A/N: Hey everyone, this is my first fanfiction. It's an AU version of 3x18 and it's a Leyton, so Brucas fans beware. (j/k) I'm a novice writer, so expect there to be flaws, though I hope to improve with enough practice.

This was supposed to be a one-shot, but it ended up being longer than I anticipated, so it's probably going to be three or four chapters. Anyway, enjoy. ;)

Chapter One: Clarity

It was about 7:00am when the first light of morning found its way into the room, gray and fuzzy, and cast a gentle ambience. However, Lucas had been awake since 5:30am.

He had been lying restlessly for hours, gaze suspended on the white ceiling above him, the comforter resting down near his lower abdomen, one hand draped atop his chest, the other lying limp beside his head on the pillow, but he had yet to summon the will to actually get up and start the day.

Even the pangs of hunger that periodically gnawed at his stomach couldn't rouse him to action and Lucas just gritted his teeth and bared it. Finally, ten minutes later, his nearly bursting bladder did the job and motivated him to get out of bed.

His joints popped as he got up, and Lucas winced at the stiffness in his back and the dull ache in the back of his neck. Lucas had always been a sound sleeper, but as of late he'd been suffering from insomnia, and hours of exasperating tossing and turning and lying in precarious positions had left him achy and sore.

The cause of his insomnia was not a mystery to Lucas, as today was yet another day he would have to face the world without his Uncle Keith in it.

On his feet, Lucas padded over to the door of his room but did not open it. Instead, he leaned against the doorframe and listened for any sounds of movement or activity in the house. His mother had always been any early riser. You had to be when you owned and operated your own business, but ever since Keith's funeral, she rarely left her room before noon, sometimes even later than that. Still, Lucas didn't want to risk the chance of running into her.

For as pathetic as it was, Lucas Scott feared his own mother.

In his eighteen years, Lucas had never actually been afraid of his mother, even when she had been at her most furious over something he had done. But it wasn't his physical well-being that he feared for, nor was it any punishments his mother might inflict on him.

It was what might come out of her mouth that made Lucas so weary of crossing paths with her. Horribly hurtful words like the ones she had spoken to him a few nights ago after she'd found out that Lucas had pulled Dan out of the dealership fire.

Lucas had blamed himself for Keith's death-blamed himself for running back into the school. "Well 'sorry,' isn't gonna' bring him back." Seven words, spoken with such malice and contempt. Those words had been like dirty shards of glass that had lacerated Lucas's heart. He and his mother had not had a real conversation since that night, and they made it a point to avoid each other whenever they were in the house at the same time.

So Lucas waited an additional three minutes before he slowly and quietly opened the door and crept out into the hall. To his left, the living room and foyer were still dark, the morning light unable to penetrate the closed shades and blinds. To his right, in the kitchen, a delicate sheen of violet hue caressed the table and part of the refrigerator.

In the bathroom, after relieving his bladder, Lucas started up the shower, wincing at the forceful rumble of the water rushing out of the tap, hoping it wasn't loud enough to disturb his mother. Adjusting the water to make it as hot as he could tolerate it, Lucas allowed the stream to envelope him. Gales of steaming water sluiced down every contour of his nude form washing away the lingering film of fatigue and stiffness from his joints, but they could not wash away the thoughts in his head.

The memories of that day; the still lingering sensation and taste of a certain pair of lips on Lucas's own; her scent; her strikingly blonde hair and wondrously emerald-green eyes. Lucas could not get Peyton Sawyer out of his head, and it was driving him insane.

A shiver passed down his spine when he thought about the kiss they'd shared in the library that day, and he had been thinking about that kiss almost constantly since. Lucas knew he had no business thinking about Peyton that way, especially since he was with Brooke. He'd sworn he would never hurt the brunette again like he had before, but Lucas knew he was doing it unconsciously, and it was tearing him apart. Truth be told, though he loved Brooke and had fought for her and gone to every length to convince her that he loved her, Lucas was beginning to question whether he and the redhead were really meant for each other. He had been questioning it even before the shooting occurred, and even though he'd assured Peyton that he was completely in love with her during their conversation in the library during the party, he didn't really even know how to define that love anymore. It wasn't the all-consuming, passionate love he'd expected it to be and Lucas felt like he was stuck in a routine rather than engaged in a loving relationship.

