Best Friends With Benefits

That was how the pair began their relationship not only as best friends, but also as lovers. Brooke found whatever excuse she could to spend at Peyton’s house, and it would always end up with the two laughing and kissing and stroking one another into the night. They never articulated exactly what they were to each other; obviously more than before, but they were young and childish and hadn’t thought to put a label to it.

All Peyton knew was that she was happy, deliriously happy, every time Brooke looked at her with those chocolate eyes and knew Peyton. Every kiss, every caress was full of Peyton’s adoration of Brooke, her near-worship of the brunette. Peyton hadn’t known she could be this content; it was an emotion she hadn’t felt in the years since her mother died, and in a way Peyton was grateful to Brooke for understanding her.

Brooke understood something of Peyton’s gratitude, but felt it was seriously misplaced. Brooke didn’t know how to be anything but Brooke -- and she loved Peyton, like a sister, like a true friend. She poured all the love she would have given her absent parents into loving Peyton, masked all the hurt and loneliness and rejection by being cheerful and happy whenever she could. The sad truth of it was, Brooke Davis was a charade. The preppy, smiling cheerleader was a façade she put on for the rest of the high school -- and perhaps her overwhelming need to dominate Tree Hill High came from the need to feel worthy.

She understood only that Peyton made her feel, and that was sacred to Brooke. Boys were still a mystery Brooke wanted to discover, but being with Peyton was easy, familiar, simple. Brooke knew that Peyton loved her, with more of an emphasis on love than Brooke would have liked, but she couldn’t help it anymore than the blonde could. She never put words to the feelings she had about Peyton sleeping with Nathan Scott, or the repulsion she felt if she imagined Peyton with any other boy. To say the emotion was selfish would have been accurate; Brooke guarded Peyton, not only as the only person who knew the real her, but also as the only person who could make her feel real happiness.

Not that Brooke had given up on boys. That was obvious at every party the two attended, her smiles free and touches promising, though she hadn’t taken one to bed since Julian. Peyton saw the flirtation and grit her teeth against it; she had come to understand that Brooke was determined to play this game, and as long as she didn’t cross that line, Peyton was fine with it. Or at least she pretended to be fine with it. Peyton wasn’t as big a flirt as Brooke, but she did her fair share of it -- secretly enjoying the flashes of envy in Brooke’s face, the expression obvious if Peyton happened to glance at Brooke in the middle of talking to some boy. Peyton learned quick that if she happened to pay more attention to one boy than Brooke thought was suitable, the brunette cheerleader would find any reason to dislodge Peyton from him and take her home, fast. Their lovemaking would be brutal, then, and furious, but it gratified Peyton to realize Brooke was just as jealous as she was, even if she never said so.

The problem of Nathan Scott just wouldn’t go away. He texted her constantly, called her frequently, and hounded her at school. Peyton felt sorry for the boy -- he had been a chip that night, an article of revenge, and now, more sober, Peyton could see that and understand it. She had done her best to let him down gently, and when that didn’t work, simply refused to acknowledge him. Brooke always tensed up when he approached and wouldn’t relax until he left, and Peyton noticed, and was sorry for it.

Approaching their lunch table on a Friday, Nathan tried once more to get Peyton’s attention. The blonde filled his thoughts and he just couldn’t seem to shake her, even though all the other guys on the team said she was a cold fish. Nathan knew that wasn’t true, he knew she had pent up passion that she didn’t let just anyone see. It was an enigma that Nathan just couldn’t get past, he wanted to open her up and explore all the depths that she kept hidden. It was near enough to love that Nathan imagined he did love her, and it was affecting him negatively. He didn’t play as well because he was distracted by her at practice and games, and the coach was riding him constantly. Nathan didn’t care.

“Hey.” He smiled at her, his blue eyes charming, ignoring the looks of all the other girls seated around.

“Hi.” Peyton failed to meet his gaze, staring pointedly at her chips.

