Part 5
[B]Belief[/B]
I've never been a very adventurous person. I hate roller coasters, I won't eat any food I can't spell, pronounce or list every ingredient of, and I never have put my heart on the line for a boy. Playing it safe afforded me the luxury of living a peaceful existence.
Then I spent an afternoon at Peyton Sawyer's house. I put on dressy clothes, I slathered make-up on my face, and I went to a college party and sought out the boy I liked to dance with.
In retrospect I guess I wasn't all that adventurous that night - I did go home alone and without a goodnight hug or kiss but for some reason the entire experience left me with a strong feeling of self-satisfaction. I proved to myself I could be as irresistible to a guy like Nathan Scott as Peyton Sawyer was to his brother Lucas, and it felt pretty damn good.
**
"Nathan, did you come up with an answer?" I asked him impatiently.
He had been working on the same math problem for twenty minutes now and if he didn't answer it soon and start on the next one we would be here all night.
"Um, x equals 47," his voice wavered with uncertainty.
I shook my head.
"Nope, sorry. Here let me show you again," I said.
He threw down his pencil.
"It's hopeless Haley. You shouldn't waste your time," he replied dejectedly.
I smiled at him.
"I don't mind wasting my time on you," I asserted.
I stood up and scooted into the seat next to him. I leaned closer to him so I could write each step of the problem on his paper for him to follow when he studied more on his own at home.
1. Isolate the variable you are solving for on one side of the equation sign.
His brow wrinkled.
"What does that mean again?" he asked.
I pulled an equation out of the book: 2x + 3 = 9
"In order to get the x by itself you need to make the three go away. The way to do that is to subtract it from both sides. Then you get 2x = 6."
He smiled.
"Oh! Then you divide both sides by 2, right?" he asked, enthusiastic about understanding what I was explaining.
"Exactly. Then you get what x is equal to. X = 3."
He ran his hand through his hair.
"You make it look really easy," he said.
I laughed.
"It is easy. You just need to follow the rules," I said matter-of-factly.
He propped his feet up on the chair and leaned back.
"Before we do another problem can I ask you something?" he questioned.
"I don't know. Is this a question for math or for Haley?" I joked.
"For Haley."
The way he said my name gave me shivers from the nerve endings in my toes all the way up to my fingers.
"Did you have fun at the party the other night?"
F-u-n. There it was again: the pesky three-letter word that gnaws and claws at me when I sit at home on Friday nights watching Boston Public and eating Cherry Vanilla ice-cream.
"Yes, I had fun," I answered shortly.
"I did too," he replied. "We should do it again sometime."
The other night had been like a holiday: a special day when something of immeasurable importance happened that requires a celebration to be held for it each year. It had been my holiday of f-u-n, but I never thought there could even be the possibility of making it an annual event, let alone a weekly one.
I coughed a little in pleasant surprise.
"Yeah, we should but," I started to say.
He looked worried, wondering what the 'but' clause of my statement would be about.
"I'm not wearing that skirt again. It was so short I swear I have windburn on my ass," I said.
I should have been entirely embarrassed at having said that statement to Nathan Scott but I wasn't. It was like I was immune to the Mr. Big Shot side of him.
Nathan laughed.
"Fine, you can wear pants on our next date," he conceded.
Date. Date? Date!
At this moment I needed to talk to Peyton.
**
I relayed the entire conversation with Nathan to Peyton. She had this dopey look on her face like she was a talk show host and she had made the perfect Love Connection.
"I told you he liked you," she said in a singsong voice that she only used for emphasis when taunting me.
"He used the word date like six times," I said.
I was completely unhinged and I was definitely acting like it: my arms were flailing as I spoke, my eyes darted back and forth from Peyton to every other object in the room and I couldn't stop swaying from one foot to the other.
"Wait, you did say yes?" she questioned.
She stared hard at me. Hands on her hips. Lips pursed.
"I couldn't say anything else," I sighed.
She grinned.
"Oh this is going to be so great I totally have this perfect skirt for you," she rushed.
I stopped her from saying more.
"I think I'll stick with pants this time. I think we might go bowling," I said.
Peyton made a face.
"Bowling is so not-sexy," she cried.
"What, you're not turned on by rented shoes?" I asked with a laugh.
"That's nasty. Hmm, well I guess if you wear my skin-tight leather pants it might make it quasi-sexy."
I looked at her like she was crazy.
"One.I'm a million feet shorter than you and two.don't say 'you' referring to me and 'leather pants' in the same sentence."
She sighed.
"It doesn't really matter anyway," Peyton said.
"I'm afraid to know what that is supposed to mean," I answered.
She indicated with her finger for me to come closer.
"He's much more likely just to look down your shirt," she whispered.
I smiled.
"I know," I said, returning her smile.
Peyton laughed eyes in wide surprise.
"You're okay with that?"
I shook my head.
"The boy learned how to solve equations. The least math can do is give him a little peek as a reward."
She looked at me in bewilderment. I grabbed the lip-gloss off her shelf and heaped the shiny liquid onto my grinning mouth. I was going to celebrate the new f-u-n in Nathanland holiday in style.
[I]Belief. Makes things true. Things like you. You and I. Tonight, you arrested my mind.[/I]
The End.
