A/N: Ok, so here's the thing. I kind of think this chapter's a little cheesy. But I like it…and there's a little Leyton at the end. Let me know what you think!
Disclaimer: I don't own One Tree Hill.
Chapter Eighteen: How You Get Passion Back
February 7th 2006
Describe yourself in one word. It's a pretty difficult question actually. One word to sum up your entire being. The essence of you. How can you do that? Words have boundaries. People don't. Maybe I'm over thinking this one. That's very possible.
Stupid English essay! It shouldn't be this hard. Why can't I just pick a word and be done with it? This is no way to spend your Saturday. Cooped up in a room trying to finish your homework, but I can't drink, I can't smoke and I can't not do my homework. Basically, this sucks because Bevin is going out with Skillz and Rachel has Mouth and I've got homework. Wonderful company that is.
"Purple or pink?" Bevin asks as she paces my room. She's holding two shirts in front of my mirror. Rachel's already left.
"Purple," I mutter as I erase the paragraph I had written. I'm sorry but I can't use the word unique. I bet everyone's going to pick it and therefore, I wouldn't be unique, now, would I? Bevin throws on the purple shirt and checks herself in the mirror.
"Does this look ok?" she asks, frowning slightly. I look up somewhat begrudgingly. She's wearing a deep purple tank top and dark jeans.
"I think it looks very pretty, Bev," I say, sincerely.
"Thanks," she says, plopping down on my bed. She's fidgeting like crazy.
"How long until you meet Skillz?"
"I leave in ten minutes," she says, "I'm really nervous, Peyt."
"No shit," I say sarcastically. Sorry. Sometimes I just can't help it.
"What am I going to say to him?" she whispers, "Where do I even start?" I sigh and turn away from my computer. I really shouldn't be giving advice to anyone. It'd be like a blind lady giving you fashion advice.
"It will come to you naturally. Just be yourself. And make sure he knows you want him back. Don't chicken out and settle for that 'just friends' bullshit." I made sure I air quoted the just friends part. Bevin does something unpredictable. She swoops down and gives me a giant hug.
"What would I do without you Peyton Sawyer?" she sighs.
"I don't know, but life would be a little less interesting," I smirk.
"Ok, I should head out. I want to pick up some stuff on my way." Bevin heads out and that leaves me sitting alone in my room. This totally sucks. Maybe I could call Haley. Oh wait, Haley told me she was hanging out with Brooke today. And Nathan's going to visit his family with his mom to break the news about Rachel's pregnancy. And Lucas…well I don't want to call Lucas because I'm giving him space. Who else is there? As if it was a sign, the phone rings.
"Hello."
"Blondie." Ah, Chris Keller. What a wonderful sign.
"Keller," I say without emotion.
"What are you doing on this fine day?" He's way too happy sometimes.
"Nothing. Trying to do homework."
"How'd you like to hang out with the one and only Chris Keller?"
"Thanks, but no thanks," I say, "I'm promised myself no more drinking and smoking after last time. Plus I really need to get this done."
"That's fine," he says, "I have a show tomorrow so I wasn't planning on getting wasted. I'm just extremely bored." I can't believe I'm about to say this, but I'm really lonely and somewhat desperate. And Chris is pretty cool…oh my gosh something is definitely wrong with me…
"Why don't you come hang out here while I write my crappy essay?"
"You're inviting me over," Chris says unbelievingly.
"Yeah, I am," I say indignantly, "My friends have abandoned me and I'm stuck home alone." Chris clicks his tongue.
"I told you, blondie, I have a girlfriend."
"Not like that, Keller," I say, frustrated, "You called me, remember? Now, do you want to hang out or not?"
"I was just kidding around," he says, "I'd love to hang out with you while you work on your crappy essay."
"Do you remember were the place is?"
"Yeah," he says, "I'll stop by in a few." I hang up the phone and think about my actions. Last time I hung out with Chris Keller things didn't turn out so great. But this time there's no drinking so nothing bad can happen. Right?…Ok, no need to dwell on this.
Chris arrives ten minutes after we hang up and I have to walk all the way downstairs to let him in. I open the door to find Chris with a large suitcase and guitar case in each arm.
"You planning on staying long?" I ask. He smirks at me.