“Do you think you’d want to catch a movie tonight?” Nathan tried, the hope rising in his voice. What might have seemed like an obvious cold shoulder to some, Nathan saw as shyness. “You pick, I’ll pay.”

Peyton fidgeted nervously with a bracelet on her right arm, sneaking quick glances at Brooke, who sat to her left. The girl had gone incredibly still.

“Maybe another time.” Peyton replied lamely. She finally lifted her eyes to meet Nathan’s, her regret plain. She really did think he was a nice guy, even if he tried too hard. Maybe in a different universe they would have hit it off.

“I’ll call you.” Nathan didn’t sound dejected, really, just disappointed. Brooke relaxed and picked up her sandwich.

“Are you serious?” Exploded Mandy Roberts, a sophomore, obnoxious, snotty. “That was Nathan Scott! As in, Dan Scott’s prodigal son. He’s going to be huge on the basketball team next year! He just asked you out! Why didn’t you say yes?”

Peyton shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “I have other plans tonight.”

Mandy scoffed. “Like what? You can’t be hanging out with Brooke,” She said matter-of-factly. “I hear she’s got a date with Dylan Franks.”

Brooke passed Peyton an apologetic look. “I was going to tell you.”

Peyton bit down the shame and hurt and simply studied her lunch, now much less appetizing. She stayed quiet the rest of the period, refusing to look at Brooke, ignoring the cutting comments of Mandy and her parade of friends. She wished violently that the bell would ring and this would be over.

Finally, her wish was granted, and she picked up her tray and headed towards a trash can.

“Peyton!” Brooke called, desperation tinging her voice. “Wait!”

Peyton’s shoulders were hunched defensively, not bothering to turn around, but not moving forward, either. Brooke took the place next to her and the pair began walking, though Peyton wouldn’t look at Brooke.

“I’m sorry.” The words were anxious. “I was going to tell you, that’s no way for you to find out, I’m sorry, Peyton.”

Peyton shrugged. She was battling to hold in the hurt while showing only steely indifference to Brooke.

“Peyton.” Brooke’s voice was pleading now. “Say something.”

“What do you want me to say, Brooke?” Peyton hissed vehemently. “That I expected anything different? That I thought for some crazy reason you cared about me? No. I won’t say that. I don’t have anything to say.”

Brooke’s heart was breaking at the hurt in Peyton’s voice. She hated that she put it there -- Brooke was frantic with the need for Peyton to just listen, to just understand. Brooke had to go on a date with Dylan Franks, because it was expected of her, because in the long run it would help her with her climb to the top. Why couldn’t Peyton get that? Why couldn’t Peyton understand that Brooke loved her, needed her, more than any boy? To Brooke it made perfect sense. To Peyton it was like betrayal, like rejection, like agony.

But because Brooke didn’t know how to tell Peyton that, couldn’t really put words to those feelings, she stopped walking and let Peyton move on. She was too self-conscious of the school setting to let anything really dramatic happen there. It would have to wait until after. Brooke scowled when she remembered Dylan was taking her directly to eat after school, then to a movie. After that, though, Brooke would find Peyton, would explain everything to her. Would make her understand.

Peyton hurried through the halls, unaware of all the other students, searching blindly for her next class. She was shocked back to reality when she collided face-first into Nathan.

“Oh!” She said, surprised, dropping her books on the floor. She flushed when Nathan leaned down to pick them, his smile greeting her when he handed them to her. “Sorry. Clumsy.”

“It’s no problem.” His voice was warm, she could tell he was delighted by her.

“Hey, Nathan,” Peyton called as he began to move away. “Do you think I could still take you up on that offer? Tonight?”

Nathan’s grin was huge. “Sure, Peyton. Want me to drop by your house and pick you up? Around six?”

“That’d be great.” Peyton smiled, a small, uneasy smile. She walked quickly away from him and into her algebra classroom.

