Disclaimer: I do not own One Tree Hill or any of it's characters.....I own nothing but this story's plot!
Lyrics at the begging and end: "T-shirt" by Shontelle
This song made me think of Brooke and Brucas so I adapted it into a fic! I hope you all like it! Remember to review! :) ~Audra
Nothing feels right when I'm not with you, sick of this dress and these Jimmy Choos.
Taking them off 'cause I feel a fool, trying to dress up when I'm missing you.
I'm a step out of this lingerie, curl up in a ball with something Hanes.
In bed I lay, with nothing but your T-shirt on.
It was the third time Rachel had called her since she left to go out earlier that night. And for the third time that night instead of picking up, Brooke opted for letting the phone ring. She didn't even move to hit the silence button; she just kept staring at her reflection.
She hardly recognized herself anymore. Sure she still looked like the same old fun-loving Brooke. But she didn't feel like that girl. And she hadn't been that girl for some time now.
She shook her head and snapped out of it. She hadn't gone out since it had happened and she was determined to turn things around. She was tired of moping, tired of questioning whether she had done the right thing, tired of wondering if she would run into them—together. And she was just plain tired.
Her phone buzzed indicating she had a new voicemail. She reluctantly dialed her voicemail box and placed the phone to her ear. It was from Rachel just as she had guessed.
"Hey slut," the recorded voice said. "You had better get your hot ass down here or all the guys are going to be taken. And if you don't hurry up, I won't let you have first pick. I know I promised, but you also promised you would be here thirty minutes ago. Where are you? Call me back, love ya."
Brooke shook her head as a small smile formed on her lips. She loved Rachel for being her friend right now and for trying to cheer her up. But it wasn't what she needed. What she needed she couldn't have. She needed him.
Her eyes fell on a red photo album, peeking out from under the corner of her bed. She walked over to it and picked it up. She knew she didn't need to but she couldn't resist. She whipped it open and began to look through it.
After sitting in the same spot for what seemed like an eternity, she finally willed herself to move. She had finally closed the book and thought she could move on.
She walked over to her closet to pick her outfit. She scanned the closet. It was hard; it was one of those days again. A day where she didn't like any of the clothes she owned.
Ultimately she decided on a skimpy red dress, he had always liked her in red, and a pair of black patent Jimmy Choo's. She put them on and looked in the mirror at herself. She still didn't feel like this was the outfit but she tried to shake that feeling off. There was only one thing she had felt right in for awhile now.
She went to the bathroom and began to curl her hair. She had to do something else, anything else to postpone the inevitable. And as she walked into the other room in the distance she could hear her phone buzzing once more.
"I'm ready," she thought as she painted her lips scarlet and smacked them together twice. She didn't give herself another once-over because she was still having the feeling of something not being right with her outfit.
She simply grabbed her purse and bounded down the stairs. She was now over an hour late to meet Rachel and she knew that the girl she was going to meet was not going to be happy. But if she stayed at home and blew her off, then that girl would be even less friendly when she got home. So she reluctantly left the house and headed in the direction of Tric.
"It's about time you showed up," Rachel snapped when Brooke finally walked up to her table. "But I guess you taking your time was worth it. I mean, you look almost as hot as me," she teased her friend, smirking at her.
"Thanks," Brooke smiled a dimpled grin, looking around the club nervously. Part of her wished he would be here, but the other part was scared of who she might find him with.
Rachel followed her gaze and as if reading her mind she spoke. "He's not here," she said, placing a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder.
"Am I really that transparent?" Brooke groaned, burying her head in her arms that were lying across the table.
"To me you are," Rachel boasted. "You forget I am the one who sees you in that old t-shirt of his all the time. But to others, not so much."
"I would hope not," Brooke mumbled, looking up at her with sad eyes.
"C'mon, let's get some drinks in you," Rachel offered, trying to cheer her up. "They're on me."
Brooke slowly nodded her head in agreement. Maybe letting Rachel buy her some drinks wouldn't be the worst thing that could happen. She eased up and followed her friend to the bar.
