"Peyton, what on earth are you doing?!" Haley and Brooke walked into Peyton's kitchen to find their friend wielding a crow bar.
"Oh. Hey guys." She rested the tool against a cupboard door. "I'm renovating!"
"Renovating." Brooke looked at Peyton, who was covered in dust and paint splatters. "You know, there are people you can hire to do all this for you?"
"Yeah, but then I don't get to smash ceramic tiles to pieces." Peyton started to pull her hair into a messy pony tail as Haley surveyed the damage.
"Peyton, you can't do this yourself. I have a guy." Brooke and Peyton looked at each other, then at Haley, who was searching through her purse.
"You have a guy?" Brooke inquired.
"Come on, he just re-did our bathroom! Here. I have his card." Haley passed the off-white paper to Peyton.
"Guys, I can do this. How hard can it be?" Peyton asked the two girls, as they looked at her like she was crazy.
"Well, there's the plumbing and electrical..." Brooke started, then Haley interrupted.
"Not to mention grouting, anchoring cabinets, heavy lifting..." Haley was counting the tasks on her fingers.
"OK, fine, I'll call the guy!" Peyton held up the card between her fingers. "Wait, Tim Smith!?" She shot Haley a look. "Your guy is Tim Smith!?"
"Look, he's surprisingly competent." Haley's statement caused Brooke to laugh out loud. "Stop laughing! You've seen our bathroom."
"I'll call him." Peyton rolled her eyes.
"And shower?" Brooke asked. "Because, sweetie, this look isn't really working for you."
"Oh my God, Brooke. Then you can call, and I'll shower. I know you and Tim always had a little thing going on." Peyton shot her friend a suggestive look and a wink.
"OK. First of all, gross. Second of all, get your skinny butt in the shower before I beat you with this phone."
Peyton ran out of the room and up stairs and left her two friends in her semi-demolished kitchen.
"So, this is like, one of those weird things she does to distract herself from the reality of what's going on, right?" Haley asked Brooke.
"Oh yeah. Definitely." Brooke replied, not missing a beat, while dialing the phone.
--
Peyton returned a half hour later, fully clothed in jeans and a Clothes Over Bros tank top, with her hair down in a loose wave.
"So much better!" Brooke squealed.
"Glad you approve, Brooke. It's what I aim for," Peyton said sarcastically and looked at Haley, who was suppressing a laugh.
"So, listen," Brooke started. "Tim says that it's best if you stay somewhere else for a few days while he gets everything done. He thinks he can finish in about a week."
"Oh." Peyton sat cross-legged on the couch facing Brooke. "Are you sure this isn't just one of Tim's creepy plans to push two girls together?"
"Well, sorry, but you can't stay with me. Momzilla is in town and she still thinks you are a bad influence." Brooke shrugged her shoulders and the three girls laughed. They all knew that Brooke's only influence - bad or otherwise - was herself.
"You can come stay with us," Haley said. "We have the spare room and Jamie will love having you around."
"Thanks, Hales." Peyton nodded at her friend in appreciation. "So, why did you guys come over, anyway?"
"We came to take you to lunch and get you the hell out of the house." Brooke stood and Haley followed her.
--
Peyton had been at Haley and Nathan's for two weeks and she felt a little guilty. She should have known that Tim's estimate of how long the renovations would take would be way off. But the truth is, Haley loved the help and Peyton was great with Jamie. It was nice to know she could leave her son with someone she trusted while she was at work, and know he was going to be OK.
She awoke one morning to hear the Scott family joking and laughing in the kitchen. When she heard the door open and close, she assumed Nathan had left, so she walked out of her bedroom and ventured down the stairs. She was still in her night shirt and a tiny pair of shorts.
"Hey Haley," she said, walking into the kitchen. Then she saw him out of the corner of her eye, sitting between Nathan and Jamie at the kitchen counter. "Oh. Hi." She fidgeted with her shirt, trying to cover herself up. He just nodded at her subtly.
