Near to You
{'cause near to you, I am healing, but it's taking so long}
Chapter Six: faith and desire and the swing of your hips
Peyton jumped a little when his arms encircled her from behind, but relaxed into his embrace as he pressed a series of kisses up the column of her neck. He spoke in between kisses, the feeling of his breath against her neck sending shivers up her spine.
"You…look so…damn sexy…when…you cook for me." He groaned against her neck. "You're killing me, you know that?"
She set down her spatula and turned in his arms so that she was facing him. "That's why I do it," she told him matter-of-factly, her eyes sparkling with triumph. There was a reason she'd come over here early on a Saturday morning in a short denim skirt she hadn't worn in a good three years.
"I want –"
"Pancakes?" She cut him off with her suggestion, blinking innocently.
"You," he said firmly, pushing aside the mixing bowl that sat behind her. She hopped up onto the counter before he could go to lift her; she still worried about his body, particularly his back.
She pressed her knees together. "I'm wearing the wrong skirt for this."
His eyes were dark, stormy blue. "You are wearing exactly the right kind of skirt for this."
Nathan knew how to make her feel good. He always had, though she had only told him so once, in a rare moment of honesty in a pool not too long after their breakup.
She could feel herself caving. He wanted her, and it seemed stupid to deny them both something they desired. But at the same time, they'd been together for all of a week and she was sitting on his kitchen counter at eight o'clock on a Saturday morning, the corner of a box of pancake mix poking into her back. She wouldn't have thought twice about any of it when she was sixteen. But they were better than this now.
"Wait," she murmured, pushing at his chest lightly.
"What…what is it?"
She shook her head, straightening her skirt and sitting upright. "Not now, Nathan. Not here. Not like this."
He frowned, trying to understand her through the haze of lust that had overtaken his mind. "Did you want…"
Peyton shook her head again. She didn't need Egyptian cotton of a dozen roses. She'd already had her first time with him, albeit many years ago. And while he was being entirely sweet to her, she just didn't want to have sex with him for the first time in years on the kitchen counter of his faculty house. "Just not like this," she sighed. He was still frowning, so she elaborated, "We're adults now, Nathan. I want this to be an adult relationship."
His hand fell from her thigh, where it had been resting. "That's crap."
As she tugged the hem of her skirt downward, her eyebrows flew up. "It's crap because you can't get laid right now?" she demanded defensively.
"No," he said, "It's crap because you don't know how an adult relationship works. You've never had one. You had Lucas, and then you couldn't get over him and you had nothing. No wonder you're being so weird about this. "
She slid off the counter and brushed by him forcefully. She couldn't look at him. She couldn't respond to that.
Behind her, he sighed. "Look, Peyton…"
She blinked repeatedly. "I'm going to go," she said robotically.
"Peyton…" he reached for her arm, gently touching her elbow, but she wrenched herself out of his reach, turning around in the process so that he could see the tears that were beginning to form.
"Don't touch me," she bit out.
"Hey," he said apologetically, staring at the tears that gathered in her lower lashes worriedly. "Look, I didn't mean to –"
"Oh, you meant it. I could tell that you meant it."
"Would you just listen to me for a second?"
"No. How dare you say that to me?" she seethed. "Yeah, okay, maybe it's been a while since I've had sex, and maybe it's been a really long time since I've been seriously involved with someone, but I was hurt. I was still in love and I was hurt and now you're standing here throwing this in my face!"
"Peyton, I…"
"You want to talk about adult relationships, Nathan?" she asked him angrily, planting a hand on her hip. "Okay, let's talk about you. You got married at sixteen, and as far as I can tell, it was downhill from there. What kind of adult relationship did you have, huh? The kind where you selfishly drink yourself into oblivion, forgetting your son and leaving your wife to take care of the house and your child and you?"
He stared at her, struck speechless, just as she had been moments before. "Whoa," he finally said softly, and she was flooded with emotion.
