Title: Hurricane

Summary: That's the thing about a hurricane. She's all lightning and wind and rain. Get too close and you're swept away. Better hold on till it breaks. Cause it's a hell of a ride if you can just survive the pain. That's the thing about a hurricane.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, I just love the characters. Also, I don't have any personal experience on how sororities and fraternities work. What I do know is based on a little research, and a lot of movies. :) The way it is depicted here is purely fictional and not intended to offend anyone, if it does.

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has liked and followed this story so far!


Chapter 1: Here in the Real World

Cowboys don't cry, and heroes don't die
Good always wins, again and again
And love is a sweet dream, that always comes true
Oh if life were like the movies, I'd never be blue

But here in the real world, it's not that easy at all
'Cause when hearts get broken, it's real tears that fall
And darlin' it's sad but true, but the one thing I've learned from you
Is how the boy don't always get the girl, here in the real world

University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill
September 2006

*Present Day*

"Are you excited about tonight?" Peyton Sawyer asks expectantly. Her wild, blonde, curls dance around her face as she bounces up and down from her seat on Brooke's squatty dorm room bed.

Brooke rolls her eyes and continues to expertly apply a peach toned blush to her cheekbones. She leans closer to the small mirror on her nightstand, inspecting her work. "Oh yeah, totes excited!" She exclaims in an exaggerated, fake tone of voice. "It's always been my dream to parade around for a bunch of snotty bitches in order for them to tell me if I'm good enough for them."

It's Peyton's turn to roll her eyes.

"What?" Brooke asks innocently as she drops her blush brush and studies the image in front of her.

Not bad, Davis.

She realizes she still needs mascara, so she picks up the small, black tube and begins to apply it. "All I'm saying is that they should be honored that I even want to join their stupid little club."

Peyton snorts, then raises an eyebrow. "Who's the snotty bitch now, Penelope?"

Brooke gasps and throws the nearest pillow she can find at her best friend, but she can't help but laugh at herself just a little. Penelope is her middle name, but it was also the name that Peyton had given her mean alter ego when they were kids. It stuck, and had been a running joke between them ever since.

The blonde catches the pillow just as it's about to smack her in the face, sticks her tongue out, and then drops the pillow in her lap as she continues. "First off it's not a club, it's a sorority. And secondly, I've met a few of the girls and they aren't snotty. They seem super sweet."

Brooke scoffs, but Peyton ignores her. "I think we'll have fun. It'll be a good way to meet new people and keep us busy so we don't have to think about... everything." Peyton's smile falters a bit on the last word.

Brooke pretends as though she hasn't noticed and continues applying mascara. She tries her best to act like she doesn't feel like she has just been sucker punched in the gut. Tears sting behind her eyes, but she doesn't allow them to the forefront.

She would never show it, but the fact of the matter is that the simple comment had opened a flood gate of emotions deep inside her. She'd gotten good at acting indifferent, at not showing emotion. She had to. If she hadn't Peyton, along with everyone else she knew, would probably still be hovering over her constantly and looking at her as though she were about to break.

"So Jake still isn't coming around, huh?" Brooke asks, selfishly trying to pull the attention away from herself. She immediately regrets it though when the pretty blonde's eyes fill with tears. She drops the tube of mascara on the table and turns toward her friend. "Shit, P. Sawyer. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

Peyton sniffs a little, but smiles sheepishly as she turns her face away to dab at her eyes discreetly. "I know you didn't. Don't worry about it. But no, he hasn't. He's barely taking my calls these days. He says talking is just making it harder on both of us." She sighs sadly, and Brooke frowns sympathetically.

Peyton Sawyer and Jake Jaglieski had been Tree Hill High's sweethearts. He had been a star basketball player and she had been a pretty, blonde cheerleader and after their very first date they had become inseparable. They had been popular, and sweet, and the life of every party. You couldn't help but love them. But their undoing had come in the same cliché form as most kids their age.

College.

Peyton had been accepted to the University of North Carolina, along with Brooke, but Jake had been accepted to UCLA and given a full-ride basketball scholarship. It was the opportunity of a lifetime; one he couldn't say no to.

"He's probably right, Peyt." The brunette says as gently as she can.

