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It starts very much like it always starts.
A tutoring session at a pub just far enough from campus to be relatively quiet segueing quickly into a drink or five after they've addressed his most immediate study concerns.
Followed by Ryan having the greatest idea of all time.
Self-proclaimed, obviously.
Personally she thinks the whole thing is too soapy for words, and he should just tell his parents to bugger off. They don't need him there for this, not if he has to travel so far alone for it, and certainly not so close to exams. But family is complicated. More so, when they control your trust fund access, apparently.
She should say no. No really, she should. She's going to say no.
Any second now.
They're not friends, exactly. But they're not not friends. And damn those tragic little rich boy eyes are hard to say no to.
"I can pay you," he offers.
She huffs out a laugh that feels more like a sigh of resignation. She wishes that the note of desperation in his voice wasn't quite so becoming on him. That's not what they are, not how they are with each other, not usually. Usually they're just good times and overblown stories over a handful of drinks. Nothing deep, nothing real. Just a half familiar face from home, halfway across the country.
"Like...more than what I pay you for tutoring. I dunno what the going rate for fake dating is but...you know. I can afford it."
She should say no. Or at least decline the money.
At some point he's going to need to learn that money won't get him into and out of every situation in his life.
But she could do with the extra cash, and it's been too long since she went back to Horseshoe Bay. Ryan's car is a lot nicer than hers.
"Triple what you pay me for tutoring." She stabs her pretty blue cocktail umbrella emphatically in the general direction of his face. "And I get to drive your car. All the way, both ways."
Ryan slumps back in his seat, smile the most genuine she has seen from him all night...all week, really. His parents' summons had been weighing on him more heavily than she had realised. He had seemed calm, casual, charming, but in his relief he was almost boneless, as though every muscle in his body had relaxed at once.
"Quintuple," he countered, "and I was counting on it."
He tilts his head a little, playful, waiting to see if she'd negotiate against herself.
She doesn't.
"Next round's on you," she informs him. Usually they'd have cut themselves off earlier than this, but for once she has nowhere to be in the morning and he looks like he could definitely use another for the taxi ride back to campus.
The sound of raindrops tapping against the car's windshield fills the air, rhythmic and soothing, as the wipers swish back and forth. The musical foreground is not quite as enjoyable.
"Seriously, this song again?" Lucy sighs.
"My car, my rules."
Lucy huffs.
She could argue the point, say that she's driving so she should get to pick the music. She knows better, though. He'll just get stubborn about it, and they'll be listening to this one cd all the way to Horseshoe Bay and back. She falls silent, but doesn't bother to hide her mild irritation.
Ryan watches her. Waiting for her to bicker about it, no doubt. He enjoys pushing buttons just way too much. Once upon a time she would have let him have his fight, just for the sake of proving herself objectively right in this highly subjective context. She's learned to pick her battles, save her energy for when it actually matters. Well...she's learning, at least.
After about two minutes, Ryan huffs dramatically and flips over to some random radio station. Not perfect, but a vast improvement.
"Thank you," she says, and he eyes her suspiciously for a second before relaxing.
He doesn't talk about his parents much, and she's yet to meet them formally, but she is already starting to develop a pretty intense dislike for them.
He shrugs, eyes darting away to the total lack of view through his rain streaked window.
"No big deal." An unconvincing mumble. They both know it kind of is, for him.
He's spoilt, and she's made no secret of the fact that she thinks so. Too used to getting his way effortlessly, too used to never having to consider anyone's wants and whims but his own.
He's working on it.
They both have things they're working on.
The anniversary party unfolds in a room that Ryan - terrifyingly - refers to as the small ballroom, lit by chandeliers that Lucy just knows are a bitch to dust. The air is filled with a gentle hum of the dullest conversations that she has ever had the displeasure of eavesdropping on. There's a sharp word here or there, inside jokes that nobody actually seems to find funny, and the clinking of glass after glass of overpriced alcohol being disposed of at a shocking rate.
The party goes well.
Well it goes, at least.
Better than she had expected. It's not her scene, and the Hudson parents' sharp eyes assure her that they have no intention of letting her forget it.
She didn't come here for them, though. She came here for Ryan, and every time she steps up beside him, changes the subject, draws their fire, she can see him breathing just a little easier.
It's enough.
She's still going to demand payment in full the second they get back, of course. But the frown lines gradually easing from his forehead as the night progresses and the time to make their escape without creating a scene draws nearer is a very nice bonus.
Her mother adores him, of course.
They hadn't planned for him to make this visit with her. She had been going to borrow his car to drive over while he spent the day with his father, but that hadn't happened. She doesn't know the details of their fight, if it even was a fight, just that he'd hopped into the car with her at the last minute and asked her to drop him off somewhere on the way.
He hadn't known where, though, and he'd seemed rattled enough that picking a spot at random didn't feel kind.
They don't share their cover story with her mother, but Lucy can see her making assumptions, and...well, honestly, it feels good that someone who knows her so well sees potential between them. When her mother refers to him as a nice young man, with a lot of completely undue emphasis, she doesn't correct her - doesn't tell her that Ryan is many things, but nice isn't often on that list. Doesn't roll her eyes at her. Doesn't tell her they're just friends.
Neither does Ryan.
That feels good, too.
The cliff lookout is bathed in moonlight, long silver beams cast against the jagged rocks. Their final stop before she drives his car away from Horseshoe Bay again.
The world below seemed distant and muffled, the ocean stretching out beneath them, tiny silver wavelets glittering brightly as they scattered against the base of the cliff.
Cold enough for jackets, warm enough still not to need gloves yet.
"Back to normal now, I guess." Ryan's face is half hidden by shadow and the turned up collar of his jacket, but his voice didn't sound quite as casual as she thought that he wanted it too. He sounded... disappointed. Wistful. Lonely? Not like someone who was excited for things to return to the status quo.
She wasn't feeling quite the sense of relief she had expected to, either. She hadn't loved the charade, but getting to know a different side of Ryan - a few different sides, really - had been amazing.
"Sure," she agreed quietly, knowing the pause had been too long, knowing she'd have been better to say nothing at all at this point. "If...if that's what you want."
Ryan's head snapped up sharply.
"What I want." It doesn't sound like a question. It doesn't sound like agreement, either.
He doesn't say anything else.
Well if he's going to be like that about it, maybe she just has to rip off the bandaid herself.
"What if we just... didn't?"
"Didn't...?" This time it is a question. She's lost him.
"Didn't go back to normal. Have you thought about us? For real, I mean?"
"Have you?"
"I asked first." She's not going to outstare him, unfortunately. She's pretty sure he's blushing a little while he stares, but the moonlight is hiding any real advantage that might give her. "Okay, fine. Yes. I've thought about it."
"And what did you think?"
He's closer than before. Way closer. That's a good sign, right?
"I think that I'd like to go on a date with you. Really for real."
"Just the one?"
His mouth is serious, but his voice and eyes smile.
"Maybe two or three, if you play your cards right." She's trying to sound serious, but she hears it in her voice too, the same smile, the same lightness she's been feeling every time they're alone together all weekend.
"I can work with that."