One of these days, Haley was going to lose it. She came to college to get an education, not to join the cheerleading squad–Brooke's idea–or party–Brooke's idea–or go on this stupid trip for said cheerleading squad that would include said partying–again, Brooke's idea–but the cherry on top of this fine, fine sundae, was that she was being forced to drive there with none other than Nathan Scott, also known as the bane of her existence.

And another cherry? It was, as always, Brooke's idea. Just because she was cheer captain and could sweet talk Couch K into anything didn't mean that she had to pair each basketball player up with a cheerleader for the ride to their biggest game for "inter-team cooperation and bonding."

Stupid Brooke. All she ever did was cause trouble.

But, she wouldn't have met Brooke if Lucas hadn't joined the basketball team, which led to him dating Brooke, with all his popularity and glamor and stupid basketball skills at touch downs are whatever they were called.

However, he wouldn't have joined the team back in high school if it wasn't for stupid Nathan Scott and his pushing and shoving and name calling and idiocy and–

It always came back to Nathan. Forget Brooke, Nathan made it a point to get under her skin. Even though she had been going to school with him since they were toddlers, he hadn't noticed her until their sophomore year of high school when Lucas joined the basketball team. And that was around the time that he tried to use her tutoring to get into her pants and on Lucas's nerves. Man, she hated that guy.

"Haley, are you ready?" Brooke asked her, leaving their small bathroom, holding a large bag full of make-up, moisturizers, and other means of torture.

Haley sighed, zipping up her duffle bag and throwing it on the floor. She then dramatically threw herself onto her small twin size bed, crossing her arms moodily and refusing to look at Brooke. "No," she pouted.

Brooke rolled her eyes, putting her bag into another bag and zipping it up. "Come on, Tutor Girl. It won't be bad."

Haley sat up. "It won't be bad?" she asked incredulously. "It won't be bad? You're forcing me to ride in a car for ten hours with Nathan Scott and it won't be bad?"

Brooke sighed, opening her mouth to respond but was cut off by Haley.

"You know what, you're right," Haley said. "It'll be horrendous. I hope you're happy."

"Think about it, Hales," Brooke argued, lugging her four suitcases across the room to their door. "You get to drive those ten hours in that nice, energized silence that I know you love so much, cheer for the boys, spend the night in a pretty hotel where there will be a large party celebrating our win, and then drive another ten hours again in the morning!"

Haley stared at her blankly. "That sounds even worse than I thought."

"Well, you–"

Brooke was interrupted before she could finish her thought by a loud knock on their door. She clapped her hands giddily, prancing the two steps it took to get to their door, and threw it open. "Broody!" she yelled.

"Hey, Pretty Girl," Lucas answered, stepping in a bit to give her a quick kiss in greeting. "Hales, you ready?" he asked, looking over Brooke at Haley.

Haley held her tongue, knowing Nathan was right behind Lucas, and even though she hated him with a passion, she didn't want to directly hurt his feelings...well, first, at least.

"As ready as I'll ever be," she mumbled, standing up and tossing her duffel over her shoulder.

"Great!" Brooke exclaimed. "Lucas, if you and Nathan here could just get my bags, that would be such a help."

"Whatever you need," Lucas answered, tugging on Nathan's sleeve to pull him into the room. Nathan walked in with his usual smirk present on his face, and when he met Haley's eyes it widened even more.

"James," he greeted her.

"Hello," she dead panned.

"How ya doin'?" he asked.

"Peachy," she grumbled.

"Don't push it," Lucas muttered under his breath to his brother, who shrugged and smirked at her some more. Sometimes she really hated it that Lucas had forgiven Nathan for his wrongdoing and they had become so close, because she still couldn't stand him and it was Lucas who he had been horrible to. She watched as they whispered to each other, real brothers now in every sense of the word, and could not fathom how Lucas could stand him.

"Tutor Girl, you coming?" Brooke asked her, pausing at the door as Lucas and Nathan filed out. She heard Nathan laugh loudly as he walked down the hallway, and Haley sighed.

"Coming," she mumbled. Brooke put her arm around her and the two walked down the hallway together.

"Don't look so glum," Brooke told her. "I've got a good feeling this is going to be a great weekend."

"That's because you're shacking up with your boyfriend."

Brooke licked her lips as she watched Lucas walk in front of them, practically undressing him with her eyes. "Mm, that is so true."

Haley nudged her. "Brooke, that's disgusting!"

Brooke grinned. "Can't help it, girl. He is fine."

"I think I just threw up a little bit in my mouth," Haley gagged, slapping her hand against her chest for effect and earning plenty of weird glances from the other people in the hall.

Brooke laughed and shrugged. "I'm really serious though, Haley. This weekend is going to be life-altering. I can feel it..."

Haley watched Brooke's face, all lit up with hope and expectation, and knew that all she felt was resignation. Maybe for Brooke this would be life-altering, but for her it would only be torture.

