For Now, For Later
Her skin was softer than butter, smooth like the sheets on the bed. The bed that they were currently in. The covers were tossed carelessly to the side, unwanted for this method of sleeping.
Her green eyes stared up at him for a moment. When his eyes looked back down, they met. Her eyes showed nothing, only innocence. Bizarre, really, because she was anything but innocent. Not that she had particularly done anything out of the norm, just the usual teenager drinking, gossiping, sex etcetera, etcetera. But she still had a lot of pain: her mother had died when she was ten in a car accident, and then Ellie died because of breast cancer; had suffered the pain of losing her best friend; had her heart broken on more than one occasion. And yet now, her eyes looked up at him with the naive gaze of a newborn baby. Suddenly he didn't want to think of her as a newborn baby.
"Luke," she whispered, and he felt himself stiffen. She didn't smile, and Lucas felt worried for an instant.
"What?" he asked. His blue eyes searched hers.
She opened her mouth, though no words came out. She seemed nervous, though she had done it plenty more times than he had. "I love you."
Peyton's face shattered as Lucas woke from the dream. Dazed, he sat up. It took a few moments for his eyes to become accustomed to the dark. What time is it? Out of habit he glanced at the clock, and groaned. The digital clock said 3:03a.m. Lucas's mind was still reeling from the dream; there was no way he would get back to sleep, not with the image of Peyton in his head.
Tiptoeing to his desk, he quietly turned on the light and sat on the chair. Twirling his pen between his dry fingers – painfully so, no matter how much hand cream he put on (in was NOT girly) he still couldn't make them smooth – he stared hard at the lined paper. Both Brooke and Peyton were on holiday, though Brooke was in LA visiting her parents for the school break, while Peyton was at the army base with her dad.
He missed them. He missed Brooke, with her cat-like smile, bright glittering eyes and happy-go-lucky attitude. She had changed so much since he'd first met her. Lucas took pride in her, knowing he had been part of that change. She was his girl, his light in the darkness, his smiling little ray of sunshine.
But Peyton... What is she to me? He sat back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. Not his best friend – that was Haley, always would be. Yet she was just as important as Haley, as important as Brooke, even as important as Nathan. She had been the one to bridge the gap between them – the popular (Brooke, Nathan and herself) and the geeks (him and Haley). If it had not been for her, would he have joined the team?
No, he told himself. I joined to for myself; to prove myself to Dan and Nathan. But could he deny that the thought of seeing her at cheerleading practice, at the games in the uniform? His mind came back to that question: would he have joined the team if it hadn't been for Peyton? Assuming that were true, then it stood to reason that Haley and Nathan would never have gotten married; Haley would never have been the rock star she was; he would never have met Jake, or Brooke; his brother would still be another stranger. Had his meeting with Peyton caused all of that?
Dear Peyton, he began writing. I'm thinking of you.
Staring at the words, he picked up the paper and crumbled it. Tossing it on the floor, he drew another piece of paper. Biting the tip of the pen, he stared deep in thought. Dear Peyton, he wrote, I've thought of nothing but you.
What would she think if he sent that to her?
Once again he threw it in the bin. Dear Peyton, I miss you. Have been wondering how your holiday stay with your dad is going?
Dear Peyton, I thought about you on the beach today. It reminded me of that summer, the one that we spent together. In a way it was the best summer of my life, because even though the others weren't around – even though I thought Haley was never coming back, my brother hated me and Brooke had run off crying after I kissed her – we rekindled our friendship.
Maybe we did more than that?
His courage failed him. He tore in savagely in half, not caring that he was making a mess. What could he say? How could he describe his feelings when he didn't even know what they were? What could he write when he was in love with another girl? His stomach turned at the thought. Love? I love her? Of course I do – I've told her enough times.
How come what you feel for Peyton is stronger than what you feel for Brooke? a little voice hissed in his head.
NO! He shook his head. "I love BROOKE. I will ALWAYS love Brooke."
Pulling out another sheet of paper, he began to write. Hey Pretty Girl, he greeted. I miss you. I've been thinking of nothing but you. You don't know how hard it is to be without you. To think, I'm stuck in Tree Hill while you're in LA. If I could leave my Mom, I would come straight to you.
*-*-*
At dawn he strode through the town, dribbling his basketball as he went. Coming to the mailbox, he placed a letter in the box. Then he took another out of his pocket. Staring hard at the folded with piece of paper, he wondered what would happen if he sent it. Would it really change anything?
Before thinking twice, he tore it in half. Then he tore it again, and again, and again. He allowed the pieces to shatter in the light breeze. For a brief moment he stared at his hands. Then he walked away without looking back.
*-*-*
"Sawyer!" The girl looked up from the bed. Her dad was on a mission, leaving her alone. Not that she minded – Peyton needed her space every once in a while. Besides, she hadn't got some good sketches done in a while, though admittedly she was getting frustrated. No matter who she was trying to draw, she would mess up their features: she would give a guy with long hair short spiky hair; she would make a muscular man lanky; she even threw a drawing away because the person's hands looked too dry. For God's sake, she had to get a grip.
"Yeah?" she asked.
"Letter for you." He passed it to her, Peyton nodding her head in thanks.
She gazed at it for a moment or two. Why a letter? Brooke had been texting her all day, and Haley had sent her a few emails. Nathan hadn't sent word, but Haley always put in something from him.
Lucas, on the other hand, had been suspiciously quiet.
She opened it without another thought. A thin sheet a plain paper fell from it. There seemed no marks from writing, no clear indication anyone had written anything at all. Yet there were words on the page.
Peyton,
For now, I wait in hope.
For later, you'll come back.
Lucas
She read the letter over and over again. She pressed her fingers to the paper, tracing the pen marks. What did it mean?
*-*-*
When she got home, she didn't mention the letter, and neither did Lucas. Brooke, of course, was as charming as ever, though complained that Lucas hadn't sent her any of the letters he promised. The two blonde teenagers said nothing to each other, treated each other with the same easy friendship they had.
But when Peyton got home, she went straight upstairs to her bedroom and slipped the letter into her Elvis Costello album – the very first one she had bought. She knew that the letter would be safe there.
After that she put some music on (The Cure) and lay on her bed, waiting for later.