As soon as she sees his car, a broad smile spreads across her face. She waves so enthusiastically that her bun weakens some.
She scuttles towards him, meeting his car in the parking spot. He's not fully parked in the space before she pops her head through the open driver's window.
"Hello, there. Are you prepared for this?"
He smirks and shakes his head slightly. "I could use with a kiss first but what the hell? Prepared for how awkward it will be when I walk down the halls, knowing that everyone has seen the tape?"
Grinning, she leans forward. Her lips are puckered when he holds a palm up, his forefinger dropping on her mouth.
"Too late. I'm not an afterthought."
She responds with a frown. He turns off the engine, a half-smile lingering on his lips.
"But I'm fine about returning. Hell, I've reached the point where I've actually missed the chaos of school. That means that there's something loose in my brain."
Laughing at that, she hauls herself away from the door for him to climb out. "And the game?"
He pulls his backpack over his right shoulder and flexes his fingers. "It's nothing I can't play with, if Whitey lets me play. Look at that."
"What?"
He jerks his chin to the side. "The first wide-eyed stare I'm getting. Think I should scare her and say hello?"
She eyes him closely, tucking free strands of hair behind her ear. "You're in a weird mood."
With a loopy grin, he whirls around and gives the staring girl a wink and a salute before turning back around.
"Am I? I just want to get this over with. I hope she doesn't mistake that for sexual harassment. Or a suggestion."
She matches his purposeful, powerful strides, his gaze forward while hers is scattering all over the lot. She tries not to pay any attention to the looks, but it's really hard not to.
It seems that everyone they pass is openly and avidly staring at him, and as they walk up the front steps, he is greeted by a couple of people. Jocks, by the looks of it, who are more than happy to congratulate him with manic grins and eyebrow waggles for his tremendous sexual appetite. It's no big surprise, but it's mortifying.
She's the only one who can tell that Nathan looks uncomfortable as the cluster animatedly airs their opinions about the tape. Awkwardly, she waits a little farther away from the group. She's hit with the feeling that people have developed voyeuristic inclinations, and they're waiting to see whether she and Nathan will do something that will top the sex tape.
"…super stud," someone in the huddle says with respect.
Refraining from rolling her eyes, she continues into the building without him. Her face is heated up as her mind scrambles for an escape route. She glances around from the front of the hall, trying to keep her cool like she does every time she walks in; anonymity flew out the window the moment her and Nathan became exclusive.
She senses him behind her before he moves to her right.
"Friendly welcome, isn't it?" he says through tight lips and a grim look.
"The friendliest."
"I'm guessing they don't give you anything close to it?"
She shrugs like she doesn't remotely care about what people say, when half the time since the tape got out she feels like her emotional dam is breaking down.
He swears under his breath. "You're the one having a tough time of it, while I, the guilty party, is getting preferential treatment."
She waves it off. "It's nothing."
"It's not nothing," he refutes fiercely, jaw rigid. "Any chance you can stop lying through your teeth about that?"
She rolls her eyes and steers him forward, starting to walk. "I'm really fine, Nathan. I can handle it."
His expression unconvinced, he says sourly, "A little high on yourself, aren't you? Going around telling people you're all fine?"
At her silence, he slants his head at her. "That's what I thought."
"This is about you more than it is about me."
"Being close to me is getting you hurt," he whispers back.
"You better not be thinking of dumping me to save me or set me free or some other garbage like that," she hisses, "because I swear I will hunt you down and hurt you."
A soft chuckle springs from deep within him as he slinks an arm around her shoulders. "I'm afraid of you sometimes, James."
"I'm afraid for you sometimes, Scott."
He stops. Her gaze comes up to meet his surprised one. They stand in the middle of the hallway for a moment, her drinking in the cost of her words on his face.
He closes his eyes as if in pain. Hating to see it, she stretches up on her toes to dust a light kiss on his cheek, then hooks her arm around his waist and guides him to keep moving forward.
"I have faith that everything will turn around," she says to his unspoken concern of her concern for him.
He squeezes her tightly in response.
The whispers continue from every angle, hands cupped over mouths as schoolmates share with each other Nathan's return to school. There are moments when he shuffles off to the sides to socialize, which makes the walk to her locker the longest she has ever taken.
"Aren't you in demand," she teases as she grabs the last book and closes her locker, bumping her hip lightly against him.
He groans. "Just don't hold me personally responsible when crude jokes are made."
It cracks her up. "It's not worth the effort. As long as I know that I'm your steady girl."
She backs up a step as he steps forward, her body meeting the metal behind her while his presses into hers.
"You're the only one with that sexy as hell tattoo of my jersey number."
His scent reminds her of cool morning air, a tinge of freshness with a touch of woodsy cologne that she could take lungfuls of until she passes out.
She brushes her nose along his. "Is that the only reason I'm your girl?"
She eats up the flirty heat in his eyes, and like every time, goosebumps ripple over her skin.
"You keep that look up and I will not think twice about making tongues wag about us," he mutters, the calloused thumbtip lazily rubbing across her skin sending tiny shockwaves through her.
She flashes him a daring grin, right then very uncaring about the people milling about. "Then don't."
"You really need to stop looking at me like that."
"I can't."
At the moment he ducks his head low to kiss her, at the moment she tips her chin to meet him, they are jerked apart by a syrupy voice.
"Hey, Nate."
They pop their heads up. A group of junior girls is passing by, all their gazes sweeping over him from head to foot. The clique colour-coordinates outfits every day, possibly calling each other up every night to agree on what to wear. Today, they're all in some aspect of purple.
Ava, leader of the purple soldiers, a strawberry-blonde as lean as a beanpole with a bust that's nowhere near shrunken, shoots Nathan a radiant, flirtatious half smile.
"Give me a break," Haley hisses.
Her fingers fold tighter around her binder at the way Ava is soaking him in, much the same as she would a mouth-watering salad.
"Good to see your gorgeous face around here again."
Her voice is low and husky, a sexy invite in her tone. To top it all off, her eyes drift south to his fly.
