"Why aren't you ready?"
She shoots inches out of her seat, jostling the study desk. Her pen flies out of her hand and falls to the floor with a soft thud. "Sweet—"
He flashes a wry grin as he enters her bedroom. "I knocked three times. And I sent you a message."
Her cell phone has been set to silent, and it's lying upside down, buried under books. She's been working so intensely that everything around her faded. "I didn't…Is that the time?"
Nathan drops down on her bed, stretches his legs out and folds his hands over his stomach. "You're not dressed."
She glances down at her yoga pants and then looks up at him in question, blinking behind her glasses. "Dressed for what? What are you talking about?"
"The party, Hales."
"What party?" she asks, clueless, her thoughts trying to rewind back to the calculation she was doing before he made his entrance.
"The one I told you about days ago. My brain is so fried from class and basketball that I need a break."
She tries to recall hearing him talking about a party, and after a moment, it hits her. Lunch time, Tuesday, but she was so focused on an assignment that she only paid attention to snippets as Luke and Nathan talked about it.
"Oh, yeah. I can't go, baby. I'm sorry."
"Why not?"
Her hand motions to the stack of textbooks, notebooks and papers. "I have a lot of work to do. I can't afford to take some time off."
She rolls her pen between her fingers, gazing at the numbers for a moment to get the answer to the question.
"You can. This is what we need. We'll stay a couple of hours and then you can return to this madness."
"Yes!" she cries out elatedly, scribbling onto the paper.
"See? You agree."
She darts a glance his way and shakes her head. "I've been working on this for a while and I just got it right. I'll sit this party out but next weekend I'll go. I'm sure someone somewhere will be having a party."
Beats of silence follow, in the background the sound of her hand sliding across the paper as she writes.
"Hales, it's Friday night, there's no game and there's a party somewhere. I haven't been to a party in ages. Come on."
Raising her head, she turns in her chair to face him. He looks none too pleased at her declaration that she's not in the mood to go out.
"I honestly can't. You can go if you want."
"I'm not asking for permission," he just about growls. "I'm asking you to come with me."
She tenses up, grumbling, "So that I can be referred to all night as Nathan's girl?"
Nathan narrows his eyes at her, dropping his feet to the floor. "What?"
Sighing, she slips off her glasses and rubs at her eyes. "Nothing. I'm not going. Have fun without me."
He stares at her briefly and then chuckles dryly as he stands. "You're unbelievable. We're always doing stuff you like to do and when I want you to do something I like, you refuse to."
Irritated, she stands, taking a few steps forward to him. "Why are you making it sound like I never do anything you like? The one night I want to stay in and focus on my work, you flip tables on me."
Flopping back down, she presses the heels of her hands to her eyes, that mild headache she's been having most of the evening exacerbated. "Nathan—"
"What was that comment you made about being my girlfriend all about?" he cuts in, obviously frustrated.
She's quiet, not sure what to say.
"Just to be clear, you're not going to the party because you don't want to be referred to as my girlfriend. Which you are."
"I didn't explicitly say that it's the only reason I'm not going to the party," she says, her tone sharp. "They're more your friends than mine, anyway."
She can feel him studying her. Her cheeks burn pink, and she looks at him from the corner of her eye.
He's sauntering towards the door while shaking his head. "Why don't you just tell me exactly what's bothering you instead of silently freaking out like you have these last few days?"
Her pulse leaps. Her eyes come to rest directly on him for a second before she looks away. "I've not been silently freaking out," she mumbles.
It's so quiet that she would think he's left, except that she can feel his presence in the doorway.
"Stop lying to me. I know that you still have the list. I just don't know why you're hanging onto it."
Her fingers turn clammy, and a niggle of apprehension shoots up the middle of her back. How does he know about the folded paper in the depths of the drawer of her study desk?
On that day he gave it to her, she meant to tear it up and toss it in the bin, but she kept pushing it. She's reread it quite a few times, dissected it for days, and unfortunately, she can recite the appearance of the twenty-three names like she knows her ABC's.
He may have written them in chronological order so that he didn't miss any. As usual, her belly aches and knots when a name flashes across her mind.
"I'll see you later."
She looks back, only to see him walking out the door. She wants to tell him to wait. She wants to tell him that she wishes she had never known about those girls, that she shouldn't have asked him for the list, that she shouldn't have read it. She also wants to ask him for details that she shouldn't ask about, like who in the list was an older woman or who it was that he cheated on.
She slumps in the chair and sits back, hearing him clomp down the stairs. The front door slams shut.
Turning her back to the empty doorway, she stares at a stray pen stroke on her notebook. An unsettling sensation engulfs her; her hang-ups are slipping back in place. She detests it.
