So this is a new story. No, I haven't forgotten about the other two; I've just been super stressed to write long chapters as to not disappoint, so I've decided to write a story I've been thinking about for a while and disclaiming at the beginning that not all chapters will be hefty in length.
Let me know what you think ?
This is based around the movie 'She's All That'.
I do not own the movie and I do not own One Tree Hill):

love you,
addie j*


I Couldn't Save You

Monday
January 5th , 2009

I haven't always been an ass.

Well, actually, I'm pretty sure I have.

But can you blame me?

Since birth, I have been defined by my father's failed aspirations. I have been thrown into a pedigree I never desired in the first place. I have been given a gift I never asked for. I have had talent and greatness thrust upon me in some of the most unseemly ways. I have had my entire life centered on one thing; basketball. I was just looking for an escape.

That's when she came into my life.

She surprised me with her intelligence. She astonished me with her beauty. She challenged me with her spunk. She inspired me.

Because of her, I treat people differently. Because of her, I have a whole new outlook on life. Because of her, I've realized what my life is truly about. Because of her, I am what I am today: an ass. Because of Rachel, I have mindlessly followed my father's advice and found myself exactly where I didn't want to be. Because of Rachel, I associate myself with the wrong people and degrade the right ones. Because of Rachel, I don't care who I hurt. Because of Rachel, I am who I am.

It's not like it's all bad. I mean, because of Rachel, I run the school. And because of Rachel, I am the most sought after and envied guy in all of Tree Hill High, but those aren't exactly things I can put on my resume.

Rachel. My super hot, head cheerleader girlfriend.

It's common knowledge that the captain of the basketball team dates the head cheerleader. So when it comes down to it, I didn't even get to choose that. Sometimes, when I actually think about our relationship, it makes me physically ill.

Rachel and I have been dating since the 8th grade, when she first moved to Tree Hill. In the 9th grade, the head cheerleader, Stacy Morson, took Rach under her bitchy, anorexic wing. While, at the same time, Tyson Conners, the captain of the Tree Hill Ravens basketball team, took me in as his little brother. When Morson and Conners, who ironically were dating each other, left Tree Hill High the following year, it was only fitting that their protegees took over the school that they once reigned.

Sure, Rachel and I have had our troubles. We haven't always been faithful to each other or been nice to each other, but every couple has their problems. Since the 10th grade I have been morbidly convinced that Rachel and I were destined to be together. That fate hated me that much. But recently I've been realizing fate hates me more than I thought. Fate was just playing with me, back and forward, like a cat and a yarn ball. Guess which one of us is the cat. Here's a hint: it's not me.

Nathan Scott


She twirled her fiery red hair around her index finger, so I knew she wasn't angry. She used her middle finger when she was angry.

She smacked her gum and looked un-animatedly at her dark blue fingernail polish. I used to find these mannerisms sexy, analyzing them more deeply than necessary. I used to believe she knew what she was doing, she was giving the impression that she wasn't interested, but she truly was deep down; deep, deep down.

I used to imagine her mind, contemplating what I was thinking while I was looking at her playing with her hair and smacking her gum and looking at her nails. I used to construe these images in my brain of what she was thinking about, all of the amazing things she was thinking about.

But I've grown up and I've come to a more accurate conclusion; she wasn't thinking at all. She was just there. She was just being. She was just playing with her hair. She was just smacking her gum. She was just looking at her nails. She just was.

I haven't decided yet if I'm more jealous or unamused at the fact that she can just turn her brain off like that; I mean, assuming she can turn it on. But how marvelous it would be to silence those thoughts that come swiftly and repetitively and so loudly. Thoughts that include the words marvelous and swiftly.

She widened her eyes at her dark blue nail, as if attempting to keep herself awake.

Or maybe she was attempting a conversation with it? I never do pay attention.

She blew a bubble with her pink gum and popped it by closing her mouth over it. I think I used to find these mannerisms sexy, it's hard to remember.

Rachel and I sat at a concrete table in the middle of the quad, in the middle of a dozen other people sitting at a dozen other concrete tables. People talking and laughing.

Suddenly, I was increasingly aware of the silence surrounding our own concrete table. Something wasn't right. There was no one else with us. There was always someone else with us.

Where were Rachel's cronies, basking in the light of her disapprovement? Where were my teammates, worshiping the ground I walk on? Something wasn't right.

The silence was deafening.

"Okay," Rachel huffed, pulling herself away from what I'm sure was an invigorating conversation with her nails. "Obviously this thing between us isn't working out."

Obviously? I don't believe I received that memo.

"Winter break was a real eye opener," Rachel elaborated.

Winter break, right. While I was stuck running drill after drill and throwing free throw after free throw, at home under the nazi-eye of my father, my girlfriend was in Cabo with the rest of her mindless skank friends and no doubt hundreds of ignorant men falling at her feet. What a wonderful, supportive girlfriend.

"I met somebody and he changed me."

"So you're pregnant." I stated bluntly; there was an opening, I took it.

She gave me one of her signature death glares before ignoring my comment and continuing with my de-manilizing.. I might of made that word up, but you get the picture. "His name is Damien. He's in college and he has a future with the NBA and I have a future with him."

"So you're pregnant."

"Damien is a man, Nathan. I'm done with immature, little boys."

"So it's a girl?" Another opening, ba-zing.

She ignored my comment once again, "Stop being childish, Nathan. You didn't honestly think I'd leave for college still dating you, did you? Damien West is everything I could ask for in a relationship."

If I weren't so infuriated, I'd laugh. "Damien West? From Oak Lake? The kid who threw that basketball at the ref because of a bad call?"

"So he's working on some things-"

"Rach, he rendered a 67 year old man unconscious. That dude is psycho." And so are you, perfect match.

"Whatever Nathan, I just wanted to let you know we're done."

I sighed in contempt, how I loathed this girl.

"Oh, but don't worry. I'll still go to prom with you, it's only fitting that the King and Queen go together."

Yeah, cause after you just dumped me for some mentally unstable freakshow, I was really worried you wouldn't want to go to prom with me. Thank goodness we solved that.

She sighed, annoyed at my silence. "Don't do the whole self deppreciating thing Nate, it makes you look like a tool."

And with that she stood up and strode away.

"Self deprecating, idiot." I mumbled and stood up as well.

The whole student body watched in amused silence as I slumped away.

Dumping me in the middle of everyone, classy Rach, real classy.