Chapter 10

A/N: I'm not sure how many chapters of this fic I have left, four at the most. So I hope these last chapters satisfy everyone who's been following this. I apologize for the long wait, I'm trying to get updates out sooner.

After bowling alley's, endless nights at the movie theater, and ferris wheel rides at the carnival that swept through town, they have their eleventh (not that she's counting) date at her apartment for a low-key dinner. It isn't her ideal choice of locations since her apartment is cluttered with bulky, brown moving boxes while she's in the process of moving into her loft, but it's the only place they can be alone so it works.

She cooks, it's nothing special but the sounds of the saucepan as it sizzles to life and the warm smell that invades her kitchen are therapeutic for her. Work has been hell, and for a brief moment she found herself getting pulled back in to late nights that turned into early morning hours, but she had promised herself that things would be different with him this time around so she hired on an assistant manager without a second thought.

They eat dinner at her kitchen table and sit close enough that their knees touch under the table. When he talks about work at the café she absentmindedly lets her hand rest on his thigh and he forgets what he was going to say next. He reaches forward to pulls her chair closer to him until they bump together and then he kisses her while his hands roam under her white, cotton shirt.

She stifles a groan onto his shoulder when his hands find the right spot on the small of her back. Whispering in his ear that they can clean up later she pulls him from his chair and they stagger towards her bedroom.

When she slides onto the bed her feet no longer touch the floor and the feeling jars her for just a moment, she looks back up to meet his eyes and sees that he's backed away from her.

"What's the matter?" She asks while trying to catch her breath.

"I don't really remember how to do this." He smiles sheepishly, unable to meet her eyes.

"We'll just take things slow, and I promise to be gentle." She laughs when she sees a wide grin spread across his face. Reaching forward she grabs the front of his shirt tightly in her fists and pulls him forward and down onto her lips.

They fall backwards onto the bed and she bites her lower lip when he settles his weight on top of her and hangs his head low between his shoulders so his mouth hovers inches above hers. When she grows impatient of his teasing she sits up and strips off the t-shirt she's been wearing, he starts to follow suit but she grabs his hands to stop him and instead pulls the shirt off for him, allowing her nails to graze the sides of his body.

His breath is hot on her already warm flesh, and the sticky circles he leaves behind on her neck make her melt further into the mattress. She tries not to think about what's different, tries not to remember the way it used to feel when his fingers traced up the length of her leg. It isn't fair to him that she's constantly comparing him against a man he doesn't even know, a man he used to be but for her it's inevitable.

She tries to purge the thoughts from her mind by concentrating on the way that his lips feel as they tremble slightly against hers. She helps him remove the denim jeans and the belt that is pressing into her thigh, and while he tries to kick them off at his feet her fingers find the white, raised scar that outlines the inside curve of his muscular shoulder. She traces the line with the tips of her fingers while he watches with baited breath, then she raises her head and peppers the pale outline with gentle kisses pressed tightly to his warm skin.

When her fingers find the thicker scar behind his hairline, a jagged reminder of what he has lost and the effect it has had on both of their lives, she kisses his temple to heal them both.

A look of breathless anticipation crosses his face and kiss and his touch become faster, more urgent. When his lips leave her mouth she breathlessly whispers that there are condoms in her bedside table. He leans across her and rummages in the drawer while she leaves miniscule nip marks with her teeth along the tanned skin of his collarbone.

Too much time passes and the rummaging stops, it doesn't worry her until she feels his body tense on top of her own. She looks over and when she sees the item he's holding in her hand she feels instantly sick. A silver frame holding a picture of the pair on the day they graduated from high school, kissing each other against a backdrop of fireworks and airborne mortarboards. She'd tossed it in a drawer the first time he'd visited the apartment after the accident, a forgotten frame was going to destroy everything.

"What is this?" his voice is shaky and barely audible.

"Lucas, I can explain."

He lifts himself off of her and begins to pace angrily near the edge of the bed. "You told me we never knew each other, if that's true than what and the hell is that picture all about."

"We were together for two years before your accident." She knows he won't take the news well, so when he starts to throw his clothes on she isn't surprised but she still tries to plead with him to listen to her.

"You lied to me Peyton, all this time you've had chance after chance to tell me the truth. I thought I had fallen in love with this amazing girl who made my life so much better after everything that's happened, and now I know that you've been lying to me for months." He slips on his shoes and turns back to her figure still sitting on the bed. "I have to get out of here." He slams the bedroom door and seconds later she hears the front door click shut.

His angry exit eerily reminds her of the last time he stormed out. She doesn't waste time crying over what's just happened. Instead she dresses quickly and runs out of the apartment.

She won't let him go again.