A/N In case you've already read this, I'm sorry. It's not an update. I just realized how many typos I have. And I hate spelling errors.

Today is a normal day. Or so it seems.

I wake up, and roll over lazily to see my wife sleeping face down.

I gently wrap my arm around her waist and squeeze her lightly until she wakes up.

'Good morning' I say, happily.

'Good morning to you too, baby.' She replies quietly.

I cringe slightly. She knows I hate it when she calls me that.

'OK, OK, I'll stop.' She giggles, while kissing my nose.

'I gotta get to work.' I tell her, beginning to sit up.

'Do you really?' She asks pleadingly.

'Well, I could stay home-' She grins at the suggestion '-but then of course I wouldn't be bringing us home any income and you wouldn't be able to buy your numerous outfits and all of that make up you don't need..'

She groans as I stand up and head for the bathroom. 'Fine. Go to work. I have plenty of things to do.'

'I'm sure you do.' I call back to her.

I have been married to Brooke Davis for exactly one year and four months.

When I finished college, I came back to Tree Hill, and consequently published my novel.

I was single at the time. When Peyton decided to stay in LA and go to college there, we decided to take a break.

Neither of us were particularly emotional about this, as we were sure the arrangement would be short lived. That our love could overcome this minor detail, this bump on the road.

After that, though, we didn't talk. All through junior year of college, we didn't talk. Not one phone call, email, text message.

I felt like she was forgetting me. So, I tried to forget her.

First, I just stopped talking about her. Then, I started seeing other girls, but I still couldn't forget about her. Anything that could possibly remind me of her, did. So by the end of that second year, I had thrown away every single photo with her in it, deleted her number from my phone, and ripped out all of the pages of my year book where she had written Peyton and Lucas Forever, I will always love you or, probably the worst; It's not over. It will never be over.

I cut her out of my life. I cut her completely out of my life. Because I knew that if I couldn't have her, I needed to forget her. I couldn't accept that we were over and enjoy the memories. It killed me to think that they were just memories. So they weren't. Not anymore.

Peyton Sawyer is a girl I was in High School with. Used to date my brother. Was best friends with my wife. Period.

But anyway. I came back to Tree Hill, and spent time with my little sister and nephew. With my brother and best friend, and with my mom.

About a year later, Brooke came home. We didn't talk about where Peyton was. We didn't ever talk about Peyton, we just hung out. And then we started dating. She was all I had, and I was all she had, so we got married. And I love her. I really do. But I didn't feel it with her.

I have always believed, when you get married, you have to feel it with that person. I know I'm supposed to be a writer, but no words can describe that feeling. You might get it while hugging them, or when they call you, or even watching them make coffee. But it's like, there's this swelling in your chest and a light-headed feeling. And you can't believe this is happening to you. You can't believe that you and this person are actually together. Every kiss is like your first. Just as enjoyable, just as anticipated. And every moment with them is just, perfect.

Brooke doesn't make me feel this way. But honestly, who cares?

I don't know anyone who makes me feel like that. Not anymore, anyway.

When I arrive at work my boss, Barney, runs straight over to me.

Barney is a small, fat man, with a habit of speaking too loudly and holding your hands when he talks to you. It's quite unnerving.

'Scott! We have a brilliant story for you to cover! Small-town girl, moved to LA and made millions without even becoming famous! Nobody else knows about her so it'll be exclusive to us!'

Stop right there. I should explain. Yes, I am a journalist.

I never wanted to be, but I guess that's just the way things panned out.

I get to write, and I get to spend time with Mouth, who's a photographer for us.

'-Do you hear me, Scott?' Barney almost screams in my ear while squeezing my wrists.

'Yes Barney- Mr. Cassidy.'

'She's in the waiting room. I need the article and interview for tomorrow, so hurry up!'

He turns around, and I watch him waddle off into the mass of photocopying machines and slightly dazed looking interns.

I walk into the interviewing room and sit down on the small, but comfortable, couch.

The interviewing room is small, with two couches facing each other, a water machine in the right hand corner and an unusual looing plant (donated to us by Barney's wife, Darla)

I love our interviewing room. It holds many memories for me. Some good, some strange, but all memorable.

This is where I got attacked by Paris Hilton's dog. Found out that U2 were breaking up. Interviewed bands that were to become the next big thing.

I begin to pick at a small peice of fluff sticking out of the side of the couch when I hear a knock on the door.

I look up to see who it is, and my heart stops.

