Winds of Change

There is a little known fact:

Haley James is not independent.

At the tender age of five, the trust fund princess, the then-pride and joy of the prestigious James brood, faced her first daunting task—kindergarten. Through the earliest years of her life, there had been someone on hand, waiting on her every whim. Most of them were ridiculous, like ponies and ice cream and feather boas and trips to the zoo, but they were met eagerly. That September marked the first time that the young Miss James would be left to her own devices, without a chauffeur or maid or nanny to act as a liaison between her and the real world.

She'd walked in, scouring the crowded room to see who would be easiest to bond to. It was an uncanny quality that all around her had observed, the way she could spot weak links quick as a flash. If there was someone vulnerable in the room, she could easily prey upon them. She would, too, because she'd do anything if it kept her from being alone.

Instead, she was approached by a blonde with tight bouncing girls and a wide grin. Abandoning her idea to search for someone else unable to make friends, she glued herself to the happy young girl. It was in that moment that she and Peyton Sawyer had formed their deep, inseparable bond. They were joined at the hip before Anna Sawyer even waved goodbye to her daughter, tearfully wishing her luck on her first day of school.

As the parents (or hired help, in many cases, including Haley's) cleared out, it left a stilted feeling in the air of the classroom. The teacher looked perky and bright, caring and sweet, and exactly how someone being paid higher than any teacher in the state should look. There were many large circular tables scattered through the spacious room, and all the children were clamoring for a seat around the center one. In the midst of the bustling children stood a thin, petite girl with glossy dark hair and shining green eyes. She wore a pink miniskirt and a lime green tank top. It didn't match in the slightest, unlike the other children whose outfits had been selected for them weeks in advance, and pressed for the occasion. This was the Davis child that everyone whispered about. Everyone liked to think they knew a thing or two about the Davises, and though some whispers were truly vicious, no one could deny the social power they wielded. Little Brooke, poor little rich girl, neglected by those who were supposed to love her, and adored by everyone else. The Davis girls were a force of nature, and that was evident now, for though she stuck out like a sore thumb, everyone rushed to be near her.

For her part, the young brunette looked disinterested. She smiled warmly at all those who spoke, but her attention was a million miles away, and her green eyes were vacant. They locked upon the two who hadn't rushed over to her. Two little blondes sat, hunched closely together, three tables distance between them and the crowd. Brooke was there in a flash, plopping herself beside Haley James and Peyton Sawyer, and tossing a warning look to all those who tried to follow after her. Throughout the day, looks were constantly cast in the direction of the threesome, but they paid them no mind, getting to know each other instead. As their parents began to leak in again, signaling their freedom for the rest of the day, she linked her arms tightly with her two new friends.

This was the beginning of Tree Hill's Elites, and yet it seemed to represent something a little more important in Haley's life.

It was assurance that she'd never have to be alone.

It occurs to her now that maybe all that careful strategizing she'd done over the years didn't amount to much after all, as she sits alone at the river bank. This is the last place anyone would expect her to be. The river ran through the length of the town, crisscrossing through the backyards of some of Tree Hill's finest, but a generous portion of it ran through the west side, which was far less uppity. Currently, the area where she was dangling her feet over the water, was referred to as the River Court. Quite original, she and her friends had always scoffed. Yet the westsiders maintained a certain curiosity about the court, and the people who seemed to love it so. "River rats", their elders scoffed, but they weren't quite sure.

So here she is, out of the sanctity of her bedroom, the security of her usual hang outs, the company of the only people who love her. And each and every situation causes blame to fall upon her thin shoulders.

It's getting colder, and a thin layer of ice is desperately attempting to form atop the river. However, the tide keeps on, regardless of the weather or what swims beneath. And so, shards of ice and bits of frost float past, and she keeps her feet at a safe distance from where the water reaches the shore. Everything may be up in the air, but that was no reason to trash her new boots, she explained to herself as she tightened her fur-lined coat around her.