Nathan nods and turns away from Ava, muttering about how fun this is getting. In agreement, Haley gives a snort. She's lost count of the number of times she's heard some girl mention that she gets her rocks off from his tape. She's overheard them talking about how attentive he was in the tape and how they would like to test the theory in real life. Oh, how she hates the girls' bathroom.
"Shoot me the next time some girl looks at you like a pie," she grumbles, and then makes a face and lets her tongue hang out like in revulsion.
He laughs at her expression. "On the contrary, I think I like seeing you alive and breathing."
"I'm trying to control myself from ripping off their eyes."
"Easy there, tiger," he chuckles, kissing her temple. "The novelty will wear off. My turn to get my stuff?"
At his locker section, a ribbon of awareness knives through her. Seeing him, she feels like she's going to choke. She wants to lunge at him and punch him in the mouth.
Like Nathan, the bruises on Tim's face are no longer as raw as they were ten days ago when they both looked like they'd been in a bar brawl. They ignore each other, but it's not hard to do since Tim is about half a dozen lockers down.
There's a stroppy calm emanating from the spectators. Curious eyes sweep over them, like they're wondering whose butt will be kicked around this time.
"I can see your blood pressure rising. Breathe, Hales."
She clears her throat and smiles up at him. "I want to say I'm fine but you'll probably say I'm full of it."
He draws a laugh through his teeth. "Because I'll be right."
"What wouldn't be right is me breaking his nose," she says steadily.
She can feel his eyes on them. She hates having to see him every day, share a class with him, endure countless moments reliving that night outside the café, and wonder when he's going to strike in retaliation.
"You broke into my locker to leave hugs-and-kisses sugar cookies in a can?"
He holds up the re-sealable pail, the bright label that reads "Welcome back! I missed you!" gleaming at her.
Her mouth purses to the side in a sheepish gesture, a flush creeping up her face. "The diamond biker ring was out of stock in the gift shop."
He huffs out a laugh, and it's enough to refresh the dread of her departure. Her smile dims. She tucks herself along his side, curling her arm around his waist. "Come with me to Georgia."
Wordlessly, like he recognizes her decent down the rabbit hole, he raises his hand and traces the back of his knuckles along her cheek. "Okay."
The hard slam of a locker crashes into their quiet. She peers around Nathan, her gaze tracking to Tim. His sneer is in full effect, never falling as he storms off.
"You want a hug or a kiss?"
She shifts her focus back to Nathan, detangling from him. She smoothly takes out a cookie from the pail. "Hug, please."
The first bell goes off as he's telling her about having to see the guidance counsellor for the suspension and the tape before being allowed to go to class.
In the crush of students hustling to get to class, the deep voice still grabs their attention.
"Hello, son."
Immediately, they both stop.
"Did you hear that?" Nathan asks out of the side of his mouth.
She nods. "Are we sharing a hallucination?"
"I hope not."
"I'm not fading any time soon," the commanding voice drawls.
Squaring his shoulders and not letting go of her hand, Nathan swirls around, taking her with him. Dan Scott is standing in the middle of the hallway, a folder pressed to his chest, the corners of his mouth tilted up in a bland smile.
"What are you doing here?" Nathan asks with a bite in his voice.
Dan's eyebrows shoot up over his cool, intent eyes. "That's no way to talk to your new teacher."
Her brain trips at the idea of Dan joining the faculty. Nathan utters a fervent profanity. Dan's smile lifts into a bigger grin.
"Principal Turner asked me to speak to the senior political science class."
Nathan relaxes some, but his fingers twist hers in nervousness. "Since when do you teach?"
Dan takes a step forward. Their schoolmates are walking around him, most likely giving him a wide berth should he contaminate them with his guile. "I ran for mayor last year. He wants me to share my experience."
Nathan snorts. "Is this permanent?"
Dan's smirk widens. "Just for today."
"Lucky students," he grumbles.
"Are you hung over?" Dan asks with a scowl.
He is definitely not joking with that question. Haley wonders if Dan can even make a joke.
Nathan shakes his head slowly, releasing her hand. It makes her stomach seize up when she thinks of another physical encounter between the two.
"Really, Dad? You think I'm hung over?"
"Explain to me those bloodshot eyes."
"It's called being tired."
Steam is coming out of Dan's ears, his mouth just thin, washed-out lines. "You wouldn't have those problems if you hadn't left home. You need to improve your game, Nathan. In the last one, you were—"
"What, not running fast enough?" Nathan interrupts, his posture stiff. "Not scoring enough points?"
Adrenaline punches through her as Dan walks closer. Is he spoiling for a fight? In the same hallway where Nathan got into it with Tim?
Dan exhales hard. "David Shay will come to the next game. It seems that all the phone calls I've been making on your behalf have paid off."
Nathan chuckles humourlessly. "Too bad there is no next game and too bad I'm not playing."
"I wonder whose fault it is."
Haley sighs audibly. Oops.
Nathan looks over at her. Dan's gaze moves, too, and he casts her a sneer that vanishes when Nathan faces him again.
"Hello, Ellie."
She glares at him before nodding curtly. "Mr. Scott."
"I would so enjoy getting into this with you, Dad, but we have class," Nathan says wryly.
The unease declines as they walk away, only to rocket before they get far.
"Nathan," Dan calls out tersely.
He turns back reluctantly, scrubbing a hand over his face. "What?"
"You can't afford to be a discipline case. Word gets back to the scouts."
His body tenses. With that moment's hesitation, Dan blesses her with a smarmy smirk.
"Say hello to your father for me, Ellie."
Everything about that just doesn't sit right with her.
Nathan's brow furrows as they watch Dan tread down the emptying hallway. "What is he talking about?"
She wrinkles her nose. "I have no idea."
They look at each other, Nathan asking, "Do you think that they met up?"
She thinks about it. "He was probably just shocking me. Who's David Shay?"
Clearly still irked by Dan's disruption, he grunts, "The GM of the Charleston Chiefs."