Contritely, she whispered, "Nate, I didn't mean –"
He cut her off. "Yeah, you did." He shook his head. "I really don't understand why you turned me down, earlier, though," he added mockingly, "you've just made it painfully obvious how badly you need to get laid."
Peyton shook her head in disgust, whirling around and pacing away from him. She felt bad, but he'd hit all of her nerves and she'd hit his right back.
"Where are you going?" he demanded, right on her heels.
"Oh, I'm sorry," she replied with faux earnestness. "Should I stay and let you do me so I can become a little more likable?"
"That's not what I –"
"In answer to your question, Nathan, I'm leaving. I don't know why we even tried to fool ourselves."
"What is that supposed to mean?" he demanded hotly.
"It means that we were right!" She yelled back. "Everyone was right! All our relationship has ever been and all it ever will be…fighting and sex, right?"
"Well, whose fault is that?" he demanded irrationally.
"Mine, of course," she said sarcastically, "because I won't sleep with you right now."
"I show up here and all of a sudden you're helping me unpack and showing me around and cooking me dinner! You're the one who initiated this!"
"Me? You were practically drooling! It's like you just got out of jail."
"You were so desperate you threw yourself at me! What is it about me that reminds you of Lucas, huh? The eyes?"
Her own eyes widened in disbelief that he'd even ask her that. "No, more like your uncanny similarities to the wonderful man you both call your father."
"Go to hell," he growled, and a fresh batch of tears stung at her eyes.
"Fuck you, Nathan," she whispered back, reaching for the doorknob and letting herself out.
"Apparently not!" he called bitterly after her.
{x}
"This is the third day in a row this has happened," Peyton told her class on Monday morning, trying to remain patient. "When I give you homework, I expect you to do it."
"Come on, Miss Sawyer," one of the smarter students groaned. "This is a joke class."
She could only stare at him for a moment. "Excuse me?" she asked incredulously.
"You know what I mean. The school only forces students to take these classes in order to 'broaden their horizons'. In reality, am I really going to use this class? When I'm working at CERN colliding particles to discover the smallest components of matter, am I really going to need to know anything about Monet?" He smiled confidently. "No. I'm not."
Her weekend had been miserable. She'd spent the remainder of Saturday watching the movie channel on her couch while she marked quizzes. All of Sunday had been dedicating to moping around while she avoided phone calls from Ethan and her father. She hadn't slept very well despite all the time she'd spent in bed, and the last thing she needed first period on a Monday morning was some smartass physics genius teenager who felt the need not only to belittle, but to completely discredit her course.
Her hands balled into fists. "I can't do this right now," she sighed, shaking her head. "Read chapter three," she ordered quietly, and proceeded to walk out of the room.
Outside in the hall, she buried her face in her hands and took several deep breaths. It had been years since she'd felt quite this helplessly depressed about something.
"Hey." A hand touched her back softly. "You okay?"
Instead of replying, she simply rotated her body about thirty degrees and leaned into Ethan's body, burying her face in his chest. He hugged her automatically, rubbing large, slow circles on her back. "Bad morning?"
"Bad weekend," she responded, her voice muffled. She pulled away from him, shot him a quick smile of gratitude, and sighed.
"Want to talk about it?"
"Don't you have class?"
"So do you," he reminded her, smiling slightly.
"Yeah," she breathed. "I've got to get back in there and…teach something."
His hand was still resting lightly on her back. "Are you sure you don't want to tell me what's going on?"
Peyton shook her head. "Honestly, I don't want to talk about it. It sucks enough without having to relive it."
Ethan nodded sagely. "You and Nathan will be okay."
She turned to look at him so quickly her neck cracked. "How did you…"
"It's obvious," he admitted.
She groaned. "The thing, Ethan, is that I'm not so sure we will be okay. And even if we can be…I'm not so sure that's what I want. Maybe I should've just…we should just have stayed for friends."
"I don't think you two were ever just friends," he chuckled. "I mean, through your last year of high school and all the time he was with his wife…of course you were. But I have a feeling that you and Nathan weren't best buds before you got together."
"Fair enough," she said with a quiet laugh.
