A full week passed for Peyton Sawyer without drama, without controversy, without pain

Well, without new pain, at least.

Stepping into Nathan and Haley's hallway, crowded with people and specially decorated for the occasion, she could feel instinctively that this was about to change. She inhaled deeply and allowed Nathan to take her coat. Oh, well. Nothing lasts forever, she knew that by now.

If pressed, Peyton would be forced to admit that attending Lucas's engagement party ranked pretty low on her list of social priorities, somewhere under a High School Musical concert with Satan as the opening act. But nonetheless, here she was, smiling. As she and Brooke had discussed at length, there was nothing more pathetic than the bitter ex who just couldn't let it go.

In retrospect, Peyton felt that she had probably behaved less than gracefully with Lucas in private the previous week, and was determined to conserve a little more dignity in public. Her strategy was simple: make an appearance, smile benignly for about ninety minutes and then get the hell out of there. Brooke, under strict instructions not to leave her side for any length of time under any circumstances, ushered her towards the buffet, and Peyton allowed herself to be led away. Every minute she was here, she reminded herself, brought her one minute closer to leaving. That, at least, was some comfort.

She loaded her plate with party food vacantly, taking in the scene around her. It was a beautiful sunny evening, quality music – no doubt the result of Haley's expert guidance – was floating from the speakers, and there looked to be a great turn out. Despite the relaxed and informal nature of the event, dressing for this thing had been a nightmare. Nothing too casual, lest she look as though she were disrespecting the occasion, but nothing to show stopping either - wouldn't want to be accused of trying to upstage Lindsay, now, would she? Peyton did find it vaguely irritating that these were now among her life's chief concerns, but nevertheless, was pleased to realise that the short blue dress she had chosen seemed to be appropriate.

Half an hour later Lucas spotted her in his periphery as he walked through the living room, and practically had to do a double take. He hadn't believed she was really going to come, and considered her attendance an unspeakably good sign. To be married to Lindsay and truly be friends with Peyton represented, in his view, the best possible outcome of a wholly screwed up situation. He took advantage of his position, which ensured that he could see Peyton but Peyton couldn't see him, to observe her for a moment. If called upon it, he would deny it vehemently and convincingly, but in truth, this had become something of a habit for Lucas since Peyton's return. He liked to see how much she'd changed – and how much she hadn't.

He didn't suppose it would be disloyal to acknowledge that, in a petrol blue chiffon affair that cinched in at the waist and fell to just above the knee, Peyton looked effortlessly beautiful. It was less of an opinion, more of a fact, he reasoned. He wondered briefly if she realised she'd been wearing a lot more skirts since she got back from LA. At the moment, she and Brooke were engaged in what looked like a rather in-depth conversation with Jamie, and he smiled at the scene. There was no doubt about it, both of his ex-girlfriends were going to make wonderful mothers some day.

The sun was beginning to set, bathing the whole room in perfect, pinkish light, and Lucas allowed his gaze to wonder toward the poolside. Through the vast glass windows, his eyes rested on his fiancée. Sweet, smart, wonderful Lindsay. There was so much to love about her. She had saved him. He knew that people – Nathan, Haley, his mother, everyone, really – had been sceptical about their relationship at first. And perhaps they were right when they doubted if he was happy with her in quite the same way as he had been happy with Peyton.

Lucas wasn't above admitting it. He had been happy with Peyton in a way that quite simply defined happiness in his life.

But Peyton broke him, completely, and Lindsay fixed it, mostly. So he figured maybe what he had now was a better kind of happiness, and certainly safer.

As different people passed him, many stopping to talk and congratulate him, Lucas kept looking back towards Peyton, waiting for the best moment to approach. It seemed that Brooke was sticking to her best friend's side like glue and, much as he liked the girl, he wanted to speak with Peyton alone. He needed to tell her how much her mere presence meant to him. It provided all the hope he needed for their friendship in the future. Eventually, led by an insistent Jamie, Brooke found herself dragged off to his bedroom, mouthing apologies at Peyton, who simply waved them away laughingly. Lucas made a mental note to thank his nephew later, and seized the opportunity.

"You came," he said, walking up to her with a glass of white wine in hand.

Peyton glanced up in surprise. "I did," she replied, taking the offered glass with a smile.

"Thank you. "

Lucas was looking directly into her eyes and his words were evidently heartfelt. She shrugged them off with an embarrassed smile. Maybe she was paranoid now, on top of everything else, but she felt as though several pairs of eyes in the room were covertly watching them.

