Near to You
{'cause near to you, I am healing, but it's taking so long}
Chapter Three: that that don't kill me can only make me stronger
"Stop," Peyton said sternly.
Ethan jumped and shot her a guilty look. "What?" he asked weakly. "I need a…soccer ball. For a…an experiment."
She crossed her arms over her chest. "So go get it."
He groaned. "Okay, fine. You caught me spying."
"You know something, E.?" she asked kindly. "Your brain is way better."
"Thanks," he said warmly. "But is it wrong that I'm intimidated by that?" he demanded as Nathan smoothly dunked the basketball.
She touched his shoulder lightly. "That quiet way you wear your confidence has always been you sexiest quality. Now can you please promise me you'll stop this? It's weird."
He looked much more like himself after her compliment. "You have my word." He paused before asking, "So, uh…what's up between the two of you?"
Peyton sighed. She'd been avoiding Nathan for almost two days. "Weird is a pretty good word for that, too."
Ethan's concern was selfless. "Yeah? Are you guys…"
She smiled slightly. "We're friends. It's just…it's been a while." She didn't want to reveal too much, especially not to Ethan. She kissed his cheek in a purely friendly fashion. "I'll see you later, okay?"
Nathan finished lecturing his potential team members, sending them off to the locker room with words that were both threatening and encouraging all at once.
"Hey, superstar," Peyton called playfully, making sure to keep the atmosphere light.
Nathan turned at the sound of her voice and grinned. "Hey back!"
One of the teenagers whistled. Peyton's right eyebrow flew upward as she scowled. She could have ignored it, but she also had words ready. However, she didn't have to choose. Nathan beat her to it. "Hey, watch it," he snapped dangerously.
Peyton's other eyebrow rose as well.
"Hi, Miss Sawyer," one of the younger boys greeted her politely as he walked past. She rewarded him with a smile.
"I'm sorry," Nathan said the moment all the boys were gone. "If I knew who that was…"
"Nate," she said gently, touching his chest lightly to get his attention. A smile played on her lips. "You were that guy."
He winced as he calmed down. "Ouch."
"I'm sorry. It's a fact."
Nathan sighed. "So, I, uh…I haven't seen you for a couple days."
She dropped her hand and looked downward.
His gaze was heavy and his was serious. "Did I do something?"
"No!" she said hurriedly, looking up to meet his worried eyes. She knew that this conversation was a possibility, but she hadn't expected to be having it so soon. "Things have always been so relaxed with us. When we're not fighting," she amended, and they both capitalized on the opportunity to smile briefly. "Things for us are easy, Nathan. And I want them to stay that way with us."
He nodded, touching her elbow lightly. "Easy sounds good."
{x}
"You cannot survive on…energy drinks," Peyton lectured him, wrinkling her nose as she examined the contents of his grocery cart.
"Like your diet's any better!" Nathan protested playfully. "The tortured artist. You must drink black coffee and eat…grapefruit, or something."
"Grapefruit?" she laughed, raising her eyebrows.
"Or something," he added once again.
Peyton rolled her eyes. "I eat well, thank you very much. Way better than you do, apparently."
"Are you trying to tell me that you cook?"
"Occasionally," she replied cautiously, unsure of where he planned on taking his comment.
"And it tastes good?"
"Dude, shut up already!" she cried, inching the cart dangerously close to his toes.
He jumped out of the way agilely. "C'mon, Peyton, don't try to fool me. I know you. You hardly ever cooked when your dad was away, and when you did, it sucked. You ate at my house most of the time, remember?"
It was all the truth, she couldn't deny that much. "Yeah," she said with a fond smile, "I remember."
Nathan grinned back. "So what do you allegedly cook?"
"Jerk," she fumed. "Why don't you come over one of these days? I'll wow you with my newly acquired skills in the kitchen."
He paused with his hand resting on the bottle of some electrolyte-charged sports drink, which was, at least, healthier than those caffeine-packed energy drinks. "Really?"
Her eyes darted away from the shocked look on his face. "Well…yeah." She wasn't crossing any lines, she was certain of that. People with easy, casual friendships ate together all the time. "You'll need it anyway, loser," she added in a stronger voice. "Considering all the crap you're buying."