"You'll figure it out," he promised before he headed back toward the lab. "I know you will."
{x}
"Brooke Davis," a businesslike voice chirped by way of greeting.
Peyton smiled at the sound. "Oh, I'm sorry. I was looking for my best friend, but I must have the wrong number. You sound so professional."
"P. Sawyer!" Brooke squealed excitedly. "Oh my God, girl, I have missed you!" There was a flurry of voices and Brooke said faintly, "Not right now. Give me a few, okay? Just fax Terri those designs we decided on earlier." Her voice became clearer as she said, "Sorry about that." She laughed happily. "How are you?"
Peyton sighed, leaning back in her desk chair. "I'm…kind of crappy. Brooke, I'm sorry, I'm so horrible. I can't believe that I'm only calling you because I'm having a bad day. We haven't talked in…almost three months."
"Honey, it's okay," Brooke said quietly. "Phones work both ways. It's not like I've called you, either."
"I still suck."
"If you say so," she replied, and Peyton could almost see the teasing smile her friend was wearing. "Tell me what's wrong, P."
She bit her bottom lip hesitantly. She didn't know where to begin; she didn't feel ready to start making confessions about Nathan being there and her new-yet-old relationship with him. "Today has just…it's been bad," she whispered, tears in her voice.
"Can you tell me more?" Brooke asked her gently.
"Not really," she choked out before elaborating vaguely, "I said some stupid things I didn't really mean and I'm hurt and sad and…scared that I messed something up." She took a deep breath and laughed weakly. "How are you?"
Brooke laughed lightly as well. "I'm…I'm okay. Business is good, but…Victoria is…Victoria. And I guess…I'm lonely."
"I wish you were here. Or…I wish I was there."
"Yeah," Brooke said softly. "Sometimes I just miss how things used to be. I miss high school and cheerleading and knowing how I was. I miss the feeling of being home, and having the people I loved with me every day." Her voice perked up a bit. "But I guess you still have most of those things, right?"
Peyton sighed deeply. "More than you know," she whispered.
"Honey…have you been talking to Lucas?"
Peyton rolled her eyes even though Brooke couldn't see her. "No. Do you really assume that every time I cry it's because of something he's done?"
"No, I'm just…trying to get a hold on what kind of disaster we're dealing with, here," Brooke replied teasingly.
"You don't have to worry about me, B. Davis."
"You call me in tears and then tell me not to worry about you? Jeez, Peyton, you are a mess."
She giggled reluctantly. "Brooke…do you believe in taking second chances?"
"Sure."
"Really? You believe that…that things can change so much that it's actually worth it?"
"Definitely," Brooke confirmed. "And Peyton…sometimes, especially with…well, especially with you…sometimes you don't give the first chance the shot it deserves."
Peyton let out the breath she'd been holding. "Thank you."
"Anytime. I better hear your smile the next time you call."
"Hoes over woes," Peyton joked.
"I love you, P. Sawyer," Brooke replied quietly, and they both paused for a moment before hanging up.
{x}
Peyton closed her binder, feeling satisfied with her work. She felt bad about losing it in class earlier, so she'd designed a fun lesson for the next day, hoping that it would have the added benefit of convincing her students to start investing some time in their assignments.
It was getting late, and she was proud of herself for having the courage to be alone in the building in the late hours of the evening. After the day she'd had, the peace and quiet was actually quite relaxing. The only light in her classroom came from a single lamp, the shade of which she'd covered with a gauzy scarf. The patterns on it danced on the walls of the room, casting a soft glow. Peyton studied the pictures painted in light on the walls, propping her chin in her hand and smiling sleepily.
There was a light knock on her door and she swiveled around quickly in her chair. She was surprised to see Nathan standing in the doorway.
She tried to say hi, but the sound got stuck in her throat.
He held up a paper bag from the local drugstore. "Peace offering." She smiled weakly and he took that as the go-ahead to walk in and hand it to her.
She accepted it, her fingers barely brushing his, and set it in her lap. Delicately, she reached inside and removed both items.
