A/N: Hey everyone! This is my first attempt at a One Tree Hill story. It will focus on LP and will probably only be four chapters. I just want to explore that very first part of their relationship, and I hope you'll join me.
Thanks for reading! Enjoy :)
P.S. The title is from a quote by Herman Melville.
Chapter 1
Live Only For Ourselves
One night of magic rush
The start a simple touch
One night to push and scream
And then relief
- Heartbeats by Jose Gonzalez
Peyton Sawyer's vibrant green eyes scanned the room, her mess of blond curls falling fretfully with every cock of the head and twist of the neck. Her gaze traced the doors of the house, her heart pounding with every breath of cool air and sudden glimpse of night. It meant someone new had come. And that moment, that moment of sweet anticipation, was all she had left to grasp.
She hoped there would be someone interesting at this party, someone who would free her from the chains of popularity and expectation. It was a world she didn't really want to be a part of, a world Brooke Davis, her best friend, had thrust her into.
Brooke was meant for this world. Not Peyton.
Peyton wondered absentmindedly where her boyfriend, Nathan Scott, the typical stupid, supposedly attractive jock, was, but she realized she really didn't care. She was, in a sense, his trophy wife; they kept their relationship intact for appearance's sake, but were hardly "in love."
What a load of crap. Like love even existed, thought Peyton bitterly.
Of course, just as she thought that, her eyes fell on a sight she really didn't have the time to worry about right now: the sight of Nathan kissing his way up some blond bimbo's stomach, his sexily mussed black locks falling over his forehead as the girl lying beneath him laughed. Peyton turned away, not bothering to confront Nathan about his clandestine behavior. It wasn't worth the trouble.
She ignored the eyes that fell on her, instead shaking her head, tossing her blond curls ever so slightly. She pretended not to notice the gaping mouth of the girl next to her. She had long ago accepted that Nathan was just like this, that he was a playboy and she'd have to deal with it. She barely even cringed when she saw him in action anymore.
Everyone wondered how Peyton could laugh things off like this, how she and Nathan could still be together despite his numerous infidelities. They didn't realize that she just didn't care.
Nathan's head snapped up when he realized the laughter had drained out of the room, and his eyes rose to meet Peyton's. He smiled a little, a conspiratorial grin, and waited for Peyton's usual answering nod. But she only stared at him for a long moment, color rushing into her cheeks.
Something had suddenly changed. The sight of him kissing some other girl was just too much to handle. She couldn't believe she had let this happen again. She couldn't believe she had let him embarrass her in front of all their friends again. And so she walked away.
It barely registered in Peyton's mind that Nathan didn't call after her.
She circled the house a couple times, avoiding Nathan, avoiding the crowds of drunken people, avoiding everything. She just wanted to be alone. She just wanted to escape.
But she couldn't, could she? She was trapped, trapped in Tree Hill, North Carolina.
What a hopeless preposition. She'd never get anywhere in life.
She wanted to draw, she realized. She wanted to let it all go, and she only knew how to let it out on paper, with pencil and ink and shapes. But she couldn't do that, either. Not now. Not here.
The door creaked open as Peyton's thoughts wandered, and her glance flew to the front of the house. Maybe this would be different. But it was only Brooke. Brooke, who was sweaty and breathless. Brooke, whose hair was tangled and whose shirt was flush on her stomach, exposing a few inches of taut, stretched skin. Peyton laughed to herself. Of course.
Brooke reached up on her tiptoes and locked eyes with Peyton, smiling a little and dipping her head in silent apology. Peyton shrugged. This happened often. It didn't really faze her anymore, not after years of friendship with Brooke.
Peyton watched affectionately as Brooke barreled through the crowd and launched herself at her best friend, guffawing loudly. Peyton patted Brooke's head and cautiously sniffed her hair, then groaned. Brooke was drunk. And not just slightly tipsy. She was the kind of drunk that meant staying up all night throwing up and waking up the next morning with a hangover that only eased with time.
Peyton pulled back a little and gazed into Brooke's guileless eyes, grumbling, "What happened to you this time?"