She tries for ten minutes, but the last thing her mind wants to do is focus on her homework. Abandoning her books, she throws the long-sleeved Clean Teen shirt over her tank top and stuffs her feet into tennis shoes. She skips down the stairs while sending Luke a message and flees out the front door.
Her first stop is the café to pick up the ball waiting for her. Her second, the River Court. Slowing to a stroll, she shivers a bit when she steps into the court, basketball under her arm like a girl who knows what to do with it.
She glances at the basket that looks to be fifty feet off the ground. Giving the orange ball a hard squeeze with both of her hands, she stares down at it as if waiting for it to speak and give her instructions.
"This will be very easy if we work together," she murmurs.
Tucking the ball between her knees, she rolls up the sleeves of the shirt to her elbows. How hard can this be? She's seen Nathan and Luke do this over a hundred times. Surely, she can do this herself just by visualizing it.
Nearly an hour later, she's sweating like a pig, hair popping out of its ponytail, shirt shed to leave her tank top on, and there's a painful cramp on the left side of her ribs. She's still not made a single shot.
With a yell of frustration, she throws the ball in the air and gives it a kick, managing only to graze it with the tip of her shoe.
"I can't even do that right," she mumbles with self-loathing, collapsing in the middle of the court, legs folded meditation-style.
She watches the ball bounce and roll to a stop in the grass close to the perimeter fence. There goes her gym credit. She needs a miracle or she's going to fail PE. She never likes to fail.
A breeze blows and she turns her heated face up for the rush of air to cool down her skin.
"Was that your jump shot?"
His voice is unmistakable, but she screams like he's an axe murderer.
"You have to stop doing that!"
Nathan strides into the court with a casual shrug, hands stuffed in his pockets. "If that was your jump shot, I can't date you anymore."
Her thumping heartbeat begins to slow. "You're not getting rid of me that easily."
His mouth twitches into a smile. She hates it when they fight or disagree, and she wanted to find him, but miraculously, he's shown up here.
She looks towards the parking area across the River Court, an old lot with dead grass and weeds. "Where's your car?"
"Left it at the café. Luke said you'd be here. Something about a grade?" he says, dropping down beside her.
"I really suck at basketball. I had this horrible dream that I was in the gym during PE and when it was my turn to throw the ball, I tossed it half a foot from where I was. Like it had rocks for air. How long were you standing there?"
"Long enough to watch you use a basketball as a soccer ball."
She chuckles, stretching her legs out. "I suck, right? I can't even make a stinking free shot."
"Free throw," he laughs, nudging her shoulder lightly. "It was kind of sexy seeing you trying to shoot."
She rolls her eyes slightly. "Sexy? I look stupid and embarrassing."
"You realize that I've seen that goofy green hat you like so much?"
They laugh, and she slants him a quizzical look. "How was the party?"
"Boring. Not my kind of scene these days."
She lifts her eyebrows. "Not your kind of scene? Really?"
"When you've been to so many, they end up feeling the same." He smirks at her, a hint of seriousness in the smile. "It's no fun without you."
"Now I feel like an ass for being mean."
"Only now?"
She lets out a brief burst of laughter before they fall into silence.
"What's going on, Hales? You've shut down on me since I told you about the tape."
It's not just about the tape. She's been enduring the humiliation, mockery and bullying for months. That thread of resentment has wound itself so tightly in her and she's tired of it all; she can't take it anymore. Her self-esteem has been dipping, and she just wants everyone with an opinion to stay the hell away from her. From them.
"I love you, I love being with you, but I just…"
She draws in an uncertain inhalation before looking up at him. The worry and panic etched on his face cause her breath to catch.
Her throat burning, she lowers her gaze so he can't see the shimmer of tears in her eyes. He has been worth every attacking look and word.
"I've been having a hard time," she says around the break in her voice.
The pause has a dramatic effect that she did not intend.
"With what?"
She bites her lip, thoroughly considering her response.
"I know that you're my boyfriend, and I know that I'm your girlfriend, but people don't seem to even know my name," she starts rambling.
She meets his troubled gaze. "Or they don't want to know it. I'm either Nathan Scott's girlfriend or Nate's girl."
It strikes a false note and she feels absolutely ridiculous for the explanation. But right then, admitting that it bothers her makes her realize that it really grates on her nerves when people act like world-class scatterbrains. Especially his friends, like it's a huge bother to remember her name.
She knows she's Nathan's girlfriend, but having that moniker used constantly over her name makes it seem like that it's actually her name: Hi, my name is Nathan's Girlfriend! I like music, sugar cookies and the beach!
Her feelings have been flip-flopping all over the place; sometimes she just wants them to lay off their relationship, sometimes she just wants them to see her as someone who's good enough to be with their beloved Nathan.
For every person that supports their relationship, there are fifty who don't, and five who show it. Like Tim.
