Disclaimer: I do not own One Tree Hill or any of its characters.

A/N: Just want to say thanks as always to all the readers and special thanks to the reviewers. I put a lot into this chapter so I really hope you guys like it.

Peyton sat in her car, parked in his driveway, for the longest time, just watching him make shot after shot after shot, like it was the easiest thing in the world to do. He looked so handsome, comfortable, and completely at peace, sporting that red tracksuit. She loved red on him…and white…and black. Oh hell, any color looked good on him.

The basketball he carried was practically his second skin – it was so much a part of him. He was rarely ever without it. And he handled it like a pro. No doubt he'd make it to the NBA. His natural grace shone through whatever court he stepped foot on, whether he played with a team or by himself. He'd see his dream to reality. He had the drive, the determination, and of course, the talent. It saddened her only to think she wouldn't be a part of that future. She'd always assumed she would be, that they'd be together for the long haul. But she had to do what she had to do, for herself, and for him too.

But first she would admire him a while longer. He hadn't noticed her pull up. He was far too engrossed in the game, and though she couldn't tell from her distance, she could guess that he was listening to his favorite rap songs on his ipod. She knew it helped energize him when he practiced alone. When his father was home, he didn't allow it, claiming it was a distraction taking his focus off where it should be. But when his dad was gone, he always opted to go with the music. And the way he was sinking every basket, it clearly didn't affect his concentration.

She smiled sadly, her eyes taking in the sight of him doing something he loved for as long as she possibly could before, finally, she opened the car door and stepped out, slowly making her way toward him.

––––––––––

Nathan watched another one go in and smirked to himself. Sixty-three, he counted with satisfaction, as he once again went and retrieved the ball. Turning around to retake his position at the three-point line, he noticed the blonde coming up the walk. His eyes raked over her appreciatively as she approached him. She looked hot as hell in her tight fitting jeans, black tank top, and her mass of curls framing her beautiful face. Then again, she never didn't look hot. Not even first thing in the morning, although she would, and has, adamantly disagreed with that.

But wait! It was already 10:00? He glanced at his watch and it confirmed that it indeed was. After her phone call, he'd told her to come by at that time since he knew his father was going out and would be gone by then, leaving Nathan free to break the old man's strict guidelines concerning practice, work outs, homework, outings, and visitors. Nathan was so sick of this damn lockdown and it was only halfway over.

He'd come outside at 8:00 to start shooting free throws. He couldn't believe how quickly those two hours had flown by, but he was glad for it because now he wouldn't be counting the minutes before Peyton's arrival.

Between their arguments and his punishing schedule, he and Peyton hadn't had much time to spend together in the past two weeks. Yeah, they had the mornings when his dad didn't accompany him on his run, they had lunch break during the week, and they had about a half hour after school before he had to be home for tutoring sessions – his dad had taken up coming home early on a daily basis to ensure his son followed his orders. But that was all the time they got, and that was only when she wasn't mad at him. He looked forward to spending the next few hours alone with her.

Grinning, he headed toward her, removing the headphones he wore. "Hey," he greeted. Then he pointed at the hoop. "Sixty-three straight shots in a row, nothing but net," he told her elatedly. "And counting," he added, fully intent on picking up from there once she left. Not that he was in any hurry.

Peyton nodded and smiled warmly at his enthusiasm. "That's good, Nate," she said sincerely.

"Good?" he scoffed with a smirk. "Try fucking awesome," he continued, snaking his arms around her waist and coming in for a kiss. "What's wrong?" he asked when she didn't return it.

"I told you we need to talk," Peyton said firmly, pulling her head back.

"So I can't even get a kiss first?" he complained teasingly. "That's brutal. Why do you want to torture me?" he asked, staring down longingly at her full, sensual lips, licking his own in anticipation.

"Nathan," she admonished, breaking free of his embrace. "I'm not kidding around."

"Neither am I. Not really," he stated with a wink. He really did want to kiss her.

