AN: This is the first chapter. Read, review and tell me what you think. Thank you.

Summary: Nathan Scott gets left behind and Brooke Davis gets betrayed. When comforting turns into dancing which turns into more than that they decide to test the theory 'Friends with Benefits'. Can anything ever really be that simple? They'll be sure to tell you when they find out.

Disclaimer: I didn't make them up. Come on. If I did, this would be how the show went.

***

Pain. That was all she felt, all she was capable of feeling.

Then there was the loneliness. It tugged at her heart, flashed across her brain receptively so she would never forget. Never forget she was completely alone.

She thought back to the good old days, when she slept with guys she had no attachment to and woke up the next day with a huge smile on her face. Back to the days when she could waltz through life with her kick ass body and killer smile as she charmed hottie into buying her presents, drinks and a smattering of other things that always delighted her more when they were received from a good looking male.

Face it, everything's better received from a good-looking male.

Lucas Scott, he was different. He wrote her love notes, challenged her mind, made her read books, and kissed her like ... Like he cared. Not like all the others who wanted one thing and one thing only.

And it sure as hell wasn't her heart.

Then there was her backstabbing bitch of a best friend Peyton Sawyer who had until approximately three hours had been her most trusted companion. Peyton had valiantly defended her time and time again against vicious names like slut and whore, and with her kickass attitude had always beaten them down. She was stubborn and cynical, but a steadfast and loyal counterpart. Peyton had known her before she had curves, and knew how to showcase her assets. Before make up, boys, well there may have never been a time without boys in her life but before she had actually kissed one, and the pressures of being a teenager. Presently, Peyton could look past her status, expensive clothes, and loads of hot boyfriends to see the somewhat decent person she knew she could be.

If Brooke Davis needed someone to lean on, six hours ago she would have tossed a coin to decide whether to call Lucas or Peyton. They were both her favorite people in the world, both able to see her, really her not the slutty party girl she usually portrayed, and help her with whatever she needed. They were her boyfriend, the first real one she had ever had, and the only guy she ever gave a shit about, and her best friend, the only one she'd ever had. And about six hours ago Brooke Davis found out they had been sneaking around behind her back.

The boyfriend and the best friend, such a rotten cliché.

Brooke was on her bed staring at the nothingness on her ceiling and wishing she could go back. To just a few weeks ago, when Peyton had been her best friend and Lucas had been her boyfriend and they had been two very separate yet significant people in her life. She missed what could now be considered as the good old days.

Brooke peeled herself off her bed, a white-hot fury beginning to simmer in the bottom of her stomach. Why should I-pretend-I'm-A-Good-Guy-But-Am-Really-An-Ass and Blondie bitch ruin her life? Why should the good for nothing heartbreakers get the satisfaction of destroying Brooke Penelope Davis? She was rich, hot, and captain of the cheerleading squad. What the hell were Luke and Peyton? Two tortured, twisted, messed up people who deserve nothing more than to drown in their own self-loathing and worthlessness.

Changing into a short denim miniskirt and cleavage intensifying red top she charged out of her house with a destination set clearly in her mind.

Pain. That was all he could feel. Pain. Haley James the first girl who ever really gave a shit. Haley James the first girl he had ever been with that he ever, really gave a shit about. That rainy night he stole her virginity after she laughingly shot down his offer of marriage. "This is forever right here. We don't need jeweler to make it official," She had said looking up at him with this look like she meant the words coming from her mouth.

But she didn't, because here they were two months later and she had left him to go on tour without him, but with fucking Chris Keller a self-worshipping rock star who would bail on Haley the minute the sweat dried on their post sex buzzed bodies.

He didn't fucking need this.

He was Nathan Scott for Christ's sake. He was hot, rich, and basketball team captain. And who was Haley? A nobody tutor nerd until Nathan had come along and upped her status. Suddenly, she was Tree Hill High's latest princess up in the ranks beside Brooke Davis and Peyton Sawyer, two of their finest. Who did she have to thank for the sleepovers with the most popular girls in school, the parties she would have never been invited to if not for him, and the coveted seat in the center table at lunch? Him, fucking him who went out thinking he found love and ended up with shit.