He stares ahead, gaze unfocused. "He usually visits high schools to see the talent to be on the lookout for."
"The NBA?"
He then glances at her, and she's relieved to see that he's not entirely trapped in the typhoon that was Dan's presence. "D-League. Think of them as a Division Two school than One."
"The North Carolina Southern to Dale."
He grins and puts an arm around her. "Exactly."
"I'm not a complete ignoramus, after all."
He lets out a loud breath of over-the-top relief. "Thank God."
She gives a light swing to his shoulder. "Careful or I may start caring less about basketball and favour hockey."
"Hold on a minute now."
She bounces her binder from hand to hand like it's a basketball. "I bet it can't compare to playing offence and defence over the mid-court line, dribbling and passing, avoiding flagrant fouls."
He draws his head back, looking at her seriously. "You're just saying random basketball terms."
And then he chuckles. "Which is still sexy. Tell me more."
"Shooting hoops, making field goals…"
Outside her class, he leaves her with a chaste kiss and a pat to her butt. He takes off, the single wink he throws over his shoulder carrying a lot of amusement.
She blushes when she remembers that she's in the classroom doorway. However, being honest with herself, the last thing she truly cares about is their judgment; there are shadows of other dilemmas that mock her.
She's only able to hang around during basketball practice on the days she doesn't have a tutoring session or a shift at the café. As she's leaving today, she asked Karen for the afternoon off; her explanation was to have time to pack, but really, she doesn't want to go home right away.
The cheerleaders are in practice, with the head senior cheerleader yelling at the pyramid of girls.
"…three! Four! Five! You better stay that way for the next ten seconds! Stacy, quit swaying!"
She tries to slip into the gym quietly and unnoticed, only for her foot to catch on the bottom edge of the door. She trips, knocking her knee on the wood, her thick algebra textbook falling out of her hand and slamming hard on the floor.
Her graceless entrance draws more than a few stares, the pyramid wobbling when some of the cheerleaders lose focus. She blushes, awkwardly waving an apology for the interruption while trying to scoop up the book. The cheerleading captain glares at her icily.
Rachel, in the middle of the pyramid, rolls out, "A tad sloshed, are we?"
She doesn't say anything, moving along the sidelines to the bleachers like it's no big deal to have two dozen cheerleaders scowling at her. There are several onlookers in the gym, including a couple of girls sitting together on one of the top bleachers, open books scattered around them that are going ignored as they chatter away.
Haley mounts the bleachers, sliding into a middle one. No sooner has she settled than a rowdy group of boys trickles in through the door leading to the locker rooms. As the Ravens are in a boycott, the school's unofficial volleyball team has taken over the gym, ditching the old, smelly one that was named for Coach Durham.
Straightaway, they start on drills, the soles of their rubber shoes skidding along the polished floor. One of her tutees in the team gives her a wave as he jogs past. Her eyes bounce from one side of the cavernous gym to the other searching for Nathan, none of the dark-haired guys anything like him.
While she sorts her books out, her gaze keeps coming back to the door, wondering where Nathan is when he told her that he'd be here. Ten minutes later, her butt starting to turn numb from the hard seat, he shows up. She instantly senses the tension with him.
He marches along the sidelines, coming up the bleachers to her and tossing his backpack heavily with a curse.
"What happened?"
An intensity flares in his eyes. "Coach won't let me play. Even when the board agrees to stop this boycott, he won't let me play."
Brow creased, she shifts to face him. "Why not? Your suspension is over."
He shrugs like he doesn't have a lot on his plate, yet he looks like he wants to punch something. "It's his personal penalty for the fight. He says that the suspension was Principal Turner's. That sex tape is not helping my case."
Her heart aches for him. This is a fight that they can't win, and there's nothing they can do to completely stop the spread of the tape.
"I'm so sorry, babe."
He slumps forward with a big sigh. "The only skills I'll impress on David Shay will be my bench warming skills."
She nudges his side with a bump of her shoulder. "Yeah, but if you're right there on the bench cheering your team on like it's the Fourth of July, you'll impress David Shay with your championing skills."
"Should I wear a cheerleading uniform, too?"
"I'm sure any cheerleader we approach will gladly lend you one."
They laugh softly, and she fastens an arm across his waist, leans her chin on his shoulder. "Standing behind your teammates will make it perfectly clear to him that you're a true team player."
They just look at each other for a long moment.
"Do you remember that night I came to watch you play?" she asks quietly.
"The Bear Creek game."
She smiles up at him. "Mmhh. I was so nervous when you sat with me on the bus. I was such a bumbling fool."
He chuckles. "I didn't notice."
Closing her eyes, she presses into him until the smallest gap between them is lost. "That's what I remember most about that night. You sat with me. You noticed me."
He holds her tighter. She matches his soft breathing rhythm as a comfortable stillness engulfs them, the hum of conversations, yells and squeaking not interrupting their familiar bubble. It triggers something inside her.
"You want to get out of here?" she strangles out.
"Yeah."
She breathes in deeply, giving air to her stinging chest. She trots down the bleachers after Nathan, catching a few sets of curious eyes following them as they exit the gym.
"The docks?"
He nods, taking the hefty bag from her and looping his arm around her neck. She turns her face into his shirt, walking blindly as he leads them out of the building and to the parking lot. He tosses their things in the back seat, both of them quiet as they head out of the school and towards the Market Street docks.
For almost an eternity, they just look out into the river. It's too early for boat lights to twinkle, but even without the sparkly lights, the wide river is still a peaceful sight to behold.
"It feels like forever ago since we first started coming here," she says.
He pushes back the sleeves of the blue sweatshirt that's the same shade as his eyes, saying in a low voice, "He's taking it out on you more than me, and it makes me feel like we've done something really, really wrong by being together."
Lowering her feet from the table top and letting them rest on the bench, Haley turns to face him. "I know."
For a minute, there's silence. He gives her a crooked smile and places his cool hand on top of hers. "But even when it doesn't seem easy anymore, I know that we're going to be all right."