"He's not." Peyton snaps. "What he means is that it's making it harder on him. I told him we could make it work if we wanted it badly enough. And I did; I would have done anything for him." Peyton's voice cracks with a sob, and Brooke immediately jumps up and crosses the room to console her.

"He said that he wanted me to be able to have a normal college experience, that he wanted me to be able to go out and have fun and not be worried about him constantly. He said he felt like we would end up resenting each other if we tried to stay together and that he couldn't live with himself if that happened."

Brooke rubs small, soothing circles into Peyton's back and listens to the story intently as though she hadn't already heard it at least 5 times.

"But, he also said that he still loves you more than anything. And I believe that. I've never seen two people more perfect for each other." Brooke's voice cracks, because she had seen it... just one other couple.

She ignores the pain gnawing at her chest. She needs to be here for Peyton in this moment. She knows without a doubt that she hasn't always been the best friend in the past and it's something she isn't proud of.

Peyton on the other hand has been her rock, her saving grace, for the better part of a year. Brooke lets the tears sting the back of her eyelids yet again and pulls the blonde into a tight hug.

"You know I'm not the best with these kinds of things. I'm not the best with words. But as stupid and cliché as it sounds, if it's meant to be you guys will find a way." Brooke says as Peyton holds onto her, sniffling into her shoulder. "And for what it's worth, I believe with my whole heart that you guys are meant to be." Peyton sobs again, but squeezes Brooke a little tighter; a silent thank you.

After a few moments, she feels Peyton relax beneath her touch and the sobs slow to an occasional sniffle. Finally, Peyton pulls away.

"Thanks B. Davis. I love you, you know that?"

The brunette's signature smile transforms her features, making her dimples pop. "Of course you do." She says smugly and Peyton bumps into her with her shoulder causing her to giggle. "I love you too, P." She says, tugging on one of Peyton's unruly, blonde curls. It springs back to attention as soon as Brooke releases it.

She hops up and heads for the itty-bitty, sad, space also known as her closet.

"Now, let's pick out our outfits, get all hot looking, and go meet these super sweet sorority bitches."

Peyton shakes her head disapprovingly, but cracks a smile anyways. The smile gives way to a laugh and it's one of those genuine, infectious, belly-aching laughs. Pretty soon, Brooke can't help it – She's laughing too and everything seems to hurt a little less.

For both of them.


"Well, damn." Brooke mutters, as she trudges up a stone walkway beside Peyton later that night. She crosses her arms and pouts a little.

The sorority house up ahead is gorgeous. It's a stately, off-white, three-story house with windows that are flanked by black shutters and a pretty brick staircase leading up to the front door.

The first and second stories include a large, southern-style porch that runs the entire width of the house, with crisp, white handrails punctuated by elegant columns. Walnut colored rocking chairs are situated in pairs of two along the porch and there are already a dozen or so girls seated in the chairs, lazily rocking back and forth. They sip colorful drinks from dainty looking glass flutes and talk animatedly.

Perky, green plants splashed with pink and purple and blue flowers hang from the ceiling in wrought iron baskets. Dead center, emblazoned in large black letters, are the words "ZETA TAU ALPHA".

She hates to admit it, but she's kind of impressed.

"It's pretty great isn't it?" Peyton asks.

"Ehh, it's alright." Brooke responds nonchalantly. Peyton rolls her eyes good naturedly, shaking her head.

That was the thing about best friends, especially ones that had been around since before you even hit puberty: They always knew when you were lying.

The girls make their way up the brick staircase behind a line of ZTA hopefuls. As they reach the landing, a chirpy, bubbly voice calls out from somewhere to their left.

"Peyton! Hey Peyton, over here!"

Brooke turns to see a cute girl with long, blonde, beachy-waved hair bouncing up and down from her rocking chair and waving at them. Peyton smiles, waves back, and then grabs Brooke's hand to pull her along through the crowd.

"Hey, Savannah!." Peyton squeals as the tiny blonde hops up to give her a one-armed hug around the waist, still clutching a cocktail in her other hand. Peyton dwarfs the poor girl. Without waiting for an introduction, Savannah turns to Brooke and pulls her into a tight hug as well. "Hi, I'm Savannah. It's so nice to meet you!" She chirps as she pulls away and grins up at Brooke.

