Disclaimer: I own nothing! If I did, then OTH would've had more Brucas sexiness...

A/N: You guys are such sweethearts! Every single review posted puts such a smile on my face. Please keep it up! Endgame is up in the air at this point since I'm still forming the plot line, but don't count Brucas out ever. ;) Also, Rachel will probably make her debut in this story next chapter, but I promise that she won't be a focal point. REVIEW!

Chapter 4: Fashion Faux Pas

Lucas inhaled deeply, letting Brooke's unique scent wash over him. It was a mixture of lavender and orange and lilac. It was delicious, mouth-watering. He pressed his lips to her skin, right above the navel.

Brooke let out a small moan. "Stop distracting me," she pleaded, as she stretched away from him toward the corner of her king-sized bed.

Lucas grabbed her hips to keep her in place beneath him. "No you don't," he said, as he stopped her. He leaned down and rubbed his nose against hers, tickling her. She giggled in her adorable childish way, dimples becoming more pronounced. "It's the weekend, Brooke. Take a break," he urged.

She sighed. "Look who's getting all bossy." She smiled brightly up at him. "Last time I checked I was the big CEO. You don't make the orders." She curved her body toward him. "But I do like the pretense." She wrapped her hand in his hair and pulled him down until their lips touched.

He pulled away, smiling. "You're right. You're definitely better as the boss. I'm just happy being the one you boss around."

She bit her lip. "Works for me." She pushed against him, turning him over until she was seated atop of him. "Be careful what you wish for," she warned, throwing herself down to him, kissing him so hard it would surely cause a bruise. Her gorgeous dark locks of hair fell around them.

"You're good at that," he complimented, dazed.

He still couldn't believe how lucky he'd gotten. He was with Brooke Davis. She was so beautiful that words couldn't begin to describe her and still be faithful or accurate. He couldn't quite place a finger on the why, but he was completely enamored by all things Brooke Davis.

As if on cue The Lonely Island's "Like a Boss" started around them. Brooke rolled lithely off the bed and snatched her Iphone off her bookcase. She dutifully hit the answer button.

"Davis here," she spoke into her phone. "Mhmm. Mhmm." She barely offered an actual word. "It's all set up. Six sharp. See you then." She set her phone down again, eyes twinkling brightly.

"Work?" Lucas guessed, disappointed that she'd successfully escaped him.

"Don't pout," she admonished.

Lucas stifled his disappointment momentarily. He glanced over at Brooke's bedside table where a clock illuminated the dark room, declaring the time to be 4:33 a.m. How fitting that Brooke Davis would be a seasoned night owl.

"What's happening at six?" he questioned curiously.

Brooke bit her lip again, like she was having some inner debate, deciding whether or not to tell him something. Her expression finally became open. "It's fashion week, Luke. All of New York's designers showcase their work for the whole world to see."

Luke nodded. How could he forget? New York was currently a bustle with advertisements and news of the most popular shows. That had just never been his thing up until now.

Brooke came back to the bed, quietly curling up next to him. "This was fun," she whispered against his chest, as she finally allowed her eyes to close. "We should do this every night."

Lucas smiled contently. "I think I'd be worn out by you."

"But it's so totally worth it," she murmured quietly.

Luke smiled even wider. "Hell yes it is," he spoke as enthusiastically as he felt.

Brooke let out a beautiful, melodic laugh. "Good to know."

Lucas slowly caressed her face, running his hand through her hair as she dozed off. "Tell me about your parents," he urged suddenly, hoping that Brooke would be more open at her tired and vulnerable state.

"Not a chance," she countered automatically like a reflex.

"Come on," he groaned. "If I'm going all in with this relationship, then you have to too."

Brooke swallowed nervously as she sat back up and crossed her legs while facing him. She took a deep breath, preparing herself. "The truth is I don't want to talk about my parents or growing up because there's just not much to say."

"What do you mean?"

