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Peyton arrived late the next morning. Her convertible's hood was down, and she surreptitiously eyed anyone who walked along her car, thinking that someone might jump her from behind and force her to go with him to the dance. Gently, she turned off the ignition and grabbed her black schoolbag and the small bottle of pepper spray she just bought yesterday. She got out of the car and looked around. Everyone was inside.

Breathing with relief, she walked towards the school doors and opened them without taking a look inside. When she did, she suddenly realized the flurry of activity around her. Her breath was caught in her throat as several guys eyed her and started walking towards her. She looked around for anyone to save her—but all she could find were girls talking about her outfit for the day. Before she could turn around and make a mad dash for her car, an arm grabbed her and pulled her towards one of the empty classrooms. The door was shut and bolted before the person turned around to reveal himself.

"Hi," The boy said shyly. "I'm Chris Keller."

"Chris," Peyton said, smiling. "Thanks for getting me out of there. Those guys would have attacked me like a pack of rabid wolves."

"It's no problem." He replied. "I saw that 'I need to bail' look on your face."

"So, what's happening?" Peyton asked while observing Chris silently. He was tall and had an athlete's body, his honey-blond hair was in disarray, and he had a cute smile that could probably melt the cheerleading squad to mush. He had a small scar on his right cheek that was perfect in its imperfection. It belayed a mysterious history. Chris was still looking at her, and it took him a few seconds before he could reply.

"Oh. Uh, there's this assembly your principal wanted." She nodded her head in understanding. She also caught the way he described the principal.

"You're not from Tree Hill?" Peyton asked.

"Well, technically, I'm not. I'm an exchange student from St. Stephen's Preparatory School in New York." Chris answered. "My school wanted to try out your school's music program, so they sent me here."

"You're a musician?" Peyton said, praying that he wasn't one of those asthmatic band geeks. He didn't look like it, but he might be.

"Well," Chris said with a shy chuckle, "No, at least not yet. I play the guitar. And I sing."

"Excellent." Peyton said, as if she was screening him to join a reality contest. She was about to say something when Chris' phone rang noisily. He grabbed it and talked for a few seconds, sounding irritated at the distraction.

"Look, I need to go. But maybe we can have lunch later?" He asked, smiling hopefully.

"Of course." She responded, smiling coyly. She didn't know about Lucas, but she had found her next prospect. She extended her hand to him. "I'm Peyton."

"Peyton, it's a pleasure to have met you." He replied, kissing her hand. He then walked away briskly and closed the door behind him. Peyton decided to overlook this cheesiness. At least he was cute.

"Dammit, where are you Chris?" An auburn-haired girl swore as she paced around in fury, glancing at her watch every few seconds or so. Knowing her schoolmate, he probably found some girl to manipulate again, with his charming good looks and slick moves. Unbeknownst to her, someone was watching her from afar.

Lucas was observing the girl pacing around like mad. She was pretty, and he'd never seen her before. He walked towards her, breathing in, as he did when he approached girls before. The girl stopped in her tracks as she saw Lucas smiling at her.

"Can I help you with something?" Lucas said, his voice low and caressing.

"Um, yeah." The girl said, unfazed. "I'm looking for someone. Tall, athletic and blond? He has this scar on his face."

"Nope, haven't seen him." Lucas answered, confused as to why the girl wasn't reduced to giggles or incoherent sentences. "You're not from here, are you?"

"No, I'm not." She said, laughing. "I'm Haley James, student council president of St. Stephen's prep. Our headmaster requested that Chris be sent here for your music program. Unfortunately, I was the one sent to accompany him." She said with obvious distaste.

"I take it you don't like him?" Lucas asked.

"Chris? That's the understatement of the year." Haley replied, rolling her eyes. "He's this cocky asshole who thinks he's God's perfect gift to women." Lucas smiled weakly. That description was awfully familiar. "But he's very talented. Can't deny that."

A pretty geek. Lucas only dated one girl like this before. He had to be extra nice and super sweet just to woo her and make her believe that she wasn't the arrogant Lucas Scott everyone said he was. It took about two weeks before he tired of it. "Well, since you're new, how about I give you a tour?" He asked nicely, but still retaining his devilish charm. By the way Haley smiled, he sensed that it was working. She opened her mouth to say yes, but she saw Chris waving at her from afar.

"Shit." Haley cursed silently. "Um, I'd like that," She said, vexed at the interruption. "But maybe later?" She asked, smiling sweetly.

"Of course." Lucas said, smiling. "I'm Lucas, Lucas Scott."