She stays quiet, their gazes fastened. He starts to watch her with curiosity and doubt. "Don't you?"
"Sometimes…sometimes it doesn't feel that way. That it's going to be all right," she says desperately on barely more than a whisper. "I never thought that us dating would get us into trouble with our parents or others. I definitely never visualized my dad going to such lengths just to separate me from you. Sometimes I'm afraid that if we stay here, it will just make things worse in the long run."
"Here in Tree Hill?"
She nods without looking at him. She interlaces their fingers and slumps onto him, grasping him like she'll disintegrate if she doesn't hold on. Her lips tremble, and she takes a shaky, steadying breath.
"Now I'm annoyed at myself for being such a girl," she mumbles of her hopelessness.
"You are a girl."
Chuckling softly, she opens her eyes and looks up at him; his worried eyes, his gentle smile, his slightly messy hair.
He watches her thoughtfully. "All this stuff will get better with time. There's only so long it can carry on."
Squeezing him tight, she smiles. "I don't know why you think I'm the more optimistic one between us. You make me feel brave, sometimes without saying anything at all."
"Because you do that for me when I need it. Think you can survive without my optimism for the weekend?"
"I'll try, but the moment I feel like I might crawl out of my skin, I'm returning straight to you."
His arms wrap all around her shoulders, gripping onto her a bit harder. "I thought your dad was okay with us dating. I thought he was an okay guy, period."
A growl gurgles at the back of her throat. She's been half-expecting him to demand that Nathan return the copy of the house key she made for him. If he suspected it, he would probably report him for malicious intent to commit theft.
"Me, too," she grumbles. "I guess we were wrong."
Her cheek on his chest, she listens to the steady thump of his heart. It settles her.
"You want to get going or five more minutes?" he asks quietly.
"Five more minutes."
After a minute, she raises her head. He's looking out at the river, his face filled with composure.
"What are you thinking?"
Still viewing the horizon, he whispers softly, "I was just remembering."
"Remembering what?"
"Your hair. You wore it this way the first day you tutored me."
She tips her head back. "You remember how I wore my hair the first day I tutored you?"
"Of course."
"What else do you remember?"
"I remember how pissed off you were when I showed up."
Chuckling, she releases him from her death grip. "You have made your feelings about my attitude that morning very clear."
He grins back at her so adorably that she steals a quick kiss.
"I don't know how I'm going to survive the weekend without talking to you," she muses almost to herself.
He draws her feet over his lap to sit her sideways, the back of her thighs pressing against the edge of his, her body lying partially on him. He lifts her hand to his lips, sweeping a feathery kiss over her knuckles.
Her skin starts to tingle in response. She doesn't hesitate, grabbing onto him and crashing her lips to his.
"The way you look at me…" she pushes into his mouth.
She claims another deep kiss like there is no tomorrow; she couldn't care less about being home on schedule.
Pulling away, she snakes her arms around his neck, peppering kisses on his cheek, and one heated kiss to the side of his neck. "I love you."
She'd stay right here until night comes in and brings with it a bone-rattling chill, if only her father wasn't freaking out over their relationship. If only he was with her mom in New Orleans. If only, if only, if only.
Foreheads bumping, Nathan breathes, "I could love you forever."
"So could I," she harmonizes on a heavy sigh.
He grazes his fingers along a spot on her collarbone while drawing his head back. "You're my family now, baby," he says thickly. "The true thing I have. I never want to lose you."
Her hand slides up to the side of his face, her thumb moving back and forth over his cheek. She has to gulp to be able to speak while under his earnest look. "You won't."
A slow grin tugs at his mouth as he raises his hands to hold her face gently, that soulful gaze still in his eyes. Her pulse hammers uncontrollably in the hollow of her throat. Taking a calming breath, she whispers, "What?"
"Marry me."
The proposal catches her completely unawares, her heart lodging somewhere in her throat. It's the last thing she expects him to say. Days back, he told her that someday they'd marry. It was one of the many promises they have made between them, promises she will never forget.
Recovering from her momentary stupor, Haley blinks, her voice dried up. "Wha…what are you…"
He runs his lips along her cheek, and says again softly, "Marry me."
"Someday?" she squeaks.
He nods, conviction sparking in the navy depths of his eyes. "Someday. One of these days. Any day."
Tilting her head back, she looks into his darkened eyes, shock ricocheting through her. He's just proposed. He wants to marry her.
"Nathan, couples…couples don't get married in high school," she stutters in astonishment. "It's just…it's not normal."
His hand strokes down the smooth skin on the back of her neck leisurely. "So? I'm not normal. What I'm feeling is definitely not normal and to be honest with you, Hales, I don't ever want to be normal. Not with you."
He kisses her cheek again, his lips lingering on her skin for a moment before he raises his head. Her blood starts racing like mad at the confidence that's a magnetic force around him.
"I'm serious."
She feels her eyes start to mist as she nods very slowly. "I-I know, baby."
"Okay, I'll say it again. I could love you forever."
"So could I, but—"
He holds a finger to her lips, stopping her from protesting. "So then why can't forever start today? Or sooner than someday? Why does our forever have to wait for us to be done with college or for our careers to take off?"
Closing the distance between them, Haley raises her head and presses her mouth to his, her quivering tongue sliding past his lips. This boy has marked her, and he owns her eternally.
"But what if it drives us apart?"
Marriage can change things, sometimes not for the better.
Nathan's lips curve up into a smile, like he's certain that they are the exception that tests that cliché. "It won't. I want to be with you, Haley, and if you don't want to be with me, I guess I understand. But this isn't going to change anything for me."
She traces the outline of his lips with her finger, wanting to remember everything about this moment; the effect he has on her, the certainty and calmness on his face, the little grin on his lips.
"Is it because of our history? What we've been through together?" she asks reasonably.
He shakes his head strongly, his finger trailing down the side of her face. "It's because you have ruined me for anyone else. It's just all so uncertain, Hales. I often think about the school shooting and it scares me that I could have lost you. I don't ever want to come that close to losing you again, whether it's because of me or someone else."