Her eyes became downcast. "My dad cared more about his golf score and work than he ever cared about me. He was hardly at home for all eighteen years that I lived there. My mom went heavy on the gin and Prada. There were times when my dad would leave on business for weeks at a time and my mom would go off on one of her spa weekends, then they'd set me up in a hotel all by myself with only the employees to watch over me. I felt like Eloise at the Plaza."

Lucas watched her closely. She was clearly affected by her parent's neglect, even years later. It was probably what had hardened her so much in the first place. "Don't tell me your favorite childhood memories come from a hotel?"

Brooke smiled sadly. "Most of them," she admitted, but her eyes widened suddenly like she'd just remembered something. "But there was this one time on my seventh or eighth birthday when they were both in town. The only birthday they didn't just throw their credit cards at me and tell me to buy something. We all went to Coney Island for the whole day. We just rode rides and ate junk food—a rarity for the Davis household—but it was the best day ever. Still is, actually."

She'd spoken so fondly of that one day. Lucas was so touched by her random outburst. He carefully pushed a loose lock of her hair behind her ear as his way of thank you. "Sounds like a great day," he offered. "But there should've been more than one."

She shrugged, nodding. "I'll take it." She suddenly stood back up. "I have more important things to focus on than my parents." She gave him her winning, energetic smile. "Like you for instance."

Lucas' cocked his head. "Oh, yeah?"

She nodded again. "In fact," Brooke started up, as she turned to her desk and searched through the top drawer for something. "I have something I want to give you." She held something discreetly behind her back as she maneuvered her way back to the bed.

Lucas held his hands in front of him in anticipation. "What is it? Newest edition of NBA live?"

Brooke rolled her eyes. "Yeah, that's your prize for being so good in bed."

Luke held his hand to his heart, pretending to be wounded. "You see, I aim to kid, but you hurt."

Brooke laughed airily, ignoring his theatrics and placing a small name tag with his picture on it into his waiting hands. "This is my way of making it up to you then. A sorry of sorts for not inviting you to my last work event."

Lucas studied his photo, feeling uncharacteristically touched. He didn't even remember her taking it. It was hardly the most flattering candid of him, but it meant a lot that she'd even make the effort. "This is for your fashion show?"

Brooke nodded as way of answer. "Only the best clearance for my boy." She kissed his lips lightly. "You'll get backstage with that. Be there any time after six tomorrow." She kissed him again harder.

Luke bit his tongue. Brooke was opening up to him in ways he never thought possible; talking about her parents and inviting him to her uber-exclusive show in just one night. It didn't seem real that she'd recently ordered him to stay out of the public eye. They'd made so much progress so quickly, and now he was about to fuck it all up with three simple words.

"I can't go," he told her tensely.

Brooke stepped away from him, confusion written all over her flawless face. "What do you mean?"

Lucas fidgeted awkwardly. "I have some...things to do," he responded vaguely, hoping to avoid an explanation. He just didn't know if she'd understand his plans for the following day. He was too embarrassed to even admit them out loud yet.

"Some things?" She sounded angry and suspicious.

"I'm sorry," he apologized immediately. "I want to be there. You know how much I'd want to support you and your work, but I've had these things planned—these appointments—for a while now and I can't just cancel with such short notice."

Brooke's face became neutral. "Fine," she bit back unhappily, crawling back into bed but facing away from him this time. "Let's just go to bed. I've got a big day tomorrow."

Lucas sighed, wanting to talk about it further but knowing that it would be for the best if he just let it go. Brooke might be more reasonable in the morning.

Then again, had he ever been right about the brunette bombshell yet?

Luke was staring up at the ceiling in his increasingly more permanent room, watching as his fan spun round and round, making him dizzy and slightly nauseous.

Brooke hadn't been more reasonable that morning like he'd originally hoped. She hadn't been hostile per se, but only for the fact that she'd been gone before Lucas had even woken up.

No note. No goodbye. Nothing. She'd just left her apartment. Typical Brooke Davis behavior when pissed-off, and now he'd returned to his own shared apartment to think over everything—evaluate what to do next.

"Self-pity is the worst kind of way to spend the day," Clay's voice erupted into the room.