I knew this was going to happen at some point.

It's a small world. And usually, the things and people you want to avoid catch up with you eventually.

She sits across from me, hands on her lap, head down looking at her feet.

I don't know what I want to do. I've never gone from so surprised, to so happy, to so angry, to so confused, so fast.

I can't stop staring at her. I just, can't stop.

Her blonde curls hypnotize me and my mind is completely blank.

We have been sitting like this for at lease fifteen minutes.

I clear my throat.

'Um.. I have to ask you some questions.' I say, now looking down at my hands.

'Ok.' She replies, in a voice barely audible.

I look down at my list of questions and read out the first one.

'How long ago did you leave Tree Hill?' I ask, knowing that it has been exactly four years, six months and five days.

'About four years and.. a half... ago.' She says, just as quietly as before.

'And when did you start your record label?' I ask.

'About a year after leaving Tree Hill.' She answers.

I look down at the rest of my questions and realize that none of these will give me the information I need to move on.

'Why didn't you ever come back?' I ask, quietly.

'I didn't have any reason to.' She states, slowly.

'You're lying.' I say. Getting angrier by the second.

'So you're not married to Brooke?' She says, still looking down at her feet.

'Before that!' I say.

'You never called me.' She says.

'Neither did you!' I say, louder than I meant to.

'Well you did break up with me.' She says, her voice a little louder.

'You told me you couldn't do it anymore!'

'Couldn't be away from you! You see, I was going to come home. Just before you told me we should take a break!'

I fall silent and look into her eyes. She seems, so sad. So lost. It reminds me of the first time I ever saw her. Start of junior year. Sitting beside my brother, looking into space, ignoring the rest of thier pointless banter.

'I love you.' I say.

'I love you too.' She says.

Without thinking, I lean over and kiss her. And she responds immediately, almost as if she were expecting it.

I push her down onto the couch and we continue kissing.

She begins to kiss my jaw, my neck.

I place my hand under her shirt, moving it upwards stroking her soft skin.

'Lucas...' She moans.

'Yeah?'

'I'm married...' She sighs.

'So am I.' I reply quietly.

I lean down and kiss her again.

'Hey baby! How was work?'

I choose to ignore her use of 'baby' this time.

'Fine. It was fine.'

'Anything interesting happen?'

'No. Just a normal day.'

'That's nice. Could you go pick up the dress I ordered the other day?'

'Sure. No problem.'

'You want something to eat?'

'I'm not hungry. I'm pretty tired. I'll go pick up your dress tomorrow.'

'OK. You gonna go to bed?'

'Yeah. Night.'

'Goodnight honey!'

'Scott! You finish that interview?'

'No, Mr. Cassidy. I need to clear some things up actually, do you think I could see her-'

'She left yesterday. Went back to LA. Seemed pretty upset. You know anything 'bout that?'

'No Sir.'

'OK then! Back to work! You can do the article on the new factory by the river. Built it over an old basketball court. At least the place will be of some use now. Eh?'

Not listening to anything he's saying, I pick up my folder and walk over to my computer.

Two weeks later

I walk into the interviewing room and sit down on the small, but comfortable, couch.

The interviewing room is small, with two couches facing each other, a water machine in the right hand corner and an unusual looing plant (donated to us by Barney's wife, Darla)

I love our interviewing room. It holds many memories for me. Some good, some strange, but all memorable.

This is where I got attacked by Paris Hilton's dog. Found out that U2 were breaking up, and most recently had sex with my High School girlfriend.

Since the last time I was here, I feel like I have been living in a strange dream.

The last time I was here, the last time I saw her. That was the first time I had felt alive in almost five years. But before that I hadn't noticed. I just got on with my life.

Since the last time I was here I can't stop thinking about how much better my life was in High School.

My life is polluted with lies. I tell myself I don't miss her. But I do. I tell myself I don't miss hanging with my old friends. But I do. I miss it all. But I have been avoiding it because it all reminds me of her. It reminds me of her so much. Because she was such a big part of it.

But I can't live like this anymore. I don't want to feel numb anymore. Even if it means pain.

I should go visit Nathan and Haley sometime. I've really lost touch with them.

Tonight I'll stop by the River Court. I haven't been there in a while.

A/N So... What do y'all think? So this story was not at all planned out. I just was bored and started typing. Hopefully you like it! I'm pretty sure I'll leave it as a One Shot. Unless I get a really positive response. Get reviewing!