She thinks that of the entire house she's got to lounge in and enjoy, the backyard is her favourite place. It's beautifully landscaped with hedges all around, a great pool, hot tub (though she doesn't dare use the hot tub in such heat), stone patio and great lounge furniture. It's well-lit at night, and her favourite thing to do at dusk is head out there with a cold beer or glass of iced tea and sit and draw.

Since Nate came along, she's been doing a little less of it, though she won't complain. This day, however, he'd gotten a call from Chuck, begging him to come to the city to watch some tennis match he'd gotten great seats for. Blair was in France, having left the day after the brunch to spend a couple weeks with her father. A day in the city watching Federer actually sounded pretty good, so he'd headed out and told Peyton he'd be back later.

She was actually almost happy, though she didn't tell him as much, to have the whole day to herself, just to hang out.

So she's laying on her stomach on one of those lounge chairs with just her tank top and shorts on, her iPod on as she sketches in the notebook she feels she's neglected. The lighting is perfect, and she's got a good playlist on, and she feels like she's living in a perfect moment.

And then someone scares the hell out of her.

She feels someone's hand skimming up the back of her leg, and she turns over so quickly that she almost falls off her chair.

"Dammit, Nate!" she cries, hitting his arm as he sits next to her. "You scared me!"

"Sorry," he says, though he's laughing and she can tell he's not really sorry at all.

"I didn't think you'd be back till later."

"We skipped dinner," he explains. "Chuck was going to meet Lily and Erik."

"Lily and Erik?"

"His...step-mom and step-brother," he says. But he doesn't want to leave out details. "Serena's mom and brother."

"Oh! Right," she says. She'd forgotten Chuck and Serena were 'related'. "So you had fun?"

"Yeah. You?" he asks. He looks at the page next to them, and she snatches it away when she sees that he had noticed it. "What's that?"

"Nothing. It's...nothing."

"Peyton, it's not nothing. If it was nothing, you'd just show me," he says. "Come on."

"It's...just...some sketches," she says, handing over the pad.

She's told him she likes to draw, but he's never asked to see anything she's done, and she wasn't sure if that's because he didn't know she had any with her, or because he just wasn't sure she'd show him. Either way, she's biting her lip as she watches him examine the page.

"This is...you did this?" he asks needlessly. She nods gently, nervously, and he shakes his head. "This is amazing."

It's nothing really special; just the beach with waves rolling in, the sun coming up over the ocean. She's happy he's seeing it before she got a chance to draw the two of them there, waking up that morning after falling asleep there.

"What else have you done?" he asks, as though he's asking her permission to flip through the book. She smiles at him, and he smiles back and turns back one page. "You drew Chuck and Blair?" He's looking at the page with the couple there, looking at each other lovingly. "This is really good, Peyton."

"I'll probably need a signed release to ever show it to anyone," she jokes. "But...thanks."

She's always been a little more modest about her art than maybe she needs to be.

He keeps flipping through the book, looking at the things she's sketched. They go back to sometime in the middle of her senior year. A menacing bulldog. She and her best friend on the steps of her house, wrapped in blankets. A championship basketball game. A boy she tells him is Nathan, apologizing for something two years too late. A graduation party. An old basketball court covered in spray-painted signatures.

"This is what you should be doing," he tells her seriously. "You should go to art school."

"You're being nice," she says with a laugh, taking the sketchbook back from him. "I'm not that good."

"Yes," he insists, placing his hand on her cheek. "You are." She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, but he leans over and kisses her, just because he wants to. "Have you drawn me?"

His tone is so sexy that she's almost dropping the damn book and grabbing onto him. She has no idea how they haven't slept together yet. With him sitting there in his white Lacoste polo, asking her such a personal question, she thinks she doesn't want to wait anymore.

"No."

"Liar. You have too."

"I have not!" she says laughingly, shoving him a little.

"How come?"

"Because..." She bows her head and toys with the pencil in her hand. "Because you're too important to mess up."

His heart starts beating a little harder, and he kisses her again because he has to after something so sweet, so amazing, that she's said. She really believes it, he can tell, and he knows what she's saying. It's a beautiful thing, a gorgeous sentiment.

"Draw me now," he requests, smiling at her in a way that makes her instantly want to say yes.

"Nate..."

"Come on. I've seen what you do." He gestures to the book in her hand and she looks at him disbelievingly. "You couldn't mess up if you tried."

"I can't just draw on command," she argues.

"I bet you can."

Oh, he's good. He's appealing to her pride; her stubborn side. She glares at him, then sighs dramatically and sits up so she's facing him. "Come on," she says, standing and reaching for his hand.

"Where are we going?"

