You and Seth had always been inseparable. Whether it was comic books, late-night movie marathons, or sarcastic banter, he was your partner in crime. When Ryan Atwood moved into the Cohen house, you didn’t think much of it. Sure, he was handsome in that brooding, quiet way, but your interactions with him were minimal, mostly limited to moments when Seth was around.

Being Marissa’s younger sister already came with its share of drama, and you preferred to steer clear of anything—or anyone—that might pull you into her orbit. Ryan? He felt like just another piece of her puzzle.

One late afternoon, you found yourself outside your gate, leaning against the cold iron bars. The Newport air was crisp, tinged with the faint smell of the ocean, and the sky was painted in warm pinks and oranges. You lit a cigarette, taking a slow drag, savouring the stillness.

The sound of the Cohen house door opening broke your thoughts. You glanced over, half-expecting Seth to come bounding out, but instead, it was Ryan. He looked casual, his hoodie pulled up slightly as he tucked his hands into his pockets. His eyes landed on you, and for a moment, you both just stood there before he began walking over.

“Hey,” he said simply, his voice low but steady.

“Hey,” you replied, a little unsure.

His gaze flicked to the cigarette in your hand. “Mind if I get one?”

You hesitated for a moment before pulling your pack from your pocket. Wordlessly, you handed him a cigarette, and he stepped closer as you offered him a light. He leaned in, the flame briefly illuminating his face before he stepped back and took a slow drag.

The two of you stood in silence, the kind that was surprisingly easy, almost natural. He leaned against the gate next to you, his shoulder just barely brushing yours.

“I didn’t take you for the kind of girl who smoked.” He said, breaking the silence.