He noticed the subtle signs of her discomfort, and, more on reflex than anything else, cast his eyes quickly over her slender figure.

"You look good, Peyt," he said, surprised by the low murmur of his own voice. He had been going for a genial tone – brotherly, even – but somehow, quite without warning, seemed to have strayed off the mark a little.

Again, Peyton avoided his gaze. Christ almighty. He didn't make it easy. Any kind of intimacy, even if entirely innocent, could surely lead to no good, she thought briskly. It was time things got back on track.

"Thanks, you too," she replied pleasantly. "The party's great, Lucas. Brooke and I just got some food, it was amazing."

"Oh yeah, Haley really went all out, huh?"

"Totally," Peyton nodded. "Best sushi I've ever tasted. So, uh…" she glanced around awkwardly. "Where's your fiancée gotten to tonight?" she asked lightly, willing herself not to choke on the word.

"I'm not sure actually" Lucas rubbed a hand over the stubble on his cheek. "Some of her friends from New York came down, so I think she's out by the pool with them."

"Oh," Peyton replied, unable to come up with a more interesting response. "Well, listen, Luke, I think I'm probably going to have to take off in an hour or so, I have a really early conference call with LA in the morning," she lied, backing away from the conversation slowly. "I'll definitely try and find you and Lindsay before I go though."

"Okay," Lucas replied lamely. He paused a second and then, apparently struck by new resolve, opened his mouth to speak again.

When he looked up, she was already gone.

Twenty minutes later (and thirty five to go, but who was counting?), Peyton was surprised to find herself actually having a decent time, chatting to Mouth and Millicent about a promising new demo that came through the previous day. Anything to keep her mind off recent interaction with Lucas. She supposed it was his engagement party, so it shouldn't have been much of a shock to run in to him, but still… any and all contact with him left her feeling rather off kilter. This fact alone aroused in Peyton a certain sense of… disappointment. She had never wanted to be this way. She had actually put an inordinate amount of effort into not becoming this girl – the one who needs a man to make her happy, who pines after someone she'll never have. And the worst part was, she had seen this coming. Peyton had known when she was sixteen that Lucas Scott would make her weak, but just couldn't bring herself to care.

And now she was paying the price, she thought grimly, as she watched him approach. Right on cue.

"Hey you guys, everyone ok for drinks here?" he asked, trying to catch her eye.

Peyton kept her eyes downcast, and Mouth and Millicent's polite replies went unheard as a tall, jovial sort of man approached to join their company.

"Lucas! My man!" he exclaimed, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Tony!" Lucas turned around in surprise, offering the other man his hand. "You made it!"

"Yeah, sorry I'm late, car wouldn't start, I had to get a cab " he answered ruefully.

"No worries man, party's just getting started anyway. Hey," Lucas turned to the other three, "these are my friends, Mouth, Millicent and Peyton. Guys, this is Tony, he works with Hales and I at the school."

Tony smiled at them all easily, shaking their hands. When he reached Peyton, Lucas couldn't resist interjecting.

"Peyton actually knows a little bit about car trouble herself, right Peyt?" he asked playfully, hoping to fall into their easy banter.

She could see that he was striving to make some kind of connection with her, but at this stage, she really didn't see the point. According to her newly drawn-up code, inside jokes and teasing were a no-no, and walks down memory lane were suicide. Giving Lucas only the briefest glance that good manners demanded, she focussed her attention on the darker haired man in front of her.

"Yeah, I still have the car I had in high school, and it was old back then," she said with a smile. "I actually think I'm probably going to have to get something else one of these days."

"You're selling the Comet?" Lucas asked incredulously, his question coming out rather more quickly than he intended. "I mean, uh," he feigned casualness, ensuring his tone returned to normal, "why?"

"Yeah, Peyton, you've had that thing so long." Mouth added. "It'd just be weird seeing you in anything else."

"I know, I know," Peyton replied, again directing her answer not at Lucas but at Mouth and the others. "I mean, I loved it – I still do love it – but it's unreliable." She couldn't help stealing a glance at Lucas. "I think it's just time to move on."

"You're probably right," Lucas said softly, fixing his gaze on her. She met it head on, without fear.

A couple of seconds later, and they could both tell that the others in their company were starting to feel a little awkward. Lucas snapped out of it – he was the host, after all. "Tony," he said brightly, turning to look at his friend, "some of the other guys from work are out at the grill, how about we go join them?"

He and Peyton would have to continue this later, without an audience. Lucas couldn't say he relished the prospect.

