A/N: This'll be a three or four parter. Pretty much AU. Backgrounds of all the characters are the same though.
----
The minute she steps into the 'computer basics/intro to business' class, she thinks it's going to be a huge waste of time. The only reason she's taking it is because it counts as a tech credit, and it's better than taking auto shop or woodworking. Really? No. Just...no. She's got a dad who can change her oil and she has no desire to spin a bowl on a wood lathe. That's all those classes ever teach you anyway.
The computer lab is the hottest room in the school, and she pulls off her sweater - leaving her in just a tank top and her jeans - before she even chooses a seat.
Well, choosing isn't really an option. There's only one spot available, and it's next to a blonde guy. She calls him 'a blonde guy', because she doesn't want to admit that she knows exactly who he is. He's Lucas Scott. She's seen him around. A lot. It's a small school and a small town and he's got an intense history. She hangs around with Nathan more than she does with Lucas. She doesn't hang around with Lucas at all.
He pushes out the chair next to him for her and shoots a shy smile. She lets one corner of her mouth curl upward. She could have gotten her own chair. She's not exactly surprised he did it for her.
Their teacher, Mr. Harris, hands out a course package, and Peyton smiles as Lucas promptly snaps it into his binder with the course name so neatly printed on the spine of his book. Her black binder is covered in sketches in silver Sharpie, and she just knows she'll remember which is for which class. She tucks the papers loose into the binder - she'll get around to putting them through the rings later - and she can feel Lucas' eyes on her.
Their textbooks come around, and he takes one and passes the stack to her. She watches him print his name in all caps in the front of the book, where there's a little chart stamped there, and he puts the number of his homeroom and his grade.
Peyton writes her name along the spine on the front page, and Lucas shakes his head.
"What?" she asks.
"Nothing," he says quickly. "You know, they put that stamp there for a reason."
"I'm a non-conformist," she says, and he laughs.
Mr. Harris starts talking about Excel and how vital it is, and all the students know that's pretty much the biggest lie ever. As far as Peyton knows, Excel is useless. But she switches on her monitor and taps her pen against her desk until Lucas snatches it from her hand and sets it next to her. She wants to glare at him, but she can't. The smile he gives leaves her a little bit speechless.
They're handed two pages stapled together and it's one of those lame 'get to know your classmates' questionnaires that they each have to fill out. Peyton picks up her pen and taps it a couple times, looking at Lucas out of the corner of her eye.
She starts filling out the paper, and she sees Lucas mulling over his answers like they'll be written in stone for the rest of his life, and he doesn't want to be misrepresented. Really? It's 18 kids in a sweltering room who, by the beginning of their senior year, probably already know everything they want to know about each other.
"It's not the Proust questionnaire," she tells him. He turns to her with a raised brow. "Vanity Fair."
"Ah," he says, knowing that Vanity Fair prints a Proust questionnaire in the back of each issue. He's impressed that she knows that. "Well, what are you writing?"
"I have an idea," she says.
He sees a bit of a glimmer in her eyes and he's not sure what that means, but he likes it. She raises her hand and Mr. Harris calls on her. All eyes are on Peyton Sawyer - that's nothing really knew, though, since she's gorgeous and popular - as she starts talking.
"Why don't we fill these out for each other? See how well we really know our classmates?" she suggests.
There are murmurs in the class, people saying what a cool idea that is and how fun it'll be to hear everyone's answers. Mr. Harris seems to think that's a great idea, and he tells them to pick someone in the class to answer for.
Peyton plucks the page from Lucas' hand, since it's already got his name - of course - printed on the top corner, and passes hers to him, and his heart is racing. All he can think of are words like beautiful and fearless and perfect. But he thinks that might be a little too much for her to have to read out loud in class.
The first questions are easy. Name, grade, town (like, really?), favourite hobbies. His are all easy. Basketball. Literature. Physical fitness.
That last one was a snap judgement, based on the way his arms look in his tee shirt, and how the cotton drapes over his back. She likes it, she decides, and she wonders why she never took the time to see him before.
He's having a considerably more difficult time with hers. Name, grade, town, he's written down quickly. Favourite hobbies? He has absolutely no clue. She's a cheerleader, but he doesn't think she particularly enjoys it. He's seen her around at the mall, but she doesn't seem to wear any of the clothes he's seen her looking at. Shopping probably isn't the right answer.