Brooke shook her head and babbled, her words slightly nonsensical, "Well, I met this guy, and he got me a drink, and then he asked me if I wanted to go outside, and I was, like, 'Of course!' And then…"
Her raspy voice, darkened with alcohol, trailed off, and Peyton sighed in resignation. She'd have to get her home. Now.
"Brooke," she panted, struggling in her efforts to keep her best friend upright. "You've got to help me out here."
Brooke slumped in Peyton's arms, giggling, and mumbled, "Sorry, P. Sawyer. I'm just a little drunk…"
Peyton sighed and noted irritably, "I can see that."
Brooke laughed again, the sound audible even over the throbbing music, and several people turned to look at the unlikely pair: the lanky, unapproachable, self-described loner and the bubbly, flirty cheerleader. Their gazes made Peyton uncomfortable, and she averted her eyes, waiting for the tide of interest to pass. But she grudgingly conceded that it would likely remain for a while, because there was nothing more entertaining than a drunken girl at a house party.
But they were all used to this by now, and their eyes soon left the sight behind. Peyton couldn't help but sigh in relief. She had never liked the attention popularity brought.
Brooke straightened slightly and rambled, "I'm sorry, Peyton. I know this always happens, but I'm just so drunk and the guy was so nice."
"I know," Peyton whispered, stroking Brooke's dark hair fondly. "I know."
The two best friends stood there in the hallway for a moment, watching the swarms of people blend and falter. Peyton wondered if any of them were different, if any of them were unique. Did they ever want to break free? Or were they all just content with the lives they had here? She supposed they were. They had never known anything else.
Then again, neither had she. And somehow, she still managed to yearn for a life she didn't know.
Brooke whispered, her words muffled by the fabric of Peyton's soft blue tee, "Can we go home now?"
Peyton nodded, yawning. "Yeah. We're going to leave soon."
She hooked her arm through Brooke's and dragged them both towards the front door, feeling the strength ebb out of her. As much as she loved Brooke, this was a little ridiculous.
But the sudden coldness in the air shocked her, and she slowly turned her head, knowing something had changed. The room had gone quiet, the voices of drunken high schoolers and sleazy guys drowning in the rush of silence. The windows had fogged up, the mist falling to meet the flames of sordid passion fluttering on the floor, a floor littered with bronze limbs tangled, slipping, entwined. And the door had swung open, the creak of the hinges resonating in Peyton's ears.
She gasped. Someone new was here. She could feel it.
She dropped Brooke's arm, her gaze sweeping across the room until it reached the door, the white, nondescript door that suddenly seemed like it was the door to the path that led to all her dreams.
And then she saw him.
Peyton looked at him in awe, this new arrival, her eyes greedily drinking in the closely cropped golden locks, the strong chin, the edge of a welcoming smile. She could only see his profile, could only see the muscles bulging in his tan arms and the legs sheathed in baggy jeans. But that was more than enough to sate her thirst for excitement and make her move instinctively in his direction.
Nothing could have prepared her, though, for the stab of pain and longing that pieced her very core when Lucas Scott turned to look at her.
She had heard about this boy before, had heard Nathan voice his name bitterly, had heard Brooke rant and rave about how attractive he was (at least, Brooke thought he was attractive – she had only ever seen his picture in the newspaper). But she hadn't thought that she would ever meet him, and she had never imagined a moment like this. She simply couldn't have.
Because as the other Scott brother looked at her, wonder and admiration sparkling in his surprisingly clear blue eyes, Peyton knew he would come talk to her. And she didn't want to avoid him, because she thought that maybe she had finally found someone who would know her.
And that was worth risking everything. She would risk her life for this boy, a boy she didn't even know. Yet. Lucas Scott.
"Come on," she whispered out of the corner of her mouth, her eyes locking with Lucas's, "Brooke, come on. We're leaving."
Leaving, because Peyton fully intended to pass Lucas on the way out.
