A/N: Yeah, I was dormant for quite some time. Apologies for that. I hope you haven't given up on this yet. I'd really love your support. :)

Thank you Jen, bzmc, l . bergin94, and all the other guest reviewers, and to the ones who've put me on their alert lists.

CHAPTER THREE

shock

Pronunciation: /ʃɒk

/

NOUN

1 A sudden upsetting or surprising event or experience

Shock. There was only one emotion swirling in the mind of Haley James. And that had been the case for the past two minutes – the entirety of which comprised of her eyes widening at Nathan's statement, and the subsequent narrowing of those very eyes. Yeah, that was 'shock' alright.

Earlier in the morning, when Mr. Henry told her that she would be expecting a new student later that day, hardly did the name of Tree Hill High's resident arrogant brat strike as a possible candidate in her mind. It wasn't as though that possibility wouldn't have been fathomable at all, but as far as high school prejudices went, she very well assumed that just like the other benefits handed over to him, he'd be exempted from the pressures of academic balance as long as he retained his basketball status.

Clearly, that didn't seem to be the case today.

"Tutor? You want me to tutor you? She finally replied, peering at the slip in her hand. When she looked up, his arrogant smirk – that she thought was momentarily displaced in the first few seconds of his appearance in the Tutor Centre – was firmly set in place.

Nathan had an amused look on his face. That, however, quickly disappeared when she looked at him with plain fury – eyebrows arched, one hand on the hip and all. She was going to be a tough nut to crack.

He shifted his weight on one foot, casually leaning against the door. "I don't want you to tutor me. It says here that you are my tutor." Well, there goes his plan of charming her with kind and soothing words. Her incredulous expression conveyed to him that she thought the same as well.

With a firm tone, Haley said, "I'll speak to Principal Turner to find some other tutor for you." She extended her hand to hand over the slip back to him.

Nathan didn't prepare for the proceedings of this conversation. This was definitely not going his way. "What do you mean by that? I thought..."

"Clearly you thought wrong. In case you haven't noticed, I'm quite busy." She signaled to the open cabinet and the files on the desk beside her. "I wouldn't be able to help you."

He inched forward. "Why?"

Quite honestly, she was surprised by the lack of any hint of sarcasm or sneer in that one-worded question of his. Perhaps she expected more...hatred. Perhaps.

"Nathan, I'm sorry. I'm best friends with Lucas."

He noticed that this was the first time he had heard his name from her mouth. And just like that, out of the blue, his mind decided that he liked that. The way the two syllables carefully rolled out of her tongue. Fucking shit, he could get used to...wait, wait, back the fuck up. Where had that come from? 'Carefully rolled out' – what the fuck? What the actual fuck? He reminded himself that the name of his number one enemy was uttered in that very sentence too. He felt an abnormal emotion inside him – something between anger and envy.

"Well, then I'm sorry too."

She stared at him for a second, almost as though she wanted to retort something back to him. She changed her mind. Shaking her head slightly, she turned to face the cabinet when she heard him sigh.

"Look, I" he began, "I'm sorry. There is no one else. Alright? I'd be fine with it if there was."

"If there were." Her little reflex action of a correction brought a slight smile to his defeated face. It was quickly gone as she turned to face him.

Before she could say anything, he spoke again. "Please." There was a certain hint of desperation to his voice, and Nathan be damned if he dared to deny that. He hadn't begged for anything. Ever. A particular incident between Dan Scott and a ten-year old birthday boy in the form of Nathan threw him off of that idea entirely. He was merely ten years when he asked – no, pleaded – his father to let him host a birthday party with his friends. It didn't even have to be large-scaled – he just wanted a day with his friends. With Deb being away on some "fucking business shit", Dan decided that he had no one to overpower his decisions that day – and so, Nathan Scott spent his tenth birthday practicing his free throws. Without a cake. Without a party. Without any fucking good outcome of his pleading.

He wouldn't go through that path again, his ten-year self had firmly decided. Seven years later, and he finds himself breaking that promise.

Never would she have thought that Nathan Scott, basketball extraordinaire would be asking her for something. Never in a million years. Exaggeration much? she thought. However, the day seemed to be quite unusual.

She was never a mean person – not even to the blue-eyed enemy of her best friend. Despite how much she could try, she couldn't be one. Despite slowly surrendering to her helpful nature, she couldn't deter that annoying feeling in the back of her mind, the feeling that made her sure that this was going to come back to bite – devour, rather – her in the ass.

"I've got two conditions." He looked at her, surprised. And glad.

"One – every morning at the docks. Six o'clock, precisely."

What the -? Who wakes up that early? He opened his mouth to express his evident displeasure when her eyebrows took a threatening position – actually, her entire stance challenged him to back away. He closed his mouth shut.

"And two," she drawled, still eyeing him. "Two, you stay the hell away from Lucas, and I mean it. No torturing him, no hazing him, no demeaning him."

He expected the second condition. Her palpable loyalty towards Lucas wouldn't be easily forgettable when it came to her dealing with his rival. He could live with that. After all, lest he should forget, the main target of all of this was Haley, not the bastard-child.

"Fine." He nodded.

She shrugged back; shocked at the way she had handled the conversation.

He seemed to take note of her reluctance to proceed with further unnecessary conversation, and decided to take his leave. Moreover, he would have the time to undertake that aspect in the future. The near future.

He turned to walk out when he halted at the threshold abruptly. Angling his head toward her, he smiled – an actual smile, not a half-smirk – at her. "Thank you for doing this."

Who said charm didn't work? Not him, not anymore, because from the slight smile that he got in response, he deduced one little detail. Phase one: Complete.

How was this?