"Aunt Peyton!!" Jamie jumped off his stool and ran to hug her. She knelt down to wrap her arms around the little boy. Lucas just watched her interact with his nephew. A slight smirk crept to his lips as he watched Jamie twirl his finger in her messy hair. Haley noticed the look on his face and raised an eyebrow at him.
"Hey Jamie, why don't you and daddy come outside and show me those plays you've been working on?" Nathan stirred in his seat. He knew his wife could sense when people needed to be alone, but he just didn't feel that this was one of those times.
"OK! I'll get my ball!" Jamie ran out of the room and Haley followed. Nathan stood and patted his brother on the shoulder before following his wife and son.
"Why does everyone keep doing that?" Peyton asked no one in particular as she poured herself a cup of coffee.
"Doing what?" He asked.
"Pretending to have something to do so they can leave us alone." She stirred sugar into her mug.
"They think they're helping," he replied, deadpan.
"Right." She leaned against the counter, concealing her legs and trying to make herself feel more comfortable in front of him. He didn't say anything for a few minutes.
"Look, that day at the River Court..." she started talking, but her voice trailed and she couldn't find the words to finish her thought.
"It's fine," he said, still not looking up from his mug.
"It's not fine, Lucas. We can't even have a civilized conversation." Her tone was steady. She just wanted him to stop and realize that things weren't OK.
"Well, you haven't tried very hard." His eyes finally met hers as he raised his voice.
"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, taken aback.
"It means that every time we're in the same space you try to talk about 'us'" He used finger quotes around the last word.
"I've been here a month, Luke, and we've spoken twice. What do you want me to talk about?! The weather? Basketball?" She raised her arms in defeat.
"You know what?" He stood from his chair. "Maybe we just shouldn't talk at all."
"Great, Luke. Just walk away." She immediately regretted her choice of words. Even more-so when he let out a breathy chuckle.
"Yup," he said, nodding. "Something you know a lot about." He started to walk out of the kitchen.
"Yes, Luke. I do know about walking away." He stopped in his tracks and turned to look at her over his shoulder.
"What?" he asked.
"You know what I walked away from to be here?" His expression didn't change as he waited for her to get to her point. "I was just offered a six figure salary, a corner office, and everything I thought I wanted. And I walked away."
He paused a moment before responding. "Why?"
"Because it wasn't you." She looked straight at him. He'd finally turned his body so his shoulders were square to her. "I worked for two years to get that offer. The day they told me, I went home to unpack boxes, because I knew I'd stay in L.A." She saw the confusion on his face. "Yeah, I still had things in boxes, because I didn't want to admit that that's where I belonged." She paused for him to say something, but he didn't say a word. "That's when I found your book, Luke, and it just reminded me that no matter what salary I earned, or what bands I discovered...none of it mattered if I didn't have you. None of it."
They stood there for a few moments before he could find the words to say.
"I wish you'd figured that out two years ago." He shook his head. Her arms went up again in frustration, and she brought her hands down and ran her fingers through her hair.
"You're right, Lucas. Maybe we just shouldn't talk, because whatever I say doesn't mean anything to you. Just forget it." Peyton turned and walked past him and started back up the stairs. He found himself watching her as she climbed each step, but pulled himself away and walked out the front door.
"Hey, what happened?" Haley asked. Nathan gave the ball to Jamie and walked towards his brother.
"What happened is that everyone needs to stop pushing so damn hard, OK?"
"Hey man, we're just trying to help." Nathan defended his wife's actions, even though he hadn't necessarily agreed with her.
"Well, stop trying!" Lucas rarely raised his voice to Haley, so it startled her to hear him so angry with her.
Haley looked over to Jamie who was still oblivious to the situation.
"She's here to stay, Luke. So either you avoid her altogether, or you learn to live with it. But she's one of my best friends and I'm not going to compromise that." Her tone was stern, but quiet - 100 school teacher.