"Beach," is all she says.

He doesn't question anything more. They get in her car - she drives, though he pouts a little bit (jokingly) about it - and they end up at the beach just as the sun starts going down. He doesn't know why she's brought him here, but he sits on the sand without being prompted, and she sits facing his profile. They're quiet as she starts to draw, and she finds it almost shockingly easy to sketch him. The fact that he's so easy to stare at probably helps.

But she realizes that she's never really done this. She's never had anyone just sit there and let her draw them. She loves that he's her first. He wiggles his brows when she tells him so, and he calls her adorable when she blushes. He tells her all about his day, and he has her laughing when he describes Chuck's outfit. It's ridiculous, of course, but so very Chuck that she can picture him wearing it and making it look amazing.

"I thought you'd be yelling at me to sit still or something," he says. She's sitting directly in front of him now, and she smiles and shakes her head.

"That's not how I work."

"I can see that."

He watches as she bites her bottom lip in concentration and smudges her pencil with the tips of her fingers. She wipes her hand hand on her shorts, leaving dark little marks on the denim that he can tell she doesn't really care about. There's something, or maybe a lot of things, really sexy about watching her draw. He can tell she loves it, that it's a passion of hers, and he definitely loves that she's sharing it with him.

"Okay," she says after a while. "I'm done." She holds the page to her chest and looks genuinely nervous, making him roll his eyes at her.

"Come on. Let me see." She shakes her head and he's ready for a fight. "Peyton."

"No!"

"Is it bad? Am I hideous?" he asks teasingly.

"Shut up. I'm not going to feed your ego and tell you that you're sexy."

"You just did, didn't you?" he asks, furrowing his brow. "Don't make me come over there."

"You wouldn't!" she cries, getting up onto her knees, then standing. He's right behind her, though, and coming at her. "No!"

"Peyton," he says, walking calmly towards her as she backs away from him. "Just show me. Even if it's bad, I'll be nice."

"You think it's going to be bad!?"

"No!" He lets out a huff and rushes towards her, wrapping her up in his arms before she can get away. She's pulled tight against him and he looks into her eyes as she lets her free hand fall to his chest. "I know it won't be bad."

"Be nice," she says, though she knows he wouldn't be anything but. She hands him the book and waits for his reaction.

He smiles at the image of himself, sitting on the beach, his knees bent and his arms draped loosely around them. He's got a smooth little stone in his right hand, held loosely between his forefinger and his thumb, no doubt an homage to the day he tried to teach her how to skip stones. She's got every detail of his face right, and he's wearing a far-off expression.

"Peyton, this is..." He shakes his head as he looks at her. "Wow."

"You're thinking of me, by the way," she says teasingly, her eyes flicking down towards the book and the look on his face captured on the page.

"I was."

He holds her a little closer, the book now pressed against her back as he holds it in his hand. He kisses her, and it feels even better than before. More...something. He can't explain it. He'd love to be able to.

He tries to pull away, but she won't let him. She kisses him again and he lets her because he'd be crazy not to. "Let's go back to my place," she says. Their eyes meet as he nods his head, and she knows exactly what she's suggesting, and she knows exactly what he's agreeing to.

He smiles when she tosses her keys towards him, and she notices that he's still the one holding her sketchbook.

"You should keep it," she says, slipping her arm around his waist as they walk.

"No. I can't."

"I want you to have it," she tells him. He looks at her and smiles, and she can almost feel her heart stop. "Something to remember me by."

"I don't think I'll need a drawing," he says, pulling the car door open for her.

It's the first time they've even come close to acknowledging that they're on a timeline. Other than a couple little conversations when they first started this thing between then, they haven't mentioned the fact that in about six weeks, she'll be leaving. And now, with her slipping her hand into his as he drives, it's really the last thing either of them wants to think about.

She toys with the hair at the back of his neck, just like he loves her to do, and he has to tell her to stop. He's smiling when he does it, and she has to bite her tongue, knowing that whatever innuendo she could say is better left unsaid. This is a big moment, the kind that she doesn't really remember ever happening. She's only been with two boys, and neither of those situations were like this one, though she's not entirely sure why.

She thought she loved them both, though now she sees that she never loved Nathan, and that she never loved Jake the way she thought she did. She doesn't love Nate either, but she thinks that, if given a chance, she really could.

Which is exactly why she takes his hand as soon as they're inside the door. She's not sure they'll really get their chance, and she doesn't want to have regrets. Sleeping with Nate certainly won't be one. She thinks she'd never forgive herself if she didn't do it. She promised herself after she met him that she'd let herself just live in the moment with him.

And in this moment, she wants him. Badly.