He takes a look at her binder, and sees various band names and logos replicated, and he writes down art and music, thinking that it's likely she's combined her two passions on the cover of her black binder, and maybe she won't hate him if he points it out.
Next are even harder questions. Where do you see yourself in 10 years, and what do you hope to get out of the 'high school experience.' How the hell are they supposed to answer that for each other?
So he takes a stab. He figures that in 10 years, she'll be some successful band manager or something. Maybe an artist. She'll probably have some trendy emo boyfriend who they both knew she'll never marry, but they'll both be okay with that. He feels he's painted an alright picture.
Peyton's tapping her pen again as she tries to think of where he'll be in 10 years. She starts writing and he is dying to know what she thinks of him.
The truth is, he's been watching her for a while. Too long. He's always had a bit of a thing for her, but it's been kind of low key. His closest friends know, but that's because they've seen him staring once or twice or ten times.
"What are you writing?" he asks when he sees her start jotting things down in her loopy cursive.
"Get out," she says with a laugh, turning away from him slightly. "It's a surprise."
"It's my future!" he reminds her. He's smiling. She's so amazing.
"Too bad. I'm writing it. You'll just have to wait."
He gives up and when he starts tapping his pencil, she reaches over and takes it from him and then puts it between her teeth. He's not sure he wants that pencil back. On one hand, he wants it back because he's a teenaged boy and it was in her mouth. As pervy as that sounds, he doesn't really care. On the other hand, he wants her to have that piece of him; to think of him every time she uses that pencil.
Mr. Harris tells them time's up, and Peyton hands Lucas his papers, folded into eighths. He smiles at her and furrows his brow, and she shrugs one shoulder as she snatches her pages back from him.
The teacher says they don't have time to read their answers, but that they'll do it tomorrow, and Lucas is about to ask her how she knows he plays basketball and reads classics, but they're told to open their textbooks before he gets a chance.
She sends him a smile at the end of class when she's gathering her books, and their eyes lock as she tucks his pencil into the back pocket of her jeans.
"See you tomorrow," she says, since it's the last class of the day, and it's the only class they have together.
"Yeah. Tomorrow," he says. He watches as she walks away, that yellow pencil on display.
He's looking at her ass without hiding it. He doesn't care. He doesn't think she does either.
----
She walks into class a week later with a coffee in her hand and her hair a mess. Her tank top is wrinkled and her jeans have a hole in the pocket. He loves it. She looks amazing.
"Hey," she says, nodding at him. "Here." She takes a chocolate chip cookie from her bag and hands it to him and he looks at her questioningly. "I made them last night. I thought you might like one."
"Chocolate chip is my favourite," he tells her.
"I figured."
"Why?" he asks, his brow furrowed.
"Predictable," she says, logging onto her computer as she slumps into her chair.
"Predictable?" he asks incredulously. "I'm not predictable."
"You play basketball every day after school until 5:30 with those guys, and that Mouth kid sits and watches. You wear jeans and tee shirts every day except in the winter when you wear hoodies. You never read any books written after like, 1970," she rattles off. "Have I missed anything?"
"Thursdays I work at the café, so I don't go to the River Court," he says softly, and she laughs. "So you think you know me, huh?"
"I didn't say I know you. I just know what you do," she explains. The look on his face lets her know that he completely understands. She kind of likes that she does. "You wanna do something?"
"Something?" he asks. She rolls her eyes and he smirks. He loves it when she does that. "It's Monday."
"Right. Basketball."
"Whatever," he scoffs. "I'll blow it off."
"Lucas!" she says in mock horror. "Blow off basketball? The horror."
"You're mean." He narrows his eyes and she shrugs her shoulder coyly. "You're a mean girl."
"I brought you a cookie!"
He takes a bite and she watches in anticipation for his reaction.
"Mmm," he lies. It's definitely not great. Somehow knowing that she's gone to the effort - however minimal - to bring him a freshly baked treat makes it taste all that much better.
"So? What do you say?"
"You? Want to do something with me?"
"It's not like I'm propositioning you," she laughs. "Let's just...I dunno...Go to the beach or something."
"The beach?"
"Are you going to question everything? Because that could get really annoying," she says.
"Just...you're...you," he says. "You're so cool, and I'm...not."
"I'm not cool," she scoffs. "I'm just...me."
He feels like she actually believes it, and he adores that.
"Okay. After school," he says. "Want to meet...where?"