Lucas groaned, sitting up to face his roommates' latest antics. "What do you want, Evans?"

Clay crossed his arms, leaning against the door frame again as casually as possible. "Oh, you know, wondering how it's fucking possible that Brooke Davis' boyfriend could be so fucking miserable."

Luke put his head in his hands. "You'd be surprised how easy it actually is."

Clay gave him a pointed look. "Stop fucking up then."

"You assume I'm the problem?" Lucas inquired, annoyed that Clay was once again right.

Clay laughed. "I don't need to assume, Man. I know. Brooke Davis can do no wrong, so what'd you do this time?"

Luke rubbed his eyes, desperate to make all of his problems go away. "Brooke wanted me to go to her fashion show tonight, but I have an important meeting I can't miss."

"A meeting?" Clay sounded just as suspicious as Brooke.

Luke punched the frame of his bed. "It's not fucking code for hooking up with another girl. I actually have a meeting at a new publishing house and everything."

Clay stifled more laughs. "You're job hunting?"

Lucas raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. What's it to you?"

"And you couldn't just blow it off? Tell her about it?"

Luke shook his head. Brooke's recent words still stung. Brooke Davis is dating an unemployed and nearly homeless nobody.

He really needed a job. He needed to be worthy of her—her equal. "You don't know a damn thing about it. Last time my career was brought up it didn't go very well."

Clay made a pshh noise. "So Brooke Davis is embarrassed by you from time to time. You still get to fuck her regularly. That's reward enough. She deserves to have you there today—at her show. Your work can wait."

"Do you have to be so vulgar all the time?" Lucas demanded. Fuck was so impersonal.

"Yes," Clay answered instantly, smiling as winningly as Brooke did. "But you should listen to me, Scott. I know what I'm talking about."

"You've never even had a long-term relationship," Luke pointed out.

Clay pursed his lips. "Maybe, but you know I'm right." He left the room, once again leaving Lucas alone to his self-pity.

Lucas just didn't know which decision was better in the long run: attending Brooke's show or bettering his career to impress her?

He'd ultimately followed Clay's advice—blown off his job interview in favor of supporting his girl.

Lucas had dressed in another borrowed suit, resolving to purchase a few of his own soon. He'd used his clearance to get behind the scenes of the hottest Clothes Over Bros event of the season, and was now watching Brooke Davis work her CEO magic backstage.

Her dress was short, ripped far above the knee, showcasing her creamy-skin legs. The dress was custom made, by her no doubt, and was a dark purple color that complimented her smoky eye makeup. She looked chic, impressively so, and like an all-around badass.

Lucas had no doubt that every other woman in that room was terribly intimidated by her, even the ridiculously skinny, tall, and over-paid models.

Brooke Davis was stunning, successful, and passionate. There was an air to her that was so intoxicating, and it wasn't just her heavenly scent. She had a unique presence that completely enthralled him—entranced him like nothing else could.

Brooke Davis truly was one-of-a-kind. And he'd be damned if he lost her now or ever.

"How is the most beautiful girl in New York?" he asked finally, interrupting his own analyses of her.

She turned sharply until her stony light brown eyes fell on him. She looked serious and determined, unlike her usual flirty self. "Just New York?" she questioned.

He gave her a pondering stare. "Nah. Most beautiful girl anywhere," he rectified.

Brooke smiled lightly, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Better," she approved. "I thought you weren't coming. There was something you had to do?" She was taunting him, punishing him for even considering her as a second option.

He shrugged uneasily. "Change of heart," he offered lamely, hoping to appeal to her forgiving side. "I thought I'd cheer on my pretty girl."

Her smile didn't waver at his explanation, apparently he was forgiven. Momentarily, at least. "You're going to cheer me on?" She sounded doubtful. "Just leave the cheering to me." She patted his shoulder as her way of dismissal.

Forgiven, but clearly unwanted. "I'm sorry," he spoke nervously. "I wanted to be here. It's just..." he trailed off.