Everyone's coats were being stored in the study, and it was with no small measure of relief that Peyton retrieved hers and moved to finally head home. She had not, as earlier promised, said goodbye to Lindsay or Lucas, but doubted either would be particularly devastated at the fact. Suddenly, Peyton felt someone approaching her from behind, taking a light grip on her left arm, accompanied by a gruff "c'mere." She could hardly help emitting a small sound of disbelief, but allowed herself to be tugged back into the study without much convincing protest. She knew exactly who it was.

"What's going on with you tonight, Peyton?" he questioned, wasting no time once the door was shut behind them.

"What do you mean?" she replied evasively.

Lucas resisted the urge to sigh. Sometimes it seemed to him that he could just as well be sixteen again, trying to break down her walls. "You know what I mean, you've been weird all night."

"Weird?" she repeated.

"Distant."

"Well, I'm sorry Lucas," Peyton said, her voice tinged with sarcasm. "But that's the best I can offer you."

"But it doesn't have to be this way!" he exclaimed in frustration. "Don't you get it, Peyt? Just because I'm with Lindsay, that doesn't mean I don't still care about you. I really, really want us to be friends," he finished pleadingly.

Peyton appeared unmoved by his declaration. She sat down on a stiff leather arm chair near the study door, regarding him carefully. "You know what your problem is, Luke?" she challenged him.

He got the feeling this was a rhetorical question, and wisely said nothing.

"You always have to be the good guy," she continued. "Like right now, talking to me. Like last week, coming to my house to check on me the morning after you proposed to another woman. I mean… God!" she exclaimed, with a mirthless laugh. "Can't you see how ridiculous that is? Don't you get that you just can't be that guy for me anymore?"

Lucas, now half perched on the heavy mahogany desk, again remained quiet, appearing to be digesting her words. Peyton took the opportunity to make herself very clear.

"Do you think it's even possible for you and I to be just friends at this point Lucas? Honestly?"

"Well, why not?" he replied, ever the optimist. "Because we dated? Come on, we were friends before we were ever a couple – although actually," he qualified, "I guess it was more like me watching you from afar and you being unbelievably mean to me, but hey, that's friendship of sorts."

Peyton permitted him a small smirk at that, remembering their former selves. It seemed like so long ago, and she wished to God she'd cut her losses back then, while she still could. It didn't take a genius to work out that she'd long since passed the point of no return.

Encouraged by the smile tugging adorably at the corners of Peyton's lips, Lucas continued.

"Just, please, Peyton," he implored her. "This is a small town, we have the same friends, it's going to suck for everyone if there's weirdness between us."

"I know!" she replied, a little more forcefully than intended, rising suddenly from her chair. "I know that! But you're…" Peyton closed her eyes briefly. "You're asking an awful lot of me here, Luke."

"Or maybe I'm not," he countered. "Maybe I'm not, and you and I just have a gift for complicating things. I mean, look at you and Nate – you guys dated in high school and now it's totally cool."

Peyton exhaled suddenly in disbelief. "I'm sorry," she said acerbically, leaning against the wall. "Did I hear that wrong, or did you just compare the juvenile, insignificant, nothing relationship I had with Nathan - sustained solely because I was lonely and he was horny – with…" she trailed off, unable to finish her sentence. "Seriously, Luke?" she asked again, after a moment's silence.

She was looking at him directly in the eye, and he could see the anger there, the disbelief and the pain. Seeing that look flash in her green eyes, knowing that he was the one who put it there, made him feel that somewhere along the way his life had gone very, very wrong. He raised a hand to his forehead despairingly and shook his head. "God, how'd this get so fucked up?" he asked, any more eloquent phrasing escaping him. It was more a question for himself than the girl standing opposite him.

Still, he persisted in believing, there had to be something salvageable here. There just had to be.

"Just please tell me you'll think about it," he said eventually, "the friends thing. I know it's hard for you. It's hard for me too, believe it or not. But it's got to be better than… whatever the hell that was tonight."

Seeing Lucas like this – confused, desperate, hurting – was heartbreaking for Peyton, creating a duller, more persistent ache than the stabbing sensation of her own pain. The combination of the two was crippling. The need to touch him was overpowering, and she stepped forward, only to restrain herself mere seconds later. She was not his girlfriend. If he needed comforting, there was someone just outside who would be only too happy to oblige. As for her… she'd be fine.

"Distant." Peyton said lightly, willing herself not to cry. "Is that what you said I was? You think I want to be distant, Luke? Cause let me assure you, I want to be completely and totally the opposite of distant. But it's one extreme or the other, and guess which one you chose."

