Didn’t Ryan realise how uncomfortable he was making her? “Look, I’m not stupid. I know exactly what you’re after and I don’t plan on giving it to you.”

“What’s your name?” he enquired, completely ignoring what Marissa had just said.

“Marissa Cooper. And you’re Ryan Atwood, I know.” She went on staring into the alcohol again.

A moment’s silence, then, “You look like you just lost your best friend.”

She laughed humourlessly. “Yeah, something like that.”

Ryan was curious about the comment but let it slide.

“So I’m getting bored.”

“Then talk to someone else,” Marissa said indifferently.

“I didn’t mean I was getting bored of you, I meant I was getting bored of this party. Nothing’s happening.”

She just shrugged, doing her best to skirt around the inevitable. And she knew it was inevitable because she knew she wouldn’t turn down human contact, whether it made her a bad person or not. “I guess.” Marissa probably was boring him. “You’re right, actually. Let’s get out of here.” Without waiting for a response, she turned around and headed out onto the beach, which was right in the house’s backyard. After a few seconds of suspense, he fell into step beside her.

“Ryan?”

“Yes, Princess?”

“Don’t call me that,” she said, shooting a deathly look in his direction.

Don’t think deathly. Don’t think anything death-related, okay?

As stupid as it sounded, Marissa was half-expecting to wake up with Chris next to her, probably muttering amusing nonsense in his sleep like he often did. He would retort that she stole the sheets, which was a dumber habit.

“You were asking me something?” Ryan interrupted her wistful thought process.

“Oh. Right. I was just wondering, what made you pay attention to me in the first place?”

He shrugged, “You’re hot. You have legs that go on forever, and you looked like you needed some fun.”

“But I’m boring,” she said, confused by the compliments.

“You seem pretty interesting to me.”

“I’m good at art and I’m a dork. Really, that’s it. And besides, I know it’s not my personality you’re so interested in.”

Ryan glanced up at the street. “Where the hell do you live, anyway?”

“There,” Marissa pointed out her house.

“I’m next door to you.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Depends.”

Marissa was fidgeting compulsively with her keys the whole time she was walking up her driveway. “My parents are…not here. They said I was too depressing.”

“What are you miserable about, anyway?”

“I don’t know, leaving behind seventeen years of my life?” She didn’t mean to sound so bitchy, but at this point the alcohol had definitely gotten to her and she didn’t care. Besides, it wasn’t a total lie. She had left behind seventeen years of her life but that wasn’t all of it. Why the hell would she tell a one night stand everything, anyway? That was stupid. He just wanted to use her. And she just wanted to use him. It was simple.

The moment the front doors locked behind them, leaving them in the dark foyer, it was like some kind of switch had been thrown. Looking back, Marissa wasn’t sure what happened first; whether she kissed him, or he pushed her up against the wall, because both happened in the space of a few seconds.

Marissa found there was an obvious difference between kissing a stranger and kissing someone you’d been in love with for two years, maybe more if you included the middle school and freshman year love-hate relationship.

She didn’t need to think about that now. She was in Newport, not Beverly Hills. Clean slate. These people didn’t know anything about her. She could use that to her advantage.

Making out in the foyer wasn’t exactly satisfying enough, so Marissa gathered her wits and managed to get Ryan up the stairs and into her bedroom. It didn’t feel like her bedroom. It felt like a room she slept in. It had all the things from her room in Beverly Hills, but she had moved everything around, so it would feel new. It was something that she liked, and also something she found oddly depressing.

She fell onto the bed, enjoying the breathlessness as his weight pushed the air out of her lungs.

Chris was a lot gentler…

Stop it.[/b]

The second voice won and the first one, the one pointing out she would feel terrible in the morning, fell silent. For a few minutes the only sound was heavy breathing and the soft sound of clothes landing in heaps beside the bed. Marissa was feeling pleasantly tingly from alcohol, her heart racing from Ryan’s touch. It was different, definitely. Maybe she just needed different.

You don’t want different.

Again, Marissa pushed the thoughts away, pulling back from Ryan for a moment. “Condom?”

“You on the pill?”

“Yes. Better safe than knocked up.”

“Smart girl.” Ryan located a condom. “I’d better have more on me.”

“I’m not diseased,” she said indignantly, making him laugh.

“I thought as much, but I don’t feel like being told I have an illegitimate child in ten years’ time.”

“Ugh, shut up. Doesn’t matter anyway. I’m already pregnant.”

Total silence. You could have heard a pin drop.

Rather, you could’ve heard a still-wrapped condom drop.

