Author's note: A well overdue thanks to the many people who have held my hand and listened to me whinge and complain over this chapter: Naleywriter23, HoplessRomance, SouthernBangel and especially OTHFangirl who pushed me through some terrible writer's block with her great idea that allowed me to get this done, finally. It really takes a village to write this level of rubbish! All OTH characters aren't mine, obviously, but the typos and incredibly slow-moving, largely pointless chapter is 100% Mel.

Yes, I acknowledge nothing really happens in this chapter and I'm sorry. But for what it's worth, I can't put off this plot any longer and next chapter will have a lot more going on. Thank you for sticking with me!

"Scott! Nathan Scott!"

Nathan turned around, wearily, to see a tall man with a broad smile coming down the staircase towards him. He was still in search of fresh hair and space, but at the sight of the man's eager expression, he knew his search was going to have to wait.

"Devon Fox. Congratulations, man."

Nathan found himself doing the complicated handshake that all basketball players seemed to be able to intuitively do, as he was being pulled into a bear hug by Clay's newest signing.

"Man, am I happy to see you. Even happier to hear you're going to be working as an agent at Fortitude. I can't wait to start working with the legendary Nathan Scott. Man, I've been a fan of yours for years; my dad took me to a Duke game back when I was in middle school, I've been a fan ever since."

"Thanks," Nathan nodded, humbly. "But you're in great hands with Clay as well. He's the one who knows all the tricks, can get you the best deals."

"Yeah, I know. He was your agent, too, right?" Devon asked. "It's good to hear you'll be using your expertise to help us up-and-comers. Man, it must be tough not playing anymore. Can't believe it - three MVP awards in five years, you were in your prime, man, and it's all gone thanks to that punk-ass West. That fucker should have been banned for life..."

Nathan sighed inwardly. It had been the hardest thing he'd ever faced, coming to terms with his career-ending ACL injury. It was easy to blame "punk-ass" West for running into him, causing him to land awkwardly and tear the crucial ligament, but over the last two years Nathan had to deal with it, he knew it was just poor luck and a bad landing that ended his career. It didn't stop Damien West from being one of the most hated men in America, though, something Nathan quietly didn't mind at all.

"Well, it's good to have you on board, Fox. I'm not officially Clay's business partner yet, but I'm always on hand to lend you any advice."

"Yeah, Evans said that because you were drafted before you even finished college, you have to get your degree before you can be an agent. Man that sucks."

"It's not so bad," Nathan shrugged, not wanting to tell the newly graduated and soon to be drafted player how difficult it had been to think of a career after professional basketball, let alone being forced to return to study for it. "It just goes to show how important it is to insure yourself against the future. Especially financially."

"Spoken like a true agent," Devon laughed. "Alright, man, I..."

Whatever he had been about to say got cut off as Nathan felt his body stumble forward. Grabbing onto the staircase railing for balance, Nathan felt a clenching in his gut and a swooping sensation in his chest, as if a flock of birds had taken flight from his ribs. His entire left side - the side that had been merely brushed against - warmed as if he had been standing beside a fire, yet his skin erupted in goosebumps. Stunned, he looked around to see what had caused such a reaction, but only saw a small female figure racing up the stairs. From behind, she looked so short that she could have hardly shifted Nathan had she pushed him with all his might, let alone the light brush that had happened as she had hurried past him. Distracted by the sight of her as she climbed the stairs, Nathan could only stare at the shapely, jean-covered curves that took over his vision. His hands, which were still holding onto the railing, tingled with the desire to trace the half-moon of her hips, his fingers tracking through the dip in her jeans where her ass met the top of her thighs.

Holy shit.

He hadn't even registered Devon Fox walking off, throwing out a distracted "Yeah, see ya, man," as he stood rooted on the spot, staring where the figure had disappeared from sight. Nathan had seen a lot of good bodies before, hell - he'd had some of the best bodies he'd ever seen in his own bed, but no woman had caused such a visceral and physical feeling like he had just experienced. She'd affected his body before he'd even lain eyes on her.

What was happening to him? He really needed to find some fresh air.

"Oh my gosh, look at this place! How rich is Quinn's new man?"