Finished, Lucas stepped out of the shower and onto the tiled bathroom floor. The air chilled his damp skin slightly and he quickly pulled a towel around himself. He stopped drying himself for a minute and stood perfectly still, straining his ears. Nothing. Absolute stillness and quiet. Other than the occasional plink and patter of residual water from the faucet splattering on the shower floor, nothing else seemed to stir within the house. The sound of the shower had either not awakened his mother or had simply not provoked any reaction from her. He was in the clear, for now.

Lucas felt his face burn with shame and guilt. A squall of melancholy and self-loathing washed over him at the realization of his complete and utter cowardice. He should be pouring every fiber of his being into trying to comfort and soothe his mother. He should be trying to ease her burden and helping her through her unimaginable loss, not hiding from her. But he was terrified to look into those haunted eyes of hers; afraid that he might see the contempt and accusation lurking within them.

Lucas felt his stomach twist and his eyes burn with unshed tears. A violent sob built within him and almost escaped before Lucas clamped down on it with all his might. Instead, it calcified into a lump in his throat and his breath caught. In the weeks since the shooting and Keith's death, Lucas had never truly allowed himself to completely break down. Sure, he had cried a bit, in private, but he had never opened the flood gates all the way and let loose. Lucas saw no point in doing that, it wouldn't make anything better. Besides, he needed to be strong.

Right, be strong….for who? His mother? The mother who blamed him for Keith's death? The mother who Lucas was too chickenshit to face?

Deep down, the rational part of Lucas knew Keith would've gone back into that school whether or not he'd been in there. And his heart absolutely forbid any part of Lucas from regretting going back in there and carrying Peyton out. But Lucas still blamed himself. He blamed himself because his mother blamed him, and in the midst of it all, rationality could not find a foothold.

Once again, a vision of Peyton's normally creamy complexion becoming steadily paler intruded into his mind. His heart began to pump with the familiar tempo of terror it always did whenever he thought of that day.

The day he almost lost her.

The first shards of sunlight pierced the morning sky and hailed down upon the rustic cabin sequestered in the woods, sprinkling light through the window in the room that Peyton occupied. According to her cell phone, the time was 7:00am, but Peyton was pretty sure she'd woken sometime around five. She shared the room with Brooke, though the girl in question was currently sound asleep in the bunk above Peyton's, her steady breathing and soft snoring the only sound in the room.

Normally, Peyton would've been sound asleep around this time as well. She wasn't a morning person, and more often than not, rousing her from sleep was akin to prying railroad tracks out of the ground with bare hands. However, some mornings, like this one, she found herself wide awake in spite of the early hour. She couldn't fall back to sleep no matter how hard she tried, but she didn't feel like getting up and wandering around the cabin either, so she was stuck for the time being.

She regretted even agreeing to take this trip up to Rachel's cabin, but she supposed it would've been better than slumming around her house and the rest of Tree Hill alone. Although, if she'd known ahead of time that Lucas would've decided not to come she might have favored the former option, because then they would've been alone and miserable together.

She shouldn't have been thinking like that. That was definitely wrong-thought. It was bound to lead her down a dangerous path, one she couldn't go down a second time. But damnit, she simply couldn't stop thinking about Lucas. The feeling of his lips on hers; his crystal blue eyes that seemed to contain as much depth as the universe; his chiseled jaw and defined cheek-bones; his upturned nose; his caring and concerned demeanor; and most of all, the earth-shattering words she had uttered to him in the library on that terrible day.

"If I say I love you… will you hold it against me?"

She'd been agonizing over those words even more than the fact that she'd almost died. She couldn't understand what had possessed her to say those words; they'd just come out of her against her will or at least her conscious will. But it was a complete farce to try and pretend that she hadn't meant them with every fiber of her being, even if she'd told Lucas she hadn't in the library the night of the party Brooke had thrown in the school.

Brooke.

Peyton loved her like a sister. She had been her rock since her mother's death, and Peyton dreaded losing the brunette as a friend like she had briefly last year after the disastrous love triangle between them and Lucas. Each time she let a thought about Lucas intrude into her head she was steadily risking another estrangement between her and Brooke, she realized.

Letting out a soft sigh between her lips, Peyton shifted her lithe frame somewhat to relieve some pressure from her aching joints, slightly turning her head toward the window that was illuminated by slivers of the first morning light. The soft whisper of Brooke's steady respiration continued to fill the room, and outside the cry of a distant bird echoed faintly.

Closing her eyes tightly, Peyton attempted to scrub her mind clean of all thoughts of blond hair, soulful blue eyes, and calloused lips. Unfortunately, she was dismayed when she felt her heart race and a not unpleasant sensation of warm tingles flower within her at the thought of the elder Scott brother.