Nathan made a familiar goofy face, but his eyes were shimmering with something unfamiliar. "I've got to start working my potential team tonight, but…soon?"
Peyton nodded, steering the cart out of the aisle and toward the vegetables before he could protest. "Sure. Soon."
{x}
Peyton ran her hand through her curls as she studied the B- written on the comment sheet she'd paper-clipped to an assignment. She frowned at it for a moment before switching it to a B+ with a small stroke of her pen. She never knew how lenient to be. She loved the subject she taught, but it was very difficult to mark.
She considered spending a little more time analyzing her won marking rubric, but when she squinted at the clock she saw that it was past nine. She needed to get home, put on some quiet music, eat something, and get some sleep. She was probably the only teacher still holed up in a classroom.
She threw the marked assignments into a drawer along with her lesson plans for the next day. After locking it, she stood up and stretched out her arms before she shouldered her bag, and glanced back quickly to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything. Flicking off the lights, she stepped out of the door and into the equally dark hallway.
A group of three twelfth-grade boys, rowdy and decked out in varsity jackets, walked toward her, talking loudly. She groaned internally, standing arms akimbo as she faced them. "What're you guys doing here so late?" she demanded authoritatively, trying not to sound too annoyed.
"Practice," one of them answered. "We're not even on the team yet, and already Coach is working us late." He sneered when he spoke Nathan's job title, and her frustration mounted. She wanted to go home.
"Okay, well, get back to your dorms."
Another boy stepped forward. "Aw, but I was hoping to talk tothe great Peyton Sawyer."
She gritted her teeth, ignoring him. "It's past curfew. Move it."
He ignored her right back, moving closer. "You know, I feel like I already know so much about you."
"How nice for you," she bit out sarcastically, stepping back. "Now get to your rooms before you land yourselves two weeks of detention."
"Detention?" another asked. "Will you be there to punish us?"
His friends snickered, and the boy who'd stepped forward continued, "I'm kind of into literature. It impresses the ladies." His voice dropped an octave and the words sent a chill down her spine. "Peyton Sawyer was beautiful," he quoted, "but she wasn't the type of girl who used that to her advantage. She had so many qualities, some showcased, some hidden. She was immensely talented, fiercely strong-willed, witty and supportive. Beneath all her spirit and passion were losses that she couldn't shake, but that vulnerability made me love her even more. Her outer beauty hid her amazing heart, cracked but capable. I loved her most for all of her soulfulness, but I cannot deny that her legs were my kryptonite."
He reached out, touching her leg just above her knees, and she snapped. Tears of anger, humiliation, and memory clouded her vision as she grabbed his wrist, preventing his hand from moving any higher. "Don't you dare," she all but hissed. "I can get you expelled; I could break your arm right now."
"Don't be like that," he grinned. "I'm just waiting for it. I mean, the hero's gotta show up, right? What was it, again? You're always saving me?" he mocked her.
She couldn't' speak, though she wanted to scream at him. Everything she'd been through hrut her enough without having it thrown back in her face by some cocky, horny teenage boy. She didn't want to be so defenseless, but his words were powerful weapons.
"She was meant for me." Lucas' perfect words sounded so crude coming from this kid's mouth. "I knew it from the day her car stopped an inch from my knees, and I knew it when there was no longer any space between us, her body moulding perfectly into mine as we stod on the floor of that gymnasium and all my dreams came true…" By the time he finished, she could barely breathe and their positions had been reversed; he had a firm grasp on her wrist.
He took another step forward, his breath against her skin, and visions of Ian Banks flooded her mind.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" a deep, powerful voice demanded, and suddenly she had her arm back.
Nathan stepped in front of her, absolutely fuming. "A month of detention. None of you are going to the alumnae dinner. And none of you are making my basketball team. Now get out of here before I lose it." His fists were clenched at his sides.
Wide-eyed and frightened, they scrambled off.
Nathan turned to her, his expression softening. "You okay? Peyt, what happened?" he asked, gesturing to her wrist, which she'd begun massaging lightly without realizing it.
His fingers, warm and comforting, closed over hers. "Has anything like this ever happened before?"
She shook her head. She was used to catching the eyes of the male half of the student body, but this was much different.