"My car."
"Okay," he says.
He manages to get through class with her sitting next to him. It's getting more and more difficult by the day.
After school they draw looks from their classmates when he's walking towards her idling car, and when he tosses his bag into the back next to hers and hops in the passenger seat, she pulls away before he even has the door closed.
They don't go anywhere at all. They just drive back roads and listen to music and talk about music and she tells him that his assessment of her from the week before was shockingly accurate. Maybe, she'd said. She wasn't really sure.
"How am I supposed to know who I'll be in 10 years?" she asks. "I mean, I don't even know who I'll be in 10 days, you know?"
"Sure," he says, because he understands, but he doesn't feel like she's done talking.
"So it's like...I mean...maybe I'll still be here in 10 years. Maybe I'll be married and have babies and work at the grocery store or something."
"No, you won't."
"What?" she asks.
"You won't. You're too good for that," he tells her.
"You hardly know me."
"Yes, I do," he says. "You drive around in this car like it makes you so much cooler than everyone else. And it might." She laughs, and he has to smile. "You go to Max's record store every Thursday, not Tuesday, for the new releases, and you and Brooke go to the diner on 4th for fries every Saturday afternoon."
"Am I that predictable?" she asks. "Or are you like, a borderline stalker?"
"Neither. And you outlined my entire life the first day we ever even really spoke, so you can't judge me," he tells her. She nods her head and glances over at him, and she turns up the radio as they drive backroads that lead...anywhere.
----
She's annoyed with her friends - it happens every so often - one day in October, and she grabs her lunch and stands without warning from the table they're all sitting at. She knows they're looking at her as she walks away, wondering what's put her in a mood now. They don't really understand her, but they try, and she can't really ask too much more of them.
They stare at her and start talking a little more when she sits down at a table with Lucas, Skills, Mouth, Junk and Fergie. They're kind of looking at her like she's crazy too.
"Hi," she says nonchalantly, opening her yogurt.
"Hey," Lucas says.
All his friends know her - of course because she's Peyton Sawyer, but also because she's come around the River Court a few times and hung out - but she's never sat with them before at school.
"What's up, Skinny Girl?" Skills asks.
"School photo day with the cheerleaders? Honestly, if one more person asks me if they look fat, I'm going to lose it," Peyton explains.
"Oh," Junk says morosely. "There goes my conversation starter."
She laughs, and Lucas just shakes his head. He loves that she gets along so well with his friends, and it shouldn't really matter, but it does. It really does. She doesn't look at them like they're 'geeks', because she honestly doesn't feel that way about them. He's seen her talking to Mouth in the halls a couple times, and she and Fergie have homeroom together.
"I like this table," she notes. It's a good view of the rest of the cafeteria, and she can watch everyone from afar, thankful that she isn't subjected to their conversations. "This is like, the best spot in the school."
"That's 'cause I'm here, baby," Skills says, tugging at the front of his polo shirt jokingly and making the guys groan.
"Where's Haley?" she asks. She tosses her orange to Lucas, and he rolls his eyes and smiles. He knows she hates peeling oranges, and he offered to do it for her once. It's been his job ever since.
"Tutoring," Lucas explains.
"Oh. That sucks. There's too much testosterone here," she says, nudging Lucas' knee with her own beneath the table.
None of the guys know what to say to that. They start talking about basketball and hanging out at the court after school, and Peyton tries not to laugh. They really are predictable. She kind of likes it that way.
She laughs all through lunch, because those guys are hilarious. Junk does his impression of the shop teacher, and it's so accurate that they're all left breathless from laughter. Mouth has algebra the period before Peyton does, and they agree to bring their homework to the court later so they can work together while the guys play ball.
Lucas just smiles. He didn't know she was going to hang out later. He's definitely glad she is.
She starts eating lunch with them two or three days a week. She abandons the 'popular' kids and sits with her new group of friends. She and Haley talk about music and, well, things other than basketball, and she laughs and smiles. Her best friend asks her what the deal is with her hanging out with the 'losers', and Peyton just rolls her eyes and insists they aren't losers. They really aren't. She really likes them. She thinks she might like them more than the people she's called her friends since elementary school.
She's standing at her locker one day when an imposing body leans against the locker next to hers, and she looks over to see Nathan there with his arms crossed and a weird look on his face.
