Gabe holds up an album and says, "There's no way you have this one." I can't see what it is, so I'm saying it's a Greg MacPherson album, even though he's a folk singer from Winnipeg and not even remotely punk -- well, perhaps he's a little punk in his attitude. Peyton scoffs, "Oh, please, I've got it on coloured vinyl." Ah, high school; I used to collect vinyl. Gabe grabs his chin and strokes it with his black fingernails. Then he says, "Okay, I was wrong about you -- I guess the clothes threw me off." Peyton: "I'm into the music, not the uniform." Gabe: "Same as me." Yeah, dude's wearing a black t-shirt, no logo, with a white, long-sleeved undershirt. He's so not dressed the part or anything. Whatever. Hey, Eddie Vedder called; he'll join you in line, Gabe. You can both wait for the early '90s fashions to come back together. Peyton: "Yeah, well maybe some of us can love the songs without painting our fingernails black." She giggles. He leers at her and wiggles his fingers. He says, "Let me get you a drink." She tells him she's not really drinking tonight. He declares, "So that's why I've never met you before, you're still in high school." Peyton looks down at the bedcovers and flirts, "Yeah, I'm a regular cheerleader." Man, she uses that line way too much. Why does she cheer if it makes her this uncomfortable about who she really is? Gabe leans forward: "Come on, one drink -- I haven't even gotten to my bootleg collection yet." Peyton says, "Why not." He gets up, pours some hard alcohol, and drops a wee, white pill into her drink -- plop plop, fizz fizz, oh, what a nightmare this is. Poor Peyton, she's not up for this; it's been a hard couple of months.
Now, if Keith's at the café and they've just started unpacking the boxes, it can't be much past eight -- it may even be closer to seven, because Nathan was supposed to show up then. Haley comes out of the back room and tosses her apron onto the counter. She says, "Okay! The inventory's done." Oh, there he is -- he knocks on the door, and Haley sighs audibly. She grabs her coat and steps outside. He stands there looking very sweet and submissive -- even if she's as cold as the Canadian Arctic Islands. She says, "What are you doing here?" Nathan: "Didn't Brooke tell you that I was going to come?" Haley: "I try to block out everything that Brooke says, so whatever you two are up to, I'm just not in the --" Nathan: "I'm not up to anything. Look, I apologized and I told you the truth. The rest is Brooke, she set up this whole serial date thing: one card leads to the next." This grabs Haley's attention because it's a smart, kind of sweet, idea. She asks, "What does the first one say?" Nathan answers, "Convince Haley to go." Pause. "How am I doing so far?" Haley: "I don't know, depends on what the second card says." He opens up the card: "Go to 1423 River Street and find your next envelope. On the way, tell three things you like about each other." Okay, I'm the furthest thing from a romantic, but -- aw, that's really cute. Haley sighs, "Ugh, I don't know." Nathan steps up: "Look, I'll go first: You're the most patient person I know." Pause. "You don't go postal on me during tutoring and you don't treat me like a moron. I really appreciate that." He steps around her. "I know I have no right to ask, but we never do anything just fun together." She doesn't say anything, but she does sort of grunt again. He continues, "And plus, this is Brooke, you can bet it's not going to be boring." Haley tells him her conditions: "I'm free to bail whenever?" Absolutely. Then he makes the mistake of saying, "Trust me." She rolls her eyes. He realizes his mistake, but she gives in and goes anyway.