He nodded to himself, relieved, and tried to smile. "You should've taken 'em out, Sawyer. I know you have it in you."
Peyton meant to smile back, but her tears spilled over instead.
"Hey," he said worriedly, touching her cheek lightly. "You're okay. It's okay."
She let him pull her into a tender hug, snuggling into his chest until she started to feel safe. "I hate that book," she sniffled.
His arms tightened around her. "I know." He spoke softly, into her hair, and she believed him.
{x}
She was barely awake the next morning when she heard a knock on the door. She smiled wearily, assuming that it was Nathan coming to check on her. He'd been reluctant to leave the previous night. She'd spent nearly an hour reassuring him that she was fine – which had exhausted her, along with the emotional stress. The last thing she remembered was falling asleep on the couch while he sat in a nearby chair, watching over her guardedly as basketball players ran about noiselessly on the TV in the background. He must have left pretty late.
When she opened the door she saw Ethan, not Nathan, and she found herself wrapped in a comforting hug before she could even say hi. She groaned into his shoulder even as she gave herself over to his embrace. "Does everyone know?"
He winced on her behalf as he pulled back, his eyes skimming over her body as if checking for broken bones. "Teenage boys are known to brag."
"Oh, God."
"There is a plus side, though," he hurried on. "The administration knows about it now."
Her jaw dropped. "That's a good thing!?"
"They'll probably get suspended for a week, Peyton. Even expelled."
"Awesome," she growled.
"Hey," he said softly, not understanding her anger. He reached toward her, his touch gentle and cautious. "They deserve to be punished. Sexual harassment is a big deal."
She ran her hand over her eyes. "They're stupid, immature kids, yeah. And you're right, they have it coming, especially if they're publicizing it to the world, but I…I don't need any more drama in my life."
"How are you?" he asked her worriedly. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. It wasn't…it wasn't that big a deal."
"Don't be stupid."
She sighed, her shoulders slumping a bit. "Okay, well, it definitely wasn't as bad as it could have been."
"Ah. Yes."
Peyton groaned again, casting him an apologetic glance as she gestured for him to come all the way in and closed the door behind them both. She leaned back against it. "So everyone knows about that, too?"
"Don't look at me like that. I'm glad he was there."
She could feel her defenses rising even though she knew it was unnecessary. "I can take care of myself. In case you haven't read the effing book like the rest of the world clearly has…this stuff happens to me all the time," she said sarcastically.
Ethan smiled knowingly. "I've read it, you know that. You know that I know everything. You're a very strong person, Peyton, on a lot of levels, and I admire that. But those three guys in a dark hallway? Hell, it'd scare me."
She laughed in spite of herself, glancing down as she relaxed. "Maybe not the best thing to tell the ladies, E."
He grinned back, winking: "I'll keep it in mind." He paused, waiting for the levity to fade a bit before asking seriously, "But really, be honest with me…you're okay, right?"
"He barely even touched me," she promised with a mirthless smile.
Ethan studied her, his eyes lit up with concern. "Talk to me."
She crossed her arms, hugging herself protectively. "He just…he said some things I…some things I didn't need to hear." She assessed Ethan's expression and shook her head. "It wasn't even anything bad, Ethan, it really wasn't. It was just…the way he said the things he said."
He offered himself up as her unconditional confidant: "You can tell me anything."
"I know," she said quietly. She felt bad for turning him down; he deserved such a high position in her life. He deserved a lot more than she could give him. But Nathan had already listened to her sleepy, heartbroken confessions of how haunted she was by those words, and she didn't need to relive any of it. She'd had her pitiful moment. She was over it now. "I'm okay," she told him again. "I promise."
{x}
The usual curiosity with which her students eyed her was nothing compared to the staring they tried to hide on this day. She set her books down with a little more force than necessary, well aware that they were all still gaping at her.
"Are you okay?" one of them asked in a timid voice.
She sighed and reminded herself that none of her frustration could rightfully be projected on any of them. "I'm perfectly fine, but thanks for asking." She smiled at them as a group. "Let's start talking about the Renaissance, okay?" She flicked a couple of switches, tapped a couple of keys, and then a slideshow was projected on to the board behind her. "Alright, so as you all know, this is a very important period in general art history. The Renaissance has a lot of aspects. A lot of very famous, influential artists hit their peeks during this time; we'll study a few of them and look at their lives and their inspirations. We'll look at various facets of this time period; we'll consider literature being written and published at the same time, the concept of romanticism –"
"I think it's romantic," one of the girls sighed, interrupting her. She looked a little more sure of herself than her classmates did.