"What?" she asks. She hates that he thinks this intimidating shit will work with her. They dated for a couple months sophomore year, and they were both far too stubborn to actually make it work.
"What's with you and him?"
"Who?" She knows who he's talking about. Everyone's been asking her. She hates that she can't just be friends with a guy without the questions.
"You know who."
"You could say his name," she says, kinking her brow. She knows he won't.
"Don't play games. Are you like, into him?" he asks.
"We're friends! He's in my class. I'm friends with you and no one asks questions," she says in frustration. "And besides, what I do with Lucas - or anyone else for that matter - is really none of your business."
"He's...he's him, Peyton," Nathan reminds her.
"So because you're too much of a jackass to actually get to know him, I have to ignore him, too?" she asks incredulously, slamming her locker closed. "Sorry, King Nathan, I wasn't aware."
"Don't be a bitch."
"I could say the same thing to you," she says, and he sets his jaw. It's so easy to make him mad. "Whatever, Nate. We're just friends. Does that make you feel better?"
"I'd feel better if you weren't anything," he admits. "I don't see why everyone likes him so much."
It all starts making sense now. He's jealous. Lucas is a genuinely nice guy who has friends because he's friendly. Nathan has friends because they want to be friends with him. They want the status that comes with rolling with Nathan Scott, the team's star player and the most popular guy in school.
"Your jealous is showing," she says in amusement.
"I'm not jealous of him," he says quietly, like if anyone heard her say that, he'd lose his credibility.
"Why don't you just get to know him?" she says as they start walking down the hall. She's always felt that maybe Nathan wanted to know his brother, but was pressured not to. "Nathan, he's a good guy."
"So I've heard," he mumbles. "Dan would lose his shit if I even talked to the guy."
"He's your brother," she reminds him. "I know you like, refuse to call him that, but...you have the same blood in your veins, Nathan. That's...that's kind of big."
"Too big," he says. "I have to get to gym. See you later."
"Nathan, if you want to...I mean...I can be like, your buffer," she suggests. He shakes his head and pulls a face. "Just think about it, okay?"
"He probably hates me anyway," he says, shrugging his shoulder.
"I don't think he does. But it's your life," she says. "See ya, Nathan."
They go their separate ways, and she wonders if her two groups of friends will ever come together.
She wonders if she really wants them to.
----
"I can't study anymore!" she announces, flopping onto her back. "Seriously. This class is so fucking boring!"
"Potty mouth!" he chides. They both laugh, because they know he has his moments, too.
They have a test in their class in two days, and they decided to study together. It may not have been the best idea. She's always his biggest distraction.
"Come on. Let's do something."
"Like what?" he asks.
She's always saying that. He doesn't know why he always says yes. His grades should have dropped by now, except every time she says 'let's study', he's just as eager to do that, too. They only have one class together, but they'll sit like this, him positioned at her desk, and her sprawled on her bed with her books all around her, and they'll do their homework together. They spend an odd amount of time in her bedroom. He doesn't dare mention it, for fear she'll start wanting to meet somewhere else. He likes her room.
She never suggests they do anything too crazy. She'll tell him they're going for a walk, or he's going to the River Court, or they're going to make Rice Krispie squares shaped like stars with chocolate chips on top.
"I feel like you're blowing off your friends right now," she states as she rolls off her bed. "Come on. River Court. Call Skills and Junk and Fergie and Mouth."
"You don't have to put and in between..."
"Shut up! Get your ass in gear."
He does. He doesn't care that he might not get an A on the test.
He cares that he doesn't pack up his things, and he knows he'll have to come back after and pick up his books. He likes being in her room when it's dark. That might sound inappropriate, but it's not. Her red walls and brilliant artwork create a mood that he loves. Her wall of records and dark closet doors make him feel like he's in a sacred place, and maybe he is. He loves everything about her room. Most notably, that she lets him hang out in there. With her
They go walk to the River Court and she sketches him as he plays, but she doesn't show him.
He's sweet and kind of charming, and he has a smile that makes her want to tell him every single thing she's thinking. His skin will brush hers and she feels like she wants a hell of a lot more than that and it's a hell of a lot more than just teenaged hormones. But she can't like him. He's Lucas. Their friendship is still new and it'd ruin everything if they started dating or something.