It was futile. Lucas would not leave her mind or heart.

Peyton wasn't sure how long she'd been caught up in her reverie, but it must've been awhile, because she hadn't realized that the rhythmic pattern of Brooke's breathing had ceased.

"Peyton, you awake?"

Peyton was startled by the girl's voice, and it took her a second or two to respond. "Yeah."

"Couldn't sleep, huh?"

"Not really," she replied. Of course, she wasn't going to tell Brooke that she was awake because she couldn't stop thinking about her boyfriend.

"Hear anything from Pete?" the brunette asked.

"He texted me last night. He says there's like an emergency meeting with the label head or something, and he can't make it."

"I'm sorry," Brooke said, her voice radiating sympathy.

"Don't be." And she meant it. Pete Wentz had been the farthest thing from her mind throughout this whole trip. Peyton hadn't felt nearly as disappointed as she thought she would've when she'd gotten the text from Pete hours ago saying he couldn't come. He'd left a number and told her to call him later, but Peyton had no plans on doing so.

Any other girl in Peyton's shoes might've jumped at the chance to hook up with a celebrity and rock star, but Peyton knew any thoughts she had entertained about Pete Wentz were just a girlish fantasy. It would never work out due to how different their schedules and lifestyles were.

Plus, he wasn't Lucas.

Peyton cringed. Definite wrong-thought there. She heard Brooke sigh above her.

"I can't believe he didn't want to come."

Peyton didn't need to guess who He was. Brooke had been pretty livid yesterday when Lucas had opted out of this trip to the cabin, and had done nothing but mope around ever since. Though she felt for Brooke, Peyton also understood Lucas's need to be alone. Thinking about what had happened to Keith, Peyton's heart broke for Lucas and Karen, but especially Lucas. He had lost the closest thing he had to a father who had been right on the verge of officially becoming his father. That's not something you get over in a matter of weeks.

Outside of the night of the party in the school, Peyton hadn't really had a chance to talk with Lucas alone and she had found herself yearning for his presence. She saw him around school or at Tric, though, and when she caught sight of the sheer sadness and aguish in his eyes, Peyton wanted to sob. She wanted to take him into her arms, kiss his brow and just hold him, siphon the pain from him and free him from the hideous burden he didn't deserve to bare.

Of course she couldn't do that. He was with Brooke and Peyton knew he had been pushing her away lately. It wouldn't have gone over well. So Peyton was condemned to watch from the sidelines, helpless.

"Brooke, he's in a lot of pain right now."

"I know," Brooke replied with a hint of indignation. "But he never wants to talk about it! And besides, the whole purpose of this trip was so that we could all try and heal. How is Lucas going to heal when he's alone hiding in his room?"

"He's not hiding, Brooke, he's dealing in his own way. You can't force him to talk about it if he's not ready; you have to give him time."

There was silence for a minute, and Peyton wondered if she'd offended her best friend.

Then: "Maybe your right." Though from her tone, she didn't sound completely convinced. "Anyway, I'm going to try and get some more shut-eye."

"Okay," Peyton acknowledged.

"Hey P. Sawyer," Brooke said. "Thanks."

Trying to suppress the guilt bubbling within her gullet, Peyton replied: "Anytime B. Davis."

Peyton didn't know specifically where the guilt came from. Maybe it was because she ached to comfort Lucas herself or maybe it was because a part of her resented Brooke for being that girl for him, she really didn't know.

Deep down, though, Peyton couldn't shake the feeling that she was going to end up hurting the brunette girl again.

God, she hoped not.

Back in his room, Lucas finished toweling off and proceeded to dress for the day; loose dark jeans and a black t-shirt. He grabbed his wallet and keys, and checked the former to make sure he had enough cash in case he needed gas or anything else. He did not intend to return home until late at night. It was a Saturday, so he didn't have school, and since the Café was still closed and there was no basketball practice, Lucas was left without anything to do. Still, anything was better than loitering around here, his house, and facing the possibility of encountering his mother.

A chirp from his cell phone alerted him to another voicemail. It had been ringing off the hook all yesterday afternoon and had been bleeping frequently throughout the night, though Lucas had ignored it consistently. It may not have been polite, but he was in no mood to deal with anyone right now. He knew Brooke was pissed at him for not coming on the trip to the cabin owned by Rachel's parents, but he didn't care.