Peyton paused, confused. "Come again?"
"I think it's romantic," she repeated in a louder voice, clarifying, "The way Coach Scott came to your rescue like that."
She blinked a few times. "Excuse me?"
"You're dating…right?" another girl with gossip-hungry eyes asked eagerly.
"No!" Peyton cried emphatically, growing even more shocked when she saw that her answer seemed to have surprised all of her students. "No, we're not," she repeated forcefully. "He was simply helping me out, the way any person with any integrity would. I don't know who started that rumour, but it's entirely false. And while I appreciate your concern, your curiosity is going to remain curiosity. We won't be discussing my personal life in the classroom ever again." She turned back to her slideshow, satisfied with her assertiveness.
Her students, however, didn't seem to care. "But you did date, right? For a long time," another kid added.
Peyton whirled back around. "How do you –"
She stopped short, spotting the copy of An Unkindness of Ravens in the student's hands. She saw red. Placing her hands on her hips, she said, "Every single one of you with a copy of that book, I want it on my desk right now." No one moved, so she repeated, "All of you, or you'll get detention for a week. Right now."
There was a flurry of movement. Two minutes later she was staring down at fourteen copies of the novel. She forced a smile as she gathered the books in her arms. "Excuse me for a moment."
She marched down the hallway, fiercely determined, with the tower of novels teetering in her arms. She walked to the doors of her building and out, down the walkway toward the gymnasium, and let herself in.
Nathan's entire potential basketball team sat in front of him, looking chagrined as he paced menacingly, talking at top volume and speed. Peyton paused just inside.
"Coach Scott?" she called in her most professional tone of voice. "I'm very sorry to interrupt, but may I borrow you for a moment?"
An immediate murmur started up amongst the teenagers, but one deathly glare from Nathan silenced them. "Of course, Miss Sawyer," he replied, his voice strained, and followed her back out of the gym.
She handed him half of the books before he could speak.
"Peyton – what – " He stared down at the books he held in bewilderment.
"Come with me, please," she ordered, beginning to walk off without waiting for him.
He caught up with her easily. "Uh, are you aware of what people are saying about us?" he asked nervously. "I'm not sure you dragging me out of the gym is the best way to squash those rumours."
She gritted her teeth, heels clacking quickly against the stone walkway as she headed toward the building that housed the administrative offices. "I have my own methods."
"Are you okay?"
"Peachy," she snapped, balancing the novels carefully as she opened the door, letting them both in. She walked upstairs with Nathan one step behind her, leading him directly to the Headmistress' office. She breezed by the secretaries and walked in without preamble.
"Miss Sawyer!" Headmistress Stora spluttered when she barged in. "Mr. Scott." She eyed them both a bit suspiciously. Clearly, the rumours had reached her, too. She focused her gaze on Peyton, asking worriedly, "How are you?"
"Fine, thank you," Peyton replied politely.
"Well…good. I assure you that those boys will be dealt with most severely…"
"Thank you," she said earnestly. "I appreciate it. But I was wondering if there wasn't one more small thing you could do for me?" She set the books down on the desk and Nathan, following her lead, did the same.
"I'm afraid I don't follow," the headmistress replied, clearly confused.
Nathan had finally caught up to her train of thought. He touched the ring finger of her left hand with the pinky finger of his right subtly. She glanced at him and grinned in response to the impressive, raised-eyebrow look he wore. Closure, he mouthed, clearly proud of her, and she nodded surreptitiously. She returned her gaze to the head of the school, wearing her natural smile.
"I'd like you to ban this book from school grounds."
A/N: Thank you so much for reading/reviewing. One reviewer pointed out that Ethan's last name was actually Copeland. I'm going to leave it as Cooper, just because I've already written it that way. To those of you who expected this to be LP, I apologize for misleading you, but I hope you can still enjoy it. Reviews are always awesome, and bonus points to those of you who I can guess the song from which the title of each chapter comes from. ;)