Five Tequila shots later, Brooke was thinking a little differently. Around number two in walked the two people she did not want to see, and of course, they were together. "Lucas and Peyton, ladies and gentlemen," she had said, as she lifted a shot to them and threw it back.
"I don't think you need another," Rachel tried to persuade her friend to stop drinking. She herself had stopped when the two blondes had walked in, about the time Brooke had kicked it into high gear. And it was then both girls realized it was going to be a long, rough night for the usually bubbly brunette.
"I'm fine, Rach," Brooke tried to ensure her, unable to hold her gaze.
"I don't think so," Rachel responded, taking the next shot and scooting it away from her friend. She was not about to let her wallow in self-pity. She had brought her out to show her a good time not depress her even further.
"Alright, if you won't let me have another drink, then I'm going to get some air," Brooke announced, stumbling off her stool and out the back door of the club.
As she sat alone on the fire escape, the cold air pierced her to the bone. It was rather sobering actually, and that was saying a lot considering the major buzz she had worked up after seeing her two exes.
They still both maintained the story that they were just friends. But seriously, who brought their friend to a club? Okay, well she had come with Rachel, but that was different. They actually were friends. Maybe she wasn't as sober as she thought.
She heard the door to the club come open and the faint thud of the music poured outside for a moment. She didn't even bother to turn around and see who had come out. There was only one person it could be. Then the door shut and the music died out, and again it was silent.
"I'm fine Rachel, see. I didn't get stolen and I didn't let them ruin—" she trailed off her sentence as she turned around to find it actually wasn't Rachel who had followed her outside.
"You didn't let who ruin what?" Lucas asked his voice full of concern, as he sat down beside her on the stairs. He wanted so badly to touch her, but he knew he shouldn't, from the look on her face he knew he was lucky she was even allowing him to sit down.
"Ummm, no one," Brooke said quickly trying to change the subject. She didn't want him to think he could dictate her happiness, not anymore. "What are you doing out here Lucas?" She asked him in a stern tone. She was going to remain tough, she had to.
He cleared his throat. "I came to check on you," he told her. "I saw you were going at it pretty hard and when you disappeared…I don't know, I got worried," he rationalized.
"Well you don't have to worry about me anymore, remember," she scoffed, turning away from him. She couldn't look at him when she said it. "You can stick to worrying about Peyton," she couldn't see his reaction when she said those words.
Lucas visibly flinched from her words. That stung, it did. He wanted to worry about her. Peyton was his friend, he wasn't going to deny it, but he loved her. "I want to worry about you, Brooke," he told her. "I lo—" He was cut off.
"Don't say it," she warned him, turning back to face him. "Don't you dare say the words that will break my heart all over again," she begged, her voice starting to waiver. So much for staying strong.
"But it's true," he tried to explain. "What about my heart? Huh?" He asked her. "My heart breaks every day. Seeing you, and then seeing you like this. Not being able to talk to you, to touch you, to kiss you," he told her, his voice growing softer as he grazed one of his fingers across her delicate cheek.
She stiffened under his touch. She couldn't lie, she had missed it. "Lucas, I—" she couldn't find the words to say so she was glad he had stopped her.
"Please," he said, interrupting her, "Don't talk. Don't try to rationalize," he said as he leaned in a planted a soft kiss on her perfect pout.
She couldn't help it, she melted in his touch. It was as if no time had passed and they entered a world where they were the only two people who existed. She kissed him back with a passion that burned deep within her, one she knew would never really die.
They were hungry for each other and before they knew what was happening they were ripping at one another's clothes. Brooke slipped his gray thermal shirt over his head as he fiddled with his own belt buckle. Once he had it loosened, she undid the button and the zipper in what seemed like one quick motion.
He picked up the brunette by her slender waist and hoisted her up on the railing between the door and the wall. As he did he hiked up her red dress, pleased with the fact that she hadn't worn any underwear.
She let a moan escape her lips as he entered her. It had been so long, too long, since they had been like this. She tilted her head back and let his name fall off her swollen lips.