--

Peyton ignored Brooke after school, pressing the reject button over and over again on all of her calls. She walked home alone -- refusing to get in the car with Brooke and Dylan, who had offered her a ride. Usually Brooke’s parents sent over a driver, or the two walked together. So it was a lonely walk, and Peyton was unaccustomed to it, and it left her to her thoughts that circled over and over again in her head.

Peyton was more aware of the situation with Brooke than Brooke herself was. Maybe Brooke thought it was just natural, an extension of their already close friendship. Peyton never brought it up, she was too embarrassed and afraid that speaking it out loud would ruin it. But Peyton knew how she felt about Brooke, and had no idea what to do about it.

It was killing her from the inside out that she had so much emotion vested in Brooke, while everything was just fun and games for the other girl. Peyton knew that wasn’t entirely true -- Peyton and Brooke had been friends before boys, before popularity and cheerleading, and they knew each other’s darkest secrets. Peyton understood, intrinsically, that Brooke was insecure and afraid of rejection, while masking it with overconfidence and nonchalance.

But did Brooke really understand that when Peyton loved, she loved deeply? That every time Brooke went with a boy, or made a date with them, or even so much as flirted with them it was like a knife to Peyton’s heart? Peyton was beginning to doubt it. Peyton knew Brooke well enough to know she never meant to hurt her. That was the hardest thing about it. That Brooke was so oblivious to the fact that she was hurting Peyton.

Peyton made the decision to stop it. It was hard -- but by the time she walked up the steps to her house, and turned the key in the lock, she was sure it was the right choice. Loving Brooke was good, being her friend was better, but being hurt by her was one of the worst things Peyton had lived through. It would just have to end, and maybe, after she forgot the feel of her lips and the brush of her skin, they could go back to being friends.

--

Her date with Nathan was amazing for many reasons. He picked her up in a sleek black car, which made her eyebrows raise. “You have your license?”

Nathan laughed. “No. My dad owns a car dealership, though. I’ve been driving since I was twelve.”

Peyton smiled despite herself when Nathan opened the car door for her. “Can’t you get in trouble for this?”

Nathan shrugged. “My dad could get me out of it.”

Peyton wondered what it was like to have a dad like that, or rather, be a child that had that kind of faith in their parent. Not that Peyton didn’t love her dad -- she did. She understood that he was gone three months out of four in order to provide for her. But she was lonely, and she knew if she got into any kind of trouble, he would be too far away to help. So Peyton made sure she never got into trouble she couldn’t get herself out of.

“So what movie did you decide?” Nathan asked when he slid into the car next to her. It made her feel kind of sophisticated to be in the car with a boy driving himself.

“Oh, I thought we’d catch that horror movie out, The Others.” Peyton smiled, glancing sideways at him.

“Really?” Nathan’s voice showed pleasant surprise. “I thought you’d pick some chick flick, like.. I don’t know, Two Week’s Notice or something.”

Peyton grinned. “Guess you don’t know me very well.”

Nathan laughed. “Guess not.”

Peyton liked the movie. So did Nathan. She even liked him, as long as he kept his hands to himself and spoke to her face and not her chest. Peyton had never really had a boyfriend before, but she imagined Nathan was a good one. At least he was trying to be, if she would just stop thinking about Brooke Davis.

He took her by a burger place after, to get a late meal. She was impressed by how he seemed to know everybody there, and how they all smiled at waved at her like she was important. “You’re a popular guy, Nathan Scott,” Peyton said after they were seated in a bright red booth.

Nathan grinned, a little pleased by all the attention. “It’s just the guys. They make you feel like part of a team. It’s the best part about basketball.”

Peyton’s eyebrows rose. “Really? Not the winning or whatever?”

Nathan smiled, shrugged. “Winning’s nice. It’s even better when it’s your shot that wins the game. But that feeling wouldn’t be nearly as great if you didn’t have all those other guys counting on you, and then congratulating you. Celebrating with you.” Nathan got a faraway look in his eye, and then seemed to snap out of it, laughed it off. “You don’t want to hear about all that guy stuff.”

