Author: Summer

Title: With the Lights On

Date: 11/24/03

Spoilers: Up until With Arms Outstretched. A few details will be a bit off, since I started this a while ago, but that's where the willing suspension of disbelief comes in.

The lamp flicked on, creating a soft light over a very girly bedroom, with its pale pink walls and soft beige carpeting. Slowly, the room took shape to the woman's tired eyes. An antique armoire made of chestnut wood and goatskin against one wall, a small glass table and chairs to its side. A desk was in the other corner, a computer situated on top. A television, a CD player, and a phone. Your typical teenage bedroom.

The main feature of the room was certainly the king sized bed in the center with its white sheets and matching pillows. And currently in that bed were two sets of bronzed legs, intertwined. The girl's head rested on the boy's bare chest, her dark hair concealing her face. She shifted slightly, her face becoming slightly visible through her hair.

"God, Brooke," the woman exclaimed, letting out a deep breath. When the girl squinted at her, she continued, "What if Mom had walked in instead of me?"

"She wouldn't have walked in because she came home smashed last night and is probably still out like a light," Brooke drawled, lazily sitting up.

"Yeah, well… well, that's beside the point! Brooke, you're sixteen! You shouldn't be… God, why isn't he awake? Who is he?"

"I don't remember his name, really. Ryan something, I think." Brooke, shook the boy lightly as she continued. "I met him at the concert."

"So, you don't even know him. How do you know he doesn't have AIDS or something? He could be… he could be a male swinger!"

"You're such a prude, Jamie."

"Who's a prude?"

Both girls turned to the source of the groggy, masculine voice. The boy sat up, covering his mouth as he yawned. Looking from Brooke to Jamie, he grinned. "Hey, baby."

"Uh." Jamie shook her head, her arms crossed over her chest. "Whatever. You have to be out of here in ten minutes. And Brooke, get dressed. Peyton called. She's coming over in half an hour, tops."

As the hot water massaged her body, easing the tension, Brooke leaned against the glass wall of her shower. Washing the conditioner from her hair, she pondered the events of the previous night. Or what she could remember of them.

She and the rest of the Varsity Cheerleaders, with the exception of Peyton, had gone to some R&B concert the night before. She couldn't remember the artist's name. Funny thing was, she didn't even like that kind of music.

Brooke bit her lip, trying to remember when she'd run into the guy who she'd awoken next to. Probably at the bar. She remembered dancing with him, coming on to him, inviting him home.

Allison Bentley, one of the new girls, had dropped her off after the concert. Allison had made a comment Brooke had found funny at the time and made a mental note to remember, but of course, she didn't.

She didn't remember the sex. She smirked. Clearly it couldn't have been that great anyway, if it wasn't even worth remembering.

A red lace balconet bra and matching tanga bottoms. Perfect for seduction. Strangely, also the most innocent underwear she owned. She laid them on her bed, turning back to her closet to choose an outfit.

Brooke had a complex system for picking out an outfit. The first step was to decide the purpose. And today, it was to get into Lucas Scott's bed. Brooke grinned.

Pulling a daring V-front shirt from her closet, she draped it over her arm, reaching up for the tan miniskirt she loved to wear with it.

Walking back into her bedroom, she dropped her towel and slipped into her bra and underwear, as she heard a knock on the door. "Who's there?"

"Me."

Peyton. "Eh." Brooke swung the door open. "You like?" she asked, spinning around in her underwear.

Peyton rolled her eyes. "Who's the victim today, Brooke?"

Brooke smiled, turning back to her clothing. She didn't answer, simply slipping on her shirt.

"Lucas?"

"Mmm." She pulled her skirt up, licking her lips. "He's got to have quite the body, huh, Peyt?"

"Sure…" Peyton shrugged, sitting down on the edge of Brooke's bed. "Your room smells like sex," she complained.

Brooke sniffed the air. "Hmm. I guess so."

"Who were you with last night?"

"Some guy from the concert. Ryan." Brooke quickly applied her lipstick and mascara. "Lets get out of here."

"Does this color look all right?" Brooke asked, resting her foot against the steering wheel.

"Brooke!" Peyton exclaimed, laughing. She looked over at Brooke as the car veered off to the right.

Brooke laughed as well, then noticed how close they were to a tree. Grabbing the wheel from Peyton, she muttered, "Learn how to drive." She lifted her foot onto the dashboard, inspecting the damage that had been done to her nails.

Peyton rolled her eyes, pushing a CD into the CD player.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Where are we going, Peyt? This is like, the slums of Tree Hill. I don't want to get robbed or raped or something," Brooke said as Peyton turned on to an old cement road that looked like it hadn't been paved since their parents were their age.

Peyton smirked, continuing down the road. "It's not that bad, Brooke."

"Well, can you at least tell me where we're going?"

"One minute," Peyton said, pulling to the side of the street, next to a basketball court.

"Oh. Lucas' court. I get it now." Brooke paused. "This isn't the way I came before."

Peyton glanced over at her. "When did you come?"

"Oh, never mind." Brooke glanced at the court. "What happened there?"

"I promised to help clean it," Peyton said, gesturing to the loose backboard, covered in graffiti.

Brooke scrunched up her nose, gingerly stepping out of the car. "Eww. Um, why?"

"Because Nathan did it. Or at least I think he did."

"That's not your problem. You aren't still with him. Peyton, are you still Nathan's bitch?" Brooke asked.

"No." Peyton glanced at her watch. "Lucas said he'd be here by now."

"Lucas is coming?" Brooke asked, choosing to ignore Peyton's comment. "Ooh! I want to help."

Peyton cast her a sidelong glance, shaking her head. "You're amazing, Brooke."

"What are we doing?"

"Repainting the backboard."

"Ooh, fun," Brooke sad, pulling her hair into a loose ponytail. "Where's the paint?"