A/N: Thanks for all of the great reviews. I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's the first trip down memory lane. So, enjoy and review. :)

I saw something snaking it's way towards the crack in between the couch cushions. And I reached out and snapped it up. I knew on some level that it was just a couch cushion. But on some other level it was a canyon. A canyon that I couldn't lose her memories to. I didn't want anything in the bag to disappear. I didn't want any of these good memories to slowly die away, the sound becoming jumbled, and eventually fading to black. I wanted to keep all of them. I couldn't lose the memories, just as I'd lost her. I smiled slightly as I looked at the photo in my hand. It was from the first time we talked.

We had all left the eight grade, young and innocent, unabused, just being who we were. Life had not taken its toll on us yet. But we all returned to school for our first year in high school very different people. Everyone had changed. While Peyton had changed for the better, I had changed for the worse, though I didn't really realize it at the time.

Peyton had left the eighth grade quietly. No one other than Brooke had really noticed her one way or the other. She had always seemed way too responsible. Heavy almost, as if she carried a great weight, a great burden with her all the time. And there was a heart stopping sadness about everything she did that made it hard to be around her.

But she came back to the ninth grade like a gust of wind. She stood up for herself. She held her head high. She looked you in the eye. There was a confidence there now. One that I'm still not totally sure she actually felt or had simply resigned herself to. But she was indeed comfortable. Comfortable to be herself. And the sadness was gone. Like a dark, storm cloud had moved from over her head. The sadness hadn't truly left though. She just hid it well, with the silent strength she now possessed. Whereas before Peyton was just there, almost in the way, ruining the mood, now she had to be noticed.

And the friendship she had with Brooke, still baffled me even now because you couldn't find two more different people. But I'm thankful for that friendship because otherwise, when we were at tryouts I never would've seen her smile. And without that smile I would've never realized how truly beautiful she was. Peyton had never smiled before. But now she smiled and laughed. And her smile was perfect. It was stunning. And all I can say is that it was that far too often hidden smile that pulled me in like a moth to the fire.

I had first noticed her at those tryouts when she smiled and joked with Brooke. When I actually got to see the softer side of her. That's when I fell, silently from across the gym at tryouts.

I had changed too, as I mentioned. This was the summer my mom was gone. It was the summer I spent alone with my dad. It was full of basketball camp and workouts. I had left eighth grade a child, light-hearted and free. And I had come back a man. I was far too weighed down by expectations, by responsibility now to be called anything else. When I had left, I was nice; I was part of a group. And when I returned I realized how hard it was going to be to actually stand on my own, but I acclimated, unable to do anything else. Unable to let my father down. Because though I had the responsibility of a man, the fate of everything, it seemed, resting on my shoulders, I was still a boy. I still saw the world through a boy's eyes. I still had a boy's feelings. And a boy wants nothing more than to be accepted by his father.

I had come back rougher. I had come back harsher. I had come back to the ninth grade painful and cruel…and alone. Though I desperately didn't want to be any of these things.

I had watched her that day and for return tryouts. And it was then that I got up the courage to go talk to her.

"Hey, Peyton," I said when I reached her side.

She looked up at me confused. As to why I was talking to her. I'd never really been mean to her before, but we were never really friends.

"Say something," Brooke whispered not so quietly to her. My reputation by this point had preceded me, in every way possible. It had gotten a running start and I was sprinting to catch up. I wasn't even all the things my reputation entailed yet, but you could tell the "celebrity" enamored

Brooke.

"Hey," Peyton finally, said. And I appreciated how uninterested she seemed. The way that she acknowledged me and then cut her eyes to the side as if she had other more important things to do. It was a big first. But I liked it. I really liked it. And she was still just as beautiful when she was trying to blow me off.

"So did you make the squad?" I asked her awkwardly. Now that I was here, I had no clue what to say. And that's when Brooke snapped the picture. It was her picture crazy phase. There was never any escape or any peace.

She looked up at me, and really looked at me, into my eyes. And I didn't see any of the normal adoration there. "Yeah," she stated simply, shrugging as if it were no big deal, her head tilting slightly to the side, one side of her mouth turning up into a half smile and half smirk. Then she started to walk away towards the locker rooms.

She didn't even leave me a chance to respond. I watched her in shock and awe as she walked away. "I made the team," I called after her, not knowing what else to do, or say and feeling like a complete idiot afterwards when she slipped into the locker room.

The next day we had practice, the new squad and the new team, breaking in all the new players. All I could think the whole time was how disappointed my dad would be if he knew I couldn't focus on the game and was instead paying attention to a certain blonde cheerleader the whole time. But I didn't care. She had captivated my attention and though she didn't seem to like it. I couldn't seem to imagine it any other way. When practice was finally over, I waited for her.
"Hey," I said when she walked out of the locker room.

"Hey," she said, rolling her eyes at me slightly. "You don't give up do you?"

"No," I agreed with the statement shaking my head. I'd been taught never to give up, especially when something was important to you. I took a deep breath and despite how unreceptive she was being, plowed ahead. "You wanna go out on Friday?"

She stared at me as if I was crazy. "I'm flattered, really," she said sarcastically, as if asking me if she was really supposed to melt simply because I was Nathan Scott.

I sighed. She was making this difficult. Nobody really made anything difficult for me anymore. And this just made me more attracted to her. I wasn't good with feelings. I never have been, even younger. I'm still not. "Look, I don't expect anything. It's just…" I shrugged, "I thought we could go out…you know dinner, there's a carnival at the beach Friday…"

She looked up at me, her gaze softening, as if she was seeing me for the first time and not the man everyone said I was. She finally nodded. "Fine," she said softly, "But I can leave whenever I want…"

It was like she was trying to safe guard herself from something, but I didn't know what. "Of course," I said simply, "No one's holding you prisoner." Then I produced a bunch of dandelions from my back pocket. And there was another flash, Brooke. "These are for you," I said simply. And then she smiled that smile again. And she shifted embarrassedly, "Thanks."

"So I'll pick you up Friday," I said, as I started walking away, again not knowing what else to do. She nodded.

Back then things were simpler. I reveled in the glow of her smile. I didn't expect people to meet any expectations. I was trying to live down my reputation. Back then I had believed that I cared about her. That I wouldn't hurt her. That I would never hold her prisoner. Back then I never wanted to fight. Back then I gave bouquets of dandelions for no other reason than that she deserved something, and the flowers if not picked would get chopped to pieces by a lawn mower.

Back then I cared about things like that.