He brushes his lips over hers gently, neither of them their eyes closed. "I love you, Haley James, and that's all I need to know. It doesn't mean it's not going to be hard, it doesn't mean it's not going to be confusing, but whatever it is, we'll face it together."
On his face is the most perfect expression: he's smiling gently, his eyes pinning her with a determination that trashes every niggling doubt.
"We'll face it together," he repeats.
There are enough reasons and objections to why she can't marry him; his parents, her parents, their age, their uncertain future. But none of them compare to that simmering warmth of love she always carries for him, the one that reminds her that to her last breath, her heart will never belong to anyone other than Nathan Scott. Every reason they shouldn't can go to hell.
Her eyes, though misty, are unblinking as she stares up at him with a beaming smile. "Yes."
His own smile turns wide and he slides his hand across her jaw to cup her chin and bring her lips to his. "Yes?"
"Yes," she laughs, her thoughts running and her heart beating like she's just stepped off a treadmill.
They're both laughing above the fervent, passionate kisses.
"Did you say yes?"
She's giggling with jubilant abandon, murmuring her answer over and over. "Yes, yes, yes, yes…"
"I know that it's not a proposal of dreams," he says after another lengthy kiss that steals breath from her lungs, "but I promise that it's going to be okay. I promise that I'll get you a ring that you can show off to the world."
She shakes her head fanatically, her skin popping at the idea of being married to him. He owns every piece of her. "No," she bursts out. "No. It was perfect. Perfect. I don't care. I don't…"
Blinking rapidly to get rid of the tears obstructing her view of him, she holds his chin, caressing his lips with her own in an unhurried kiss. "Do you mean it? Do you want to take it back?"
With a chuckle, he leans down and drags his lips across her brow, guiding them back to her lips for a kiss. "I mean it. Every word, from the depths of me. I mean it. I don't want to take it back."
She grasps onto him, like she's holding onto reality should she float away from here in a cloud of happiness and contentment. He rests his forehead to hers, his hands moving leisurely over her back.
"I'm shaking, Nathan. Why…why am I shaking?"
He laughs softly, his hand drifting up and down her back, comforting her, igniting the fire inside her.
"Because you have it bad for me," he says, nipping her earlobe.
She slurs a laugh, twining her arms around his neck and brushing her lips at the base of his throat, to the side of his neck, across his jaw, reclaiming his lips.
"It's your fault!" she gasps. "You've just proposed to me when I'm leaving town and I'm mad at my dad and I love you and you're crazy and I…I can't even think straight!"
She pulls him back to her for another kiss, pouring herself into it, the love she feels for him building with every taste. She wants it to always be like this between them, that even when they fight or disagree, this is what they'll have to come back to.
Her hands run along the smooth fabric of his shirt, and she hates that they're so overdressed. The excitement buzzing through her veins churns to an earthquake.
"You want to celebrate in the car?" she sighs softly, hovering her lips over his.
"We'll celebrate properly when you return," he laughs.
The afterglow begins to fade, dread creeping into her chest. "Two days too long and excruciatingly painful."
They grin at each other. Her face hurts from all the uncontrollable laughter and smiles, but she can't show any kind of restraint.
He cups the back of her head, searching her glazed eyes. "Will you marry me even after this excruciatingly painful weekend?"
She beams. She tugs him down, their eager lips meeting again and again in deep, greedy strokes. "Yes, I'll marry you."
A few minutes later, Nathan sighs. "I should take you home."
A low groan escapes her. He nuzzles her neck. "I wish I didn't have to," he says gruffly.
"Me, too."
They step down from the table, sharing another kiss, his face just inches from hers.
"From when I brought it up the other night, have you thought about it?" he asks, a curious smile tipping his lips. "How we'd do it?"
She smiles awkwardly. "I have thought about it. Not in too much detail, but…"
She points a finger at him. "I don't even care how it happens. The moment I'm eighteen, you're going to do the right thing and keep your word."
He grins, dropping his mouth to hers. "Since when is this a pact?"
"Since you first mentioned it."
She can't contain the happy little squeal that she's engaged to this boy she's head over heels in love with, regardless of the absence of a ring on her finger. "We need to make a record of this moment. Phone. Gimme, gimme, gimme."
Following a dozen pictures, Nathan scoops her off her feet and slings her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, refusing to take any more. She still takes pictures – of his butt and her odd, flailing facial expressions – all the way to the car.
The entire drive to her house, she keeps her hand on his thigh like she has dozens of time before. Her stomach turns the closer they approach home, every moment of the last hour she's spent with Nathan replaying in her head.
Her father is standing by the car, back seat door open. He straightens, slapping his hands together like to rid them of dirt.
"I don't think my being here is such a good idea," Nathan mumbles as he slows down.
She shakes her head rhythmically. "I want you here, with or without his consent."
He smiles slightly. "He's going to give me hell."
She sighs. "I don't like challenging him, but he doesn't make it easy for me to talk to him."
His lips pull into a tight line. He hesitates a moment, as if unsure whether to get out or stay put. He steps out a second after she does, thrusting his hands in his pockets.
"Hi, Mr. James," he murmurs.
Her dad fixes him with a gaze so penetrating that her stomach flips. "Nathan."
The edgy hush causes her even greater agitation. She glances over at her dad, telling him, "I'll just get my bags."
Quickly, she ambles to the gaping front door, sprinting up the stairs when she's inside. She makes short work of grabbing the travel suitcase and backpack waiting behind her bedroom door.
Not giving her dad a chance to go into one of his humiliation-filled rages, she runs outside, the luggage banging against her ankles and thighs. Under the intensity of her father's stare, Nathan makes his way up the path to meet her and take the bags off her hands.
"Thanks," she whispers, keeping her eyes peeled on her father.
Once he's done loading and locking them in the boot of the Volvo, Nathan takes a step in her father's direction, resolution written all over his face. Her heart starts thundering and her eyes widen incredulously.