Brooke kind of wants to hate her. I mean the girl is gorgeous, obviously a natural blonde, and petite with curves in all the right places. But Brooke finds that she can't hate her because the girl is clearly a sweetheart.

Not the fake kind of I'm-going-to-smile-in-your-face-and-then-stab-you-in-the-back sweet; she was more of a genuine I-wear-my-heart-on-my-sleeve-and-love-everyone-I-meet sweet. Brooke smiles at her.

"Hi, I'm Brooke." She says, trying to warm up and not let her bad mood show.

Savannah's eyes widen, making her look even more doll like. "Oh my gosh, Brooke, of course! Peyton has told me so much about you!"

Brooke can't hide her surprise. It hadn't even crossed her mind that Peyton might have already made new friends at UNC. They haven't been here for very long, after all, and while Peyton has mentioned meeting new people here and there she certainly hasn't mentioned anyone she had grown close to.

Brooke inconspicuously cuts her eyes over to Peyton, who smiles knowingly.

Again with the best friend thing: she already knows what Brooke is thinking.

"I met Savannah when I was picking up information about ZTA a couple weeks ago. We got to talking and I told her about you and how I was going to try to get you to attend rush as well."

Brooke nods. It makes sense. She cuts her gaze back to Savannah who waves at someone on the other end of the porch while sipping her drink, before immediately turning her attention back to Brooke and Peyton.

"I'm so glad you girls decided to rush ZTA! I think you are going to fit in just perfectly around here." She says, winking at them as though they were already in.

There was no way she could know that so early on, but it's a nice gesture anyways. "Go on in and make yourself at home, grab a drink, meet some of the girls. I'll find ya'll later to see how you're doing." She offers them another smile and a quick wave before flitting off to the other side of the porch to talk to another group of girls.

"See, I told you they were nice!" Peyton says, a little too enthusiastically Brooke might add, when Savannah is out of earshot.

Brooke snorts. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. The night's just getting started. Speaking of . . . I need a drink."


"Hi, I'm Brooke!" She says for the fifty millionth time that night. She had said it so many times that at this point it was just becoming second nature to smile and act bubbly and try to make the Zeta girls like her. Almost like a game.

Brooke loved games.

Now that she has a few drinks under her belt, she almost doesn't even have to fake it. She still isn't convinced of the whole sorority thing but the girls have all been nice enough so far, the house is incredible; definitely way better than living in a dorm, and she knows Peyton has her heart set on it. She doesn't want to be left behind, as pathetic as it sounds.

If Peyton got into ZTA and Brooke didn't, a part of her worried that her best friend would be too busy for her. In reality she knows Peyton would never ditch her - Hoes over bros and sorority rows, and all that. But still she knows it wouldn't be the same. They've always done this kind of thing together, for better or worse.

"Hi, I'm Millie." The mousy girl in front of her says shyly. Brooke quirks an eyebrow, amused. The girl has no reason at all to be unsure of herself. She's a hottie; full figured with long, dark, glossy hair, pretty features and a killer smile. She just obviously doesn't know it yet. Brooke likes the girl immediately and flashes her a dazzling smile to prove it. Millie relaxes a little and smiles back.

"Nice to meet you Millie. This is P. Sawyer. She comes off as a frigid bitch, but she's not so bad once you get to know her." Brooke says haughtily with her hands on her hips.

Millie's eyes widen in surprised horror as she transfers her gaze to Peyton. Her mouth opens and closes a few times as though she doesn't know what to say, and Peyton and Brooke both start giggling.

"Most people just call me Peyton. It's nice to meet you." The blonde says, smiling and offering a quick wave. "You'll get used to Brooke's sense of humor eventually."

Brooke and Peyton engage in a playful stare-down.

"Ha." Brooke says sarcastically before turning her attention back to Millie. Finally realizing it was a joke between friends, Millie relaxes and smiles. "Nice to meet you Peyton." She says politely and then turns her attention promptly, and awkwardly, to her feet.