Peyton, drained from the conversation, moved towards the door quickly, but not quick enough. She barely had it open before Lucas was behind her, slamming it shut roughly.

"Don't go," he said lowly, tantalizingly close to her. "I need you in my life. That's all I know right now."

"You need me?" Peyton echoed, choking back the tears. She placed both of her palms on his chest and shoved roughly, physically pushing him away. "I don't doubt it, Lucas. I mean, that's why you don't want anybody else to have me, right?"

He looked surprised, and she was more than happy to clarify. "Like that guy at the party for Brooke's store? You've made it pretty clear you don't want me Lucas," she said, with more than a trace of bitterness, "but the more I think about it, the more I think you quite enjoy me wanting you. Good old Peyton, you know, blast from the past, always there on the backburner…"

Lucas was literally stunned by what he was hearing. There was no denying that it was difficult for him to see her with another man. Watching her flirt with that bartender a few weeks ago, he had suddenly and unexpectedly experienced a sharp stab of jealousy that cut so deep and wide it left him open, exposed, chilled to the bone. But for her to imply that she was his second choice, his backup…. did she know nothing? He had asked her to marry him. Truly incensed, Lucas opened his mouth to respond, but Peyton wouldn't allow him.

"So yes, Lucas," she hissed, before he could get his words out, "I know you need me. You need me for a quick fumble when you've had a fight with your girlfriend. You need me to look at you and make you remember who the hell you want to be in this life – to make you feel like maybe you were more, you could be more, than this asshole you are currently."

Peyton looked away, emotionally exhausted. "And oh!" she added as an afterthought, turned back to face him, flinging her arms up. "Just to top it off, rumour has it I'm your fucking muse!"

There was silence in the room, with only the only sounds those of the party outside. It was hard to believe that behind that door, all their friends were happily drinking punch.

"Haley may have mentioned something," Peyton muttered eventually, in response to his unuttered question. "So what the hell's that about, Luke?" she asked, her tone rather surly now.

"I don't know," he replied tiredly. "I couldn't write, and then you came back and I could again. I don't know."

She simply looked at him, and waited.

He snapped. "Alright! Fine, Peyton!" he practically shouted, his voice rising with every syllable. "You want to hear me say it? I'm worried ok?!" He paused for breath, inhaling deeply, grasping for air. "I'm worried that I buried something that wasn't dead. But it's too late to do anything about it now!"

She tried to process this, but there wasn't time for anything more, at least nothing as inconsequential as words, because suddenly his mouth was on hers. Hot and open and demanding. He pushed her against the wall and gave her everything he had. It was a messy, desperate kiss on both their parts, and Peyton moaned as she opened her mouth for him, taking his tongue deeply and sliding her own around it. She clutched at his face as he tangled his hands in her hair, both of them panting for breath, hardly able to believe that this was happening but needing it to continue. Lucas thrust a knee between her legs, pushing her further up the wall and supporting her weight as she strained against him. He kissed her throat, her collarbones, any bare skin he could get his hands on and she threw her head back, letting him do it.

When he sucked at her earlobe, whispering her name hotly, something in Peyton jolted back to consciousness.

She tore her body away from his and she ran.

The next evening, Peyton was in her kitchen at home, trying to get the memory of his hands on her out of her head. She was beginning to fear it was impossible. The backlash would start soon, or so she assumed. She was actually surprised Lucas hadn't come to Tric today to do some damage control. When 6pm arrived with no sign of him, Peyton breathed a sigh of relief. She really couldn't handle any of his 'you kissed me first' bullshit.

Hearing Brooke's key in the door, Peyton smiled. She had decided that vast quantities of alcohol were in order tonight, and her best friend was usually a more than willing participant in such debauchery.

"No wonder you're smiling!" Brooke called with her usual exuberance as she walked into the hallway. "I would be too if I were you – hell, I was, all day!"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't be all coy with me P. Sawyer, you know!" Brooke's eye's twinkled as she flung off her shoes. She frowned a little at her friend's blank expression. "You don't know?

Peyton looked nonplussed.

"You don't know," Brooke finally accepted, wrapping her brain around the fact. This was classic.

"Peyton," she said, just as the blond was beginning to look irritated, "Lucas broke it off with Lindsay this morning. Shortest engagement ever or what?" she squealed, obviously delighted.

Peyton dropped her coffee mug.

Hope you liked, there is possibly one more part. All reviews are such encouragement and definitely make me want to update. Thanks to all those who reviewed last time - without you this would never have been written at all.