"Mr. James."
His eyes snap up. The cold look he pins on Nathan has alarm building inside her chest; she is not prepared to deal with any kind of clash between them.
"With all due respect, you are making a big mistake."
Her dad narrows his eyes. "And I'm sure you know all about big mistakes."
Nathan's jaw flexes. The nervous energy in her erupts to an inferno.
Her dad shoves himself off the car, brows furrowed and eyes hard. "Whether you realize it or not, everything you two are doing is improper. You are mixed up in something dicey and I'm not going to let it get worse."
There he goes again, comparing their relationship to a catastrophe.
"Dad—"
He holds up a hand, not giving her a chance to counter. "We are not having this argument again. I'll lock up. Get in the car."
She stares absently as he stalks towards the front door. "Thanks for trying that," she says in complete honesty and gratitude.
Nathan scrubs his face. "No surprise that I screwed that up, too."
She reaches over and touches his wrist. "You and me, that's all that matters, right?"
He grants her a smile. A sad one, but a smile nonetheless. "That's all that matters."
She stows her purse on the mat of the passenger seat. Standing a little taller, she smiles up at him, a pretentious one at that. "I guess that's it."
He levels his eyes on her. Her smile evaporates.
"It won't be that bad," she says, her control crumbling. It's going to be horrible, she's sure of it.
He wraps his arm around her shoulders, pulls her up against his side and kisses the top of her head. Wasting no time, she draws back a little with her palms pressed against his solid chest, and with a push up on her toes, she bathes his face with tiny kisses. The trail leads to his mouth, and she moulds her lips to his, laying a deep kiss on him.
He greets her tongue when she slides it gently past his lips, curling into the hot, wet heat of his mouth as the kiss intensifies. She memorizes the taste of him, kissing him for every one of those that she won't get to give him for a while. She wants to disregard this mandatory trip, run away with him, and gladly take whatever punishment that will be bestowed upon her.
When they separate, she slides her hands up his chest, fisting them around his shirt as she places three softs pecks on him. "Love you," she whispers breathlessly along his lips.
He brushes a stray piece of hair from her face, his eyes darkened to that hue that has her wanting to do more than kiss. "Love you, too."
He rests his forehead against hers, breathing, "I better get going before your dad really takes a hit out on me."
"One more," she sighs, guiding her hungry mouth back to his for a hard, fierce kiss.
Losing herself in him is ever effortless. She doesn't hold anything back, so taken by the moment that she's unaware of her father's return.
They are broken apart by his snappy, icy tone.
"In the car, Haley."
Nathan's muscles tense beneath her fingers. She doesn't try to argue. By sheer force of will, her arms fall from around his waist even as they scream for her to hold on a little longer.
Nathan unlocks the door for her and she tumbles into the passenger seat in a trance. The car's ignition stalls, and she wants to bear-hug the old bucket. Window rolled down, her hands grip the door as she peers up at him, whispering, "I'll call if I can."
He nods, resting his hands over the back of hers, gradually gliding his thumbs along in soothing strokes. Chills spring up across her body when she feels his fingertips floating over her knuckles. He slides off the ever-present, narrow silver ring on the pinkie of her right hand, and moves it to the fourth finger of her left hand. It fits smoothly at the base.
"Okay?"
A solitary tear beads on her eyelash and slips out. She nods in agreement, exhilarated, and lets out a shaky breath. "Okay."
He lowers his head and bends in through the window, leaving the softest of kisses on her lips before stepping away from the car. Just as her dad pulls out of the curb.
Waving limply, she takes one last look at him, his hair endearingly mussed, a smirk on his lips, but sadder than she's ever seen him.
As they drive off, she feels cold and disconcerted, like she's lost something that she can't get back. She represses a sob by sinking her teeth into her lower lip that's quavering like the aftershocks of a tremor.
It's when they turn onto the highway that she says something. "If I promise to see him away from the house, will you stop tormenting us?"
His face is set into that controlled mask she's become accustomed to. "I'm retired, and frankly, I don't have a lot on my plate."
She wants to laugh, a crazy, humourless laugh. Silently, she counts the hulking shapes of buildings and landscape that she's been accustomed to for years.
"Dan Scott said hello," she says.
He keeps that cool mask in place. Irritation burns her chest.
"You've been speaking to Dan Scott?"
He doesn't even think about it. "I ran into him and we got to talking."
"About how much you both hate seeing your kids happy?" she snaps.
He draws in a heavy breath. His brow dips, the mask starting to slip away. "I'm not in the mood for this, but for your information, he agreed that it's a good idea to give you two…breathing room."
A dark cloud of furious disbelief sweeps into the car, embracing her in its power. She wants to scream and break out into a ridiculous bout of rage and madness.
"Breathing room? You do know that Dan hates Nathan, right? He hates his own son for not being like him. He hates his son for befriending his brother. And you actually listened to him about this?"
He casts her a cautionary look that she turns a blind eye to.
"Nathan is emancipated. What his father says doesn't matter to him. This plan you cooked up with Dan is for him to get back at Nathan, and you can tell him that it worked."
He exhales with a grunt. "You want to be like him, is that it? You want to be emancipated because I'm not letting you date the troublemaker?"
Her stomach lurches and wobbles. "What more can you possibly say that won't hurt me?" she asks, a shake to her voice.
She told herself that she wouldn't cry at any time over this weekend, but the determination to keep herself in line has vanished. "What more can you do to make me feel like a complete idiot for l-loving Nathan?"
Traitorous tears flow freely, ripping through to her soul. Wrapping her arms around herself, she arches over as desperation, anger and pain disperse to every part of her. She sobs softly, wanting the tears to get out, needing them to get out, and finally leave her in a semblance of peace.
Peripherally, she sees him shift in the seat like he's uncomfortable with her crying. She won't spare him and quiet down until it's all out.
Miles away from Tree Hill, when her eyes are dry and she can breathe properly, she piles onto him the newest development in her relationship. "Nathan proposed."
