Author's Note: I guess I'm going to have to get used to the fact that a lot of people don't review anymore. At least you're reading, I hope. People have been asking me what I'm planning on doing for the couples of the story, and I'm honestly not sure yet, myself. Someone also pointed out to me that Lucas is three months older than Nathan, not eight (or seven). I knew that, so I don't know why I made the mistake, but sorry. And enjoy. (And hopefully review)

Chapter Two: Scott for the Win

Fame is a vapor, popularity an accident, riches take wing, and only character endures.

- Horace Greeley

Karen Roe sighed contently as she poured herself a cup of coffee. The scent of it rose up, carrying through her nose and brain and already she was more awake. Her café, Karen's Café, had opened up for business exactly an hour ago, and already she found herself needing a break.

As she sipped her coffee, she eyed the café that she had spent almost seventeen years building. Luckily for her, because Dan had paid so much financial support, she had been able to afford to build this place. If he hadn't been so generous, she probably would have been up to her neck in loan payments.

She loved it here. It was easily her favorite place in the world. She loved her bar and her customers and the yellow of the walls and the books. She loved it all.

The bell on the door rang, signifying that a customer was coming in. She pulled out her notepad, fully prepared for an order, and was surprised to see her son.

"Lucas!" She exclaimed, a grin growing on her pretty features. She ran to her son, standing on the tips of her toes to hug him.

"Hey ma," He smiled, cheeks flushed.

As he took a seat at the counter, she felt her insides fall. It was not fair that she could not see this boy every day. She had him every other week and some days during his week with his father he would stop by her café after school, but most of time he was busy with practice. She loved seeing him; her baby.

Karen hated that she had not been there to witness every one of his accidents or accomplishments. Going to all of his games was not enough. She constantly wished she could see her boy every day. Then again, not being a full-time mother certainly had its perks. She could date easily, and she could afford this café as well as her own expenses easily. She just wished that Lucas would see his dad every other weekend instead of every other week.

"So, what brings you here at," she checked her watch, eyebrows raised, "seven in the morning?"

"I was running and I figured I'd stop by and get some breakfast." He shrugged, tugging on the sleeves of his gray sweatshirt.

"Running, Lucas? So early?" If there was one thing she didn't like about Dan having control over Lucas, it was the fact that Dan worked him so hard in order to keep him in shape for basketball.

"Yeah. I kind of like it, actually. I mean, I'm not exactly a fan of the aching limbs but I do like the way the town looks so early in the morning. Plus, it keeps me in shape."

Karen didn't look convinced. "And this has nothing to do with your dear old dad?"

"Please," Lucas snorted. "Since when do I listen to him?"

"If you say so," Karen grumbled, bringing him a plate of waffles, eggs, bacon, sausage, and hash browns.

"Whoa, mom. Thanks."

"Yeah, eat up," She ruffled his hair. "You're looking a little thin."

"I'm fine," He assured her.

"I know, but I always worry about you when you're not with me. You know that."

"Well, if it's any reassurance, I always wish I was I was at your house when I'm at dad's."

She touched her son's cheek affectionately. "It's your house too, kid."

He checked the clock and grimaced. "It's late. I better get back to the house so I can shower and everything."

"Well," She sighed, always sad to see him go, "if you come back over after school, there will be one of your favorite pumpkin pies ready waiting for you." It was a bribe, but it was all she had to offer.

"I can't," Lucas smiled sadly, "practice."

"Right."

She watched him go. God, he was tall now. Probably over six feet. She could remember when he was shorter than her. Not too long ago, it seemed. Soon enough, he would be eighteen and gone, probably playing basketball at some big-shot college. What would she do then?

-

Nathan's hand was steady as he pressed the brush against the canvas. His strokes were long and thick and when he was finished, he pulled the brush away.

"That sucks," Peyton said from beside him, eyes never leaving her own canvas.

"You don't even know what it is!" He argued.