"It's been getting to me lately," she finishes softly.
A slow grin spreads across Nathan's face. "Babe, I will buy a shirt, get it printed 'Haley's boyfriend,' and wear it every day until it stinks if it will make you happy."
She smiles, crinkles her nose. "I think that would draw unwanted attention."
Nathan's eyebrows furrow and he gives her a suspicious look. "But you're not telling me everything."
She's all too aware that she's frozen and she's not breathing. "What makes you say that?"
The small pause grows as their gazes hold, Nathan staring at her so perceptively and unflinchingly that her heartbeat jumps like a jack-in-the-box.
"Why do you still have the list?"
Her breath comes out in ragged spurts and she looks down at her hands. "I don't know."
Truthfully, she doesn't. Reading the names repeatedly doesn't change things or fix what's done. She's doing it in really bad taste.
He reaches out to wrap his arms around her. She stops him by resting her hands on his chest.
"No, I'm all sticky and gross."
He hugs her, anyway, chuckling as he pulls her against him. "Consider it payment for all the times you've put up with me when I'm all sticky and gross."
She moulds herself into him, slides her arms under his jacket and around his waist, nestling into the heat of his body. She listens to his heart beating, steady and strong.
His voice is soft and quiet when he says, "I know it's been weird for you to know about my history, and I know that you're beating yourself up about it."
"It's stupid," she admits, "but their faces keep…they keep flashing through my brain. I'm obsessing over things that I shouldn't and it's driving me crazy. I feel like I'm going to flip out and attack one of them in the parking lot or something."
He starts to pull away but she clings on, not wanting to see him laugh at her.
"Hales…"
With reluctance, she leans back, letting out a breath and raising her chin. He looks at a loss, and she feels terrible.
His wary gaze holds hers as he strokes a path along her arm. "I'm damaged goods."
The ridiculous wording and the expression on his face make her chuckle low and soft. "Damaged goods?"
"Very damaged goods."
He drags a breath and looks at her very seriously.
"Please just stop it," he says in a gentle tone, sweeping her hair away from her face. "I hate seeing this hurting you."
He brushes his lips over her jaw, her cheek, her chin, the curve of her shoulder. "I'm sorry for the sadness this has caused you, but the past is what it is, and you shouldn't let it drag you down."
Guilt seeps into her stomach. Her guilt and aloofness is making him feel guilty, and if she keeps at it, this will be an endless cycle that will never be decimated. She will forever be stuck in the past, and that's no way to live.
"I asked for it, Nathan, but it kills me," she admits, dipping her head even closer to his. "And it scares the hell out of me that the tape is out there."
He studies her for a moment, his rougher palm gliding over hers to knit their fingers. Then he kisses her. Everything feels like it will be all right with that simple peck.
"I'm in love with you, and you are the best person I have ever known. You're incredibly smart and sexy and sweet and weird, and I even like you when you snack on my desserts."
She digs her face into his shoulder, smiling into his jacket. Beneath the faint trace of booze, cigarette and pot smoke is the fantastic Nathan scent she loves.
"They taste so much better when they're on your plate. And you're one to talk; you like spooning and cuddling, even when you're playing those oh-so-important video games."
He presses his lips to the side of her neck. "Shhh. I have a reputation to uphold. And I haven't heard you complaining about cuddling."
Between giggling fits, she says, "Because I love the cuddling, but not the exploding bombs on the screen interrupting said cuddling. How about I complain about the way you crack your knuckles loudly when you're bored or nervous?"
"I'll raise you your retentiveness about being organized."
"You like your cereal soggy."
"You're secretly afraid of the dark because lights are always on around in your house, even when you're in a different part of the house."
"You leave the toilet seat up even when you're at my house."
"You leave the toilet seat down even when you're at my apartment."
"You drink too much coffee."
"You drink too much hot chocolate."
When their chuckles fade, Haley stares into his eyes, bringing his hand to her lips and kissing the inside of his wrist. "Even with all your crazy, I'm crazy about you."
His lips twitch a little, and he throws his arm around her shoulders. "I'm crazy about you, too."
They fall back on the asphalt, knees bent, staring up at the dark sky flecked with clouds here and there. A long time passes as they lay there quietly, the chirp of a cricket filling the silence once in a while.
"When I was a kid," Nathan starts softly, "I had this morning paper route. And every morning, there was this moment. It was right around dawn, and I would just stop, breathe it all in. You could almost feel the magic in the world."
They simultaneously turn to each other. His eyes appear luminous, calmness and resignation evident on his face.
"Sitting here with you, I feel that same stillness. I can almost believe that the world's not as screwed up as I know it is."
She smiles wide and leans her face closer towards his. At that moment, she wishes that time would stand still.
"I love you," he says, brushing a light kiss on the bridge of her nose.