The car slows before it lurches forward. He shifts gears. Silence.
"I said yes."
The dulled evening light bathes the silver ring in gleaming twinkles. Her lips break into a smile as she runs a fingertip over the simple band that's never meant more to her than it does now; it's not just an accessory.
A long minute passes. From the corner of her eye, she can tell that he's glancing back and forth between the road and her. At the seventy-fourth awkward second she counts, he begins muttering words she can't hear.
She fully glances over at him. His hands are taut on the steering wheel.
"It's not enough that you're still seeing him when I've told you not to, but you're engaged to him?"
His razor-sharp words bite through the car.
"I found the guy I want to spend the rest of my life with," she says straightforwardly with a shrug.
The disgusted laugh wraps around her like a hundred slithering snakes. She turns away, focusing on the wide, open road ahead and the blackened sky. She can just picture the anger deforming his face.
"Is this how far you will go to show me that you're an adult? You will flaunt an engagement to a boy who took advantage of your innocence and my absence?"
"I'm not flaunting it," she tells him softly after a tempestuous beat of quietness, surprisingly not sounding like she's shrieking. "And he never took advantage of me. Ever."
Perhaps her ears are deceiving her but she swears she hears him growl. "You have reached a new level, young one. I admit that I've been off my mark by not making ground rules, and I keep realizing how much you lack discipline and structure. Engaged? You're barely eighteen!"
She isn't sure how to take his accusation. She knows that there is no sense in arguing with him, but they've already taken a dive off the cliff. "I lack structure? You were jolly enough to leave me home alone since I stepped into high school. You can't be a father when it suits you."
His mouth constricts in a frustrated line, his face screwed up badly like he's being forced to suck on a raw lemon.
"So that's why you're engaged?" he fires back, his booming bass shaking the air around them. "Because you're grounded for the rest of the school year?"
It takes her by utter surprise. "For the rest of the school year?"
"Yes," he answers easily, his nostrils flaring. "That, or I may just leave you behind in Savannah."
At this point, she feels like all muscles in her body have altered into steel rods. She's clutching the frayed cover on the dashboard, seat belt snug across her chest, trying to get her head out of this all-around arguing game they've been playing since he returned to Tree Hill. Half the time they're quarrelling about the same thing, endlessly.
"What is wrong with you?" he says, his voice low and threatening. "What is the matter with your life that you would agree to…to marry that…that…"
She doesn't respond, remaining quiet as he trails off and mumbles to himself. It offends her with a wild potency that she can't make out a single incomprehensible word.
Her blood boils with his insinuation that she's a problematic teenager with a bundle of issues that can only be solved by saying yes to a young marriage. With that crazed sting in her chest, she casually lets go of the dashboard and flexes her stiff fingers. She's not up for anymore squabbling.
From her purse, she grabs her iPod – what she got instead when she asked for her phone back – and stuffs the white buds into her ears. The song picks up where it left off, filling her head and her chest with melancholy.
She drops her throbbing head back and shuts her eyes. If she concentrates hard enough, she can channel exhaustion and bank on it to knock her out for the entire trip.
She barely feels like she's slept enough when a slam jolts her awake.
Rubbing her eyes and shaking her head slightly, Haley sits up. The iPod earphones are hanging on her shoulders, music chirruping through the teeny-tiny speakers. Turning it off and twirling the earphones around the nano, she looks through the windshield to absorb her surroundings.
There is not much detail to see at this time of night, but it doesn't inconvenience her because she's been here before; the house with the two porch lights on is a red-brick bungalow that reminds her of one of those antebellum homes scattered in parts of Tree Hill.
"We're here."
Swathed in sleepy confusion, she turns her head, meeting her father's deadpan face hanging in the open driver's door.
"Bags are already in the house. Josie's waiting."
With that, he steps back, the door squeaking right before it closes with a slam.
Inhaling and exhaling deeply, she grabs her purse and flings the door open, kicking it shut behind her. To the sound of crickets, she races past the thick tree in the middle of the lawn, up the front steps and into the warm house. She follows the voices coming through an entryway about two feet from the entrance hall.
It's just like she remembers. It doesn't cease to amaze her Josie's fascination with green. The orderly, immaculately-clean living room is layered with it; from the couch to the throw pillows to the rugs to the walls, they're in a shade of green. Dozens of pictures and paintings hang off walls, like there is no space for even one more frame, and doilies cover the sofas, armchairs and coffee table.
"Hello, Haley."
Josie is the same spindly, soft-spoken woman with a pair of eyeglasses hanging off a chain around her neck. Her thin, silver hair is twisted into the usual knot, her large ears more pronounced by the pushback style. She's wearing tan khaki pants, a light-green sweater set, and the standard string of pearls around her neck. The only difference from four years ago is the breathing tube in her nose and the oxygen tank by her leg.
"It's really good to have you here, darling," Josie says in that soothing voice and a broad smile.
Another reason Haley loves Josie is her insistent use of "darling" for everyone and everything around her. From a visiting Jehovah's Witness on her doorstep to the ducks in a park pond, everyone is "darling" to Josephine Nordenson.
"Hi, Aunt Josie."
Her crinkled face wrinkles some more, a testament to her eighty-six years on earth. Josie closes the distance between them, smacking a papery kiss on her cheek and hugging her. She smells like she always has, a mixed aroma of honeysuckle and baby powder.
They're the same height, but Josie is such a slight woman that Haley always worries about breaking her when they hug. Even the squeeze from Josie feels nothing like a squeeze, and Haley keeps her hold gentle.
"Your daddy tells me that you slept on the way here."
Haley nods, noticing then that he has disappeared. Intentionally or not, his retreat makes perfect sense. "I'm a little tired."
Josie nods and steps back, her hands resting over each other on the oxygen tank like someone who is handling a walking stick. "Why don't we get you settled? Come, darling, I'll show you to your room. Are you hungry? I made meatloaf."
Josie starts to walk off, leaving Haley to answer from behind her. She stays a few paces back so as not to kick or trip over the tank.
