A trickle of sweat slid a windy path against her bare skin, pooling at the base of the brunettes back.
A sneaky glance from under her dark lashes caught the boy opposite her stealing a look over the edge of his paperback book, watching her trail her tongue, stained with strawberry juices from the lollypop she'd been sucking, across her lips, tasting the thick substance of lip gloss.
The lips tugged into a wry smile that quickly turned to a frown of displeasure when he returned to his paperback book, his baby blue eyes now scanning the pages of the novel in front of him instead of the curved lines of the sultry female opposite.
Choosing to shrug off his dismissal, she cast her attention to the people who occupied the space beside her. Her best friends.
The boy to her right sulked in his usual fashion, a scowl corrupting his handsome features. Gel was slicked through his dark locks, dripping into fabrication as it melted in the high temperature.
Then to her left, her best friend. A thin, tall, curly haired blonde whose long slim fingers were hurriedly sketching out an unidentifiable vision, the dark charcoal staining the pads of her fingers.
And then there was the enigma to the room. At least in Brooke Davis' opinion. The petite female who sat alongside the object of her desire with a worried expression marring her dainty features. Her clothes were rumpled and forgettable, a simple jeans and plain t-shirt combination, hiding the truth of her lines. She looked out of place beside the rest of them, young men and women treating the experience with cool disregard.
Brooke Davis. Lucas Scott. Nathan Scott. Peyton Sawyer and Haley James.
The five teenagers were the only unfortunate souls forced to endure the sweltering heat that suffocated the classroom on that Saturday detention.