She had to look away, silently cursing him for not taking her seriously, but even more for being so damn sexy. It would be so easy right now to change her mind and fall into his arms. Except she couldn't forget those lyrics that had confirmed what her heart had ignored for too long. Just because it feels so good, no use pretending we're alright. She took a few steps away from him, putting a safe distance between them.

For a while neither spoke and the tension in the air grew with each passing second.

"So," Nathan began as a way to break the unsettling silence. "If my dad gets back early, you just got here, I didn't know you were coming, and you were just leaving," he finished with a smirk. He expected her to laugh, but sighed in defeat and shoved his hands in his pockets when she didn't so much as crack a smile.

She couldn't smile at his comment. How could she when he was flat out telling her that, if circumstances called for it, he would, yet again, lie? "Sounds like you got your story mapped out," she said dully.

He gazed at her curiously, confusion spreading over his handsome features. "Are you mad at me? Cuz it was just a joke."

"No it wasn't," Peyton contradicted softly. It had come out as one, but she knew he wouldn't hesitate to use that very excuse if he felt cornered. "It's exactly what you'd say if he pulled up right now."

He seemed to ponder that for a moment, and then nodded his head agreeably. "Well, if I want to live to see tomorrow, then yeah," he admitted. "Is that so wrong? I mean, it's not like he'd do anything to you."

"No, I know. You're right," she conceded, aware that the situation with his father was different and if that scenario were to play out, she'd whole heartedly back Nathan's story to save him from the older man's wrath. "But I didn't come here to talk about your dad."

She took a deep breath when he just stared at her expectantly. She wondered, of the countless times she'd dumped him in the past, why this time should be so difficult. She should be a pro at it by now. "I don't really know how to say this so I'm just gonna come out with it." Another deep breath and she said the heartbreaking words. "Nathan, it's over." She was surprised by how even her voice sounded to her own ears.

"What's over?" he asked unsuspectingly. What the hell was she talking about?

"Us," she replied coolly. "Me and you."

He chuckled, like he didn't believe her. "Sure, ok," he scoffed. He didn't believe her. "For how long this time?" he played along.

"For good," she replied earnestly.

He rolled his eyes. How long did she expect him to take these breakup threats seriously? She never meant them. They were always emotionally charged and thrown at him in a fit of rage or temperamental upset.

Except right now she was neither screaming nor crying. Not at all in her typical breakup mode.

He glanced at her inquisitively, wondering if that was a good thing or a bad thing. She looked calm, reserved. And dead serious! A sense of panic threatened to engulf him, fear instantly gripping his heart, as he narrowed his eyes at her. "Peyton, that's not funny," he spat. "You can't just dump me every other day."

She nodded in acknowledgement. "I know," she said. "This is the last time."

"Peyt…"

"I'm sorry," she told him solemnly, turning away from him to walk back toward the driveway. "There's a bag of all your stuff in the car," she threw over her shoulder.

That's when he was certain that she meant it. Her tranquility, her resolve, and the fact that she'd taken the extra step of bringing back everything he'd left at her place. His feet retraced her steps. "What, so that's it?" he hollered, turning her around to face him just as she was about to open the car door. "Just, we're done? Deal with it?"

"I'm sorry, Nate," she repeated.

He didn't want her apologies. "Why?" he inquired. "At least tell me that!"

She shook her head, sure he already knew the answer. "I think you know why."

"Is this because of Lucas? Does he have something to do with it?"

"No. It has nothing to do with him," she replied, not really surprised that he should automatically assume it did. "It's about you. Me. We're horrible together, Nathan. We both know that."

"Don't speak for me," he snapped. "You never complained before. You hang out with Lucas for a few weeks and all of a sudden we're horrible together?"

"It's not all of a sudden. Our relationship has never been good. It's always on the rocks, since the very beginning. That's why our friends were able to make bets on it."

"But we always work it out. We always find our way back."

She was shaking her head. "We have sex. That's how we solve our problems," she told him. "But it's only a temporary fix because we never resolve anything. So, it's the same issues over and over, only worse and worse every time. I can't deal with it anymore."