Then, as she's sitting there, a boy she knows - Thomas - comes over and starts talking to her, and she thinks he's attractive. She's always thought he's attractive. He's kind of amazing actually. His parents own a farm on the outskirts of town, and he's got a body like no other. Broad shoulders and a low slung jeans, a closely cut head of brown hair, and green eyes that rival her own.
He asks her if she wants to hang out on Friday after the game - he knows she cheers, obviously - and she finds herself saying yes before she can say no. She sees Lucas watching, but she doesn't really care, as harsh as that sounds. She and Lucas are just friends. Nothing more. Nothing less.
"Was that Thomas?" Lucas asks needlessly after he and Fergie have won their game. He's sweating, and he raises the bottom of his shirt to wipe his brow, and she tries not to look as he does so.
"Yeah." The other boy left a few minutes ago, and she's a little uncertain about the look on Lucas' face.
"What's up with him? Trouble on the farm?" he asks, almost bitterly.
"We're going out Friday," she says.
"Oh. Really?" he asks skeptically.
He really hates that guy.
He and Thomas used to be friends. In grade school, they were practically best friends, but then Thomas' parents' farm made all sorts of money, and Lucas was still the bastard son with a single mom and the modest house. Thomas started wearing brand name clothes and expensive shoes, and all of a sudden he was hanging out with the popular crowd, rolling with Nathan Scott instead of Lucas Scott. He was one of the few non-basketball-playing boys who had the 'privilege' of hanging with the in-crowd.
He really didn't think Peyton was the type to actually date the guy.
"Yeah. Why?"
"I just...hate that guy," he explains.
He leaves out the part where Thomas hurled a lot of horrible and awful and hateful insults towards Lucas just because Nathan told him to.
"Why?" she asks.
"Because he's a jerk, Peyton. He's...a jerk."
"Well, maybe that's for me to find out," she says with a shrug. "Come on. Walk me home."
He wants to always be the one walking her home. Not Thomas.
Never stupid Thomas.
----
Thomas doesn't kiss her on their first date. She finds herself wishing he had.
The had a great time. They ate at a cool restaurant at the beach and went to a $5 movie at the run down old theater at the edge of town that she loved, and loved that he knew about. It was a scary movie, and she called him on taking her to a horror flick so she'd clutch his arm and tell him she was scared.
When she did that very thing, they both laughed.
They walked on the beach afterward because neither was ready to go home yet, and when he dropped her at her door, he thanked her and said he had a lot of fun.
So she starts seeing a little more of him.
They do things together that she never, ever thought she'd do. She wraps her arms around his torso as they ride horseback across his parents' property. She holds baby chickens in her palms, and ignores him when he tells her that those chickens, when they're old enough, will be sent to slaughter. She stays away from the main barn, though, and Thomas laughs when she tells him she just can't deal with the smell of the cows. She sits with their border collie, Brandy, while he does what he has to do, and he smiles every time he sees her with his beloved dog's snout resting just above her knee as she sits on the porch steps.
His parents love her. Dave and Joanne went to high school with Peyton's mom and dad, and they're thrilled that Thomas 'convinced her' to date him. She blushes at that compliment (because it was meant as one), and Thomas rolls his eyes, but she can see he's embarrassed by his parents' words.
But they haven't talked about 'what they are', and Peyton's a little afraid of that conversation. Thomas, by reputation, has never been the type to have a girlfriend, and she's not sure if she's his, or if he wants her to be. They kiss and laugh and spend time together, but he's never told her what he wants.
She's about to ask one day when her phone rings in her pocket, and she notices that he lets out a frustrated breath when he sees Lucas' name on the screen. She takes the call and tells Lucas she'll be by the café in a bit to hang out. She won't cut out her friends for a guy she's sort of seeing, and she wants to make that abundantly clear.
"What's with you two?" he asks abruptly as they walk along the dirt road near his house. He's got a long blade of grass in his strong hands, and he's wrapping it around his index finger.
She thinks he might be a little nervous.
"We're friends," she says simply. She shrugs her shoulder because it's really not a big deal. "He's nice."
"Yeah."
"What?"
"Nothing. I just...you spend a lot of time with him," he says. His green eyes have darkened and she doesn't know why that is. Those eyes are kind of a mystery to her.
She doesn't know why it dawns on her in that moment that she can always see everything in Lucas' eyes. It shouldn't matter.
But it might.
"You spend a lot of time with your friends," she says. She knows it's not the same, but she won't let him know that.
"Not alone with other girls," he reminds her.
