A/N: Thanks for all the support last chapter! I was able to get this one up on time :) Yay for me! This is unbeta'ed so any glaring grammatical errors belong to me. Feel free to drop me a review. I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter, but it was the best I could do. I tried to make Lindsey a little more likeable and with a little more substance than the show has. I'm not a fan of cardboard cut out generic girlfriends for Lucas (at least Brooke had redeemable qualities). Next chapter will be out Monday or Tuesday at the latest.

Disclaimer: I don't own OTH. If I did, Lindsey's character would be deleted from all our memories.

Chapter Three: Timing

Any great director will tell you the essence of cinema is timing. A director needs to feel the build up of its characters on and off screen. The dialogue needs to come off at perfect intervals or it will feel forced and fraudulent. The whole reason that people watch plays and television and movies is to both escape their own reality and invade another.

It's odd then to think that life really doesn't work on any set timing. Beats are often dropped and cues are constantly missed and words are stumbled over and exchanged. Half the time, we're not making any sense.

But then, there in lies the difference. Cinema is life molded; shaped; perfected.

Life is anything but perfect.

Peyton had decided that the best way to deal with Lucas was to give him what he had asked for. Friendship. Whenever she caught him around town, either by himself or with Lindsey, she took the time to stop and chat. At first, Lucas was confused and she spent most of the time filling the blank spaces with laughs and smiles. It was as if she had no recollection whatsoever of the conversation they had had in her kitchen.

Lindsey for her part didn't notice, and Peyton found that the conversation between herself and Lucas's girlfriend flowed much smoother than she would have liked. She really wanted to hate Lindsey, but she couldn't…and that sucked.

Lindsey had amazing taste in music. In fact, before she switched to editing, she had been a music major in college. She played piano and violin and she had a pretty damn good voice too. Peyton was almost considering bringing her into the studio, but decided against it seeing as it could mean more time around Lucas.

The problem with pretending to be Lucas's friend was that she really didn't know how to do that anymore. Once they had finally gone out, it was like all the tension they had buried under the surface of a normal relationship had seeped out and infected everything between them. Every hug, ever breath of a touch was charged with something almost magnetic. Peyton was sure she was the only one feeling it now.

If there was one thing really going her way though, it was that Lucas was clearly frustrated with how she was handling the whole thing. His confusion was splayed across his pretty little face, and Peyton took pleasure in him trying to figure out just exactly what she was getting at. He hadn't expected her to get along with Lindsey, and he surely didn't expect her to try to be his friend.

Peyton was wrong if she thought that Lucas wasn't feeling the affects of having a friendship with her. It was as if every friendly grasp of an arm or pat on the shoulder made him blush, and her presence always lingered too long after she left. He was starting to understand what she had meant that morning in the kitchen.

They couldn't be friends because their friendship was always running on borrowed time. There was so much desire, pure want and need that burned like a wildfire under the surface wanting to push its way through whenever they saw each other.

Finally, it reached a boiling point when at Brooke's boutique opening.

Peyton was wearing a strapless green dress with a neckline the plunged enough to make Lucas unbutton the top button on his dress shirt unconsciously. Lindsey was in New York, and because she and Peyton were on such good terms that she had heartedly insisted that Peyton accompany Lucas there. Peyton had agreed, and she had spent tonight beside him so close that they should be touching.

But they weren't.

And that was killing him.

"What can I get you, sir?" the bartender asked, his chiseled smile focusing on Peyton instead of Lucas. The man had been eyeing Peyton all night, much to Lucas's chagrin.

"Martini," Lucas gritted out.

Peyton glanced over at him and smirked. She remembered how jealous he used to get whenever men flirted with her back when they were together. It seemed some things never changed.

"How about for your misses?"

"I'm not his misses," Peyton said, before Lucas could say anything. He shot her a glare, but she was too busy locking eyes with the bartender. "I'd like a martini as well." She patted the bartender's hand.

"I'm David, by the way," he said.

Peyton reached up and stroked the hair just behind Lucas's ear, almost as if he was a puppy. "I'm Peyton, and this is my good friend, Lucas." The way she put emphasis on the word friend made Lucas's skin crawl.

"Nice to meet you both," David said, but his eyes were only on Peyton's. He slipped away to get their drinks, and Peyton dropped her hand.

"He was pretty cute," she said. Lucas's face went from angry to furious within the time it took for her to wink at him. But, he was able to control it. If she wanted to play this way, he could play too.

"You're not good enough for him," Lucas smirked.

"Excuse me?" Peyton said her jaw dropping. He saw her hand itching forward, no doubt to slap him across the face, but he caught it in his hand and wrapped his fingers around it.

"Let me tell you a secret," Lucas said, leaning close so he could whisper, "If you were good enough for him, you wouldn't be using him to make your ex-boyfriend jealous."

She turned her face so that their lips were centimeters apart. "I wasn't using him to make you jealous. In fact…friend…all I was thinking about was a getting a good fuck out of tonight." She felt his fingers tighten around hers, but she didn't stop. "I was thinking about how cute that pretty smile of his would look when it called out my name and how those hands could probably do wonders on my aching back. And God, I haven't had a good fuck since I saw Jake in Savannah."