Brooke, Nathan, Haley and the others had practically threatened to carry him out to the car by his arms and legs when he'd told them he wasn't going, but Lucas had pleaded that he needed to stay home and take care of his mother, and had convinced them that he wasn't feeling well. He could tell none of them really bought his excuses, but mercifully, they had finally relented and left without him.

Though it might have been refreshing to relax in a cabin in the woods with his closest friends and family for the weekend, Lucas needed solitude in order to sort his thoughts out. He loved them for their concern, but he just wanted one weekend to himself where he didn't have to spend almost all of his time convincing everyone he was going to be okay or have to parry Brooke's incessant attempts to get him to open up to her about his feelings.

Besides, if he had gone he would've had to share a room with Brooke. The opportunity to share a room with his girlfriend in a cabin out in the woods would've been to any teenage boy like a personal key to the Elysian Fields, but Lucas didn't have it in him to play boyfriend for the weekend.

'Maybe even beyond that,' he thought to himself.

Lucas plucked his phone from its charger on the night stand and flipped it open to reveal that he had at least a dozen voicemails. Most of them were from Brooke and Haley, a few were from his brother, and a couple were from Skillz and Mouth. He was disappointed to find none from Peyton. He shouldn't be, but he was, and he wasn't going to pretend he didn't yearn to hear her voice.

Something inside Lucas quietly shifted. That tiny internal admission somehow made him feel a little bit lighter. But his mind and heart were still conflicted. His feelings for Peyton had left a trail of pain, regrets and broken hearts for him, Brooke and Peyton last time and he absolutely would not allow himself to hurt anyone else.

If Lucas let his feelings for Peyton consume him once again, he would end up hurting Brooke, and he couldn't do that, not after he'd sworn he would never do it again, after he'd sworn to be a better a guy, a guy Keith could be proud of.

With a flick of his finger, Lucas deleted the unheard voicemails. Pocketing his cell, Lucas went to shut the door to his closet, but just as he was about to close it, his eyes caught sight of the edge of a small box that was tucked beneath a gym bag and a spare basketball.

His Peyton Box.

He had not touched it in awhile, but he was always aware of it peripherally. Even after Brooke had stumbled across it last summer and he'd mumbled some half-assed excuse about keeping it to remind himself of all the mistakes he made, he had not gotten rid of it. The box contained over a dozen letters he'd written to Peyton but had never mailed; letters in which he had bared his heart and soul until he was as raw as sandpaper. There were also pictures of Peyton and of the two of them together, and mixes she had made for him.

He shut the closet door a little too hard. Lucas shrugged on his grey hoody with the Keith Scott Body Shop logo printed on the back, and with keys in hand, exited his house. The sun had now asserted its dominance in the sky and its rays subjugated the land below.

The day had no business being so bright when his mood was so dark and Lucas lifted his head up toward the sky and glared, as if his defiance might bring forth a blanket of bruised gray clouds. Inside his car, the vintage '67 Mustang Shelby GT500 that Keith had left for him, he leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, willing his muddled thoughts to dissipate. Finally, he turned the key in the ignition and the muscle car's engine roared to life.

For the next hour, Lucas just cruised the back roads of Tree Hill, soaking in the rural scenery. He allowed the monotonic purr of the Shelby's V8 engine to lull him into a state of semi-relaxation as he drove, and for awhile, Lucas felt like himself again.

However, his tranquility was shattered by a combination of anxiety and nostalgia as he turned onto the next road. After about a mile, he found himself pulling over onto a grassy clearing that parted the trees that lined a lake. He killed the engine and exited the vehicle.

Slowly turning around and around, letting his eyes drink in every aspect and nuance of the lakeside, Lucas felt a stirring within him. A steady breeze soughed through the grassy space and the branches of the surrounding trees and foliage whispered in harmony with the wind, while the silvery surface of the lake rippled with subtle waves.

Like the breeze that flowed through the trees, a gust of memories flowed through Lucas. This was the spot where Peyton's old '68 Mercury Comet Caliente had broken down over a year ago. She had called Keith's shop for assistance and he had sent Lucas out on the call. He remembered how shocked he'd been when he had pulled up in the tow-truck and seen that the car he'd been sent to service belonged to the girl of his dreams.

Lucas had spoken his first words to Peyton in this very spot and in doing so his life had been changed forever. It had been over a year, yet this place still seemed to be haunted by her presence though Lucas couldn't really explain why. All he knew was that being here somehow made him feel closer to her.