He couldn't deny how good it felt to be with her again. He missed her, hell, he loved her. He thrust in and out of her as she ground her hips against him in the way that drove him wild. He loved the way she knew those things about him. Things no one else did or ever would.
She leaned forward and began to kiss his ear, causing him to go at it harder. Just as she had hoped her would. And then she said it, the thing she hadn't wanted to, "I love you Lucas Scott." It fell out of her mouth so naturally it almost scared her.
"I love you too, Brooke Davis," he moaned, right as he came and her soon after. He pulled out and just stood there, holding her. He didn't want to let her go, afraid if he did he would never hold her like this again.
After what felt like forever Brooke finally worked up the courage to speak. "I have to go Lucas," she told him. "I can't do this. WE can't do this. It's too messy and too complicated and…" she couldn't put her thoughts into words. Nothing made sense. If two people love each other it should be enough, right.
"I know," he told her. "I don't want to hurt you anymore," he said, rubbing his hand up and down her arms.
"And I don't want to hurt anymore. I guess sometimes love isn't enough," she sniffled, fighting back the tears that were welling in her eyes. "Goodbye Lucas," she breathed as she kissed his cheek one last time before breaking free from his embrace.
"Goodbye my Pretty Girl," he whispered after he as he watched her descend the staircase beneath them and disappear from his life into the night.
"So I looked for you before I headed home," Rachel told her when she came stumbling in the house. "I couldn't find you anywhere. Where did you go?" She curiously asked her roommate, smiling devilishly at her.
"Nowhere," Brooke coyly responded, buying into Rachel's game. "I came home, which is more than I can say for you," she said, gesturing from her friend to the clock on the wall.
"I might have had a slight distraction before I came home," she winked. "A lady never tells," she teased.
Brooke nodded, as she sat up in her bed. She could respect that. Even though she and Rachel both knew she was anything but a lady.
"Really, Brooke?" Rachel asked, walking further into the room the two of them shared. "Again with the t-shirt? I thought we were past all this," she said, sitting on the end of her friend's bed.
Brooke pulled the blanket tightly around her to cover herself up. "It's a process," she explained to her. "I need my time. MY time. I'll be ready to let go when I'm ready," she said, speaking honestly and from her heart. She was actually surprised at the fact she was able to talk about him without getting overly emotional.
"Okay, if you say so," Rachel nodded at her friend. "And if you want me to kick that skinny bitch's ass as a part of this 'process', I have no problem with that," she laughed, trying to lighten the mood. She never could stand when the conversation got too real.
Brooke laughed too at her friend's antics. "It's not about her. It's about me and Luke," she said. "We were in love. It's not something you can turn off," she tried to explain, remaining calm and rational.
Rachel's expression turned serious. "Well I've never actually been in love, so I guess I wouldn't know. But just don't forget that I am here for you. Whatever you need," she told her friend, patting her shin through the blanket that covered her. It was probably one of the most earnest things Rachel had ever said to her, and the fact that it was coming at a time when she really needed to hear it meant even more.
"I know you are honey," Brooke smiled at her. "And I love you for it. But I just need time."
"Alright, well I am going to take a shower and hit the bed. If you need me I'll be out in like twenty," she told her friend bounding over to the bathroom and closing the door behind her.
After a few minutes Brooke heard the shower on and she was sure Rachel was gone. So she retrieved the scrapbook she had been looking at before her friend had come home out from under her covers once more.
"It'll always be you, Lucas," she spoke to the photos. "You were the one boy I would give my whole life up for. And maybe, just maybe, we'll find our way back to each other in the end," she whispered as she traced the features of his face with her index finger. Then she kissed it and placed it on the photo's mouth. Closing the book up, she slid it under her bed and vowed not to look at it again for some time.
Whether she wanted to admit it or not, it was time to move on.
Said I got nothing but your T-shirt on.
Hey, cause I want to be close to you, with nothing but your T-shirt on.
I remember when, you would like to see me, with nothing but your T-shirt on.
Hey, nothing but your T-shirt on
let me tell you know, nothing but your T-shirt on,
with nothing but your T-shirt on.