The look in Lucas's eyes was so smoldering she wanted to run for the hills. Unfortunately, he was still holding her hand, thought it was more like he was crushing it against the counter. There were already bruises forming.

Without a word, Lucas stood up and tugged her by the hand. She didn't say anything, knowing her mouth had already gotten her in trouble. She had to be honest. The other reason she didn't speak was because her heart was beating fast in her chest. She felt a sick thrill from seeing him so passionate, even if that passion was from anger.

He pulled her into the back of the store, ignoring Haley when she asked where they were going, even when she eyed their intertwined hands. She didn't stop them though. She must have known stopping Lucas and Peyton was like trying to derail a freight train. If you succeeded, you'd only wind up hurting yourself, and sooner or later that train would be right back on track.

There was a storage closet on the right. When the boutique had been Karen's Café, it had been the pantry. Now, it was crammed with designer ensembles. Three rows of tightly packed couture, with shoes piled beneath. There was hardly an inch of space to breathe there, and yet, Lucas found a way to fit them in there. Closing the door, he slid her in front of him, her forehead pressed against the wood and her back to him.

He didn't speak for minutes, and the only sound that could be heard was the ragged breathing between them.

"We've been here before, back when it was a pantry. Do you remember? I had you pressed up against this here door and you were moaning about how I should take you here like we are now."

Peyton remembered it well. The desire and passion had been coursing through her blood just like it was now. She trembled at the thought.

"It was the night before you left for L.A. I made love to you on this floor, and you said it was the best night of your night," he paused, dipping his lips so he could taste the sweaty skin on her neck. "And I knew at that moment, that it would always be you and me. No matter what. I never loved someone as much as I did at that very moment. So to hear you say, you haven't had a good fuck since Savannah, it pretty much kills every thing I've held onto to get me through the days since you rejected my proposal. And it means either you're a bitter liar or a lying whore, Peyton. Which is it?"

She could hear the anger and the frustration pent up in his voice, but she wouldn't cave. She wanted him to feel the pain she felt, wanted to push him to the very limit.

"I'm both, baby," she said pushing back against him, her hips rolling against him. He let out a sound that crossed between a strangled moan and a hiss.

"I want to tell you something, Peyton Sawyer," he muttered as he pressed her closer to the door, "You've got a lot of fucking nerve."

"I know," she said quietly, "I know."

"And I love you so much it hurts," he said as he planted kisses along the back of her neck.

"Feeling's mutual," she panted, tilting her head to the side.

"I'm going to hell because of you."

"You were already going there," Peyton said as he turned her around and slammed her back against the door. She let out a long moan, "I'm just going to be keeping you company there."

He leaned back and glared at her. "I really fucking hate you."

"That feeling would also be mutual."

And then he kissed her. Lips pressed hard against hers as if she'd disappear again if he let her go. One kiss turned to two, and two turned to three and four before the kisses all melted together into an insurmountable number.

Peyton wanted to stop. There was this logical and moral part of her brain which had grown so much since junior year and knew what they were doing was wrong and would only lead to more problems. But there was still an even larger part of her heart which said she loved this man, more than she would ever let on and more than she ever wanted to admit to.

And when the man you love is kissing you like Lucas was kissing her now, there was no way you could stop him.

So she didn't stop.

Soon the kisses slowed, becoming more languid and sensual, lacking the frenzy of two people caught up in a stolen moment. Eventually Lucas pulled away from her, a small, almost innocent smile on his face. He laid her down on the floor, on top of a couture dress he promised to pay Brooke for. With the length of his body pressed against her, he whispered words that were painful to hear; even more painful probably for him to say.

Their tears mingled on each other's cheeks. Love declarations went unspoken but felt in each gasp and moan as their bodies became one and they lost everything that had been balanced on a thin tight rope for four years.

When it was over, they laid together, a tangle of naked limbs and slow, steady breathing.

"For the record, that night back in the pantry was the best night of my life," Peyton said breaking the silence that had stretched between them.

"I know it was."

"This one comes close."

"It does," Lucas sighed, pressing a kiss against her forehead, "You're going to run away now, aren't you?"

"Lindsey loves you," Peyton said, not answering the question. She traced a small circle around his heart.

"I love her too," Lucas whispered, "but you and I know it's not the same."

"It doesn't fix anything. We're not sixteen anymore and we can't do things like this and just expect things to fix themselves."

"You're right. Adults don't fuck to solve their problems."

"Don't be crude," Peyton said, sitting up and reaching for her dress. He pulled at her hand.

"I'm sorry. Just…just please stay."

She looked at him, frowning, but obliged curling next to him. When she was sure he was asleep, she slipped out of his embrace. She silently dressed, all the while watching him sleep. Her heart breaking more and more with each moment that passed, but she knew what she had to do. Lucas needed to make this decision on his own, just like she had when she woke up alone that night. So she left him, there on the floor with just a piece of paper with the word "forever" scribbled upon it.

It didn't shock her at all when she got the phone call from Haley the next day telling her Lucas had proposed to Lindsey.