"If you did, should I be worried?" she asks seriously.
"What does that mean?"
"It means...I don't really know what's going on with you and I. I mean...I like you and everything, but we haven't had the stupid talk we're supposed to have."
"You are a weird girl," he says with a laugh and she shoves his shoulder. He grabs her hand and weaves his fingers through hers as he stops walking. "I like you, too. I wouldn't hang out with you if I didn't."
"Okay."
"And I don't want to see anyone else. And I don't want you to see anyone else," he explains. "Okay?"
"Yeah," she whispers. She leans up to kiss him, and he pulls her close.
The sky opens up and it looks like rain, and they hold hands as they run back to his house. They're at least a half mile away, and it starts to pour just as the house comes into view, and they're soaked by the time they're walking down his driveway, having decided that running was futile.
He grabs a couple towels and a blanket, and his mom makes them hot cocoa, and they sit on the covered porch and watch the lightning with Brandy curled up at their feet.
He's so not the boy she thought she'd be with. But it seems to be working alright.
----
Just after Christmas, a little over a month after they've started dating, Thomas invites Peyton over. His parents are away at an indoor soccer tournament with his little brother, Aaron, and she knows he's nervous. He's running the farm while they're away, so it's just him and four farm hands, and they all answer to him. Thankfully, three of them are full time employees, so he doesn't have to give orders or anything.
It's a Saturday evening, and Peyton spent the whole day with Haley, Lucas and Skills at the mall, where she had an awkward run in with Brooke and Bevin. Her cheerleader friends have accused her of 'drifting', saying she's spending all her time with Thomas (who she insists to everyone isn't her boyfriend, because they've never actually called each other that) or the 'losers'. Peyton doesn't appreciate either accusation.
Lucas told her it was fine if she wanted to go with her friends, and she answered that she was with her friends, and then pulled his arm towards the food court, insisting she needed a Blizzard from Dairy Queen and some curly fries. In that order. Her three friends just laughed, but they all did the same thing.
She shows up at Thomas' house, and it's January, and she's cold. He's got a fire going in the wood-burning fireplace, and he pulls her into a hug as soon as she's got her jacket and scarf off. He brushes his lips against hers, and she lets herself be warmed up by him.
He doesn't really love that she's wearing a Keith Scott Body Shop sweatshirt. He knows who that sweatshirt belongs to. But he stays quiet, because she has told him he has nothing to worry about.
She's managed to keep the two boys away from each other, and she's not sure that's for him, or for Lucas, or for her. She doesn't want to play mediator, and she doesn't want to make Lucas uncomfortable. She thinks Thomas might just not care. It's just recently started bugging her.
They park themselves on the floor in front of the fire, and he puts on some Johnny Cash - one of the very few artists they actually agree upon. She talks about her day and how she's worried about her friendships and she feels like she's caught in some sort of strange gang war, and that Brooke's definitely pissed at her. He tells her to stop worrying, and that it'll all work out, and that she should go see Brooke the next day and talk it out. She kisses him softly and thanks him.
She doesn't know why she doesn't want him to be her 'official' boyfriend. He kind of is, but she doesn't want him to have the title. She gets the impression that he kind of doesn't want it, and she's not sure why that doesn't hurt her.
"Come on," he says. "Come with me."
"What? Where?" she asks as she places her hand in his and he pulls her up off the floor.
"Just a drive. I want to show you something."
She doesn't argue. She just follows him to the door and they bundle up in their jackets, and he grabs the keys to the old pickup he drives around sometimes. He's got a new car that his parents bought for him, but he kind of loves that old truck.
She calls him a farm boy and giggles when he turns the key and smiles when the diesel engine turns over. He is a farm boy. He likes it that way.
They drive to the edge of his property, over land that isn't really a road, but has tractor ruts in it, and he blasts the heat until it's almost too hot to bear. He parks overlooking a narrow creek. She can see horses grazing in their pen and stepping one by one into their barn for the night. It's kind of beautiful.
He leaves the engine running and leans across the bench seat to kiss her, and she lets him.
They haven't talked about having sex. He's never pressured her, and she's never really left him frustrated - she's a virgin, but she's not a prude - and even if she did, she thinks he's a nice enough guy that he'd still respect her wanting to wait.