"I never asked you to."
"So grow up!" Haley shouted. Nathan called Jamie to go inside so he wouldn't have to hear his mom and his uncle yelling.
"I shouldn't expect you to understand, Haley. You got married before you had to have your heart broken." Lucas spat out the words.
"Yes, Luke. I got lucky. I found Nathan before I had to go through all that." She grabbed him by the shoulders. "But that doesn't mean I don't know how hard this has been for you. And for her." He looked to the ground. "You just have to live with the hurt and eventually it won't be so hard."
--
Lucas walked away from where he and Haley stood, leaving her wondering if she'd just said all the wrong things. She opened the door to join her son and husband as they watched cartoons and joked on the couch.
Peyton hadn't come out of the bedroom since she slammed its door. Both Nathan and Haley knew better than to try to talk to her. They knew she had to be alone and that she'd talk when she was ready.
Later that afternoon, she emerged, fully clothed with her purse slung over her shoulder.
"Hey. Where are you going?" Haley asked.
"Out," she said, and closed the door behind her. Nathan and Haley exchanged a glance over Jamie's head. They knew nothing good was going to come of her leaving angry.
--
"Hey Owen," Peyton greeted the bartender as she sat on an empty barstool.
"Peyton. Let me guess: Gin, 7, and OJ?" He leaned on the bar looking at her.
"No. I need something stronger. Like whiskey."
"Ouch," he said, grabbing a shot glass and a bottle of Jack Daniels. "Another run in with Lucas?"
"Yup." She paused to drain the glass and signaled for a refill. "There's nothing I can say to him to change his mind about me."
"I'm sorry." He poured another drink for her and left to serve some other patrons.
"Yo, P. Sawyer." Skills sat down next to her. "You want some company?"
"Sure." She finished her second shot and Owen came back to pour another, and one for Skills. "What are you drowning?"
"You remember Tim Smith?" he started. "You know, that idiot from high school?"
"Yea, he was more Nathan's girlfriend than I ever was. Why?" she asked.
"You know him and Bevin got married, right?" He tipped back the shot glass.
"Skills. I had no idea. I'm sorry." She put a hand on his forearm.
"Worst part is, now they're back in town and I have to run into her every now and then." He paused to look at her. "It gets easier, Peyton."
"The alcohol helps." They both laughed and chatted over a couple more shots.
"Look, Peyton, try not to have too many more of those. I gotta go, so I won't be here to carry your skinny ass home." He stood up and threw an arm around her.
"OK, Skills," she chuckled. "I'll see you later."
Peyton stayed the rest of the night and talked with Owen as the crowd thinned out. He cut her off a couple drinks after he should have, and she was leaning forward with her head in her hands and her elbows on the bar. When Lucas walked in and saw her, he sighed and shook his head. He knew he couldn't just leave her there.
"Hey man," Owen said as he saw Lucas approaching. "Sorry. She had a couple too many."
"You could have stopped her. You're the one slinging the bottles." Lucas was angry at Owen for letting her get to that point.
"She can be very persuasive, man. Sorry." He felt badly now, as he watched Lucas slip onto the stool next to her.
"Peyton," he whispered as he placed a hand on her arm. She looked up at him, her green eyes blurry from too many drinks. "Come on, let me take you home." He put his arm around her waist and helped her put hers around his shoulder. He grabbed her purse off the counter and told Owen he'd settle her tab the next time he was in.
"You're always saving me," she said. She remembered the times she'd said those words before, and smiled at his response.
"Someone's got to." He remembered the first time he'd said those words like it was yesterday. He was leading her down the long staircase outside of Tric. She was doing OK and managing without too much help from him, but he knew that he'd been the reason she'd gotten drunk in the first place, so he felt responsible for getting her home safely.
"You're going to think I'm some sort of lush," she said as they approached his car.