Abruptly, Lucas found himself awash in other memories: the first time they'd kissed, heatedly, at the party hosted by Dan; how he'd bared his heart to her only to have it shattered like so much fine china at that same party; the night she'd shown up at his door telling him she wanted all the same things he did, but ultimately couldn't have them since in the wake of the heartbreak she'd inflicted on him he had turned to Brooke; the fevered and passionate kisses and embraces they had shared in the corners of the library or in the janitor's closet, hiding themselves from the prying eyes of others, from Brooke, whom he had been dating at the time; and then the day in his room when she had told him that there was no way back for them.

Lucas didn't realize he was clenching his fists until he felt the stinging of his nails digging into his palms. Acid roiled in his stomach and he felt his guts clench tightly as the memories of his past with Peyton continued to run through him unrestrained.

Her beautiful emerald-green eyes tempered with hurt and disappointment after she had learned he'd hooked up with Nikki the night of the party in Nathan's apartment; her locker being defaced and him going to check up on her at her house, only to be forced to come to terms with how poorly he'd treated her when she took him to task for it; and calling Jake and then seeing the two of them happy and in love all around campus while he tried to ignore the pangs in his heart.

Lucas loathed the person he'd been a year ago. The version of himself that had used Brooke for comfort and then cheated on her; that had traded Peyton's respect and heart in for a quick, meaningless romp with Nikki on a carousel. He literally burned with shame and disgust with the knowledge that he had let himself become the type of guy he had sworn he would never be.

But most of all, he was ashamed that he had let Peyton down. She had believed, thanks to his callous actions, that she had meant nothing to him when in fact she had meant everything.

Suddenly weak in the knees, Lucas collapsed into a sitting position on the grass. He drew his knees up to his chest and braced them with his arms. Clarity had hit him so hard it had knocked him off his feet. Of course, it was all so obvious now. Why hadn't he seen it before?

His mind flashed back to last summer. It had been just him and Peyton for the entire three months and they had used that time to repair their fractured friendship. It had been the best summer of his life. The two had spent almost all of their time together doing trivial things. Listening to music; driving the back roads with the top of her Comet down; walking along the beach just talking and gazing out at the ocean. He remembered when she had painted the mural of the Rivercourt on the walls of his room and they had playfully flicked paint at one another, laughing all the way.

Then he was taken back to that day in the library; the day of the shooting. Lucas had crouched beside her, held her, comforted her and watched as the gunshot wound in her ankle had continued to bleed. A feeling of complete helplessness had enveloped him as she had grown paler and weaker by the minute. The look in her eyes; fear, yes, but something else. Something he was once certain he would never see again after how badly he had screwed things up between them. Perhaps it had been his imagination, but a huge part of Lucas desperately hoped it had been love.

Love.

He understood now, and for the first time Lucas's heart was no longer conflicted, not even in the slightest.

Back in the library as he had watched her slowly fade away he had come far too close to having to live in a world without Peyton Sawyer in it. Living in a world without his Uncle Keith was almost unbearable, but somewhere deep down he had realized that living in that world without Peyton would be impossible.

Because he was in love with her; completely, unconditionally in love. He always had been but he had just been too blind and stubborn to see it.

Lucas wasn't sure how long he had been sitting there in the grass. To him it seemed like hours had passed though in reality it had probably only been a few moments. He was facing the road, as still as a statue, jaw slack, eyes slightly widened. He was staring at nothing in particular, and the occasional car that passed only registered ephemerally to him.

"I love Peyton," he spoke aloud to no one, his voice slightly raspy.

Slowly, his guts unclenched and he felt a pleasant calm overtake him. He let out a sigh and stood up, unceremoniously dusting his jeans off. He was about to walk back to the car, but the ringtone of his cell phone stopped him in his tracks and shattered the calm and serenity of the scenery.

He pulled his cell from his pocket and glanced at the screen. It was Brooke. Lucas pressed 'ignore' and the phone fell silent. However, a second later it began to ring again. It was still Brooke. Lucas ignored the call. But yet again, almost immediately, it rang. Brooke was not giving up.

With a grunt of annoyance, Lucas turned the phone off. Before he could even put it back in his pocket, it chirped, indicating that he had received voicemail. Lucas didn't need to look to see who it was from. He walked back to the Shelby and got in and his phone chirped again.

Back on the road, in the car, Lucas drove to the one place he knew he would be able to process his sudden revelation. His phone chirped five more times by the time he reached the Rivercourt, and each was like a nail being driven into the side of Lucas's head. Thoughts were swarming through his head like angry bees whose hive had just been violated, and the incessant electronic bleeping of the device was preventing him from concentrating.