Brooke and Peyton give each other the look; the poor-girl-we-must-take-her-under-our-wing look.

"So Millie, is Zeta your first choice?" Peyton asks, trying to keep the conversation going.

The pretty brunette laughs and pushes a stray lock of hair behind her ear self-consciously. "Um, no. It's more like my mom's first choice. I don't think I'm really cut out for all this. But she was a Zeta so it's extremely important to her. Legacy and all that. I don't really think there's any shot of me getting a bid, but she seems to be completely oblivious to that fact. You know moms." She finishes, rolling her eyes.

Both Brooke and Peyton shift uncomfortably because they don't really know. How moms could be, that is. Peyton's had passed away when they were little girls and Brooke's was more worried about yacht parties and foreign art openings than she would ever be about being a mother.

"Don't sell yourself short, pumpkin. You've got as good a shot as anybody." Brooke winks, trying to simultaneously change the subject and cut the tension a little bit.

Peyton is still looking a little glum but she offers a half-hearted nod. Millie smiles at both of them politely but doesn't say anything else. It seems pretty obvious that she won't be all that upset if she doesn't get a bid, but she's torn between wanting to make her mother happy and doing what would make herself happy.

"Well, Peyton, you know I hate to admit when you're right. But this wasn't so bad after all." Brooke tells her best friend.

The night seems to be winding down, they had sat through all the skits and songs and seemed to have spoken to all the ZTA girls that were rushing them. It had gone great; all the girls had loved them from what Brooke could tell. Everyone seemed to have relaxed finally and there were groups of people spread out all through the house laughing and talking and drinking. Justin Timberlake's "SexyBack" is playing loudly over the speakers and a few people are dancing in the middle of the living room.

"See, I told you." Peyton says with a smug smile as she hooks her arm around Brooke's shoulders and then turns to Millie. "Brooke didn't want to come tonight. She thought sororities were stupid."

Millie smiles and nods her head. "I know the feeling." She says quietly. "But you're right Brooke. It wasn't so bad. I mean, at least I met you girls." She flashes them one of those dazzling smiles and they can tell she is starting to open up.

"Aww, I think we just became best friends." Peyton jokes, but not in a mean-spirited way; her smile is open and warm.

Brooke pulls Millie into their little huddle, draping her arm around the brunette's shoulder casually. "I think we did. And we're going to rule this place, just you wait and see." Brooke says, smiling smugly at both of them. Peyton laughs, but Millie just smiles shyly and ducks her head.

Just then, Brooke sees Savannah prance through the front door with a tall, leggy, red head at her side. The girl is attractive, in that fake-from-her-head-to-her-toes-Playboy-hopeful kind of way that guys their age loved but Brooke mainly just found pathetic.

When Savannah notices them her face lights up in a bright smile and she grabs the red head's hand, pulling her along in their direction. The girl doesn't look amused, but Savannah is oblivious and continues to tug her along anyways.

"Hey ladies! Tonight was super fun wasn't it? Ugh, I had such a good time." The blonde rambles on without taking a breath. "Oh yeah, have you met Rachel? She's a fellow Zeta sister."

Rachel looks bored, and not interested whatsoever in meeting them, but she gives them a tight smile anyways. It's probably purely for Savannah's benefit.

"Rachel, this is Peyton, Millie and Brooke. Hopefully they are going to be pledging with us!" The blonde chirps, clapping her hands together. Rachel nods at Peyton and Millie as they are introduced, before finally turning her gaze on Brooke.

"Cute outfit." She says, an amused smile playing at her full lips. "It looked even better when I wore it last season."

Millie scoffs incredulously, but Peyton just looks amused, knowing Brooke can hold her own. Brooke plasters on a big, fake, smile. "Thanks girlfriend. You know, I didn't realize they made this outfit in plus sizes." Brooke crosses her arms, looking pretty satisfied with herself, before continuing. "You learn something new every day."

The red head doesn't flinch, or skip a beat. "Funny; I thought yours was plus size."

Peyton snorts and Brooke throws a scathing glare in her direction. Before she has a chance to come up with a snappy come back, Rachel grins and offers them a quick wave. "Nice meeting you. Later bitches." She says, before slinking off towards the kitchen. Millie resumes her mouth-gaping-open-fish-out-of-water look and Peyton silently snickers into her hand, while Brooke seethes quietly.