Cosmopolitan magazine and black nail polish.
"I'm sorry," she blurted.
Nathan placed his hands on her cheeks, leaning down to kiss the crown of her head, effectively silencing her. He gently pulled the nail polish from her grasp, grabbed a nearby chair, and sat down a couple feet away from her.
He arched his eyebrows pointedly as he uncapped the nail polish. Wordlessly, she slipped her feet out of her flats and rested them in his lap. He got to work instantly, but she took a moment to study him, feeling the overwhelming and contradicting needs to both laugh and cry. In the end, she simply opened her magazine and began to read in silence.
{x}
"You've gotten better," Peyton said softly, wiggling her toes. "But you didn't have to do this."
He shrugged, beginning to massage her feet without really realizing what he was doing. "It's my way of apologizing. I was a jerk, Peyton. I was horny and I wasn't thinking."
She smirked slightly.
"I didn't mean what I said. Those things about Lucas…they were uncalled for and unfair."
"Nathan…you know that I'm over this, right? These past few days…it's all been about you. You and me."
"Good to know." He acknowledged her words with a smile.
"It just…it hurt because you hit me where it has always hurt most, especially after what those boys said to me last week. But at the same time…I did the exact same thing to you. Bet you're not so glad about the bitch being back anymore, huh?"
"It's okay," he muttered.
"No, it's not. I didn't mean any of it. You've been through a lot, but you've always been a great dad to Jamie, and you always tried for Haley. You are nothing like Dan. I mean that."
"Thanks, Sawyer," he replied quietly.
She pressed her lips together. "So where does this leave us?"
His eyes scanned her face. "Where do you want it to leave us?"
"I don't know," she sighed, breaking eye contact and avoiding his hungry gaze.
His hands continued to loosen her muscles in all the right ways. "Peyt, look, I…I know you're scared. I feel it, too. And I know that you've had your heart badly broken. And I know that all of our history scares you because my track record is…not so great. But I'm different now; so are you. And these past few days, for me, have been better than I could have hoped for. I guess what I'm asking you for is…is some faith. I want you to have some faith in me, and in you, and in us."
Peyton took a deep breath. After a long moment, she found the courage to admit: "Luke wasn't the only one who broke my heart, you know."
His eyes were instantly flooded with emotion and comprehension, but he was kind enough not to start demanding details as to when her sixteen-year-old self had started loving him. "You know what your problem is, Peyton? You think in absolutes. People always leave. Boys always break hearts." His hand skimmed upward, caressing her calf. "You're the one who told me that sometimes they come back. Now I'm just asking you to let me try and prove that…sometimes they take care of your heart."
She swallowed hard. "Okay," she whispered.
Nathan grinned. "Okay?"
She smiled back, admiring the way his eyes looked in the dim light. "As long as you accept my apology."
"Of course I do. And you know that I didn't mean any of it, right? Not about Lucas, or you being desperate, or those jibes at your sex life…"
Peyton grinned tentatively, mischievously as his hand slid a little further up her leg. "Yeah…why don't we shut up about your brother…and do something about that?"
"I got a room at the Willow," he said, referring to the best hotel in town. Catching the expression she wore, he quickly added, "Sorry if that was presumptuous."
She shook her head, removing her feet from his lap and shoving the magazine in one of her desk's many drawers. She stood up, tossing her hair back. "Thank you for wanting to do that for me." She walked to the door and crooked a finger, indicating that he should follow her, which he willingly did. "And I'm glad we're going to be different, Nate." She began to walk down the hall without turning around, counting on him following her. "But I still want to be us. And a ritzy hotel just…isn't."
"What are you saying?" he asked slowly as he trailed after her down the darkened hallway.
She paused just before she turned a corner, looking back at him with heavy eyelids and a coy smile. "I've always wanted to do it in the Coach's office."
A/N: Last chapter's title came from The Lovin' Spoonful's Do You Believe in Magic? Old but very good. Thanks for the reviews, and congrats to those of you who got it right. Any guesses for this chapter? ;)