From her spot in the passenger's seat, Haley squirmed uncomfortably. "I don't know, Brooke. He's a sports agent, whatever they earn. Can you please just park the car before I wet myself? And your seat?"

"Eww, Tutor Girl!" Brooke exclaimed as she pulled over in front of the huge beach house towering above them. "If you were so desperate to go, you should have gone at the store."

"I didn't know you were going to take an hour to get ready after closing, Brooke. Otherwise I would have. I didn't need to pee then, but I do now."

"Okay, okay..."

The brunette had barely pulled the handbrake up before Haley tore out of the small, blue car, racing towards the front door and into her sister's new home. The front door was unlocked and Haley found herself in a large foyer. Sounds from the living room and kitchen were coming from her right, and a few people stood nearby, talking. Ahead of her lay a staircase that curved out of sight; apart from two tall men that were standing at the bottom, the rest of the staircase was empty and Haley figured her best bet of finding a bathroom was in that direction. Without waiting to see her sister, she took off, her eyes focused on the path to sweet, sweet relief.

As if she had missed a step running down the stairs instead of up, Haley felt her stomach swoop, the sensation tingling throughout her body as she brushed past a large male figure that had his back to her as he spoke to the man in front of him. A heady smell of clean, fresh male filled her head, a mix of expensive cologne and warm skin that made her think of burying her head into someone's neck while lying in bed among twisted sheets. The thought alone made Haley's nipples tighten against her bra and she wondered if she was simply close to passing out due to the desperation of needing to pee or it was considerably colder on the top floor.

She quickly found a bathroom conveniently vacant and visible close to the top of the landing and slipped inside, locking the door behind her. It wasn't until she was washing her hands where she caught sight of herself in the mirror - her eyes bright and cheeks flushed a pink that would put cosmetics companies out of the blush business for years.

"Oh my God," she whispered to herself, holding her hands against her heated face. Had she been dreaming? Had she actually knocked herself out on the body she'd hurried past on her way to get to the bathroom? It wasn't totally impossible, but it didn't explain the frisson that had taken over her body.

Drying her hands and unlocking the door, Haley stepped out with trepidation, unsure of what was on the other side. What had caused her to react that way? The hallway was empty and the two figures that had been standing at the bottom of the stairs had gone. Pushing out a rush of air from her lungs, she realized how fast her heart was beating.

"Fresh air," she muttered to herself, walking past the staircase and along the hallway where a glass-fronted door showed her that it must lead to the balcony outside. She was excited to see her sister and meet Clay, but she couldn't handle any introductions in the state she was in.

The door opened easily and she was met with the inky darkness and salty smell of outside. From where Haley stood, she could hear the sound of waves crashing rhythmically onto the sand. She couldn't see the beach through the darkness, but knew it was close. Stepping forward towards the balcony railing, she jumped as her movement activated the sensor lights. White light flooded the space from overhead and a shape to her right materialized from the darkness.

She couldn't move, but simply stood in place, transfixed, as a head close to foot above hers became visible. Broad shoulders followed and it took Haley a second to realize it was moving closer to her. The fine hairs on her arms stood up from her skin and it felt as if her heart had risen in her chest and was thumping furiously as the base of her throat. Four long steps later, the figure stood beneath the light, close enough to hear her rapid heartbeat, Haley was sure. The salt in the air faded away, replaced by the same intoxicating smell from earlier – a fresh, woody smell of cologne that didn't entirely disguise an equally pleasant natural smell of clean, sexy man.

The hair was almost the same, but the jawline was squarer, stronger, and littered with black stubble that Haley hadn't seen before. The arms that were encased in a black leather jacket were almost twice its previous size and the grey shirt beneath the jacket molded itself over a torso that had grown stronger and broader over the past ten years.

There had been plenty of changes, alright, but there were just as many familiarities in the face that stared back at her with a look of weary surprise, several levels below her own look of blatant shock. Eyes of an inimitable blue that pierced their way through her chest with the smudge of a dark freckle below the right one, a naturally full lower lip that cushioned the carved top one, the long fingers on strong hands that were currently finding their way into the pockets of worn blue jeans.

There was no way Haley could be dreaming; her own subconscious could never conjure up a scene so vivid.

For the first time in ten years, Haley was standing in front of Nathan Scott.