A/N: New story. Shame on me. Especially when Lithium is just really not behaving. But this is fairly different from that. I'm not really sure where this is going, but I know where it'll go to. I don't anticipate this being a big problem to write or update like Lithium, it's just a matter of school allowing me the time to.

This is set at the beginning of season one, but no plans really of having Lucas or Haley in it yet. Maybe, but not sure. This is quite AU as the subject should suggest.

Non-disclaimer: I own One Tree Hill. it does not belong to Mark Schwann or the CW or any of those other people. Anybody who says otherwise will be beaten over the head with a shillelagh stick.

Prologue

•••

The ceiling hasn't changed much since last weekend. It is still the same plain white that she stared at last Saturday. Brooke's gone again, like last Saturday. She's not surprised. She turns to look at the clock. 6:47. She sits up. The blankets fall off of her, making her painfully aware of the condition she's in.

She picks some clothes out of her closet and quickly gets dressed. Her clothes from the night before were discarded randomly during the moments of passion. She quickly picks them up and throws them angrily into her clothes hamper. She doesn't want to remember. But she can't help but remember everything. Their first night together pushes its way into her mind.

She was sitting at her desk, finishing up a drawing in her sketchpad. Deathcab For Cutie blared through her stereo. She had heard someone come up to her room and lay down on her bed. She knew who it was. She closed her sketchpad, set it on her desk and turned towards her.

Her dark hair was dripping from the rain outside. She was wearing a white tank top, allowing her black bra to easily be seen underneath. Peyton did everything she could to keep from staring.

"God. Why does it have to rain all the time?" Brooke said with a smile. Peyton forced one of her own. Something was different tonight. It didn't feel right. She stood up and walked over to her stereo, turning it off. She stared out the window at the persistent downpour. She could never remember seeing it rain so hard. She wondered if they were in the midst of a hurricane. "Peyton."

She turned back around to find Brooke standing in front of her, too close in front of her. She looked into Brooke's eyes, finding them an unusually dark shade of green. Within seconds, Brooke's lips locked onto hers. On instinct, she kissed her back, her hands finding their way to Brooke's waist. Brooke pulled Peyton with her as she walked backward until the back of her knees bumped into the bed. She fell backwards, bringing Peyton down with her. Peyton felt the cold air hit her chest as her shirt came off. She pulled back and looked at Brooke questioningly.

"I need you..." Brooke whispered huskily.

When Peyton woke up the next morning, she was alone and confused. She had spent the next week trying to get a hold of Brooke. She called, left messages, but Brooke failed to reply. It was summer, making it easy for Brooke to avoid her. Until she was wanting her again.

When Brooke showed up in her doorway last night, she didn't ask any questions. She let Brooke kiss her without protest. She let the clothes come off without wondering what would happen in the morning. She already knew the answer.

Now she wonders why she's let Brooke do it. She has Nathan. She kind of has Nathan. She doesn't love him, doesn't even like him most of the time. But if she ever wants to have sex, he's ready and willing. She doesn't need Brooke. Not like that.

She flips on her stereo. She wants some music to drown out the guilt she's feeling. "London Calling" isn't appropriate, but nothing is. She lets The Clash fill her room and thinks about laying back down on her bed. It's not a good idea. She knows who her sheets would smell like.

She sits down at her desk and stares at the wall. She doesn't like Brooke. Not that way. She'd never even thought of Brooke like that. Sure, they would cuddle in bed, and link arms in the hall. Maybe sex was the next logical progression in their relationship. She raises an eyebrow at that thought. Now she's thinking nonsense.

She grabs her sketchpad and uncaps her pen. She draws random lines. For the first time in her life, she doesn't know what to draw. So she draws nothing, only random geometrical shapes. Doodles. She taps her foot to the beat of the music, trying to let it engulf her thoughts.

She had never thought about Brooke in any way other than her best friend before. She had never wanted Brooke. Never longed for her. Not before. Not like this. She misses the feeling of having the girl cuddled next to her, the scent of her floating through her room. One trace of her scent had always intoxicated the blonde.

Of course, she had thought things about Brooke before, just in passing thought. She'd notice the way certain pairs of jeans fit the brunette perfectly. Or find herself mulling over things that Brooke had said and the way she had said them. She loved seeing the way that bad drivers brought on mumbled curses and a very cute yet cross expression.

Maybe she wasn't as innocent as she thought.

She's tired of drawing. She throws her pen onto her desk beside her. Her eyes lazily wonder around the room, searching for something to distract her, looking everywhere but the bed. They settle on her wall calendar for a moment. Today is Sunday. Tuesday will be the first day of their junior year. Seeing Brooke everyday from then on will be unavoidable. They already know that they have four classes together. A picture on her desk catches her eye.

She and Brooke had been best friends since before either girl could remember. Brooke had always been the one constant in her life, never changing. Now, with one decision one night, everything had changed. She had changed.

She wishes it could be back to the way it was before.