[B]Belief[/B]
I've never been a very adventurous person. I hate roller coasters, I won't eat any food I can't spell, pronounce or list every ingredient of, and I never have put my heart on the line for a boy. Playing it safe afforded me the luxury of living a peaceful existence.
Then I spent an afternoon at Peyton Sawyer's house. I put on dressy clothes, I slathered make-up on my face, and I went to a college party and sought out the boy I liked to dance with.
In retrospect I guess I wasn't all that adventurous that night - I did go home alone and without a goodnight hug or kiss but for some reason the entire experience left me with a strong feeling of self-satisfaction. I proved to myself I could be as irresistible to a guy like Nathan Scott as Peyton Sawyer was to his brother Lucas, and it felt pretty damn good.
**
"Nathan, did you come up with an answer?" I asked him impatiently.
He had been working on the same math problem for twenty minutes now and if he didn't answer it soon and start on the next one we would be here all night.
"Um, x equals 47," his voice wavered with uncertainty.
I shook my head.
"Nope, sorry. Here let me show you again," I said.
He threw down his pencil.
"It's hopeless Haley. You shouldn't waste your time," he replied dejectedly.
I smiled at him.
"I don't mind wasting my time on you," I asserted.
I stood up and scooted into the seat next to him. I leaned closer to him so I could write each step of the problem on his paper for him to follow when he studied more on his own at home.
1. Isolate the variable you are solving for on one side of the equation sign.
His brow wrinkled.
"What does that mean again?" he asked.
I pulled an equation out of the book: 2x + 3 = 9
"In order to get the x by itself you need to make the three go away. The way to do that is to subtract it from both sides. Then you get 2x = 6."
He smiled.
"Oh! Then you divide both sides by 2, right?" he asked, enthusiastic about understanding what I was explaining.
"Exactly. Then you get what x is equal to. X = 3."
He ran his hand through his hair.
"You make it look really easy," he said.
I laughed.
"It is easy. You just need to follow the rules," I said matter-of-factly.
He propped his feet up on the chair and leaned back.
"Before we do another problem can I ask you something?" he questioned.
"I don't know. Is this a question for math or for Haley?" I joked.
"For Haley."
The way he said my name gave me shivers from the nerve endings in my toes all the way up to my fingers.
"Did you have fun at the party the other night?"
F-u-n. There it was again: the pesky three-letter word that gnaws and claws at me when I sit at home on Friday nights watching Boston Public and eating Cherry Vanilla ice-cream.
"Yes, I had fun," I answered shortly.
"I did too," he replied. "We should do it again sometime."
The other night had been like a holiday: a special day when something of immeasurable importance happened that requires a celebration to be held for it each year. It had been my holiday of f-u-n, but I never thought there could even be the possibility of making it an annual event, let alone a weekly one.
I coughed a little in pleasant surprise.
"Yeah, we should but," I started to say.
He looked worried, wondering what the 'but' clause of my statement would be about.
"I'm not wearing that skirt again. It was so short I swear I have windburn on my ass," I said.
I should have been entirely embarrassed at having said that statement to Nathan Scott but I wasn't. It was like I was immune to the Mr. Big Shot side of him.
Nathan laughed.
"Fine, you can wear pants on our next date," he conceded.
Date. Date? Date!
At this moment I needed to talk to Peyton.
**
I relayed the entire conversation with Nathan to Peyton. She had this dopey look on her face like she was a talk show host and she had made the perfect Love Connection.
"I told you he liked you," she said in a singsong voice that she only used for emphasis when taunting me.
"He used the word date like six times," I said.
I was completely unhinged and I was definitely acting like it: my arms were flailing as I spoke, my eyes darted back and forth from Peyton to every other object in the room and I couldn't stop swaying from one foot to the other.
"Wait, you did say yes?" she questioned.
She stared hard at me. Hands on her hips. Lips pursed.
"I couldn't say anything else," I sighed.
She grinned.
"Oh this is going to be so great I totally have this perfect skirt for you," she rushed.
I stopped her from saying more.
"I think I'll stick with pants this time. I think we might go bowling," I said.
Peyton made a face.
"Bowling is so not-sexy," she cried.
"What, you're not turned on by rented shoes?" I asked with a laugh.
"That's nasty. Hmm, well I guess if you wear my skin-tight leather pants it might make it quasi-sexy."
I looked at her like she was crazy.
"One.I'm a million feet shorter than you and two.don't say 'you' referring to me and 'leather pants' in the same sentence."
She sighed.
"It doesn't really matter anyway," Peyton said.
"I'm afraid to know what that is supposed to mean," I answered.
She indicated with her finger for me to come closer.
"He's much more likely just to look down your shirt," she whispered.
I smiled.
"I know," I said, returning her smile.
Peyton laughed eyes in wide surprise.
"You're okay with that?"
I shook my head.
"The boy learned how to solve equations. The least math can do is give him a little peek as a reward."
She looked at me in bewilderment. I grabbed the lip-gloss off her shelf and heaped the shiny liquid onto my grinning mouth. I was going to celebrate the new f-u-n in Nathanland holiday in style.
[I]Belief. Makes things true. Things like you. You and I. Tonight, you arrested my mind.[/I]
The End.