Author- Emily-Grace Mendes (Brookebynature)
Disclaimer- I don't own any of the characters or the show, only his story (and the title for once!)
A/N- Okay so this is kind-of the sequel for 'this is me. now' but it doesn't really matter if you haven't read that. I'd advise you read it before this, but no worries, because it's not essential. Hope you enjoy xxx
That Was Me. Now
"Harder. Faster." They don't speak in full sentences any more- it was one of the first things to go along with all respect she once had for him.
It's her raspy voice that spurs him on, along with the grooves she's making in his back, the same ones that will have to be gone before his girlfriend (her former best friend) runs her own fingertips across that same area of soft skin.
No more conversations have arisen between them-not after the other night when she'd admitted a problem that she knows he'll never be able to solve. Neither will she if this continues.
But right now, it's the only contact Brooke has with any type of feelings that once overwhelmed her. And as much as she wants to stop, she knows that right now, she just can't, and so she closes her eyes, lets him feel, and screams as he pushes her over the edge, his sweaty body collapsing on top of hers for the last few moments she can afford to stay like this.
"It was nothing." She mouths, in the gymnasium once again as he's watching her complete the pyramid, top of the pile. She's speaking connotatively of course, because nothing has the same meaning anymore, and she knows he'll only analyse everything she says anyway. So Brooke doesn't bother trying to hide anything now: she's already let him in too far, (he could probably find a connotative meaning for that sentence,) and there seems no point in going back to how things were.
Lucas is confused as he watches her, the clueless-ness of his own girlfriend amazing him. Brooke was never this oblivious (she never had a right to be) and he can't help but wish things right now weren't as they are.
Nobody's picked up on a thing, and Lucas wonders whether it's only his own paranoia that's heightening everything. He's lost all ability to make rational judgements anymore- that left him at the same time he fell into bed with his ex-girlfriend, (the same girl that wanted nothing to do with him when she found out his actions,) and what he's doing at this very moment is proof enough.
His hands stopped bouncing the ball long ago and it's Whitey that realizes first, that his star player's mind is on things other than basketball.
"Take your eyes off your girlfriend Scott."
And Peyton grins, thinking it's her who's the subject of her boyfriend's thoughts, Lucas' mind still solely on Brooke. But as some kind of reflex, his lips curve into a small smile directed Peyton's way, which she meets with a girly wave and a wider smile than he's ever had for her.
"Take your eyes off your girlfriend, Scott." She repeats, raising an eyebrow that makes him want to drop the ball and run straight out of that building to the nearest place she'll escape his thoughts. But he doesn't even bat an eyelid because the place he's wishing for doesn't exist. Even if it did, he's not sure he wants to stop thinking about her anyway.
So Lucas settles for completing a lay-up drill, the only things he's managed to nail all day. Other than Brooke Davis of course.
"Hit the showers." And she's there, waiting for him outside of the door, a silent indicator of the fact that Peyton isn't around. Things with her are always exciting, (he doesn't want to think it's probably because they shouldn't be doing this) and even if it is the only thing he truly misses about her, it's still something.
Lucas Scott and Brooke Davis aren't anything any more. And he hates that.
The water splashing against each single white tile is louder than the two of them put together, so it doesn't matter that he's screaming her name, because she can pretend that she hasn't heard him.
They're aroused from a state of eyes half-shut, swollen parted lips and burning skin only by the sound of Whitey entering the locker room. So Brooke silently slopes off, a hushed whisper of 'tonight' and 'later' as he's left there, once again wondering about the girl he used to love.
It's tonight and it's later and he's convinced she's not coming. Until the door swings open and she forms the silhouette in an ultra-marine trench coat. Her eyes caress his as she slowly unbuttons the coat, separate button by separate button until he has to sit on his hands just to stop him from ripping the seams of what he knows is her latest expense.
She peels back every inch slowly to reveal fabulously new underwear that couldn't have matched better if Brooke had designed it herself. But he's guessed everything is on her terms now, so he waits, mouth moist, hands sweating and trembling as she moves painfully slowly toward the bed.
And he forgets the rules as soon as the silky skin of her leg hits his mattress, because her scent and the exposed skin is too much for him to bare. So she just smirks and lets him, hands confident as she undoes the zipper on his jeans expertly. It's what she came here to do and every inch of her is satisfied with the breathless, eager, rewarding result.
Her body touches his for just a few minutes post-climax, and the change in routine scares Lucas for what he now realises is to follow.
But until then, until he can no longer hear the hot water splashing against the walls of the shower, he stays naïve and wonders, just as he always has, about what Brooke is thinking.
And every thought of his girlfriend right now is diminished because his feelings are still unable to give him the answer he's wanted since the beginning. He knows it's not supposed to be like this, and he's not supposed to be the one who can escape unscathed.
But up until now, he has been, and Lucas hasn't asked for any of it.
"It's over." She's naked and seemingly vulnerable, but she's still able to assert the nature of whatever this is between them.
"You don't mean that." He's trying to buy time, because every letter of what she said, rather than uttered to him is believable in every sense. Her eyes are different and he can't work it out. He doesn't want to.
And she's about to tell him how she can't do this anymore. But then the truth hits her and the only thing she has left to think is why it hadn't arrived sooner.
"I won't do this anymore."
It's nothing to do with Peyton. She's past caring about that relationship now because it's water under the bridge and as much as she wants to relive the days of shopping for stupid outfits they would never wear, and the constant sleepovers where they would discuss how boys were clueless, (much like Peyton still is) that's over now.
It's about her, and the way she has to feel to be okay again. All the remnants of her former self she had lost to him come flooding back, and the smile on her face tells Lucas she's serious.
He wants to scream 'fuck you' because now, she's screwing up everything he's become accustomed too, just like he did with her. Twice.
"Please Brooke." His begging seems pathetic to her now, and the smile on her face only turns into a smirk as she realises the power she always had over him is still there. She can grant him everyone of his requests, and yet, she turns away, picking up her discarded coat as he can only watch, helpless.
"This isn't you." And he knows that those three words are a failure, because every trace of the powerful woman Brooke Davis was, is back. And it's a stronger match for him by far.
"That was me." She can afford to utter simple replies now- a string of words that don't constitute a sentence are fine. Because she's done. "Now."
It's too much like the other night, but things are different in everyway possible. He understands and he hates that. They're done and he hates that. His feelings still haven't made up their mind, and he hates that more than anything.
Because now, they're about to destroy what could have been the perfect relationship between two people who are seemingly soul mates. But tonight is the perfect advertisement for contentment.
And Lucas can only hope that it will reach him soon enough.
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