Prologue.
She sat on his stomach, one knee on each side of his body. The mahogany wood that surrounded him shone in the light that was filtering in from the window. He was on his back, the cold floor pressed up against his spine, looking up at her. He could hardly feel the weight of her tiny body on his stomach, and he knew that within a matter of months, little things like this would be impossible. His hands wandered under her loose t-shirt to the small bump that had started to form. If you had seen her walking down the street, she would've looked completely normal. Skinny, fit, beautiful. But if you looked close enough, if you really knew her, you could see that her normally toned stomach had taken on a slightly different shape. But as of right now, they were both happy keeping it their little secret.
She smiled at his touch and closed her eyes. His hands wandered back and forth across the small bump. She smiled to herself, her dimples forming small valleys on her creamy skin.
He looked at her face. Peaceful. He moved his hands to each side of her and squeezed affectionately. "What?" he asked, a small smile playing on his own face now.
Her eyes were closed, but she could see him. His image was burned into her eyelids, and she knew his every facial expression, every move, by heart.
She opened her eyes slowly, not bothered by the bright sunlight that flooded over their bodies. It streaked his face and made his already electrifying eyes looked even more piercing.
"I feel like I shouldn't be happy about this," she started. "And at first I wasn't. I was panicked. We both have so much left to do in our lives…" She frowned slightly at the thought and he squeezed her sides lovingly once again. They both had so much potential, this she knew. A mere week ago, she was going to become a fashion designer and he was going to become the next John Steinbeck.
It was amazing how one night could change so much.
"But, now that I've gotten used to the idea, I wouldn't trade being here right now for anything."
She put her own hand on her stomach now. She stroked it in a circular pattern: the same pattern that she had used on Lucas's chest that night. Slow, small circles. Slow, small circles.
His hand found its way to hers and she smiled again. He interlaced his fingers into hers and together, they traced circles on her stomach.
"I know what you mean," he said finally. "But this feels right."
"It doesn't bother you that it happened this way?" she asked with a slight frown.
A mere week ago, she was going to be a fashion designer and he was going to be the next John Steinbeck. A mere week ago, she was going to move to New York when she graduated in order to immerse herself in things that would distract her from love and he was going to marry Peyton Sawyer, already in love.
It was amazing how one night could change so much.
"If you mean, do I regret it? Do I wish it was with Peyton?" He watched as she cringed slightly at her name. "No. Peyton… she just isn't you," he said simply. He couldn't believe that he was saying these words. They were rolling off his tongue naturally. "She was never you. And I can't imagine this being with anybody else. I don't want it to be with anybody else."
And sitting there, with Brooke carrying his baby, he knew that he had fallen in love with her all over again.
She smiled and closed her eyes once again, satisfied with his answer.
That night. She hadn't been there in ages, but she needed to be let in through the black door. He hadn't bothered to paint it back to its original color after they had broken up, and it eased the knot in her stomach slightly. She had been in this room only two times this year. Once to pick up some stuff she had left behind, which resulted in a fight. The other, to drop off the sweatshirt she had clung to. It had taken her four months, and she slept with that sweatshirt every single night, but she knew she'd have to give it back.
It hadn't been the most eloquent speech she had ever made. I'm scared of being home alone, you know that. It had not been the perfect, romantic setting. Your room hasn't changed. It had been two unsure hearts that had found hope within each other. It had been history and heartache. I don't know if she's the one anymore. It had been two seventeen-year olds under the right circumstances, unsure of their decisions. Just because I smile doesn't mean it doesn't sting like hell to see you two together! It was lips crashing onto one another. It had been one night.
The next morning had consisted of promises of sealed lips. And somehow, as she had begun to make her way through the door, their lips had found each other once again.
She stood up then, leaving Lucas staring at the ceiling.
"Where ya goin', Pretty Girl?"
He could only see her back, but he knew she was smiling to herself. She turned around, revealing the devious smirk that he had come to love. "Shower… there might just be some extra room for you…"
She winked at him before retreating to the bathroom. He heard the water start running and steam floated from the small crack under the door into the room. He would join her soon, they both knew he would. He always did. But, right now, he was content with his back to the floor listening to her hum happily, the water pounding against the white tiles.