“No.” Peyton reached her hand out over the table to cover his. “It’s sweet. I’ve never heard anybody talk about it like that before. I think it tells a lot about you.”

Nathan smiled, turned his hand over so that they laid there, palm to palm. “Enough about me. What do you like about cheerleading?”

Peyton rolled her eyes in sarcastic good humor. “I’m not really big into cheerleading. My mom was a cheerleader, and it’s something we talked about when I was a kid. So I guess I just always wanted to do it because of her. Then Brooke..” Peyton’s voice halted. She cleared her throat, shifted around as the servers brought out their food and placed it on the table in front of them.

Nathan smiled. “Brooke Davis, that’s your best friend, right?”

Peyton nodded over her bite of cheeseburger. “Since we were little kids.”

“It’s nice to have friends like that. My best friend is Tim Smith.” Nathan nodded to the goofy kid over by the pinball machine. “He’s kind of a geek, but he’s always got my back.”

Peyton had never noticed Tim Smith before. It was kind of an odd couple, wasn’t it, Nathan a rising basketball star and Tim, an obvious loser. Peyton shrugged. She wasn’t entirely sure people didn’t say things like that about her in reference to Brooke.

On the ride home Peyton fell silent, thinking, not for the first time that night, that their date was nice. She and Nathan had things in common and different interests that made conversation easy. If only it weren’t for Brooke. If only Brooke had never.. If only Peyton could forget Brooke Davis.

“Thanks for everything.” Peyton said at last, when Nathan pulled up in front of their house. “It was a nice night.”

Nathan smiled hopefully at her, getting out of the car to walk her to her door. It had been a nice date, though Nathan had wondered if it would end in him getting lucky. “I had fun, Peyton.” He said, looking into her eyes.

“Me too.” Peyton was afraid of this, this awkwardness. She hadn’t been reminded until just now that she had, in fact, already slept with him. The details of that were kind of fuzzy -- but the truth of it was still there. Peyton sighed, reaching for both of Nathan’s hands and holding them.

“Look, Nathan, I like you,” Peyton smiled apologetically at him. “But what happened a few weeks ago.. That was me being drunk and stupid and I’m sorry if you thought that this was going to be.. Anything other than it is.”

Nathan pressed his fingers into her palm in a gentle squeeze that was meant to be reassuring. “I’m cool with this, Peyton. With us. We can go at your pace.” He was a little disappointed, but Peyton was being honest, which was something Nathan respected. He leaned down to give her a gentle kiss, and then turned and left.

Peyton was wishing, just a little bit, that she had hated Nathan Scott. But he was a nice guy. He treated her well, and she could tell he liked her. He paid attention to her and listened when she talked. It was everything a girl could ask in a boyfriend. Except that he wasn’t a girl, a cheerleader named Brooke Davis, that could make her heart tremble and her knees go weak.

“I’m through with this,” Peyton muttered to herself, stepping into the shower and this time making sure her bathroom door was locked. Brooke had unbarred access to her house -- Peyton would never change that, even now. But she did not have full rights to her shower, and Peyton was going to put a stop to all of that naked touching. It was the only way.

She wasn’t surprised when Brooke came storming into her room an hour or so later, but by then Peyton was safely dressed and somewhat prepared for the bombshell Brooke was going to drop.

“How could you ignore my calls all night, P. Sawyer?! I was worried about you!” Brooke pushed into Peyton’s room, which was always well kept, though sometimes in casual disarray. Brooke could tell Peyton had picked up a bit, a habit she had when she was nervous or thinking about difficult things.

“I was busy.” Peyton’s voice was a little petulant, but she figured she had the right to be a upset. She was sitting at her desk, an idle sketch laid out before her. The music playing wasn’t deafening, but neither was it very quiet. Brooke had to strain to be heard, and Peyton downright didn’t care if Brooke could hear her.