She didn't stop to think about what that impulse meant. She didn't want to think about what it meant, really. Instead, she simply hooked her arm through Brooke's once again and pulled her forward. The two girls trudged towards the door wearily, their heads down, their bodies slumping. Neither of them had the energy to remain upright, and so they didn't try.
But as they reached the door, as they crossed the threshold, Peyton's arm brushed Lucas's, and she could not remember her name for one long moment. She turned to look at him, and he smiled at her, one eyelid reaching down in a subtle wink that broke through another few of the walls surrounding her heart.
God. She was already falling for him, and she didn't even know him.
The thought had her almost running out the door with Brooke, the drunken girl hanging off her arm in a desperate attempt to stay standing. Peyton needed to get away from the magnetic pull of that boy's eyes. He was forbidden. Forbidden. Forbidden. It was a mantra that she repeated to herself as she walked.
But then, as they headed home, as they were halfway down the sidewalk leading away from the house, Peyton realized she had left her purse in the kitchen, and she spun around quickly, determined to retrieve it as quickly as possible.
Brooke didn't say anything, and Peyton ignored her, because at this point, the brunette was halfway unconscious.
Once the two girls reentered the party, Peyton left Brooke on a sofa by the door and headed for the kitchen, sighing in relief when her hands closed around her black leather purse. She wondered idly what Nathan had gotten up to since she had last seen him, but disregarded the thought and prepared to leave again.
Just as she thought that, Nathan himself came up behind her and grabbed her ass. She flinched at his rough touch and hissed, "Come on, Nathan. Let's not pretend you even really wanted to do that."
Nathan laughed in her ear and whispered sweetly, "Peyton, lighten up a little. Have some fun. The bedroom's open."
His eyebrows wiggled suggestively, and Peyton cringed in disgust. It had been a long time since anything Nathan did had made her horny. It had been a long time since the sight of his floppy, slightly greasy hair and his cloudy, unfocused blue eyes had turned her on. She was past that point. She was just…over him.
She sighed heavily, preparing to fake tiredness, and leaned into Nathan, trying to ignore the shudder of discomfort that rippled down her spine when her skin was flush with his. She turned her head slightly and purred, "I wish I could, tiger. But I'm not feeling so well. It's late."
Nathan chuckled nastily and pulled Peyton close to him, snarling in her ear, "I don't care, Peyton. We haven't had sex in weeks."
Peyton turned around and angrily shoved him backward, a steely glint in her eyes that frightened him a little. "Do I look like I want to have sex right now?"
Nathan glared at her and grabbed her arms, pinning them securely behind her back. He stepped closer to her and asserted, his voice low and cold and menacing, "You're my girlfriend. And I want you. Now."
Peyton laughed, a broken, sarcastic sound that tumbled out of her mouth without regard to the people listening, and retorted bitterly, "Well, seeing as you were just necking that skank over there in the corner five minutes ago, I really don't understand how that's possible."
Nathan gaped at her in disbelief. She didn't usually complain about his "secret" trysts with other girls. She usually just ignored them, and her sudden interest in his infidelity crowded his thoughts and made him blurt out the truth. "She was horny, I was horny, end of story. Look, Peyton, why do you care so much?"
Peyton glared at him. "Do you have any idea how this makes me look?" She struggled to release herself from the hold of his arms, but he only clutched her wrists tighter, making her cry out in pain.
He wasn't goofy anymore. He wasn't the guy she knew. He was scary. He was out for blood, and everyone in the room knew it.
Nathan stepped closer to her and whispered, "It makes you look like a jock's girlfriend. Typical. Just deal with it."
"I don't want to." Peyton shook her head, purposely throwing her curls in Nathan's face. She realized he was probably more than a little intoxicated at this point, but she didn't care. She could forgive him for this in the morning. But right now, she just wanted to hurt him. "Not anymore."
"Are you breaking up with me?" Nathan's voice was quiet, cold, harsh. It was more frightening, somehow, than it would have been if he had yelled it.
Peyton flinched and shook her head. As much as she wanted to break up with Nathan, there were times when she really cared about him. And so she simply averted her eyes and shot back fiercely, "No. I just want you to treat me right. Which, apparently, you are incapable of doing."