She had an avid curiosity about the "river rats", one that couldn't really be quenched when she saw them in school. Haley knew nothing about life on the other side of the tracks, or what drew them to this stretch of the riverbed. She had even heard tales that this was where Lucas Roe held court, and to her delight, there he was.

Tall, blonde and brooding, Haley could easily admit that he'd caught her attention on the first day of freshman year. That was when the local private school and public school merged to form some massive uber-high school. She, Brooke and Peyton had traded in their knee socks and plaid skirts (much to some's chagrin) for mingling with their social inferiors. Overall, it had been a smooth transition. Their little group had remained in tact, finding that all the "populars" from the other schools simply couldn't withstand the competition.

While Lucas Roe was an early contender for the boyfriend of Haley James, her attention was quickly drawn to one Chris Keller. He was so far from her "type" it seemed laughable— the thespian performer and the preppy princess. They were cute together though, and if anyone disagreed with it, they wisely kept their mouths shut.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Lucas cut through her internal monologue, his mouth upturned in a smile. But his eyes were still doing that brooding thing.

Color her shocked.

"Nah, I'm just… clearing my head," she smiled disarmingly, and he smiled back, sitting down next to her. Somewhere deep down, she was mildly irritated that he hadn't actually been invited to do so. Overall though, she didn't really care. It was nice to not be alone again.

"So, where's Brooke? And, uh, Peyton?" he forged on, his cheeks pinking slightly at his slip. She smiled knowingly at him.

"Brooke's kind of pissed at me. Peyton's been splitting her time ever since," she said softly, unsure why she was confiding this. Most people, she had either leveled them with her infamous glare or snarled a "fuck off". Most people, including her mother, when she had asked where the two had disappeared to.

"Does she really need to do that? I'm sure Nathan will keep Brooke company," Lucas replied, and with more than a hint of bitterness. Lifting her oversized Chanel sunglasses, she squinted her honey eyes in Luke's direction.

"You sound jealous," she intoned, and he nodded. She reacted with some surprise. Few people she knew were so candid, so open, and the ones who were had been bonded to her for twelve years now.

"I like her," he said simply.

"I thought you and he were friends?" she inquired, more than a little curious. Something about Nathan Scott put all her senses on high alert. She realized, deep down, that this could be a ridiculous fixation on her part. They'd only had a handful of conversations. Hell, he'd probably had more interaction with the mailman, or their science teacher. If looks weren't deceiving, he was getting pretty fucking close with her best friend. So why she still felt this spark, she wasn't sure, but she just couldn't let it go, regardless of how hard she tried.

"We are. But I guess we aren't," he stopped, but continued off the intrigued arching of her eyebrow. "I mean, friends are supposed to be supportive of each other and shit, and I'm too fucking jealous for that."

"Jealous," she said the word aloud, weighing it slowly.

"Yes, it may be a new concept to you, but it's when you want something somebody else has got," he said, but it was more joking than reprimanding, so she let it go. "They're just always together… they sit together in class, they eat together at the café, she waits for him when she's done with cheering… she must really care about him."

Haley could literally feel the anguish radiating off of him, and sincerely wished she could do something about that. It was impossible, as she was about as green as he was, but it was the thought that counted.

"If they're together, they'll fizzle in like, a week. I mean, we all know how Brooke is, and Nathan seems to be cut from the same cloth."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Lucas asked, sounding bizarrely defensive. "Don't say that about Brooke. She's… she's beautiful, and incredible, and she's got the most amazing heart. You just don't—"

"Know her like you do?" Haley intoned with a sarcastic laugh. "Buddy, do you forget who you're talking to? You don't know her like I do."

"That's true," he smiled sheepishly. "Sorry Haley."

"Whatever," she waved it away, knowing guiltily that if she had been as sensitive to Brooke as Lucas was, she'd be sitting with a brunette instead of a blonde right now. "So, you're into her?"

"I would say that's obvious."