—x—

As soon as the door to Nathan's piece of crap car was shut behind her, she felt trapped. Nathan sat next to her, grinning at her that stupid, cocky grin, and she held her hands tightly together in her lap. She wasn't going to let him make her angry, or have her eye start twitching like it did sometimes–she was going to be calm. Cool. Collected.

He continued to grin until it was obvious she wasn't going to look at him. "Ready?" he asked.

"Yes."

"You sure?" His hand was on the key.

"We're not going to war," she told him, getting irritated already.

"Depends on what you call it," he mumbled under his breath, but turned the key before she could answer. His engine roared to life–roared to life–and music from the radio started to blare even louder than the engine. She felt the bass going through her and looked behind her only to see sub woofers sitting in the back of his car. He screeched out of the parking lot and onto the busy highway.

Her hands went to steady her on the dashboard, feeling the car shake as the they passed the other cars. "What are you doing?" she yelled over all the noise.

His head was keeping time with the rap that was coming from the speakers. "I'm driving," he answered.

"This is not driving!" she told him. "This is suicide! How can this heap of junk even go this fast?"

The music was turned down in a second. "Whoa," he said. "This car is not a piece of junk. This car is my baby."

"It is a piece of junk," she reinforced. "I bet it can't even–" She lifted her foot to kick the door and he held his arm out to stop her.

"Hey, hey, don't do that," he ordered. "This is a '67 Chevy Impala. Do you know what that means?"

"That it's ugly and old?" she guessed.

He shook his head at her, refusing to comment, and turned the music up some more. Her hand was on the dial in a second and the music was instantly gone. "And that music is crap," she added.

He turned the music back on, his head keeping time again. He answered simply, "My car. My music. Respect it."

She turned it off. "I would if it wasn't so disgusting."

He turned it on. "What, you want me to listen to your slow, chick-y music in my own car? Think again, James."

She turned it off. "Well I am a guest," she told him. "And I hate it so you should turn it off."

"How can you be a guest in a car?" he asked, turning the music back on.

"You just can, turn it off!" she yelled. Her eye had begun to twitch and she was really hating Brooke right at that second. She turned around in her seat, seeing Lucas's truck a ways down the highway, and telepathically sent Brooke a message including just how much she hated her and what she would do to her when she got out of this car. If she got out of this car.

In the end, the music stayed on. Haley glared out of the window, but it wasn't long until Nathan pulled into a gas station and turned the car off. Haley's ears were ringing and her head was pounding but she welcomed the sweet silence.

"I need snacks," he told her, twirling the keys around his finger. "Want anything?"

She shook her head at him. He left and she released a deep breath. It was five minutes into the ten hour drive and she was already losing it. She couldn't help it though, Nathan Scott just rubbed her the wrong way, with his stupid car and his lame music and his unending appetite. She watched as he entered the gas station, grabbing three candy bars, a bag of chips, a soda, and a case of beer. They were only twenty, and she watched as he took out his fake ID and flashed it to the cashier.

She rolled her eyes. Unbelievable, she thought.

He left the gas station with his hands full, and a woman held the door open for him. He paused to thank her and then he got a good look at her. Heels. Breasts. Hips. Score. Haley could practically read the words printed across his forehead as he stopped to prolong the conversation with the woman, who was more than happy to oblige. Nathan flashed her that smirk of his, the one that instilled disgust and nausea in Haley but apparently lust in everyone else. The woman was practically eating out of his hands. No wonder his ego was so big.

Haley cranked down the window, annoyed that she had to use such upper body strength to just roll down a damn window. "Nathan!" she barked. "We're on a schedule here!"

Nathan and the woman glanced over at her before looking back at each other. "Sorry," she heard Nathan faintly say. "My mother's a little emotionally unstable."

"Your mother?" the woman asked, looking back over at Haley and then Nathan. "She's your mother?"

Nathan nodded. "She had me real young." He shifted the bag in his arms. "So why don't you give me your number and we can..."

Haley tuned the rest of it out, hoping bile wouldn't rise in her throat. She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and sent a simple two word text to Brooke: You're dead.

Nathan returned to the car, pulling his door open with a loud screech and getting in, throwing the food into the back seat, but keeping a Snickers bar in hand. "You're particularly snippy today," he told her, opening the candy bar and taking a large bite out of it. She watched as some pieces of chocolate broke apart and fell from his mouth. He chewed the thing with his mouth open, and the nougat was sloshing around.

Her lip curled involuntarily. She turned away from him, and closed her window with lots of effort. He waited until she was done, and then he waited until she looked at him with an annoyed look on her face before smiling and turning the car back on. The rap returned. As did the engine. As did her headache.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she pulled it out. Brooke had replied, saying: You'll thank me for it someday. Like your wedding.

Bite me, she typed back, and snapped her phone shut angrily. Nathan glanced her way, ignoring the fact that he was currently running a red light, and smiled again. She crossed her arms and blew some hair out of her face.

She hated Nathan, and Brooke, and cheerleading, and basketball, and most of all, road trips.