And then Nathan lunged at her, and the darkness behind Peyton's eyelids was suddenly a haven.
From the foggy depths of slight unconsciousness, she heard voices, whispers and squeals fluttering in her ears. She heard Nathan's exclamation of outrage and Brooke's drunken giggle. She heard the dull thud of a punch being thrown, and as she opened her eyes to a bright light, she saw…
Lucas Scott. Of course.
He extended a hand to her, and she took it, grumbling all the while. His soft laugh did not make her smile.
"What happened?" she asked him groggily, rubbing her eyes.
He pulled her to her feet and wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her steady, murmuring in her ear, his warm breath fanning across her face, "Well, it looked like Nathan was going to hurt you."
Peyton turned to look at him questioningly, trying to remember what had happened before she had been knocked – had she been knocked? – to the floor, and smiled a little at the anger dancing in his strange eyes.
He shrugged. "So I stepped in. I guess he didn't like that much. You know, the long-lost half-brother beating up the basketball star."
He broke out into a grin, but Peyton was horrified. "You beat him up?" she screeched, secretly feeling grateful.
"Not exactly…" Lucas corrected amusedly, unable to suppress his glee, "I may have punched him once or twice, but he's fine."
"Where is he?" she asked hotly, her eyes anxiously scanning the room. She didn't really want to face Nathan right now, not after she had publicly embarrassed him by rejecting his plea for sex and then been saved by her boyfriend's estranged half-brother. But what had she been saved from? Rape? She really didn't know, and that was the reason she needed to find Nathan. She didn't want Nathan to think that she had wanted to be saved by Lucas.
And so she looked for him.
But, as always, he was nowhere to be seen. Peyton turned to Lucas, wrenching herself away from his grip, but softened when he didn't resist, when he didn't try to hold onto her. Nathan would have.
The comparison made her shudder, and she spat at Lucas, "What have you done?"
He was clearly bewildered, and he raised his eyebrows, replying carefully, as if each word mattered very much, "I was only trying to help."
"I didn't need your help," Peyton retorted, lifting her head haughtily. She could feel color burning in her cheeks, and she hastened to expel it, hoping Lucas wouldn't think she was blushing. Because she wasn't blushing. She was only angry. And whenever she was angry, heat rushed into her cheeks. It was a humiliating tendency.
She continued, "And I need to go find my best friend now. So if you'll excuse me…"
Lucas smiled wryly and leaned against the nearest wall, blocking Peyton's way, lifting a hand. "Lucas Scott," he murmured in a lazy attempt to introduce himself.
"Peyton Sawyer," she answered distractedly, ignoring the hand he extended to her, trying to find a way around him. She had to find Brooke and go home. Now.
"You know," said Lucas, tapping her arm playfully, "You really shouldn't leave in the middle of conversations. It's rude."
Peyton glared at him. "No," she countered, leaning towards him slightly, her emerald eyes blazing into his lighter, softer sapphire ones, "What's rude is when someone gets in other people's business. Wouldn't you agree?"
She threw a fake smile at him and waited for his retort, but he only grinned and whispered, "You're not meant for this world, are you?"
Peyton growled in frustration and placed both hands on his chest in a futile attempt to push him backward, trying to ignore the warmth beneath her fingers. "You are in no position to judge me, Lucas Scott. No position at all."
She was irritable, angry. At least on the outside.
But, as Peyton would discover over the next few years, the other Scott brother was not fooled by words. He knew better.
And so he only whispered, "You should go find your best friend."
Peyton nodded dumbly, but just as she was about to go find Brooke, the drunk girl herself walked up to her and mumbled, "Peyton, who is this guy?"
Peyton smiled indulgently and patiently explained, "This guy is a nuisance, and someone we're going to get away from now." She turned to look at Lucas and smiled sweetly, her words dripping with sarcasm. "It was nice to meet you, Lucas."
He only nodded, suppressing a smile.
But then Lucas Scott uttered the four words that changed Peyton Sawyer's life.
"I'll be seeing you."
tbc