I'm sorry it took so long to update. I was really slammed with homework this past week. It's spring break now, and I'm not going to New York City as planned. Long story. But I'll have a lot more time to update hopefully since I'm stuck in my house all day. Like always, flashbacks are in italics.

Love, Emily


"Hey, no crutches?" His head nodded toward her knee, now only covered with a simple, black brace comfortably wrapped around it. She stopped tying her shoe and looked up toward him, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"Nope. Just no strenuous activity, and I'll be fine without them…" Her voice trailed off as she stood, looking at herself in her mirror. "So that means no cheerleading on the sidelines for me," she continued staring into the glass in front of her, the uniform form-fitting her every curve on her body, enhancing her never-ending legs.

"Hey, at least you're not completely hopeless anymore." She smiled at his sarcasm, watching him walk toward her through the reflection.

"Not completely." His arms wrapped around her waist from behind. Looking into his eyes through the mirror, her hands found his, holding a place on top of them.

"I'm really glad you're okay, Peyton."

"Me too. Thank you, Lucas…" She watched his expression turn to a questionable one. "For helping things get back to normal." He kissed the side of her head in thanks, letting his lips linger while her eyes closed, relaxing into his hold on her.

"Alright, we better get going…"

"Oh yeah, I wouldn't want to be late for something I can't even participate in right?" She snaked out of his grasp as she walked toward her bag sitting on the bed. "Just give me a minute to change, I'll be right out." She disappeared behind her bathroom door, Lucas finding a seat on her bed patiently.

She came out moments later, quickly, as promised. Draping her bag over her shoulder, she made her way toward where Lucas was sitting. "Let's go." His arm wrapped around her back as they made their way out of her room, toward her car.


"Hey…you alright?" His face was staring straight, his mind obviously tied on something as the two of them remained in the parking lot. "You know, Whitey would understand if you weren't ready yet."

"I'll be fine." He snapped out of himself, facing her with a look of reassurance. "You need any help getting inside?"

"I'm fine, Luke, I'm not fragile." She smiled at his sense of worry for her constantly. It was nice to know he cared. "Good luck tonight, Lucas."

"Thanks, I'll see you after the game?" She nodded in response before he planted a quick kiss on her forehead. Her eyes watched him walk into the old gym until he disappeared behind the doorway.

"Hey."

Her head turned abruptly toward the passenger seat window, seeing Brooke standing outside. "Mind if I sit?" Peyton shook her head, no, unlocking the door to allow her inside.

"Are we talking?" Peyton asked, noticing the awkwardness between them.

"We're not, not talking." Brooke said simply. "You're still my best friend, P. Sawyer, nothing will ever change that. Like I said, I just need some time to get over it, okay?"

"Brooke you know I wouldn't do anything that'll hurt you, right?"

"Yeah, but you want to be with Lucas…and like I also said, that's okay."

"Not if Lucas is still in love with you." Peyton looked toward her, waiting for any look of response.

"Give that some time, and that'll change too." The two of them stayed silent for a few minutes. "But I hope you know, now that you have two legs and not three," she joked, referring to her crutches as an extra set of legs, "I expect to see you back at practice soon."

"Tell that to my doctor, and we'll have a deal." Peyton smirked back.

"I'll see you later, alright Peyton?" She nodded as Brooke got out of the car and walk the same path Lucas had done so minutes earlier. After a few minutes, she got out as well, walking not toward the gym, but toward the boy's locker room.


Lucas stepped onto the court, blocking the cheerleaders and the crowd's sounds with his thoughts, holding his jersey close where Keith's initials were newly embroidered on their uniforms.

"I do play," Lucas argued back in a calm matter, "every night."

"It's not the same, Luke."

"Why?" He threw his hands up in question. "What makes it less of a game if people don't see it?"

"I'll tell you why," Keith faced him directly. "When I was a kid, my father took me to Raleigh to see David Thompson play. I was nine years old, and I couldn't have cared less about basketball." He caught Lucas' eyes, making sure he was still listening. "But when Thompson stepped on the court, he was so young, so quick, and just so graceful that I was mesmerized. I couldn't take my eyes off him until late in the game, and I look up at my dad, and he's got tears in his eyes." Lucas gave him a confusing glare. "14,000 strangers, and my father's crying because he's so beautiful. He played with such poetry that he made us feel like we were a part of it." Keith stepped closer to his nephew, his next words crisp and clear. "You have a gift, Luke, and it's a crime not to let people see it, to hide it in the park. It's a damn shame. That's why.

He got halfway to the bench, silence overcoming him, before he gave Nathan an apologetic look and beginning his way back toward the locker room. Tears were building in his eyes, on instinct. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Peyton standing right in front of him when the door was opened. "What're you doing here?"

"I knew you'd come back."

"How?"

"Because you're just like me, remember?" She closed the gap between the two of them and hooked her arms around his neck. "You're not the only one who can help other people, Luke, let me help." Her words were soft, soothing them into his ears.

"I thought I was read-"

"Shh, I know." Her hands ran through his hair gently. "I know."