But this time, when his hand moves to the button of her jeans, she feels like she's ready. She doesn't love him, and she doesn't think she ever will, but he's good to her, and she knows he'll be tender with her. He's had sex before, with the girl he dated over the summer, and she's really enjoying the confident way he's placing kisses to her neck. Their jackets are on the floor where her feet used to be, and they're laying on the seat with him on top of her. Her breathing is shallow, and his eyes are dark, and when she reaches for his belt, he pulls away a little.
"Are you sure?" he asks.
"Yes," she insists.
"Thank God," he says with a smirk, and she kisses him because she's not sure if she should hate him for saying that or not.
It's a little awkward and it hurts a little, but he's aware of all that and does his best to make her feel better. She's sweaty and the windows are fogged up, and this is such a cliché, that after when she's laying in his arms, she fucking hates herself a little for giving in. Sex with the farm boy in the cab of his truck by a creek bed. She's so not that girl. But it's too late to take it back, and she almost wants to cry. It's probably normal to cry after you have sex for the first time, but she doesn't want to do that, either, because that would just make it even more cliché.
They drive back to his place after a while and he asks her if she's alright. She insists that she is, and smiles at the right times, and she hangs out for a bit before she says she has to go.
She's in her car and pulling out of his driveway when she starts to cry, and she calls the one person she thinks could make her feel better and tells him to meet her at her house. He can hear her crying through the phone, and he's got no clue what he's walking into, but he's for damn sure going to walk into it. He can't just let her cry. He's never actually seen her cry. Whoever's made her do it is going to regret it.
He walks up the stairs to her bedroom, and she's wearing a little tank top, and she's got her sheets pulled up to her chin. She's showered, so her hair is a wet, curly disaster, and she's not wearing makeup and she's crying.
She's still beautiful to him.
"Hi," she says as he sits next to her.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Peyton," Lucas whispers. He boldly tucks a wet curl behind her ear, and her chin trembles as more tears fall.
Because how is that one simple touch better than any of the ones she received from Thomas?
"I'm so stupid," she says softly.
"No, you aren't." He's confused and he has no idea what she's talking about, but he knows she's not stupid.
"I thought...I don't know what I thought," she admits. "It wasn't...I shouldn't have called you. I'm sorry."
Lucas may be one of her closest friends now, but she still feels weird telling him anything to do with her love life. Sex life. Whatever you want to call it.
"It's okay. You know I'll listen." He smiles and her heart breaks a little more, and she doesn't know why.
"I don't even know why I did it," she says, really hoping he'll catch on without her having to spell it out. "But it felt...like the time, and now..."
He closes his eyes and lets out a breath, and it's all he can do not to get really angry when he realizes what she's saying.
"You...with him?" he asks sadly.
"It was...I know you don't like him, but..."
"I can't believe you had sex with him," he says.
She turns onto her back, and her tank top shifts a bit, and despite how upset he is, he still notices the curve of her breast and how smooth her skin is, and he really hates that he wants her so badly and she so obviously doesn't want him.
"Why are you freaking out?" she asks in confusion.
"Just...because. I have to go," he says quickly. "Bye."
He'd walks out the door before she can stop him.
That really wasn't what she thought would happen when she called him.
She cries again - big, ugly tears - when she starts to think that maybe it should have been him.
----
She and Thomas break up a few days later. It's mutual, and she says she's just not sure he's right for her, and he nods his head like he's known it all along. He tells her that he's kind of been interested in someone else, and she wants to cry again, because she realizes that all he wanted was to have sex with her, and as soon as he took her virginity, he was done with her.
She doesn't know when she got so stupid.
Brooke finds her crying in the girls' washroom, and when Peyton explains the whole thing to her best friend - Brooke hadn't known about the sex until that moment - Brooke just holds her and lets her cry, and they skip their next class, sitting there on the floor of the washroom.
Brooke tells Nathan just enough of the story to have him clenching his fists - Peyton's like a sarcastic, bitchy little sister to him - and saying that Thomas is 'going to regret it'.
Lucas sees Nathan stalking down the hall towards Thomas, and he instinctively follows. He has no idea what the hell's going on, but he can assume.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Nathan asks, shoving Thomas back against the lockers with a thud.
"Nothing! What's your damage?" Thomas asks in confusion.
"You know what my damage is!" Nathan roars. "You're such a dick, man."
Students are crowding around to hear these 'friends' argue with one another. They know Nathan basically runs the school, and if Thomas has done something to piss him off, he's going to end up a social outcast. That's just the way high school is.
