.
.
Brooke hates it.
.
.
She hates the way Lucas looks at Peyton. He looks at her like she holds the answer to everything in life—well, the answer to everything in his life. And shehates it even more that he doesn't seem to realise. He doesn't realise that his eyes sparkles that little bit more when she's in the room, and he doesn't have a clue that Brooke sees the hint of envy in his eyes whenever Peyton brings Jake to one of their movie nights. He likes it when it's just the three of them, he says.
But she knows better than to bring it up, or, anything to do with Peyton for that matter; you're the only one for me, Pretty Girl.
She sometimes curses the world and every god there ever was for making her fall for the one guy that will always want, crave, Peyton Sawyer.
Maybe it's the way she talks, Brooke thinks. She always did have a way with words that made Brooke's parents nod their head in approval.
Brooke watches as Lucas looks at Peyton with excitement glinting within his blue eyes as she talks about this totally awesome new album that Brooke can't remember the name of. She wonders if she should break up with Lucas from time to time, but then she remembers that feeling she had the last time they broke up—she swore she didn't think she'd be whole again.
"-anyway, the album they've just come out with is seriously their best one yet. Luke you gotta come by and listen to it!" Brooke tries to hate Peyton, but she's got this sparkle in her eyes when she talks to Lucas—one only he can bring out of her—so she lets her go on, because she loves her so damn much.
"Of course, I'll come over later," Lucas chimes, and Brooke has to try so hard to not remind him of their planned night of movies and cuddles. She's so used to being put second she barely notices it anymore.
"Brooke, how's your hunt for the perfect dress for prom going?" Peyton shoves a couple of chips into her mouth and Brooke wishes she could do the same but she doesn't have a fast-eat-whatever-you-want-stay-stick-thin-Peyton-Sawyer-metabolism. So she sticks to small sips of her water (she read once that if you drink enough it can help you lose up to 2 pounds a week, give or take a few).
She feels dumb talking to Peyton about this stuff around Lucas because they talk about meaningful art and old poets and all she can talk about is the most recent issue of vogue. She never feels good enough—and she guesses that's the worst part of dating someone in love with your best friend.
You're never good enough.
She ignores Peyton's question and decides to be bold and ask the two if they've heard of some dude called Ernest Hemington.
It's Ernest Hemingway, baby, Lucas laughs.
Right, Brooke replies and throws in a fake laugh while she's at it—it's not like they can tell anymore.
They continue laughing as if she's a bad joke at Christmas, you know, the one that you only laugh at because your uncle Ben has cranberry sauce dribbling from his mouth. She wants them to stop but then she guesses it's better than them not noticing her at all.
She wishes for Lucas to love her like she's one of those delicate china cups in her Grandma's cabinet that is most definitely not for playing in. She wants him to love her like she could break and shatter into a million pieces and she wants him to love her even more when she does.
.
Actually no, she just wishes for Lucas because she sure as hell knows she doesn't have anything of him now.
Brucas are actually my otp of all time but something possessed me to write this and I'm not even sure it makes sense.
but hey, chuck me a review if you want :)