"Sure I do. It's a tree."

He grinned. "It can't suck that bad if you can tell what it is."

"Do you honestly believe that?" She snorted.

"Whatever," He rolled his eyes. "Let's see what you did then, Picasso."

Peyton turned her canvas to face him, and his jaw dropped. It was a painting of a car driving towards a stoplight that shone red, red, and red. The car was clearly still in motion, and the driver in the driver's seat had a set of curls that resembled Peyton's quite perfectly. He wondered if it was symbolism or some sort of truth, or maybe just a painting with no meaning behind it.

"That's amazing," He said, breath nearly taken away.

"You think?" She smiled.

Nathan bit his lip. "Yeah, but… the assignment was to paint a forest."

-

Peyton Sawyer loaded her History and English book carefully into her locker. She found it so unfortunate that the classes that required her to carry the heaviest textbooks happened to be right next to each other. Her bag always felt like it might rip straight through the muscles and bones in her shoulder. At least then, she thought lightly, she wouldn't have to carry the books anymore.

She slammed the locker shut and jumped at the sight of Brooke Davis, right beside her locker. Chocolate-red colored hair straightened to just below her shoulders and green eyes shining bright, her best friend looked like she did after only seeing one thing.

"So, P. Sawyer, who was that gorgeous boy I saw you with after first?" And there it was.

"Who, Nathan?"

Brooke raised en eyebrow. "Nathan Scott? No way was that him."

"Way, Brooke," They fell into step towards the cafeteria, where Brooke would purchase her usual chocolate muffin and Peyton would purchase her usual espresso. "Because it was him. We have art together."

"Damn, he's gotten really hot."

"He doesn't look any different then he did last year." Peyton frowned and Brooke did too.

"Yeah, but he's a lot taller now, and that can make all the difference. Are you interested?"

Maybe. "No way."

"Interesting."

Peyton stopped. "You're not serious."

"I didn't say anything, did I?" Brooke said innocently, hopping away to the lunch line.

"You didn't need to." Peyton murmured under her breath.

Honestly, she wasn't sure how she felt about Nathan. He was cool, that was for sure. Funny, nice, and definitely easy on the eyes. She liked that he was nothing like his brother. Nathan was essentially the anti-Lucas. She just couldn't help but think that maybe that was the reason she liked him.

-

Brooke groaned as she rummaged through her purse. When she could not find what she was looking for, she looked up at the cashier with one of her trademark dimpled smiles.

"Okay, I could have sworn I put money in my wallet this morning."

She was met with a blank stare, and she felt herself growing hysteric. "Come on! I come here every day, you can't just cut me some slack? I mean.. look, I have credit cards if--"

"We don't take credit cards, Brooke." The cashier was a student, probably a sophomore (those were always the most annoying) with unevenly plucked eyebrows and the ugliest shade of pink lip gloss smeared over her lips.

"Alright, aside from being a little freaked out that you know my name, - which by the way, I'm just going to let go - I really think that you could just let me pay you back the large sum of three dollars and ninety-five cents tomorrow because I mean, I need this muffin. I know that sounds crazy, but--"

She stopped herself as she saw the five dollar bill be slapped onto the counter, and the cashier smile. Turning to her left, her eyes widened at the sight of Lucas Scott.

"Thanks," She smiled.

He shrugged. "Yeah, whatever. It's four dollars, Brooke."

Whatever. If he was going to be an ass as usual, she wasn't even going to try to be nice. "Okay. Thanks for being a bitch," She said to the cashier, before sauntering off.

Lucas shook his head as he watched her go. Brooke Davis was certainly a mystery to him. Although most of the guys on the basketball team claimed to have had sex with her, she had yet to truly throw herself at him, which he found strange.

Brooke approached Peyton, muffin already half eaten, with a smile.

Peyton raised an eyebrow. "What was that about?"

"The bitch-of-a-cashier wouldn't let me pay her back tomorrow because I forgot my wallet. So Lucas paid."