"So giving up is your solution? That's a copout."

"You can think that if you want. I call it moving forward. It's time to let go, Nate."

"No," he cried out, his voice low and hoarse. "I don't want to let go. I love you."

She closed her eyes as her emotions threatened to take over. "I know you do, in your own way. But you don't love me enough."

"That's not true. I love you more than anyone."

"Which isn't really saying a whole lot," she muttered.

"Peyton…"

"To say you love me more than all the skanks you're sleeping with doesn't exactly make me feel good, Nathan."

"Peyton, I…"

She cut off his reply by raising her hand in a stop motion. "If that's a denial, a promise, or an apology coming out of your mouth, save it, because I've heard enough of all three to last a lifetime."

His heart started to pound heavily in his chest. He could literally feel her slipping through his fingers. He didn't know what to do. The thought of losing her was unbearable. He could barely stand it when they'd split up for a couple of days. But it seemed like her mind was made up. He dropped his eyes to the ground and swallowed the unfamiliar lump that had formed in his throat. "Please don't do this, Peyton," he whispered. "Tell me what I need to do to change your mind and I'll do it."

"If only it were that simple," she countered.

"It is. Just tell me what you want me to do. It is simple, Peyton."

"No it isn't. You remember that party a few months ago at Jake's, when his parents took Jenny on a weekend vacation with them?"

"Yeah," Nathan replied, slightly confused as to what it had to do with anything.

"Well that night, I talked to Theresa quite a bit. At one point I asked her where Tyler was, and she said 'Oh, he's around here somewhere.'

Nathan glanced up questioningly, no idea where she was going with this.

"She just said it so…casually," Peyton continued. "Like she wasn't worried about it. That's what I want."

"What?"

"A boyfriend that I don't have to wonder where he is, what he's doing and who with whenever he's not by my side. I want to be able to say, 'he's around here somewhere', without getting a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. And you know what else I want?" she continued. "I want to stop reading 'why do men cheat?' articles because they don't pertain to me. And I don't want to be the loser that counts the condoms in the box, only to find out that there's much less, for what we've used, left. Yeah, I've done it. Pathetic, isn't it? But hey, the numbers speak for themselves."

He'd kept his eyes downcast about halfway through her speech. "Peyton, I'm sorry," he said sorrowfully.

But Peyton wasn't buying it. Nor was she done with her tirade now that she had started. "Also I want a boyfriend whose every second sentence isn't a load of crap. You know, I've heard so much bullshit from you that I can't even tell the difference if you're lying or telling the truth. Brooke can read you better than I can. I always wondered why that was. I mean, yeah, she's known you longer and you're best friends, but I'm your girlfriend. I realize now that it's because she doesn't put on these rose colored glasses where you're concerned. She looks for the truth whereas I cling on to your every word because I want it to be true so bad."

His shoulders slumped as every word she spoke made it clearer and clearer that this was for real. She was really ending it. He closed his eyes, fighting off the overwhelming anguish. What he couldn't figure out was what had happened since the time school had ended to the time she'd made this decision. Yeah, she'd bitched him out in the car at lunch for not having a condom, but she'd seemed satisfied with his explanation as to why. And after school they'd spent together until he had to be home. She'd been fine then. She hadn't given any indication of wanting to break up. She'd even kissed him before he left. What the hell had happened between then and now?

"I don't think I even need to go into what you did to Lucas," Peyton continued. "You know how I feel about that."

Lucas. "So, this is about him," he accused sharply. "What, you're leaving me so you can go be with him now?"

"No! We're just friends, Nathan. He has nothing to do with me and you."

"Really? Cuz it seems like we've been fighting a lot more since he came in the picture."

"We've always fought a lot, Nathan. You can't blame Lucas for everything."

He rubbed the back of his neck, but it did nothing to ease the tension building. They hadn't fought this much before. "Do you like him, Peyton?" he asked softly. "I mean, are you into him?" he added with bated breath, afraid of the answer, yet needing to know.