"Well, you're on her list. You'll get her at some point, in some form," her smile was crueler now, because she was just done being polite. As she walked away from him, and the river that longed to freeze over, she hugged her jacket more tightly around her and dropped her glasses to shield her eyes. Every person reached the end of their leash eventually. Haley James had a shorter string than most.

She was probably hoping for this, deep down. It was the only way to explain why she was sitting on her back patio. It was cold out, to the point where she could literally see her breath forming in front of her, and she'd switched to a heavier jacket. If she were to cry over the current state of affairs, the moisture would probably freeze to her face. As appealing as Bitter Salty Tear Popsicles were, she just wasn't in the mood. And if she were, she could just as easily sit on the balcony off her bedroom. It was a breathtaking view, but not nearly as accessible as the patio. As she heard the shuffling footsteps coming towards her, she knew that this was what she had been waiting for. Without looking up, she could identify the familiar swagger, and that probably should've alarmed her more than it did. She could just feel that he was in the vicinity, and found the knowledge bizarrely comforting.

"Come to yell at me?" she asked, emotionless, finally looking up towards him. He had on that Tree Hill Varsity letterman jacket that all the other jocks in the school wore as if it made them God. He wore it like it was merely a jacket. He didn't really need anything to contribute to his Greek godlike status anyway.

"Have you done something wrong, Hales?" his light blue gaze bored into her, and it made her shiver in a way the weather had yet to. When Nathan sat down beside her, it marked the second time that day that someone had joined her without asking permission. If this was a new trend, she would surely be pissed. Instead of feeling irritated like before, she just felt the warmth radiating off him.

"You know I did, Nathan," she intended her words to be biting, but found them to be only weary. He noticed too, an amused expression flitting across his handsome face, and then disappearing as quickly as it'd come.

"You're really being a bitch to her. You know that she needs you, especially now. Why don't you just go apologize?"

"She told you about Lynne?" Haley gasped, the air freezing in her lungs. Her eyes were wide as saucers, and her mind was reeling, but she still wasn't sure why she was so surprised. She knew that Brooke and Nathan were really close now, but Brooke had never told anyone about her.

"Yeah," he'd definitely been spending too much time with a pretty brunette, as he had currently adopted her "Of course, you moron" tone.

"Right. Yeah. Of course," Haley could feel herself on the verge of a notorious babble.

"So, you going to beg forgiveness? I think she's taking over my room as we speak, so no time like the present," he goaded gently, telling her what to do and where to do it. But she couldn't, images of exactly what Brooke is doing in Nathan Scott's bedroom a little too much for her.

"As much fun as it is to walk in on Brooke in various states of undress, I think I'll pass," she snorted.

"What?" he asked, his forehead creasing in the middle. "Oh, you think…" he broke off into laughter, his large hand pressed against the flat hardness of his abdomen. Not that she could see it through the clothing he too was wearing, but she just knew it.

"Yes, I think. And so does everybody else," she spat.

"Well, you guys think really highly of us, now don't you? Isn't it possible for a guy and a girl to just be friends?" he challenged.

"Not when their names are Nathan Scott and Brooke Davis," she smiled sweetly, and he just shook his head at her.

"Whatever Haley. Are you going to apologize to her or what, because it's freezing out here, and while having accusations hurled at me by someone who doesn't know what they're talking about is always a good time, I think I'd rather go inside."

"Jesus! What the hell is with you people? Where's Peyton's great defender, huh? Why is everybody so fucking concerned with Brooke?"

"Who's everybody?" he burst into her rant.

"You… Lucas… that's twice today that randoms have plopped down next to me to talk about Brooke Davis," she blew out an exasperated laugh, but shivered slightly. Begrudgingly, he wrapped an arm around her. She could feel the defined muscles press against her back, even through the millions of layers of cloth she felt were between them.

"How chivalrous of you," she laughed slightly, but he seemed a million miles away, his fingers unconsciously playing through her long blonde curls. This felt bizarrely comfortable to her.

"Lucas is really into her, isn't it?" he asked, and it may have been rhetorical, but she answered her anyway.