"I'll have some, thank you."
Slowly, Josie leads her out of the living room and down a hallway, cutting to a left and a right before stopping by a plain white door. She's wheezing softly as she turns the crystal doorknob, and Haley remembers that this weekend is not entirely about her problems with her father; Josie is unwell.
"Here we are."
The sparsely-furnished and lemon-scented room contains a double bed, a dresser, study desk and lamp; one on each side of the room, like they've been set up to avoid each other. Her favourite thing about the room is the window seat.
On the wrought iron bed is a simple dark-green comforter, and a pillow with a case that has large green and yellow dots. The walls are painted forest-green, with no artwork or decorations whatsoever. She can't ever remember her room back home looking as plain as this.
The full weight of leaving the familiarity of Tree Hill settles on her shoulders and she shuts down. Happiness at the moment is just a word in the dictionary with no meaning for her.
"The bathroom is right across the hall," Josie says with strain behind a frail fist. "There are fresh towels on the rack. Just…"
She trails off, breathing in and out loudly through her mouth, fist still held up. It emphasizes how under the weather she is.
She smiles, clears her throat and massages her chest. Her clouded blue eyes are watering. "I'm sorry."
Haley scrambles for an answer through the sadness that wraps around her at sweet Josie's health, saying politely, "No. I'm sorry that we're meeting again this way. Thank you for having me."
Josie makes a clucking noise of dismissal. "Don't worry about it. Pneumonia tried to kill me once without success."
Then she smiles again, genuine joy streaking across her tired face. "How long has it been since I saw you, three years? You are gorgeous."
Haley nods, blushes, quite distracted by the rasping from Josie like there's a fire in her lungs. "Four. Can I get you anything, Auntie? Water?"
"I'm fine, darling." She tilts the oxygen tank, her pleasant smile firmly in place. "Tank bubbles, I call them. I'll be right as rain in the morning."
Concerned, anyway, Haley nods glumly. Picking up on the hesitation, Josie smoothly wheels the tank to the doorway.
"Eat something and get some sleep," she instructs. "I'll see you in the morning."
Left alone, too worked up to sleep, Haley wonders what the hell she's supposed to do now. She stares at the suitcase, and briefly, she closes her eyes and sighs. She opts to save herself the nuisance of unpacking; a weekend visit doesn't require putting things away in dresser drawers.
Undoing the bun, she pulls her fingers through her hair, feeling her brain relaxing in the process, too. She grabs her toiletry bag, in need of a good shower to work miracles on the aggravation she's carrying on her shoulders.
After a hot shower and some dinner, she flops onto the window seat in the bedroom. It looks out into the backyard, a small orchard of apple and orange trees. She throws her feet up and draws her legs to her chest. Balancing her iPod on a bent knee, she plugs in a single earbud instead of both should someone come knocking.
There's a dog barking and howling somewhere in the neighbourhood. A burst of wistfulness goes off in her gut, the barking a reminder of the St. Bernard on her street that knows about her late-night sneaking-out-of-home manoeuvres. Being here feels like a joke that's gone horribly wrong.
The delicate ring on her finger soothes her troubled mind. She spins it around and around, her cheeks flushing hot and stretching with an unrestrained smile. She stares at it, mesmerized that she'll be returning home to her fiancé in two days. It may not be an official engagement, but it's an engagement in the only way that matters.
On the sly, she sees a flash of movement. He appears in the doorway and she snaps upright, jerking to attention, losing the enormous grin on her face. His icy expression from earlier has not thawed.
"You're here to go over the rules?"
He pierces her with a stern look. She tilts her head away from his displeasure.
"Josie's aide should be here by Sunday."
"So this is our first and only weekend trip?"
"I don't know."
She drags her eyes away from the night, clearing her throat and fidgeting in the cushion. "Can I have my phone back?"
"No."
She doesn't miss the biting and irritated note in his voice. She wonders if he'll say it: especially because you're engaged to that degenerate.
"You make me pay for it myself."
"Which is very inspiring."
She proffers a blank stare. Beats of silence tick. Defensiveness ripples through her.
"I'm no prize, and you're not even willing to give him a chance."
He is not the least bit fazed as they stare each other down.
"Seeing that he's proposed, it should spur a dinner where we get to know each other and plan the wedding, is that it?" he retorts roughly through the hard set of his jaw. "Should we send out an invitation to his parents as well?"
A sharp, twisting pain that cuts to the core makes her breath hitch. She'll forever be moping about the hopelessness of things ever getting to normal dinners.
"It's not like that. I hope it could be, but…Dad, is it because it's Nathan? Would you be like this if it were somebody else other than Nathan that I want to marry?"
He shakes his head, sighs, rubs his temples, every gesture like it's helping him regain his control. "What are you doing? You are not even a senior, you don't know where you want to go to college, you don't know who you really are or what you really want, and you are still growing into your own person. This is not the time to be making a lifetime commitment like marriage. You have not experienced the best years of your life yet and you want to throw all that away."
The knot coils around her heart when she sees the disappointment in his eyes. She swallows, her head dropping forward, her prickling eyes travelling to her feet. "It's a risk I'm willing to take with Nathan. I can be my own person with him."
Her truth is not received with open arms.
"That is unacceptable, you hear me?" he snaps in a no-nonsense tone, his anger palpable. "I don't know what Kool-Aid you've been drinking, but you better stop and spew it out. Be reasonable like I know you are, and stop this damn train before you destroy everything for yourself."
He doesn't wait to see whether she'll bother to argue. Seconds later, the door thuds shut.
Mindlessly, she stares at the iPod quivering on her knee. Through brimming tears, she slowly gets up and pads to the bed, folding herself up under the covers like to defend herself against the harmful vibrations he left behind.
She can't ignore the misery any longer, the tears breaking free and spilling down her cheeks. She cries so hard that her whole body shakes, until the exhaustion of sobbing overwhelms her into sleep.
It's the middle of the night when she wakes up with a jolt and an awful feeling: she's late.