"Actually, no, but the guitar does have a purpose as does the suitcase."
"And that would be?"
"You'll see," he says cryptically as he follows me up to my room. I sit back down at my computer screen while he sits on my floor.
"So what's in the case?"
"A guitar," he says slowly, looking at me strangely. I roll my eyes.
"I meant the suitcase."
"Oh!" he says nodding, "That would be my CD collection. See, I figured I'd help you get your passion back."
"Chris, I'm honored that you would want to spend your Saturday night helping me regain my love of music, but I highly doubt this is something I can get back in one night."
"Wanna bet on it?"
"I have to finish this first. So unless you want to write this paper please be quiet," I huff, deleting another two paragraphs. I don't even know why I chose charismatic in the first place.
"Can I at least play the guitar?" I sigh and roll my eyes.
"Whatever." Maybe background music will help me think. At first, it's nice. A slow, simple melody. Then after a few minutes, it speeds up and I find myself not being able to concentrate on my work. I'm literally sitting there waiting for the next note and the next. Finally after a good five minutes, I tear myself away.
"I'm sorry, Keller, but you've got to stop that."
"Am I distracting you?" he asks.
"Yeah. I can't focus."
"It's ok. Many a girl has been distracted by Chris Keller's charming and sexy persona. Unfortunately I can't turn that off." I narrow my eyes at him.
"You know what I mean." He sighs and puts his guitar down, before sauntering over to my desk.
"What are you working on anyway?" he asks, peering over my shoulder.
"An English essay. I have to describe myself in one word."
"Want some help?" he says.
"You barely know me, Keller. How can you possibly sum me up in one word?"
"Complicated."
"I know, isn't it? This question is damn near impossible," I sigh.
"No. That's the word I'd use."
"Complicated?"
"Complicated," he repeats, "Just look around you." He gestures to my room. "You're the type of person who can be two entirely opposite things at the same time."
"Care to enlighten me?" I say, raising an eyebrow.
"You can be strong and weak. Terribly emotional and a total cold bitch. You're girly and feminine and a tomboy. You are everything and nothing, Peyton. You are complicated."
"Wow," I say, "I'm like the definition of a hypocrite."
"No," Chris says shaking his head, "You can't sum you up as one thing. You're complicated and that's what makes you so cool."
"Are you hitting on me, Chris?" I say, a smirk on my face.
"Ha, ha," he says, rolling his eyes, "You asked. I answered." I stare at the screen. Complicated. It's not a bad idea. I mean I am complicated and it doesn't put any limitations on what I can right about. I mean complicated can cover anything, right?
"Hmm," I hum clicking on and off my document.
"You're thinking about it, aren't you?" Chris says, the amusement evident in his voice. I don't respond rather begin typing. If I had to describe myself in one word, I would choose complicated...
A half hour later I'm just finishing up my paper. I stuck with the word "complicated" and actually exceeded the length requirements. Chris has kept himself busy reading that copy of Othello Lucas checked out for me. He seems puzzled though. His eyebrows are furrowed and he keeps huffing at every turn of the page. Besides that, he's been pretty quiet.
"Done," I say clicking print.
"Good," he says, looking up from the book, "Because this book was pissing me off. Why are you reading this crap?" I chuckle at him.
"It's Shakespeare."
"No wonder I don't like it," Chris mutters.
"Why'd you keep reading it then?"
"What else could I do? I promised you I'd stay quiet. Plus, I wanted to see if Othello would catch on to Igor's scheme."
"Iago," I correct.
"Whatever. I'm over it," he says tossing the book back onto my dresser, "Ready to regain your love of music?"
"I'm telling you. It can't happen in one night," I sigh, "I don't think it will ever happen." I rub the back of my neck. "I've been trying to get it back. I mean I play the music and try to focus on the lyrics, but the words register. They just don't-"
"Connect," Chris finishes.
"Exactly," I say.
"Well that's because you're listening to crappy music. To get yourself back in the game, you have to steer clear of Emo."
"Why?" I ask furrowing my eyebrows.
"Because Emo is crap," he says simply.
"Says you."
"Says everyone who's not holding a razor blade to their wrists or planning on drugging their ex-girlfriend."
"Are you saying all Emo fans are freaks?"