"I know."
He laughs softly. She knows that it's a big deal for him to say that he loves her. While she grew up in a household where the words came as easy as pie, he didn't. He shut himself off from those kinds of feelings that it fills her with delight that he can put into words what he feels for her.
She throws an arm over his waist and touches her lips to his jaw. "I love you."
They kiss, a leisurely kiss that leaves her dizzy and wanting more. Their lips draw apart with a soft, small, smacking sound.
Nathan tilts his face back so that he's looking into her eyes. "What did you say to Theresa?"
That brings her back to the real world, and it takes her a second to catch on to his question.
She sits up, saying, "I told her to get rid of the tape."
Aggressively.
"What did she say I said?"
"Well, she called you crazy and then shoved the tape at me."
She's not ashamed of her smug smile. "Good. Wait, she did what?"
He nods, gets to his feet and strides towards the basketball. "It's in the car."
Her chest grows tight and the hairs on her arms stand upright. She can feel heat climbing up her cheeks as she rises.
"It's in the car? The car that you left at the café? What if it's stolen and someone finds it?"
Nathan jogs a short distance before fluidly shooting the ball into the net. "I doubt they'd find it."
"So it's not in the car? Where—"
Her whole body goes still at what he's holding, a disc enclosed in a purple sleeve. Slowly she blinks, her brain ungluing, but the CD is not an illusion.
Bending over, hands on knees, she lets out a long, loud breath, a hand over her thumping chest. Holding her by the arm before she fumbles headfirst, Nathan rubs circles on her back. "I should probably not make jokes about it getting stolen."
She shakes her head, calming herself down before she starts to hyperventilate. When her panic attack has subsided, she stands upright and eyes the disc in his hand with a narrow gaze.
"Can we burn it?"
"Want to watch it first?"
He laughs loudly at her heave. A moment or two, she thought he was serious and she was going to experience a breakdown.
"Okay, no more jokes," he says, his hand still moving over her back.
After a couple more deep breaths, she's gotten a handle of the situation. Ignoring the inner voice frantically pointing out the tape to her as if she's not aware that it's inches away from her nose, she grabs her discarded shirt and enfolds it around her neck, bouncing backwards away from him.
"Sure, why not? What's the harm in having a little look?" she teases.
The confusion and shock on his face are so amusing that she can't help smiling. "Let's go get rid of your troubled past, Fabio."
He laughs lightly, strolling casually towards her.
When they get to her house, they don't waste time, heading straight for the backyard. They stuff old newspapers into the grill and throw the CD on top, pouring lighter fluid over everything.
Just as Nathan reaches for the matches, she yells, "Wait!"
She darts into the house and runs up the stairs. She crosses her bedroom to get to the bottom drawer of the study desk, with a swift glance taking out the paper that's more worn out than the other.
She's breathless as she rushes back out, her chest burning like she's run a marathon from hell. Taking a deep exhalation, she sets the paper next to the CD; she is ready to be done with feeling more and more bloodthirsty every time she thinks about the list and tape.
They stand a few feet away as the flames grow and destroy the tape, the list and her distress. It's a good feeling.
Humming with relief, she stares into the fire, watching the disc melt slowly in the flames. "Is this excessive?"
Nathan slides an arm around her waist and tugs her close, her back to his chest. "No, it's not."
She leans into him and folds her arms over his, saying, "I'm sorry I've been acting crazy about all this. I really hate being reminded of your past."
He nods and touches his lips to her forehead.
They make their way to the old couch on the back porch, snuggling up in one sunken corner.
Shutting her eyes, Haley lets out a long sigh, the nagging worry that the video will get out perishing like the CD. She is now persuaded that it's over.
She peers up at Nathan. "I'm in the mood for milk and cookies. Chocolate chip."
Lips upturned in a crooked smile, he gives his head a small shake like he can't quite follow what she's said. "You want milk and chocolate chip cookies after this?"
She pulls herself to stand and stretches a hand out to him, laughter bubbling inside her. "You get hungry after practice all the time. I'm starving after working with an uncooperative basketball. And I want to celebrate those ashes. And I didn't have dinner."
She arches her eyebrows playfully. "I don't suppose you could give me a ride in? I'm hurting everywhere."
He springs to his feet, grabs her by the waist and spins her around, crushing her back to his chest. "Strange, because I was thinking that maybe you could just carry me tonight?"
The shrieky laugh that escapes her lips barrels around the backyard. "Carry you!"
Resting his weight against her, he crosses his arms around her shoulders and grips her tighter.
"Carry me. Is that okay?" he asks with a heavy trace of amusement, mashing his cheek to hers.
With her on top of him, they tumble back on the couch, laughing loudly and light-heartedly like completely blissed-out teenagers.