They walk to her bedroom, and neither says a word. He knows what's going to happen, and the fact that she's not saying anything actually puts him at ease a little bit. He knows she's not the kind of girl who needs to have three-hour-long conversations about everything that happens between them. She's secure and confident and she knows what she wants. He thinks that may be the sexiest thing about a girl. It's certainly sexy with this one.

She's left a little breathless by the way his blue eyes are looking into hers as he stands in front of her in her bedroom. He lets his hands fall to her hips, where she thinks no one's hands have ever felt so natural sitting there, and she can't help but smile at him. He doesn't kiss her, and she really wants him to. He just walks her backwards towards the bed, hooking his arm around her waist to lay her down gently, and he brushes the hair from her face when he's laying on top of her.

"Nate," she whispers when he still isn't kissing her.

All she has to say is his name, and he's got his lips on hers. He doesn't need anymore prompting than that.

She doesn't think anyone's ever treated her like Nate does. She doesn't know how he accomplishes being sexy, sweet, caring, considerate and...well, a whole lot of other things, all at the same time. She's glad he is, though. He delicately removes her clothes and smiles at her just a little bit when she pulls his shirt over his head. She takes a breath when she runs her hands down his chest and stomach, then she wraps her arms around him again, pulling him tight against her.

There are a million things that she could say. A thousand words about him, or his body, or how much she likes him, or...anything. But she doesn't say a word. She just kisses him.

Not that she's the most experienced girl in the world, but she knows enough to know that it's never been like this with anyone before. She smiles when he tells her the same thing. They're laying together, her resting against his side with just the thin sheet covering them, and she closes her eyes in almost relief.

"This summer," she says, almost in reverence.

"What?" he asks, his hand trailing up and down her arm.

"It's not what I thought it'd be."

"It's better though, right?" He's pretty sure he knows the answer. He still wants to hear her say it.

"Now that you finally gave it up," she says teasingly.

"I...fina...what?" he stutters.

"Joking," she whispers, moving a little closer and draping her leg over his a bit more. He tips her chin up with his index finger and kisses her before she can say anything else. "What's this?"

"Making up for lost time?" he suggests boyishly, pulling her on top of him.

"Mmm." She leans down and presses her lips to his. "Good idea."

----

Nate wakes up alone in Peyton's bed, with the sun pouring through the windows. It's a beautiful day. He's not sure where his beautiful girl is. There's a phone ringing next to his ear, and he blindly and clumsily reaches for the cell off the bedside table and flips it open.

"Hello?" he mumbles sleepily.

"Well, hello, boy in Peyton's bed," Brooke says, smiling through the line.

"Um...hi." He pulls the phone away from his ear and confirms that it's not his own.

"Nate, I assume?"

"That'd be me," he says. Peyton steps out of the bathroom wearing only a white fluffy towel and her hair dripping wet, and he eyes her, forgetting he's on the phone. Her phone. "Damn, you're sexy."

"What?" Brooke says, laughing at his sleepy voice.

"Oh! No! Not...not you. Well...maybe," he stammers, closing his eyes when Peyton grins at him. She's enjoying this far too much, he decides. "Hang on." He pulls the phone away again and extends his arm to hand it to Peyton. "It's for you."

"It's my phone," she laughs.

"I know, but...I was...Whatever." He's pouting when he lays back against the pillows again, and she sits next to him. She's totally distracted by the fact that he's shirtless - and probably still bottomless - and covered by only a sheet. "What?"

"Nothing!" she answers quickly. She rolls her eyes when he smiles at her knowingly, then she presses the phone to her ear. "Hello?"

"Decided to come up for air long enough to talk to your best friend?"

"Hi, Brooke," Peyton says. Nate blushes and Peyton cups his cheek with her hand. "What's up?"

"Don't change the subject! Details please!" Brooke pleads.

"No."

"Oh come on, Peyton!" Brooke whines. "He's was there! You have nothing to hide."

Nate slips his hand beneath the towel covering her thigh, and she tries to swat it away, but it doesn't work. "Stop it!"

"I will not!" Brooke says indignantly.

"No. Not..." Nate kisses the outside of Peyton's wrist, making his way up her arm, and she can't tell him to stop.

"Oh...Okay. Wow. I feel like I'm hearing things I shouldn't." Brooke is practically giddy, but Peyton barely notices. Nate sits up and kisses her neck, wordlessly begging her to pay attention to him.

Truthfully, she can't help but.

Peyton doesn't even say goodbye as she closes her phone and lets it fall to the floor. Nate has tugged the front of the towel, and when his mouth finds her collar bone, she stops feeling bad about hanging up on her friend. She may pay for that later, but what she's getting now is well worth it.