"Do you even understand the concept of friends?" she asked with annoyance. She'd just told him they were only friends.

"He's into you," Nathan declared.

"Even if that's true, it doesn't matter," Peyton said firmly. "And, to be honest, it's not really your business anymore."

Her words were like sharp daggers piercing his skin, only more painful. "Because you don't love me anymore?" he asked shakily. He hadn't failed to notice she hadn't said it back a few minutes ago.

"I'll always love you," she confessed.

This gave him a sense of hope as he looked up. "Well then, why can't we try?"

"Because, Nathan, even though I love you, I don't like you. And I don't like who I become when I'm with you. Insecure, suspicious, jealous. But all that just boils down to one simple fact… I don't trust you."

It brought back words his father had told him weeks ago. 'Love's not always enough. Trust is just as important, if not more.' It was the day he'd lectured him when he'd rushed Katie Sanders out the door after Peyton had called to say she was coming over. He'd just blown it off then, knowing, at the time, that he could get away with anything because Peyton would always forgive him. Now she was telling him the same thing. And she seemed far from forgiving.

But he couldn't lose her. He knew he'd go crazy. Out of sheer desperation, he reached out to cradle her face. "I'll do better," he said, his voice thick with emotion and his blue eyes penetrating hers. "Just don't…don't leave me," he pleaded softly. "Please," he added when she was silent. "Peyton, please. Just tell me what to do. I won't cheat on you anymore, ok?" He laid his forehead against hers as his other hand came up to her other cheek.

By now she was crying. She couldn't help it. She felt her resolve weakening by the second.

"I'm sorry," he continued, his voice cracking. "I'll never lie to you again," he pressed on. "What else, Peyton? I'll do anything you want. Just tell me."

That's when she pulled back and laid a hand on his chest, keeping him at arm's length. 'I'll do anything you want.' She wiped away the tears that were falling and green eyes locked with blue. "You think that's what I want?" she asked. "For you to be faithful and honest because I want you to be?" She shook her head negatively. "I want you to be faithful because you love me so much that you don't want anyone else. I want you to be honest because you don't want to lie to me or keep secrets from me." To her, it was just more of the same; meaningless apologies, promises he didn't intend to keep. Just words he thought she wanted to hear.

Before he could form any response, she turned and reached into the car for his bag, and tossed it to him. "Goodbye, Nate," she whispered, getting in the car.

The silver item at the very top of the bag drew his attention and he pulled it out. He looked at her with sad eyes. "This is the necklace I bought you," he said gloomily.

"You mean the leash?"

The comment sparked instant anger within him. "I think you got it backwards. I've always been the one wearing the leash," he spat.

"Well, now you won't have to," she shot back, pulling out of the driveway.

Panic drove him to change his tune. "Peyton," he called out. "Come on, can't we talk about this?"

"Now you want to talk?" she hollered back. "You never wanted to before."

"Well now I do. Ok? We can work this out. I know we can."

She shook her head. "It's too late for that."

"Only if you say it is," he pointed out.

"I'm saying it. Now you need to accept it," she told him firmly. I know I'm gonna keep wishing I was with you, but we just gotta stop. Those lyrics were what pulled her through.

"All right, fine!" he shouted as she pulled onto the street. "You know," he yelled louder since she was driving off. "If all you wanted to do was break up with me, you could have done it over the phone! Go fuck Lucas then! See if I care!"

He kicked a stone in anger when he realized she couldn't hear him any longer. He went back onto the court and threw the basketball against the backboard several times in a fit of rage, before finally slumping down onto the cement ground and grieving the loss of the girl he never thought he'd ever lose. For the first time since he was a child, crying over his mother's absence and neglect, or his father's tremendous pressure, tears flooded his eyes and there was nothing he could do to stop their downpour.

Half an hour later, he was back to making free throws. He sighed when it bounced off the rim.

Twenty-seven missed shots. And counting.