Chapter 1- I hope you dance

The petite brunette pulled her hair into a tight bun securing it firmly to her head with the bobby pins she held between her teeth. She leaned forward and gazed at herself through the large glass mirror that made its way across the entire length of the room. As she smoothed her hands over her neatly pinned up hair, her legs raised herself on the tip of her toes. She glanced down at them; ten years of leaping and spinning had damaged them beyond repair. She remembered a time when her toes had walked amongst sandy beaches in ruby red nail polish, yes, they were once in perfect condition. Today, however, the red polish was chipped and it clashed with the beige medical tape that weaved amongst blisters and bruises. With a sigh, Haley reached down towards them placing her palms on the floor setting in for a brief stretch. She was a dancer, and if it took battered toes to dance a perfect Swan Lake combination, so be it; her toes were martyrs. As girls in black leotard and tights filed into the room, Haley pulled herself up and felt her eyes scan the group of dancers. It didn't take her long to find who her eyes were looking for; the turquoise legwarmers were hard to miss. Haley made her way through the crowd and towards the southernmost corner of room. As per usual, the girl with the turquoise legwarmers was nestled in the sunlit corner wrapping up her toes with neon colored band aids.

'B. Davis, you do know medical tape works better?' said Haley as she slid down the wall and huddled herself onto the floor.

The dark brunette looked up from her toes for a moment, 'I will not give up fashion for function Haley James. Plus, neons are in this season, and my toes seem to ache less when they're well dressed.'

Haley chuckled at her fashion forward friend. The girls had met here, at the Boston Ballet, three years ago, and had been inseparable ever since. Brooke, a Boston native, had introduced the small town southern bell to big city living, yet Haley had yet to inherit the eccentricities of city fashion.

'Well, Miss Davis,' said Haley while Brooke busied herself tying up her point shoes, 'you know me, my toes are happier in plain Jane beige.'

Nathan Scott ran through the Boston Gardens as he did every Sunday morning. He turned around to see his brother lagging behind him. He slowly lessened his pace, and by the time his brother reached his side, Nathan was leaned against a tree stretching out his calf muscles.

'You know Luke, if Karen saw you run these days she'd disown you,' Nathan smirked at his brother who was bent over, hands on his knees, chest heaving heavily.

'You,' rasped the slight blonde in between breaths, 'are gonna kill me.'

Nathan chuckled as he slid his way down the trunk of the tree. 'Dude, it's not my fault your outta shape. Maybe you should hit the gym a little more instead of frolicking downtown with a certain ballerina.' Lucas made his way towards his brother and slowly sat down beside him hanging his head back against the tree.

'First of all, I'm an English lit major; I don't need to be in shape. Second, you're just jealous that that certain ballerina chose me instead of you.' 'Speaking of', he continued, 'my ballerina says she has a girl for you.' Lucas looked over at his brother and he could see skepticism creeping into his face.

'Luke, do you remember the last time Brooke Davis set me up?' Lucas started laughing, how could he forget the last time, it had been absolutely disastrous. 'She set me up with a bimbo that could barely spell her own name and that thought that JFK was an acronym for 'just fucking kidding'. I am staying far away from any girl Brooke suggests I date.' Lucas was still laughing as his brother ranted on about the horrendous experience. 'Dude, it isn't funny, Brooke has to stay away from me.'

Lucas slowly brought his laughing to a mere chuckle as he wiped his brow with his t-shirt; the H in Harvard was now translucent. 'I promise, 'he began, 'that my girlfriend means no harm this time. Plus, the bimbo accident happened four years ago, we weren't even out of high school yet. Anddd, this girl is a ballerina, you know what that means: flexibility.'

'Dude, I will go on the date as long as you never say 'flexibility' that way ever again. I now have this disturbing image of you and Brooke etched into my brain.' Luke gave his brother his famous smirk, '8 o'clock, Quincy Market.' Nathan shook his head in disbelief, 'whatever, I'll be there. Now, get up, you owe me breakfast.'

Haley looked at herself in the mirror. Something was missing, something wasn't right. 'Peyton', she yelled, 'Peyton!' she continued as her voice echoed throughout the apartment. A tall curly blonde made her way through Haley's bedroom door looking quite peeved.

'James, I am not a canine, nor am I deaf for that matter, what happened to your inside voice?' Peyton Sawyer's eyes surveyed the room in front of her, 'what the hell happened here? It's a little early for hurricane season don't ya think?'

Haley took a look around her room; clothes were dangled from the bed, to her chairs, to her desk. She had spent the last hour going through what seemed every piece of clothing she owned, and yet, nothing seemed to be appropriate enough for a first date. Haley looked at her roommate with pleading eyes, 'help!' she squeaked out. Peyton gave out a chuckle and entered the small bedroom taking a seat on a desk littered with papers, ribbons, and the miscellaneous undergarment. She looked at her best friend peering at herself through a body length mirror. For as long as she had known Haley James, fashion had never been one of her strong points. She was smart, graceful, but yet fashionably handicapped.

'Please tell me you will not be going out for dinner in blue jeans and that blouse?' Peyton wrinkled her nose as she studied the top her friend was wearing. It was deep brown in color and was covered with little red and white flowers. She might as well have been going to a rodeo.

'I like this blouse thank you,' answered Haley hands on her hips, 'what's wrong with it? It used to be my mother's that means its vintage…right?' Peyton burst out laughing, 'come here girly, let me fix you up.'

The boys sat on the stairs leading up to the Quincy Market. It was a quarter passed eight and still no sign of Brooke or her mysterious friend. Nathan looked up at the sky, deep grey clouds were closing in on the city, rain was threatening to come pouring down at any minute.

'Bro, I swear, if it starts raining, I am going to kill your girlfriend.' Lucas Scott just smirked up at his brother. Patience was not his virtue.

'Nate, they're girls. If you never know anything, know this: always give ladies a plus 30 to show up. There are no minuses in girl land.'

Nathan ran his hands through his hair in aggravation. 'This girl better look like Cindy Crawford, man. Ten minutes and I'm gone.'

As he finished his sentence, he raised his head just to be face to face with the devil herself: Brooke Davis. 'Well, well, aren't you annoying as always hotshot', she said to Nathan as Lucas stood up and swooped his arm around her. 'You better start being a gentlemen Nate, cause here comes the girl of your dreams.'

Nathan stood up to get a better look at the approaching figure. Her brown hair swayed with the rhythm of her hips, the last rays of sun illuminating her legs through the soft cotton of her dress. 'Wow,' whispered Nathan. As the petite figure made her way up the stone stairs, soft rumbles of thunder were starting to be heard. Nathan looked into the girl's eyes, and a certain familiarity ran through his body. 'Nathan,' she whispered incredulously. 'Haley,' he whispered back, and the skies opened and rain fell upon them.