A/N sorry it's been so long since I updated by R/L got in the way as well as my muse took an extra long vacation. I have another scene in the works from the episode before this one, but it's not quite ready, but I'll post when I'm finished with it. Please let me know your thoughts...carys
It felt slightly rough in his large hands. He couldn't remember the last time he noticed that. It's surface was a unique mixture of textures, the slightly raised leather surface, better for grip, the intersecting lines...as he held the basketball in his hands he couldn't remember the last time he had really thought about the details of it. In some ways it felt like an extension of his own arm – it was that natural to him. But upon further inspection he noticed the little things.
Admittedly his careful scrutiny of the ball in his hands was a blatant attempt to distract himself from staring at the clock. Staring at it didn't make it move any faster; in fact it just made the lump in his throat and the queasy feeling in his stomach get stronger. He could pretend that he was just worried about her safety – but that wouldn't be true. It wasn't about if he trusted her; it was about his own insecurities, but at 2:38 all it really meant was that he couldn't sleep. And that useless indie rocker guy's comment wasn't helping either. The Neanderthal in him wanted to pound his chest and shout, "Eat your heart out, she's with me", but that didn't mean much when he was alone in their bed at 2:38. He kept reminding himself that this was what he wanted for her, what he had sacrificed for, but....fuck, if Tim could see him now he'd be laughing his ass off. Nathan Scott, sitting awake, obsessing about a girl. But she wasn't just a girl anymore, she was his wife and like it or not, that changed things. He was just beginning to grasp what those changes were going to be. He didn't resent the sacrifice he had made...it was easier to do than he would have thought. A part of him really wanted to tell her what he had done – mostly because she would have been so proud of him. OK, maybe not proud. Self sacrificing was usually her role and he was positive she wouldn't have let him do it if she had known. The thing was, in the past, whenever he did something that went against the Scott grain, he told her and she reinforced him. He almost needed two Haleys – one to praise him for his decision, and one who didn't know a damn thing about it. It felt good to tell coach about what he had done...and even though Whitey said exactly what he wanted to hear, it still meant something to him. It felt good to know that someone understood him and why he had to do it. Most fathers would have that role, but not Dan Scott – he always had to go against tradition. Phoenix effect or not, he was still a bastard to Nathan every chance he got but Nathan knew enough to limit those chances. Nathan knew Dan would freak out if he found out he gave up High Flyers for Haley. Good thing Dan would never find that out. It kinda made him smile – he got to do something good for Haley and stick it to his dad at the same time. He was pretty pleased with himself for that. Fat lot of good that was doing him now though...2:39 – it should be later than that by now.
She was so good tonight. He always knew she was good, but in front of the crowd – well she practically glowed. He knew exactly what that felt like. It was one thing to be good on the playground, but when you had five hundred people packed into a small gymnasium, practically sitting on top of you, breathing in tandem, cheering in tandem – it upped the stakes and it upped your game. She was great in the living room, but in the club tonight – well, she was out of this world. And somewhere deep down, he took a little credit for that. He helped her get there. After she finished his eyes were opened to a few thing he wasn't expecting. He had focused so much on getting her there, he hadn't really thought about what he would do when she arrived. Could he share this with her? What if Tree Hill was too small for her? What would they do then? He always knew she was destined for great things, but would there be room for him?
"Great." he said softly to himself., "Two fourty am and full on paranoia is setting in. Maybe I should have stayed and waited with her tonight. It was her first interview...no, she told me to go home and get some sleep. I have to be at work at eight. That's like five hours from now...damn. She's OK...probably just lost track of time."
It always took him some time to come down after a good game. She was probably somewhere with Peyton talking about what had happened, letting the adrenalin subside. Worrying was useless. He thought maybe he should just get up and play some NBA live....but he knew that wouldn't help either. Instead, he just kept tossing the ball in the air, checking the clock and listening intently for the door. It's weird how insecurities can sneak up on you late at night. Too much time in your own head never did anyone any good.
Usually just holding the ball reinforced his confidence. No one could take that away from him – it was like his security blanket. Holding it reminded him that he was good at something, but if he was being brutally honest, he'd rather be holding her...because for the first time in his life he was good at something else besides basketball...he was good at loving her.