"That was nice of him."

"Sure, I guess," Brooke looked towards the courtyard, "let's sit. I'm hungry and tired of standing."

-

Lucas chugged a water bottle and then laid his head against the kitchen counter, slightly wiped. Practice had run him ragged this afternoon, not to mention his three hour morning run.

"Game tonight," His dad entered the room with a grin. "How do you feel?"

"Great." He deadpanned.

"Are you tired?"

"A little," He admitted. It wasn't just that, but he was sore. His legs and arms were killing him.

Dan sighed. "You know, when I was your age, I worked probably twice as hard as you, and I never complained about being tired."

"That doesn't make me any less tired, dad," Lucas rolled his eyes and stood. "But hey, thanks for the pep talk."

-

Whitey Durham looked at his players, all waiting for his command. They were strong, these boys. Maybe the best players he'd had yet. His eyes went over them; Jagielski, Smith.. and of course, Scott.

Lucas Scott was by far his most promising player. Only problem was, the boy worked himself maybe even harder than he worked him. He knew that it was in part because of his father, but he couldn't judge Danny. Dan was a good man, he just didn't know how to coach.

With a sigh, the man spoke, "Second game of the season. This is usually where we know how we're going to do. Now, I know you guys can win. But that doesn't matter if you don't think you can. So.. do you think you can?"

The team chorused cheers in approval, and he grinned.

"Alright. Then let's play ball."

-

"Alright," Mouth McFadden held the fake microphone to his lips. "Let's play ball."

The Rivercourt was lit nicely and the weather was perfect for a night of basketball.

Nathan grinned as he ran towards the net, dribbling and then doing a perfect lay-up.

"Oh! And Nathan Scott makes the shot very nicely. I think we know how this game is going to go tonight, ladies and gentlemen."

Skillz sighed, "Why you gotta doubt us like that, Mouth? You're gonna jinx it."

"I just tell it like I see it." Mouth laughed.

Nathan stole the ball from a preoccupied Skillz and tossed it easily through the net. He laughed as well. "Skillz, maybe you should complain less and worry about your game more."

"Yeah, get your ass over here, White Boy, and we'll see who's game needs worrying.."

-

He liked that the crowd and the cheerleaders cheered specifically for him most of the time. It made him feel important, and like this game was really his. It was, after all.

"He can shoot, he can score, so they will beat us nevermore! Gooo Lucas!"

He grinned as Tim tossed him the ball, and in seconds it was through the hoop, an easy 3-pointer.

And the crowd went wild.

-

"Alright, this is getting pretty intense, folks," Mouth could barely speak as he watched his friends play. "Nathan Scott has scored a mind-blowing forty points this game, but will that all pay off right now? The score is tied and he needs to get this last shot in order to secure his winning streak."

"Way to ease off the pressure, Mouth," Nathan joked half-heartedly, waiting for the ball to come his way.

".. Nathan reaches for the ball, he's got it, he's running to the net, he's.."

-

"Lucas Scott looks tired. He's scored thirty-six points and this is going to determine whether or not those points matter. The future of the Ravens may not depend on this game, but it definitely depends on him."

"Ball, ball!" Lucas ignored the announcers, gesturing for Jake to throw him the ball.

The curly-haired boy complied, and Lucas was soon sailing across the court, heart beating so loud he feared it could explode in his chest at any moment, and with his legs and arms both aching so so bad. When he reached the basket, he steadied himself and tossed the ball.

"Scott for the win!"

And it went in and the crowd went crazy and his team was jumping on him and the cheerleaders were running too, and everyone wanted a piece of him, then.

-

Nathan stole the ball from Fergie's grip, making his way carefully towards his side of the court, weaving past Junk and Skillz. And then he tossed it.

Mouth swallowed, standing up. "Scott for the win!"

And it went in and his friends laughed and slapped his back and said, "Good game," and Nathan wondered what it was like to win a real game.