His phone rang buzzing on the polished wood surface of his coffee table. Sighing and not bothering to check the caller ID, he answered. "What do you want?" He barked, sure whomever it was he really didn't want to talk to them. "Where are you?" Came the equally sharp reply from a sexily husky female voice he recognized immediately. "Beach house. Why?" He asked, some but certainly not all of his previous anger gone. "I'll be there in five," Brooke Davis declared, almost warily before clicking off.

Brooke Davis, Brooke Davis. Sexy, alluring, and able to keep up with him drinking wise. Last time he checked she was dating his brother, who he didn't particularly like, and she wasn't talking to him. Nathan and Brooke had been friends forever, but ever since she started dating his enemy the friendship had faded which could possibly be his fault. He had called her a slut, quite loudly, in the middle of the hallway but only because he was pissed she chose his least favorite male to sleep with. They had always been close in the way that they cared about each other without really admitting it, and Nathan believed he had every right to be angry. Then there was Haley who was Lucas's best friend and thought they should just bury the hatchet.

Psh. Like that would ever happen.

His thoughts were interrupted by the angry stomps of high heels as the door open and then slammed shut. Before he could even muster a greeting Brooke Davis in all her glory was beside him picking up the open bottle of scotch before him and taking a large swig.

"Hello to you too," Nathan muttered cocking an eyebrow. "Did you know?" She demanded angrily. "Know what?" Nathan asked somewhat bewildered. "About Brother Boy and Blonde Slut sleeping together behind my fucking back," Brooke yelled taking another swig of the scotch this time a marginally larger one before getting up and beginning to pace. "I mean how could I be so fucking stupid? It was all there! They're probably in some kind of suicide cult where you plan the date of your death or something else so dark and depressingly twisted it suits them so fucking perfectly," Brooke ranted. Nathan, because he was a guy and she was a girl, had to admire her short skirt and how good her legs looked in it and her extremely low shirt that showed off the tits his teammates always raved about in the locker room. She was a hottie, that Brooke Davis, probably the hottest.

"My half shithead of a brother is a bastard, literally, and as for Peyton she's way too into her little drawings and crappy music. I give them a week," Nathan declared wanting to make this girl feel just a little better. She stopped walking and looked at him for the first time since she barged into his beach house. "Why were you drinking scotch?" Brooke demanded looking at him with just the smallest twinge of worry in her hazel eyes. "Haley left. With Chris," Nathan said bitterly, knowing there was no point in lying. She studied him for a few more seconds before her face lit up just a tiny bit.

"Let's go clubbing," She exclaimed and he was out of the door, being tugged along before he could even form the words to protest.

Three hours later, the two returned to the beach house with less energy, tired muscles, and slurred words mixed with giggles for speech. Nate's arm was slung around the sexy brunette who was falling all over herself.

Drunk was a mild term for what they were.

"So Mr. Scott you just won States and nearly killed your brother with the basketball. How does it feel?" Brooke slurred. "Well, I'm glad he's not dead and that I won! I won!" Nathan exclaimed, getting into the game as he picked Brooke up and swung her around. "Nathan," She squealed drunk on happiness and well alcohol. "You're hot Davis," Nathan blurted setting her down but leaving his arms around her. Brooke inhaled. He called her hot, not pretty. Nathan Scott knew what he wanted, quick meaningless sex that neither would mention in the morning. He wasn't going to masquerade his intentions with cute words, tattoos, and pretending he gave a shit. He didn't give a shit, and for now that was all Brooke needed.

"You are too Scott," Brooke giggled leaning in a little bit closer. Nathan grinned. "I'm going to kiss you Davis," Nathan declared but he hesitated right before her lips. "And I'm going to let you Scott," Brooke murmured pulling his face to hers.