"Is this about Peyton?" Thomas kinks his brow, and there's a smirk on his face Lucas wants to punch. He's right there next to Nathan, watching this whole thing go down. He's happy Nathan's looking out for the girl, too.
"You used her," Nathan points out.
"Used her? Is that what she told you?" Thomas asks with a laugh. "And are you sure you want to talk about using girls."
Nathan reaches out and quickly jams his forearm across Thomas' chest, holding the guy against the wall. There is rage in Nathan's blue eyes, and he's the bigger of the two of them, and everyone around knows that if Thomas doesn't back down, this is going to get ugly.
"Don't fuck with her."
"Too late," Thomas says stupidly.
Nathan releases the guy - though it's really, really hard to do it - after one last shove, because he realizes that if he gets into another real fight, he'll be suspended from playing ball, and his dad will kill him.
Peyton and Brooke are standing there in the back of the crowd, watching the whole thing, and Peyton is mortified. She really doesn't need the entire school knowing she lost her virginity to the guy she broke up with two days later.
But she loves that Nathan's sticking up for her. She sees Lucas standing there, too, and though they haven't talked since that night in her bedroom, she thinks it might mean something that he's willing to work with Nathan and get into a fight defending her.
"And she gave it up. It's not like it took much convincing," Thomas says.
He's no sooner gotten the words out that Lucas has reached forward and hit him with a right hook. Murmurs rush through the crowd, and when Thomas lunges towards Lucas, Nathan intervenes, hitting the guy with another punch. Another of Thomas' friends - a dumb as nails kid named Adam that Lucas has always hated - tackles Lucas, and the four boys end up throwing punches at one another until Thomas and Adam are slumped against the wall and Nathan and Lucas are left standing, albeit a little bloodied.
Nathan looks over at Lucas, and Lucas looks at Nathan, and they nod to let each other know that they're fine. There's also maybe an understanding in there that they've never really shared. That was the first time they'd ever done anything together in their lives.
Principal Turner shows up and suspends the four boys on the spot, and they're all smart enough not to argue.
Lucas picks up his bag and angrily walks towards the doors with Nathan following behind him. Brooke and Peyton start towards the two boys, rushing down the hall to catch up.
"Hey Lucas," Nathan calls when the blonde is halfway across the quad. Lucas stops and turns around. "Thanks. For having my back."
"Yeah. Same," Lucas says. His nerves are still shot, and he's still angry, and his eye is already swelling. He can taste blood from his split lip, and the knuckles of his right hand are killing him.
"You didn't have to do that," Nathan insists. "I mean, I know she's your friend, but...I totally started that shit."
"The guy got what was coming to him," Lucas says, shrugging one shoulder.
"Luke!" Peyton shouts, rushing towards him. "You idiot."
She hits his shoulder with her canvas bag, and he cowers away from her. Nathan laughs, and she glares and hits him too.
"We were defending you!" Nathan says, though he's still a little amused by her outburst.
"I didn't ask you to!" she reminds them. "Now you're both suspended, and the entire school thinks I'm some slut!"
"Just stand next to Brooke and no one will call you a slut," Nathan says. Brooke's jaw drops and she hits him with her bag, the metal clasp clipping his shoulder blade. "Stop hitting me!"
"I'm sorry," Lucas says. "But come on, Peyton. You can't expect us to just let that guy get away with that."
"Us?" she asks, putting her hand on her hip. "What are you? A team now?"
"Defending girls' honour," Nathan says, smiling at Lucas a little. "I guess it's a Scott thing."
The four of them are quiet, because it's the first time that Nathan has ever really acknowledged that they're even related.
"Come on. Let's go to my place," Peyton says, starting off towards her car.
"Peyton, we have class!" Brooke reminds her.
"We're skipping!"
The four of them spend the afternoon eating frozen pizza and sipping root beer in Peyton's living room, talking about just about anything as MTV plays in the background.
She's happy, actually, though she's almost certain she'll be suspended now, too, for ditching class.
She's got guys sticking up for her, and she loves them for that, and it's her that has them almost building some sort of a relationship.
Lucas stays after Brooke and Nathan have left, and he apologizes for the other day when he walked away from her when she needed him.
That he's even apologizing for it tells her that he's maybe the sweetest guy in the world.
And that maybe it definitely should have been him.
-
to be continued...
