Five days later, she was standing in her gallery office, toying with a final logo for the record label that she and her best friend decided was the best thing that Peyton could do. She smiled, thinking about the possibilities of the whole thing... getting to do with it what she wanted and not having to answer to someone else about anything.

"Peyton?" One of her employees calls from the doorway. "There is someone here for you."

"Okay, I'll be right out." she says, snapping out of her momentary daydream, and making her way to the main part of the gallery.

"Peyton Sawyer." he says, holding out flowers for her.

She smiles, taking the flowers with a blush in her cheeks, "Lucas Scott."

"You said not to be a stranger..." he says, catching the kink in her brow and the smirk on her face.

"I also didn't tell you how to find me..." she says and he smiles. "So how did you..."

"Do you want the suave version or the dorky version?"

"Suave first, and we'll see if that impresses me."

"I just happened to be walking by and noticed this small art gallery and knew that it had to be yours, so I ran to the nearest flower shop and then came back to sweep you off your feet."

She narrows her eyes at him, showing her disbelief at that particular reason for him being in front of her right now.

"Or... I figured out how many galleries there were in this area, and there were a lot, and I called every one of them asking if Peyton Sawyer worked there until I found this one, and then I walked by it about fifty times before deciding to go get you flowers, and then I walked by another fifty times before walking in and asking someone if I could see you." he finally admits, looking down at his feet, unable to actually reach her eyes after his sheepish confession.

When he finally did look up, all he saw was her smile and the way her eyes twinkled as she glanced between him and the flowers she now held in her hand.

"And what exactly were you hoping to get out of this little meeting Lucas?"

"I wanted to ask you out to dinner on Friday night. I could pick you up here after you were done with work."

She considered it for a moment before nodding and making plans to see him at eight that night. Of course, to her luck, her best friend happened to be walking in right as Lucas was getting ready to walk out.

"P. Sawyer!" Brooke says, making a loud entrance as always.

Peyton looked to Brooke and then back at Lucas, "I'll see you then?"

"Yeah," he says, stepping away from her and walking to the door before turning back. "Hey Peyton?"

She looks away from her curious friend back towards Lucas.

"How's the record label?" he asks with a smirk.

"How's the writer's block?" she counters, smiling as she watches him shake his head and walk out the door and onto the street.

She allowed herself a moment of girlish indulgence as she smiled to herself. He had to have known that she would get into that the second she left him that night, and for some reason that stirred up something in her.

Of course, she was quickly brought back down to earth by her friend's hand on her shoulder, "THAT was the someone from Friday night?"

"Maybe..."

"and you didn't tell me that you made plans with the boy, let alone told him where you worked."

"I didn't... he called all the galleries looking for me."

"SHUT UP! He did not!"

She nods, scrunching up her nose and smiling at the cuteness of his grand gesture.

"So what's next? Are you guys going out? When are you going to see him again? What are you going to wear? How old is he? What does he do?"

"Brooke! Woah! We're going to dinner on Friday!"

"And...."

"I don't know what I'm going to wear yet, he's 23, and he's an author."

"An author? Like an actual author?"

"Ravens..."

"That's Lucas Scott?"

"The one and only according to Google."

"Peyton Sawyer! You Googled him....?" she says with the innuendo present in her tone.

"Oh Brooke, don't make that sound dirty. I was curious."

"This is going to be interesting..." she says, walking back into Peyton's office.

As Friday approached she found herself genuinely excited about the date, feeling like she had actually met someone interesting for a change. Even if it didn't go anywhere, she would have had a few stimulating conversations with a member of the opposite sex, and that was pretty good.

That evening, she was finishing up with customers when he walked in. Charcoal gray pants with an ice blue shirt was definitely enough to impress her, her eyes catching his as she put up a signal that told him that she would be just one more minute.

He took in her animation in talking about the artwork that she was showing, a smile every now and then bordered with serious eyes and concentrated looks. She was someone easy to watch, and her attire was making it all the more easy. Her knee length black skirt flared out, but hugged all the places it should, and her cranberry tank top with a dark vest over top of it also hugged all the right places.

She was soon walking over to him, her look explaining that it might be a bit longer, "I'm sorry.... they are so close to buying one of these pieces. I'll just be a few more minutes."

"Peyton, it's fine, I can wait."

"I'm really sorry. Why don't you look around while you're waiting, it'll make the time pass."

"You're an artist on the side, do you have anything here?"

"Maybe..." she says, walking away from him to get back to the undecided couple.

Thirty minutes later the couple was out the door, and he found himself standing in front of a painting that had taken his breath away. It was an oil showing what seemed a passage of time, with people on a bright and sunny beach at high tide fading into a beach strewn with sunglasses and towels that were seemingly left behind.

"Did you find one that you liked?" she asked, approaching him after settling everything in her office and locking the door behind the couple.

"This one... it's like I don't know. It's like a new beginning, but at the same time, something is being left behind, going away. I keep coming back to it, but you don't have any labels, so I don't know it's name or artist."

"Fading Summer." she says casually.

"That's exactly what that is... wow."

She didn't say anything, just watching him take in the art work with a creased brow and pursed lips. It was as if the painting was the most important thing in the world to him at the moment.

"And the artist?" he asks, without taking his eyes away.

She glances at the painting again, and then makes a move towards the door, "Let's go eat..."

He meets her eyes then, knowing instantly that she just confessed who the artist was by her lack of answer. It doesn't surprise him that she could produce something like that, but it does take his breath away thinking about the beautiful painting that he kept being drawn to. He chooses to drop the line of questioning, placing a hand on her lower back and guiding her to the doorway.

