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A few days had passed since her minor freak out in that woman's apartment. Peyton knew she had a good reason to have the uneasy feelings she felt when surrounded by that group, but it didn't mean that she thought it wasn't ridiculous. As far as she was concerned, she figured she should be over it by now, be used to being surrounded by people. She should be stronger than this. Taking days off to avoid a girl...a complete stranger. How ridiculous was that?

Peyton POV

Throwing back my shot of whiskey and cringing as the liquid fire burned my throat. Slamming the glass down, I crinkled my nose and turned back to the crowd. My frown deepened as I watched the women in the club go through the motions. Sex on the dance floor. Make outs on the couches. And then us loners drinking our weight in alcohol. Yes, us. I had become one of them. Lonely loser lesbian. Blugh. Frowning at that thought, I turned back to the bar, calling for another shot.

This went on for another good hour or so and before I knew it I was pretty smashed. Glancing around the room harder, I couldn't make out any individual figure. The other people in the room seemed to blur and tangle in a puddle of colors. Swirling colors. Dizzying, swirling colors. Nauseating, dizzying, swirling colors. Suddenly feeling the alcohol hit the wrong way, I jumped up from my perched spot on a leather barstool and made a beeline for the bathroom. Some butch chick stopped me before I could enter though. Apparently the fact that I was completely ignoring her and trying to get around her didn't send enough of a message.

She grabbed my arm that wasn't holding my mouth closed and jerked me to her, not helping my stomach at all. I leaned over, consequently moving closer to her, to try and stop the inevitable. "Hey sexy, how bout you and me get outta here? I'd love to see those long legs wrapped around my neck."

I can only groan back and stumble as I try to pull away. Seriously bitch, I'm about to blow chunks, not the best time for horrible pick up lines. Apparently all I manage pd to do was piss her off, and considering how drunk I am, I had no way of stopping what she did next. I did trip this time as she jerked me forward and slammed me into her. Her arms were wrapped around my waist before I could even settle back on my own two feet. Okay, that REALLY did not help my stomach! Now I'm trying to wiggle free from this creep and her squeezing me is only making that horrible taste in my mouth rise up at an alarming rate.

"HEY!" Someone yells from right beside us. I'm feeling a little too queasy to even turn and look and instead just clamp my hand back over my mouth, starting to feel myself gag. The butch turns to glare at whoever it was though as the stranger comes to stand right next to us. "Let her go, now, bitch!" I hear the mystery person again.

"And who the hell are you?"

"Her girlfriend. Now, as I said before. Let. Her. Go."

"Or what? What are you gonna do? Hit me? Go ahead?"

"No, but she might just-" and I can't hear anymore as I give the chick one last good shove and stumble back just a step as she finally frees me. I immediately lean back over though and let it all out. Everything gets distant and fuzzy for a second before I come back to reality. Whoever the stranger is has one arm wrapped around my hips, the other is pulling my hair back. "Shhh, it's okay. Get it all out." I hear softly in my ear. I don't know why, but it helps and I feel myself relax for a second, leaning my head into the other woman's neck.

"WHAT THE FUCK! YOU THREW UP ON MY FUCKING SHOES!" The shouting startles me, and the stranger uses her grip on my hips to keep me steady before answering.

"Well, you shouldn't have stopped a drunk girl from heading to the bathroom. What the hell did you think she was going in there to do? Better yet, you should have just let her go to begin with."

"Oh fuck this!" I hear before the sounds of squishy stomps move away from us. I groan again, feeling the horrible light headed ness and cold sweat that always follows when I get sick from drinking too much. The stranger has long since let go of my hair and now rubs my back, moving to stand both of us up right. My stomach protests though and I end up curling into her and leaning on her, my face against her neck. She doesn't seem to mind and just holds me closer. My eyes close and I just get lost in the feeling of being held. It really has been too long.

A soft tissue wiping gently over my mouth surprises me and I jerk back just a tiny bit to look down, the errant thought that it's a chloroform soaked rag flitting through my mind. Instead the woman whispers to me again, "hey, it's okay. I just need to wipe off your mouth. You got a little something on your chin from getting sick." Trying to process all of this, I tilt my head to finally get a good look at the woman who helped me. She doesn't flinch as I obviously look over every inch of her face that I can see, instead she only continues to wipe off my face. My brow furrows as I recognize this girl. But where from?

My thoughts are interrupted by her soft voice again, "c'mon. Let's get you out of here. I don't know where you live so you'll just stay in my room. That shouldn't be too much of a problem though, considering you work there."

Suddenly my brain decides to start working as she is helping me into a cab. After she climbs in and tells the driver where to go, I look at her and ask, "207?"

"What?" She looks at me confused.

"You're 207." I say, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Well, I'm staying in room 207, but I do have a name you know."

"Oh yea? What is it?"

"Wait, you seriously don't know who I am?"

"Ummm...no?" I ask, suddenly not feeling to certain about anything in my inebriated state.

"Brooke Davis? Fashion designer? You know, Clothes Over Bros?" She has that pretty little eyebrow up like she can't believe I don't know. She looks surprised, but not offended, which I'm oddly happy about.

"Nope. No idea." I shake my head, my curls bouncing around my face.

The pretty brunette, now deemed as Brooke, laughs and slips an arm around the back of my waist. I don't find myself minding it one bit and instead let myself fall into the nagging exhaustion. I lean into her and we ride like this in silence the rest of the way. I'm dozing off when we get to the hotel and I'm barely anymore sober than I was back at the bar. Her half walking, half carrying me to her room is a blur, as is the trip to her room, where she helps me sit on the plush bed. I moan in appreciation at actually being on one of these babies. I clean em all the time, but never get to sleep on anything even remotely this comfortable. She smiles at me. "You're welcome to sleep in here. I'll just be in the guest room-"

I cut her off though. "Stay." I don't know why I said it, but now it's out there and I'm waiting in fear and tension as she looks me over. I'm not sure why I want her here, or why I'm comfortable with it, but I just know I don't want her to leave. She finally lets out a breath and answers me.

"Okay." She moves over to the other side of the bed, pulling the comforter back and preparing to climb in. She stops and looks my way as I stand a little clumsily from the bed. Catching her eye, I blush and look away before stripping myself down to just my shirt and black lace underwear. I settle down in the bed, facing her. She raises and eyebrow before smirking and doing the same. I can't help myself from staring at the red satin thing she's wearing. "See something you like?" She chuckles.

I blush again and clear my throat. Once she settles down, I think for a splint second before saying fuck it and move to cuddle into her side. I'm overjoyed when she accepts and wraps her arms around me. There are no questions and no uncomfortable feelings. We just lay here and enjoy it. I'm just barely hovering on the edge of consciousness when I whisper out, "thank you."

I feel a soft kiss on the crown of my head and barely hear, "goodnight Peyton." I smile and then let the welcome feeling of sleep come over me.