"Can we stay on topic here?" he says frustratingly, "You're trying to get your passion back-"
"And apparently I can't listen to Emo to do so."
"Right. Not only is it crap, but it's depressing crap. And seeing as you're depressed as it is-"
"How do you know that?"
"Focus, Peyton!" he says heatedly. I'm clearly frustrating and I must admit…I'm doing it on purpose. "Seeing as you're depressed as it is, we need to stick to cheery music."
"But wouldn't I connect better with music that's expressing my current emotions."
"No," he says simply removing a CD from his suitcase. I try to peer over at it but he shields it from me.
"That better not be some boy band crap."
"Do I look the type of person who listens to boy bands?" he asks as he inserts the CD.
"I don't know. You could be Chris Keller, closet N'SYNC fan club member." He ignores my theory.
"Close your eyes," he says, "and just listen to the music." I'm shocked at what he plays. It's not Pop. It's not Rock. It's not R&B or Emo. It's Spanish music. So here's the thing. I took Spanish sophomore and junior year so I know a few phrases. But come on…this is damn near impossible for me to understand. So I just listen to the singer's voice. It sounds painful, almost desperate I'd say. Especially during the chorus. His smooth voice clashes almost violently with the fast beat. Yet, I find myself entranced by the whole combination. I can understand him, though I don't speak his language. When the song ends, I open my eyes and find I've been tapping along on my desk the whole time.
"See Peyton," he says, shutting of the CD, "Music's not about the words. It's about the sound. And there is a difference. It conveys a story through sound." I don't respond verbally. I just stand up and envelop him in a giant hug.
This is freaking weird. Now I want to through on all my albums and figure out the difference. I want to see how the sounds of Led Zepplin and Pink Floyd compare with those of Jimmy Eat World and Fall Out Boy…And just like that. I've got the passion back. Damn, Chris Keller's good.
Three hours have passed and Chris and I are sitting in my closet listening to old music, the stuff we can agree on. Every once and a while, I'll turn off the stereo and see if he can duplicate a certain guitar riff. Most of the time he can. He's studied most of these albums himself. It's around eleven when I barely make out the phone ringing over the cranked up Aerosmith tune. I turn the music down and grab my phone.
"Hello," I answer.
"Hey, Peyton." Lucas responds, "It's me."
"Luke," I say, smiling. I see Chris roll his eyes out of the corner of my eye. I throw a pillow at him. "What's up?"
"I thought you would like to know Bevin and Skillz are back together. They happen to be snuggled up together in the back of my mom's café."
"Were you spying on them?"
"No!" he says, "I just happened to be working at the café tonight." I can see right through his attempt to hide his nosiness.
"For shame, Luke. You were spying on them," I say in a fake disapproving manner.
"Ok, I was," he admits. We both share a small laugh. "So what are you up to?"
"I'm listening to music in my closet with Chris Keller." I've decided to be honest with him. Part of me does it because it's the right thing. The other part wants to see if he's jealous.
"Oh really," he says quietly.
"Yeah," I say, "The girls abandoned me for their boyfriends. Nathan's visiting family and Haley's with Brooke. He was my only choice." Chris looks up from the album he was eying.
"Hey, I heard that!" he says.
"Was that him?" Lucas asks.
"Yep," I say, "What are you up to?" I'm trying to move the subject away from Chris Keller.
"I was just getting off work. I was thinking we could hang out, but if you're busy," he trails off. I bite my lip.
"Rachel's going to be home soon and I promised her I'd help her with her English essay." Oh, how I'm wishing I didn't make that promise.
"Oh," Lucas says sadly. My heart breaks hearing his tone.
"Are you busy tomorrow?" I ask quickly.
"Not really," he says.
"Well, how about we hang out at Rivercourt then? You can teach me some new moves." He lets out a small laugh and I sigh in relief.
"As long as you take it easy on me. I do have a heart condition."
"No excuses, Scott."
"Ok, fine. I'll see you around noon."
"Noon sounds great." We hang up and I have a goofy smile on my face. Because I kind of, sort of have a date with Lucas Scott.
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A/N: Next Chapter: Leyton's quote unquote date. Oh and I actually like Emo...so I'm sorry I had to bash it