"Don't worry." Savannah says quickly, trying to do damage control. "She didn't mean it like that. She calls everyone a bitch. It's like a term of endearment with her. She's really great when you get to know her. I promise."

"Doubtful." Brooke grumbles, and Peyton elbows her in the side.

Savannah says her goodbyes, giving each of them a hug "in case she didn't see them again before they left", before bouncing off in the direction Rachel had disappeared to. Brooke was really starting to wonder what kind of drugs Savannah was on, because it must have been some good shit. She liked the girl, but no one could be that happy and nice all the time.

"Well, well, could it be that Brooke Davis may have finally met her match?" Peyton teases with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, please." Brooke huffs. "I ate girls like little miss Playboy Bunny wannabe for breakfast in high school. And you know it."

Peyton snorts so hard that she has to bend over and rest her hands on the knees of her denim skinny jeans. "Come on, Brooke. She's you with fake boobs and red hair."

"Is not!" Brooke gasps, smacking at Peyton's arm. Peyton in turn slaps her on the butt, and Millie laughs at both of them. "I'm sick of you Sawyer." Brooke play-pouts. "I'm going to get another drink."

With that she turns on her heels to head towards the kitchen. She can practically hear the Margarita bar calling her name. She's nearly there when she notices a group of guys enter through the side hallway, heading in the same direction that she is. They are loud and rowdy, most of them obnoxiously drunk, and the Polo's and backwards hats that nearly every one of them were outfitted with seemed to scream that they were frat guys.

Although they are the first guys she has seen in the house all night, Brooke isn't impressed. She's on the verge of ignoring them altogether, when the guy at the front of the pack catches her attention.

He's tall, much taller than the other guys, with the lean, muscled body of an athlete. His dark hair is a bit shaggy and unkempt, but in that way where it looks more like it's on purpose and less like he's just rolled out of bed like that. His denim jeans, obviously expensive and obviously designer, cup his ass in just the right way, and his light gray T-shirt clings to the defined muscles of his arms and back.

His stride is confident, borderline cocky, like he's used to getting exactly what he wants when he wants it.

Brooke can't see his face but even still, she can't shake the feeling of familiarity. It's a feeling like she has seen him somewhere before, but she can't place it.

The group of guys reach the kitchen up ahead of her. Most of them turn left immediately, no doubt heading for the drinks that are set up on the back patio. The dark haired guy, however, veers off to the right and sneaks up behind a red head lounging by the bar. Not just any red head, Brooke realizes. It's Rachel.

He puts his index finger to his lips, motioning for the other girls to keep quiet and not give him away, then he digs his fingers into Rachel's sides tickling her mercilessly. She squeals and immediately turns to smack at him. He dodges her quickly, then doubles over laughing. It's the first time Brooke can see his face clearly. He has strong features with high cheekbones, a chiseled jaw, and piercing blue eyes.

She freezes as the recognition hits her hard, then shakes her head slightly dismissing the idea. He can't be who she thinks he is. It just didn't make sense that of all the places in all the world, they would both be right here at this very moment.

She's so lost in her own thoughts that she doesn't notice he has settled against the counter next to Rachel and is scanning the crowd. She doesn't notice the moment that he notices her.

When she finally looks back up, she is startled to find that he is looking directly at her. There is an intensity in his deep-blue gaze for a moment, then finally a flicker of what looks to be recognition.

He can't recognize her though. It's impossible.

They've never met.

"Helloooo, earth to Nathan." Rachel's nails-on-a-chalkboard voice invades Brooke's thoughts and snaps her out of her daze. He quickly turns his attention back to the red head, without another glance in her direction.

Brooke's mind is still reeling though. She knew for certain now - It is him.

Nathan Scott. Lucas' brother.

Lucas.

The thought of him sends shockwaves of emotions through her that she thought she had buried. Tears sting her eyes and suddenly all she wants is to get as far away from here as she possibly can.

She heads for the door, and she doesn't stop until she is safely in her own bed.

That night, for the first time in forever, she allows herself to cry.