"It's nice to have met you, Lucas." Haley said, and hesitated to walk out for a moment. She heard Chris say her name before she went to him, with Lucas mouthing 'It's going to be fine' as she left.

Hard RnB tunes boomed out of the speakers as half-drunk, half-naked boys and girls gyrated to the tune of the music. The manic obsession over Lucas and Peyton had died down over the past days. The arrival of the exchange students from New York brought about this so-called peace. Lucas and Peyton also never talked about the closet incident, in fact, they never talked at all. People would just see them give small smiles when they pass each other by the hallway, too preoccupied with their new prospects. It was another party at Rachel's beach house, just one of the random things she does to have an excuse to get drunk and have sex.

Peyton was moving her hips to the beat of the music, waiting for Chris to bring her a drink. She observed the people around her. She saw Nathan on the couch with a familiar brunette, looking drunk and wasted. She laughed, not feeling any sign of guilt.

"Gin and tonic for the lady," Chris said smoothly as he handed Peyton her drink.

"Thank you." She said, taking a sip. She put her arms around him and continued to dance to the beat. Chris just stood there, motionless. He took her hand and led her outside. "What's up?" She asked. He just continued on dragging her to the beach. A few meters away from the beach house she saw flaming letters on the sand. Four flaming letters, to be exact. Four flaming letters on very expensive vanilla candles. Peyton gasped and looked at Chris happily.

"I know I'm not from here, but since Haley and I will be staying for a while—"

"Yes!" She said, ecstatic. She then leaned in for a kiss.

Meanwhile, Lucas and Haley were sitting a on a swing, away from the party, talking. Lucas was bored. He wanted to get wasted and hook up with a bikini-clad girl hours ago. But he knew that if he wanted to get the girl, he'd have to make a little sacrifice.

"So then I said that Hamlet wasn't crazy, he was mentally incapacitated." She said, laughing. "Get it?"

"I had the exact same argument with my lit teacher. How freaky is that?" He lied.

"Gosh," She said, blushing. "I never thought that a guy like you read literature."

"I read," Lucas replied, sounding offended. "I just don't let other people know it."

"Why not?" She asked, genuinely concerned.

"Well, I'm a basketball player. We don't read." Lucas answered jokingly.

"But you got into Princeton. Or does no one know about that?" Lucas remained silent. This was actually true. He told Peyton, but he decided to withhold that little piece of information, just in case she would think that Peyton was his girlfriend, or something. "Come on, Lucas!"

"Just," He said, trying to sound humble and embarrassed, a feat, even for him. "Let's not talk about it."

"Okay." She said, smiling. She shivered and held her arm, rubbing it up and down. "I'm cold."

Lucas looked at her and gently put his arm around her shoulder. Haley blushed a deep red. "Haley, close your eyes." Lucas whispered.

"Why?" She asked skeptically.

"Trust me." Lucas said in that personal way of his, that tone of voice that never failed to make girls fall head over heels in love with him. "Now open." He held in his had a red rose, the reddest and most perfect rose Haley has ever seen.

"Prom?" He asked.

"Of course!" Haley said breathlessly. Lucas metaphorically patted himself on the back. Now he has a date with the hot, intelligent chick from New York.

A few hours later, the party was still raging. Lucas watched as Haley mingled with some of his schoolmates. He grabbed a bottle of tequila and quietly went upstairs, not before Peyton seeing him.

"Luke!" She screamed. She was definitely tipsy.

"Peyt," He said, smiling. She saw the bottle of tequila he had in his arm.

"Let's take this upstairs, shall we?" She proposed with a devilish grin on her face. Both of them silently went up the stairs and found an empty room, locking it for privacy. Peyton sprawled down on the bed and Lucas took a sip from the bottle.

"It sucks playing Mr. Sensitive." Lucas said.

"Well obviously." Peyton said from the bed. "You're not drunk yet."

"At least I have a date for the prom," He told her.

"Congratulations to you!" Peyton shrieked, sitting up on the bed. "And congratulations to me too."

"The musician?" Lucas asked, taking a larger gulp this time.

"Bingo!" She said, disturbingly perky. Lucas was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol. He lay down the bed beside Peyton.

"You know, that you lack another boyfriend right?" Lucas mused, looking at her.

"Yeah, I know." She sighed. "And your girlfriend hasn't kissed you yet."

"I know." He sighed mournfully. They lay on the bed for a few minutes, silent.

"I miss talking to you." She said, facing him. With an almost magnetic attraction, he moved his head towards hers and kissed her. Alcohol loosening their inhibitions, neither of them pulled back. His hand wandered her body as she struggled with the buttons on his shirt. The music continued to pound downstairs. This was going to be a long night.