“What?!”

“It makes no sense,” she said, her words slurred a bit. “After what happened, you would have thought I would lose it, but the doctor said no, it’s fine, you’re pregnant, like I had something to celebrate.”

“Uhh…” Completely floored, Ryan stared at her perfectly flat stomach. “I don’t get it.”

“Neither do I. I don’t know why I was drinking. They put me on these stupid anti-depressants, and they make bad things seem good, so I actually went out and got wasted and I’m f*cking pregnant. And I’m not explaining it. Feel free to run for it now, you got off easy.”

“I haven’t gotten off at all yet. You know, drinking while you’re pregnant doesn’t necessarily mean something’s going to happen to the baby. How far along are you, anyway?”

“Like, nine weeks or something…I had about a million drinks. I didn’t want to miscarry, I haven’t yet, but I’m going to, aren’t I? I’m a horrible person.”

Ryan really hadn’t expected the night to turn out like this. “Okay, this is slightly f*cked up but very intriguing.” He switched the bedside lamp on, making Marissa complain at the light. “Who’s the father?”

“Chris. He’s dead, he died two weeks ago, and the baby should have died too because it wasn’t even a baby then. It still isn’t. But the baby, or fetus, or whatever it is, is fine, and I’m fine, all I had was bruises, and Chris is dead. It’s not fair,” she burst out suddenly, tears spilling down her face. The sudden onset of emotion started Ryan a little and made him uncomfortable. He almost felt like he was intruding one something, like this was private.

“Hang on. This is an awkward conversation to have while naked.” Ryan got to his feet and pulled his boxers on. “Okay, I’m good. You’re still wearing your underthings.”

Marissa turned onto her side to look at him. “I’m sorry. I’m a freak. A murdering freak.” She sniffled, and looked incredibly pathetic. Contrary to popular belief Ryan had a heart and a sense of decency, and he knew full well he couldn’t back away slowly and run when he was out of sight. It was obvious she needed to talk. She needed more than that, too.

“You didn’t kill anybody. Do your parents know you’re pregnant?”

Marissa nodded. “I told them, and I thought they’d freak, but I…we were always safe, so…it just happened. Chris didn’t know, hell, I didn’t know until they told me at the hospital. I just got a concussion. Bruises. He died of internal bleeding, even when they fixed it there wasn’t much of a chance he’d recover. So they switched his life support off. I had to watch him die. I told him, but obviously he couldn’t hear me, and I knew he’d want me to keep it. He was a romantic under the semi-badass exterior. If he ever got the chance to grow up he would have been a family person.” She fidgeted with a small cushion with a bead trim. “It’s not fair,” she said again.

Ryan sucked at comforting people, so he settled for absently rubbing her side. Her skin was exceptionally soft, he noticed. “I know.”

“If I don’t miscarry because I’m an idiot, what am I supposed to do? My parents said it’s up to me. They would have strangled Chris anyway if he were alive. But because of the…um…circumstances, I guess, they’re giving full support. Trying to be there for me and avoiding me at the same time.”

“Depends,” Ryan said after a moment. “If you’re against abortion -”

“I am. I can’t willingly kill a person, even if it’s a baby. I mean fetus. Whatever. I know that sounds stupid to some people.”

“I get it,” he said, suddenly grateful he wasn’t a girl. They had to go through some insane things. “Adoption, then? Some people can’t have kids, you can give them a shiny new one.”

“I don’t know. What if I’m always wondering what happened to the baby?”

“Well, the only other option is keeping it.”

“I can’t look after it by myself.” She flopped onto her back. She was still tipsy, but seemed to have sobered up a bit throughout the conversation.

“Marissa?”

“What?”

“It’s not as bad as you think.”

She laughed. “No, really, it is.”

“Well, yes. But there’s plenty of single mothers that are teenagers, right? And they’re okay, usually.”

Marissa sighed slightly. “I need a friend. You want to sign up?”

“Sure. I think I need a friend too. As in a friend that doesn’t sidle up to me asking for a free hit when they’re out of daddy’s money.”

“I think we’re a terrible combination,” she said.

“Me too.”

“The pregnant grieving chick and the drug dealer. But opposites can be good in friendships, right? I’m going to the doctor tomorrow, and I’m seeing what’s…what’s happening.”

“Good idea.”

Biting her lip, Marissa said, “I barely know you. Sorry for being such a lunatic.”

“Sorry for being too horny to pick up on your misery.”

This made her laugh, and she pushed the pillow at him. “Shut up. I like you, though, you’re funny, and you have nice eyes.”

