Brooke hadn't seen Sam in three years. Not since Sam left for college after Brooke asked Sam if she was in love with her. The question had been gnawing at her since Sam had "come out" to the family, abruptly, one night, over dinner.

After that, the tension became too much for Brooke to bear. She felt every glace, every casual contact, as if the brunette was made of fire. While Sam never made any advances on her 'step-sister' Brooke saw one in every friendly gesture, every kind word.

Things came to head one night, two weeks before they were to leave for college, Brooke to UCLA and Sam to NYU. Brooke asked Sam to talk.

"Sure B. What's up?"

"There's something that's been on my mind since you told us about..." her voice trailed off.

"Since I told you I was gay?" Sam finished, her guard up.

"Yes, since then." This wasn't going to be easy.

"You haven't dated anyone since... then."

"I haven't met anyone I wanted to – that doesn't mean it's not true!" Sam's was in full defensive mode now.

"No – No! That's not what I meant." Brooke was started to get exasperated.

"I just wondered if there was anyone you were interested in – you must have found someone attractive or interesting in the last few years."

"Well, that's not something I feel comfortable talking about." Sam turned her back on the flustered former cheerleader.

"After all we've been through the last few years, I would of thought you'd finally trust me a little more than that," she snapped, causing the brunette to spin around.

"There are things that..." – her fists were clenched at her sides – "just shouldn't be dug up."

"Why? How bad can it be? Do you really think I'd be offended if..."

"Oh... My... God!!" Sam shouted, her face flush with anger. "I don't believe you McQueen, after all that's happened, you just want to know if yet another person wanted you. Is your ego never satisfied?"

"It's not my ego Sam, I wasn't assuming that you were interested..." Sam stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. "Whatever Brooke" she said in the most dismissive tone she could.

Brooke sat on the bed, and hung her head, covering her face as she started to cry.

"I was hoping," she whispered to the empty room.