"Lucas is really into her. Since like, sophomore year," she laughed a little. "Brooke likes him too, I think."

"I think so too," he answered absently, one of his fingers completely surrounded by her hair. He pulled at it lightly, and the curl sprung back into place. A jealous and insecure Haley, one that she didn't like to let out very much, thought that he might have more fun doing this with Peyton. She was so much more open that Haley, once she let you in. She was fun and witty and blunt, and her curls were much tighter. The thoughts stirred something inside her, causing her to unconsciously shift closer to him. The warmth radiating off his body felt so welcoming, and he smelled as delicious as he had in the janitor's closet. It really was just Nathan's scent, and it was completely intoxicating.

"Doesn't that bother you?" she asked curiously. She had been spitting mad when Chris had looked too long in another girl's direction, and it had happened plenty of times. Yet here he sat, completely nonchalant, agreeing with her that Brooke was probably into Lucas.

"Contrary to popular belief, Brookie and I aren't together," he answered, a little bit irritated now. She believed him this time, maybe, because it felt so natural to be here like this with him. His arm was around her, and he was keeping her warm, and he smelled so good and sounded so sincere, and it's not like there was a real reason to lie. "Does Luke think we are?" he frowned now, and she was surprised beyond reason that he was so concerned. He had shown her before that he was capable of concern for people other than himself, and she still refused to see past the sexy smirk and the arrogant swagger. She'd have to work on that.

"Jealous beyond belief," she nodded in the informative, gossipy way usually reserved for conversations with Brooke and Peyton. "He thinks that you and he can't be friends anymore because he's not supportive of your relationship with Brooke."

"He's kind of a girl sometimes," he said, and she laughed in agreement.

"Are you fucking my best friend?" she asked, flinching a little at the vulgarity of her own words.

"That depends on how many best friends you have," he quipped, but she wasn't amused.

"Is Brooke part of the Nathan Scott harem?" she looked straight into his eyes, and he didn't flinch as he shook his head in the negative.

"Nah, but you can be, if you want," his eyes twinkled in amusement. They really were such pretty eyes, and it was unfair that someone should be so genetically flawless. She was tempted to say "hell yeah," right there and begin stripping, but Haley James was a contained girl who possessed pride and dignity. On the occasions where she wasn't losing her temper, screaming and throwing things. His large hand dropped from her hair, his fingers tracing lightly over her collarbone. The slight roughness of his skin against the softness of hers created a most desirable friction, making her mind a little bit hazy. She found herself wondering how the rest of his skin felt, and knew that she was wandering down a dangerous path.

"No thanks. I'm not really a big fan of sharing," she whispered, her voice sounding huskier than she'd hoped.

"Well then I guess it's a good thing we save the threesomes for a few months in, huh?" he smirked down at her. He wanted her to kiss him. No, she wanted her to want him to kiss her. She wasn't going to do it either way, because Haley James was… Haley James was… contained, or modest, or something. It was hard to remember exactly what Haley James was as his fingers fiddled idly with the straps of her bra, slipping dangerously close to the swell of her breast, as his hand had slipped beneath the layers protecting her from the cold. She was starting to wonder why she'd worn all these clothes anyway, because she was feeling pretty damn hot at the moment.

"You're disgusting," she murmured, searching for a typical, snarky remark.

"You're turned on," he grinned triumphantly, removing his hand as he placed a sloppy kiss on the smooth plane of her cheek, painfully close to the corner of her mouth. He was gone then, swaggering back towards his own house, a little bounce in his step that she knew came from this recent turn of events. She pulled her coat tighter, feeling much colder now, but waiting to regain use of her legs.

Nathan, 1. Haley, 0.

Sorry it's so long between updates, guys. I've been getting a little better, but I've still got a few stories on my plate, and my life has been indescribably distracting lately. Thank you all for sticking with me. An extraspecial thanks to those on 911 who put this story on their 'what they're reading' lists. You're all amazing. So please review and let me know what you think

x Sam