“Thank you?”

“I’m tired.”

“Go to sleep, Princess.”

“It’s Princess now?”

“Shut up.”

Marissa woke up with a surprisingly weak headache and a fair amount of confusion. She was in bed. With someone. A fully-dressed someone playing the new Grand Theft Auto on a PSP. It took her a moment before the events of the whole, completely insane night seemed to hit her in the face. She didn’t know whether to be relieved that Ryan hadn’t run off at any point, or embarrassed about, well, everything. Her thoughts were much clearer and she had to admit, she was relieved she hadn’t slept with him. Incredibly relieved.

“I suck.”

“You do? Damn, I knew I should have kept you awake last night.”

“What? Ew! My new friend is deeply perverted.” Marissa wrinkled her nose, amused all the same.

“I was lightening the mood,” Ryan protested, and caught her wrists to stop her smacking him. “How are you feeling?”

What a question. “Like I have morning sickness,” she said, and with that, she raced to the bathroom at impressive speed.

“That’s good, right?” Ryan asked, unperturbed, as his PSP counterpart stole a pimp’s limo. “I mean, it’s normal, so the baby’s probably okay.”

“It could just be a hangover,” Marissa pointed out thickly from the ensuite bathroom. “But I don’t feel very hangover-ish. I do feel pregnant, if it’s possible to feel pregnant.”

“Feel like talking?” he asked several minutes later when she emerged again, having cleaned herself up. She still looked pale and slightly green.

Marissa stood there for a moment, then shrugged, “Do you want to hear my life story?” She was surprised by how easy this was. How easy it was to talk to him. She seemed different to the person she had seen last night, but that was probably because he wasn’t too predatory at the moment, and he wasn’t slightly drunk anymore.

“Knock yourself out.”

She reached under the bed, felt around for a moment, and produced a plain cardboard box which she sat on the bed. “I was always kind of weird. As I guess you’ve figured out. This is me when I was six.” She handed him a photo.

“You don’t look too happy.”

“Because, ten minutes before that school photo was taken, a certain boy by the name of Chris Harper got his dumb friends to throw mud at me. You can see the smudge of dirt on my cheek, the teachers gave me really unappealing clothes to wear for the day. So,” she said, producing a few more elementary school photos, “Chris and I hated each other as kids. It’s cute now, looking back on it, but back then it was like war.”

Amused, Ryan said, “Let me guess, you guys got to high school and there was that awkward time when you found each other attractive.”

“Hey, I’m not up to that part yet. Anyway, things didn’t get much better in middle school. This photo was from the school fair in seventh grade. Our teachers made us pose together because they thought we were cute and promoted school unity. Afterwards, he called me a bitch and I kicked him in the shin. Good times.”

Ryan looked at the photo for a moment, then at Marissa. He was half-expecting her to burst into tears, but so far she seemed calm enough.

“In freshman year of high school, we got stuck as lab partners. We fought over everything, and we spilled a lot of chemicals. Halfway through the school year I was at my locker and he was talking to his friends about something, and that was when I noticed he was pretty hot. I thought I was going insane. A couple of days later, he walked up to me, looking really uncomfortable, and asked me out. I was certain he was trying to humiliate him as usual, and by that point I was fed up with Chris being a jerk. So, I just kicked him where no guy likes to be kicked.”

“Well, that’s sweet.”

“I know. Everyone else thought it was hilarious. We both got sent to the principal’s office, and I still thought Chris was being an ass and was trying to embarrass me, and while I was going on about it, he kissed me. The rest is history, I guess. I like art, and photography. So there’s a million photos of us in here. I always liked taking photos of him…” She trailed off suddenly, shaking her head. “Sorry. I’m just…not used to past tense yet.”

“It’s fine,” Ryan said hastily, sifting through the pictures. Physically, they had looked good together. He was tall, dark and handsome; she was blonde, blue-eyed and beautiful. Ryan was feeling a little depressed himself.

“He played soccer when he was bored. He was pretty good at it.” Marissa bit her lip, suddenly realising she was holding back tears. She hated this. Hated it. “I’m sorry…again…I think I’ll make that doctor’s appointment now.”

Ryan watched her move swiftly towards the phone, knowing full well how upset she was. “I’m really sorry, Princess. This whole thing sucks more than Kevin Volchok's mom.”

“You’re telling me,” she muttered in response, looking up the doctor’s phone number. It was very strange, she thought, how what would have been a regrettable one night stand had instead turned into an instant and unlikely friendship when she needed it the most.