He pulled up a few feet from the court and parked, shutting the engine off. He glanced over at his phone. It was blessedly silent for the time being, but Lucas had no doubt that Brooke would continue relentlessly until his voicemail was completely full. Though incredibly irritated, Lucas also felt like a complete shit for ignoring her. She was probably just worried about him; they were all probably worried about him.

Grudgingly, before he could lose himself on the blacktop he knew he would have to call Brooke and try to smooth things out. Grabbing the phone, he turned it back on and almost immediately it began to ring. Taking a breath, Lucas opened it.

"Hello?" he said, almost timidly.

There was silence for a few seconds, and then: "Where've you been?"

"Busy."

"'Busy,'" she replied, her smoky voice tinged with skepticism. "Busy in the shower, busy in the Café, busy on the toilet, busy how, Lucas? Just give me an idea of what kind of 'busy' we're talking about here!"

He sighed. "Brooke…"

"No! Lucas, I've called you over a dozen times and you ignored me! Admit it, you were ignoring me!" She had gone from slightly livid to borderline shrill in 0.5 seconds, and if there was one thing that Lucas couldn't stand, it was shrillness.

"Brooke, just relax, okay?" He didn't want to raise his voice, but if he didn't assert himself he would never get a word in edgewise.

"Relax? What possible reason would I have to relax, Luke? This guy who's supposed to be my boyfriend chose to mope around home rather than come out and spend a weekend with me. And then, when I tried to call him to see if he was okay, he dodged my calls and made up some lame excuse about being too busy to get back to me!" Her voice was as hard as steel, though it also seemed like it was on the verge of cracking. "So I think it's a little late for me to just relax!"

"Brooke! Please just stop. I'm sorry, okay? I know I should've called you back. It wasn't fair to you and I know that, but I already told you that I needed some time to myself."

This did nothing to diffuse Brooke's anger. "That's all you ever say! For the past three weeks you've done nothing but crawl inside your shell! You never want to talk about anything meaningful and sometimes I feel like you forget I even exist! Why, Luke? Why won't you open up to me? And why can't you ever just let me all the way in?"

She was practically choking on her tears and Lucas's heart twisted. He had hurt the brunette girl once again without even realizing it. He felt a hint of his own tears though he didn't allow them to fall.

"I am so sorry, Brooke," he whispered. "I never wanted you to feel like this. I just…" He struggled with his words. "When you get back tomorrow, we need to have a serious talk."

"Why do I have the feeling it won't end with a romantic dinner and us snuggling up together?" She was calmer now, but her voice was still horse.

Lucas shut his eyes tightly. "I'll see you tomorrow, Brooke."

"Okay," she responded reluctantly. "And Luke? I love you."

Lucas knew he was expected to respond in kind, but all he could think about was Peyton. "Bye Brooke." He terminated the call. Truth was, he did love Brooke, but not like he loved Peyton. Still, Brooke would always mean a great deal to him and he hated to see her in pain, especially when he was the cause of it.

Tossing the phone back on the passenger seat, he reached back into the rear of the car and grabbed the basketball he always kept there. Getting out of the car, he walked onto the court. A steady breeze blew in across the river and ruffled the grass and Lucas's short blond hair. Positioning himself at the three-point line, he brought the ball up and shot. A metallic thud rang out as the ball bricked. Lucas didn't immediately run after the stray ball, but instead continued to stand at the three-point line, staring up at nothing in particular.

His thoughts were dominated by Peyton, but also by knowing what he would have to do tomorrow. He knew he and Brooke had no future, and that breaking things off was the right thing to do, but that didn't make it any easier.

Plus, as grateful as he was for the newfound clarity he had received about his feelings for Peyton, he realized that he was now burdened with a whole new set of problems. How did he know Peyton would feel the same? And even if she did, and he chose to pursue a relationship with her after he broke up with Brooke, doing so would just confirm each and every suspicion the brunette had about him and Peyton. Peyton and Brooke's friendship could very well be shattered once again, probably forever this time.

He wanted Peyton so badly and the idea that she might have feelings for him, that what he had seen in her eyes on that day in the school library had been love, that she had meant those three words she had uttered, thrilled him on every level. But it seemed less and less likely that he would ever get a chance to be with her.

Lucas Scott had never felt more lost in his entire life, and he dreaded what tomorrow would bring.

~Chapter One End