When they arrive at the restaurant neither really acknowledges the fact that they haven't really said anything more than what was said in the gallery to each other. The walk from her gallery to the small restaurant they were dining at was spent in companionable silence, with him placing a gentle hand on her arm or back every now and then to guide her through the other pedestrians.

It wasn't until they were being seated and he pulled out her chair that he leaned in to whisper in her ear, "you look absolutely beautiful tonight."

She says nothing, somehow knowing that he just wanted to make the comment and not draw any attention to it. Instead she grabs her menu and selects her meal of the evening. Waiting for the waiter was still in silence. It was an easy silence though, not holding any expectation for coming out of it, and now awkward like it should have been with two people that barely knew each other.

After the waiter took their order though, she began to get curious, "So, where are you from Lucas Scott?"

"Tree Hill, North Carolina... it's a small town right along one of the rivers."

"I've heard of it."

"You have not..." he says, knowing that nobody has ever heard of the place he calls home.

"Wilmington, North Carolina, born and raised. You lived about an hour from me."

"Really?"

"Guess so."

"And then you were in Los Angeles and now you're in New York."

"You went from Tree Hill to Greensburo to New York, yes?" she says, hoping that he gets the admission.

"Why Peyton Sawyer did you Google me?"

"Maybe I did..."

"And how do I look?" he asks, trying to not sound too excited at the idea of her actually taking that much of an interest in him.

"Not too bad Scott... not too bad."

"Anything that you need to get clarification on?"

"Ravens... was it all true?"

"What do you mean?"

"Raised by a single mom, jack ass of a father, half brother who you hated until he married your best friend, basketball was your life, school shootings, murders, and whatnot... or was that just to sell books?" she asks, bringing up everything that she could think of that was in his first novel.

"Every word..." he says, and then silence falls on the table.

She studied his reaction to her question, mentally slapping herself for being so forward. There was a line that she had crossed, and she didn't know exactly where to go from there.

Thankfully, the waiter arrived with their food to break up the first awkward silence of the evening.

As they started to eat, she would glance up at him every now and then, finally not being able to take it any more, "I'm sorry..."

"About what?" he asks, shrugging.

"I shouldn't have made light of what you've gone through. I honestly thought that it was more fiction than fact."

"Peyton, you didn't know... and not a lot of people do."

"Why publish something with so much personal pain in it?"

"You read it?"

"I had some time on my hands between last Friday and today."

He smirks at that admission, but still wanting to get her at ease about bringing up his past problems, "There has been a lot of shit in my life that has sucked. Yeah, I was raised by a single mom, but she was the best damn mom a kid could have. My father was a jackass who, as it turned out, killed my Uncle Keith during a school shooting that to this day still gives me and my brother nightmares. My brother and I are the best of friends now, but we hated each other before that to the point that he was actually using my best friend, who is now his wife, to get back at me in the beginning. Yes they got married and had a baby all before we graduated high school, and in all honesty, I don't think that I've ever seen a stronger marriage because of it. My book was a way to express all those things that didn't make sense but somehow worked out in the end."

"And that surely matters to someone..."

"Does it?"

"I think it does... hell, I've had plenty of crap happen to me too, and if I could let everyone know about it and tell them that I'm okay now in print, then I probably would too."

"A fading summer... good memory or bad memory?"

"The summer between my junior and senior year was something that I was looking forward to. Most of my friends were gone, so I didn't have to deal with their drama, and I had planned on spending the entire time at the beach. It was going to be wonderful. It got taken away when a woman came to my door the first week claiming to be my mother."

"How does that..." he starts asking, confused as to how someone could not know who their mother was.

"My mom actually died when I was 8, but as it turns out after I contacted my dad and told him to come home, I was adopted. The woman who was on my porch was my biological mother."

"And where did you go from there?" he asks, getting more curious about a past that was as filled with heartbreak as his own.

"From there I got to know her, but she died just a few months later from breast cancer."

"What about your birth father?"

"... a mystery for another evening. But the painting was done as a result of that... all the hopes I had for the summer all faded away..." she says, clicking her tongue at him.

They finished their meal talking about the stories that shaped their past, and all the things they have going on now in the present. The future, they decided would be saved for next time.

He walked her home that evening after thoroughly enjoying himself. It seemed as if something had been lifted off of his shoulders. It was someone new in his life that took in everything from his past, processed it, and accepted it with ease. She too had her rough story, and was amazed that he accepted it the way he did as well.

"Wednesday." he says, after they had been standing at the door to her apartment complex for a while.

"hmmm?" she replies, not knowing the question she was supposed to gather out of that statement.

"Are you at work?"

"Always...."

"Well, then I've got a meeting in the area for my next novel, and I'm going to bring you lunch."

"And why would you do that?"

"Because I think you might be the reason I'm writing again, so I'm thanking you, and because I like talking with you Peyton."

She was taken aback for a moment when he declared that she could be the reason why he was writing again, but instead accepted his offer for lunch that week.

When he asked if he could kiss her, she said yes, and the two stood at her door for a few minutes, exchanging a few chaste kisses, blushing and glancing at each other shyly after doing so. They knew that there was something there. They knew, but they didn't know how powerful and meaningful it would be.

–

Okay, so the next chapter is going to fast forward a few months. I hope that you all are enjoying this. I'll be bringing in the main reason for the story withing the next few chapters, so be prepared!!

Reviews are always welcome!!!!