“What? What else were you doing?” Brooke demanded, jerking Peyton’s chair around to face her. There was nothing she hated more than being ignored, or dismissed.

“I was on a date.” Peyton said it with a self-satisfied smirk. “With Nathan Scott.”

Brooke was stunned by that. She took a few steps back, the shock registering on her face. It was worse than being slapped -- it was like a punch to the gut. “I thought you weren’t going to see him anymore.” Her voice was low and harsh.

Peyton crossed her arms over her chest in an attempt to ward off the hurt on Brooke’s face. “I never said that. You don’t want me to see him, but it’s none of your business who I date.”

“Peyton.” Brooke’s voice was pleading now. She took a step towards the blonde, but Peyton jumped to her feet before Brooke could make contact.

“No, Brooke! I’m tired of this! How can it be okay for you to go on dates with Dylan Franks and sleep with Julian Jeffries, but you don’t like me seeing Nathan?” Peyton gestured, her voice angry, finally drowning out the music. “It’s not fair!”

“Peyton! You don’t understand!” Brooke’s voice wavered, and she reached out for the skinny blonde, knowing that the second she touched her that she could show her what she meant, even if she couldn’t rightly say it.

“No! I don’t!” Peyton shuffled around in a circle, her arms crossed, everything about her body radiating her desire to stay away from Brooke. It was torture to see her so upset, but Peyton knew she was right. She could already tell that if she didn’t end this, and soon, Brooke would have her in bed and make her forget all the reasons why this was a good decision, the only right one. “This is over, Brooke.”

“No, Peyton,” Brooke’s voice was quiet now, almost desolate. “I can’t.. I need you.” It was probably the first honest thing Brooke had said to Peyton about how she felt.

It struck Peyton like a blow, took her breath away. Brooke needed her, and she was saying it, with that expression on her face like a lost soul. It broke Peyton’s heart. “I’m still here for you, Brooke.” Peyton said it as kindly as she could, though the gulf between their bodies spoke volumes. “We can still be friends. Best friends. Just not.. Not like we have been. That’s over.”

Brooke felt a little better knowing Peyton didn’t truly want her out of her life. The sex -- that was something Brooke herself didn’t know how to come to terms with, and the fact that Peyton was calling it off didn’t bother her except in a vague, absent kind of way. She was relieved that Peyton was still willing to be friends; their friendship meant more to Brooke than anything. The thought of losing Peyton was more than she could stand.

“Okay.” Brooke’s voice was hoarse, tight with emotion. “Okay, P. Sawyer.”

“And you can’t.. you can’t get all weird about Nathan.” Peyton’s shoulder jerked up, an erratic movement, her palms cupping her elbows, as if to hug her pain tight to her in defense against Brooke’s. “I like him, and he likes me.”

Brooke just nodded. She just wouldn’t think about -- wouldn’t let herself think about what that meant. “Is that why you’re breaking this off? Because you like Nathan?”

Peyton sighed, shook her head. “I don’t know how to tell you this, Brooke, but no, it’s not because of Nathan.” Peyton barked out a humorless laugh. “I think this would be easier. It’s just because I know that I want more out of this.. us.. more out of you than you can give me. I get it,” Peyton said, cutting off Brooke’s attempt to explain. “No, Brooke, I get it. You’ve got your life to live and so I’ve got to live mine.” She turned to face Brooke then, a smile pinned to her face. “It’ll always be us, P. Sawyer and B. Davis. Don’t worry about that.”

Brooke reached out her hand, asking for Peyton’s, and smiling weakly when Peyton grasped her hand back. “Are you sure, Peyton?”

“Of course I am.” Peyton’s smile wasn’t fake this time.

“If you can do it, so can I,” Brooke said.

-----

I kind of need some input about this.. does this make sense? Am I being true to character? Is anybody liking this? Let me know.