"No, I don't." He unlocked the passenger side door. "Listen," he said, as he helped her into his car. He knelt next to the passenger seat and brushed a piece of hair out of her eyes. "I don't want to wake Haley and Nathan. I'm going to take you to Brooke's."
"No, you can't. Her mom's still here." She was shaking her head in protest. "You know Victoria hates me."
He knew what he had to do. How bad could one night be? She'd have to stay at his place. There was no other option. They drove to his house and he tried to keep her awake long enough so he wouldn't have to carry her inside. He opened the door to his bedroom and the sight of it was almost enough to make her sober. It looked different, too. Long gone were the posters of his favourite basketball teams, and the mural of the River Court. It was painted grey, and everything was in its proper place. A small desk was set up with his laptop and a few pads of paper and a photo of him with Keith. She watched as he pulled back the sheets.
"You can sleep here." He gestured towards the bed. "I'll go to my mom's room."
"Lucas, thanks." She smiled at him and set her purse on the table next to his bed. She looked over at the desk again as he turned to walk out of the room. His hand was on the door knob, preparing to shut the door behind him, when she said something that made him stop in his tracks. "You need to finish your book."
He looked at her and sighed. "I want to. It's just hard."
"When has that ever stopped you before?" She was sitting on the edge of the bed and looking at him.
"I had my own personal cheerleader before." They chuckled together. He was reminded of the photos he kept hidden in his desk drawer. The ones of the two of them together, looking happy and in love. There was one still in its frame, of her in her cheerleading uniform and him in his basketball jersey, her sticking her tongue out at the camera, him staring at her with love in his eyes.
She wondered if her idea of what was happening was being skewed by the alcohol, but neither of them were yelling, and they seemed to be having an actual conversation.
"Peyton, I know you are back for good, and that's great for you, I guess, but I don't want this." His words hit her hard. "I don't want you to be around here and making me feel confused about how I've felt for the last two years. Hating you is easier than missing you."
Hate. Did he hate her? Even as he said the words, he knew they weren't true, but he knew they would hurt her enough to keep her away from him until he could figure out what he wanted.
"Well at least you don't have to miss me any more." She tried to joke to keep from falling apart.
"No, I don't. But while you were off in L.A. meeting new guys and living some crazy Hollywood life, I was here. I was here missing you. So if I stop missing you, it's not because you're back, it's because I don't want to do it anymore."
He stood with his head down and his arms crossed, guarding his heart from her and the pain he knew she was capable of causing. She looked down as well, wanting to avoid breaking down. She knew that if she looked at his face, she'd be reminded of all the things she didn't have.
"There hasn't been anyone," she finally said quietly.
"What?" he asked, though he knew what she meant.
"There hasn't been anyone since you, Lucas." She stood now and made her way closer to him. "No one."
"Me neither," he said quietly. He regretted it immediately. He'd never wanted her to know that he had taken two years trying to get over her, and that he still wasn't. He was stopped mid-thought when her lips pressed against his. He found himself kissing her back, and all the longing and the want he'd felt for her disappeared. She still tasted the same. But he pulled away.
"Go to sleep, Peyton." He turned and closed the door behind him, leaving her standing in the room she'd spent countless hours in, with him. She didn't know whether to feel hope or disappointment, so she felt a bit of both. She fell asleep easily, and when she woke at dawn, she made his bed and left, but not before leaving something behind for him.
When he woke up, he walked to his room to get his clothes before practice. He lightly knocked on the door, and when he didn't hear a response, he figured she was still asleep. He opened the door softly and peered inside, only to find his bed empty, save for a tattered stack of papers with a red cover. He recognized it instantly, but there was a new Post-it on the cover, with her unmistakable handwriting on it.
"You decide how this ends." He picked up the book to hold it for the first time in over two years, and a letter felt out from between the pages.
Luke, You might not see me for a while. I'm going to give you the space you've asked for. But if you need anything at all from me, you know where I am. And if you're having trouble finishing this book, I want you to know that your art matters. It's what got me here. Love, Peyton