"What, Luke?" she demanded impatiently. "Spit it out." Forgiven was clearly an overstatement. He wasn't even tolerated by her at this point. "You just couldn't decide if I was more important than those things you had to do?" She was clearly not over it yet. Not even close. "Go do them. I've got a show to run."

Lucas groaned loudly, more pissed-off at himself than anyone. "I shouldn't have said that. I want to be here," he said forcibly as way to convince her. "I want to be with you," he added just as emphatically. "Wherever you go."

It was quite the declaration, just short of that highly sought-after "I love you."

But Brooke Davis wouldn't be won over that easily.

She quickly stepped forward, snatching off his clearance I.D. in one swoop. "I'm busy," she muttered with a wave of her hand. "Too busy to deal with a clingy occasional fuck-buddy."

Ouch. Luke set his jaw, unwilling to let his ego be further bruised.

"Fine." He smiled bitterly to her as he backed away before security would get the privilege of kicking him out. She'd just love to see that again. "Break a leg," he tacked on sarcastically, although he actually wanted her to succeed and knew that she would. He was just being stubborn, like her. But she would do amazing, as per usual.

She was Brooke Davis, after all; the world didn't stand a chance. And neither did he.

"Bye, Luke." She didn't look mad anymore, only disappointed, like he should've done something differently. Said something to make things right.

He just didn't know what the fuck it was.

Brooke made her way to the center of the stage. The spotlight beat down brightly on her, illuminating her for the entire audience to see.

She held a microphone to her lips and spoke, "Welcome." He voice echoed around, loud and booming sexily. "Thank you all so much for coming out her tonight. It means the world to me that I get to share my work with you. Tonight is all about the new line, a new era of Clothes Over Bros. A season of daring change and rebellion. So without further ado...I unveil the Clothes Over Bros Fall Line."

A hopelessly skinny brunette made her way on stage in a Davis' original as Brooke clamored behind to watch from the sidelines.

Luke stood to the back of the audience, eyes drawn completely to the brunette behind stage. He'd decided to stay even after she'd banished him. He just couldn't miss a moment of her night when all of New York and the world was watching for mistakes in her show, when there would surely be none.

As he'd watched her introduce her clothes he'd noticed that she'd fallen into that awe-inspiring, commanding tone that no one would dare look away from. She had them all, hook, line, and sinker.

Damn was she good. He didn't even know why anyone would bother to look at the models when Brooke Davis was around. It was just a complete waste of time. He only had eyes for her.

"Mr. Scott," a familiar voice greeted, interrupting his thoughts.

Lucas turned to find Millie, Brooke's unorthodox assistant, staring at him expectantly. "Ms. Huxtable," he echoed her formality.

Millie smiled politely. "It's great of you to show up for this."

"I wouldn't miss it," he said, ignoring the guilt he felt for even considering otherwise.

Millie became serious. "I mean it, Luke. Don't give up on her." She nodded in Brooke's direction.

Luke's expression became questioning. "What are you saying?"

Millie cracked her knuckles nervously. "Brooke has let a lot of great guys go in the past," she explained. "I've watched as she flitted from man to man, pushing each one away until there was nothing left but pure animosity. I've always known that she guards herself too much because she's too afraid to let someone in. I don't want to see that happen again. If you two have a shot in hell of making it then you need to understand all of that. You can't give up on her."

"I wouldn't," he answered automatically.

"You say that now," Mille spoke disappointedly. "But you don't what she's capable of."

Does anyone? He wanted to ask but refrained. He wasn't so sure he wanted an answer to that after all.

"I won't give up," he promised her, meaning it with all his heart. And he really wouldn't. This relationship meant too much to him.

Brooke shook herself awake as the elevator brought her closer and closer to her apartment, where she would finally be able to rest after all the hectic goings-on of her fashion show and the after-party celebration.

She risked a quick glance at her Gucci watch. It was a quarter to six in the morning, and she'd never felt so exhausted. She wanted nothing more than to flop down on her ridiculously comfy bed and spend the entire next day there recuperating.

If only life were so predictable.

The elevator doors opened to reveal her impossibly bright foyer, highlighted by various arcade games and a cotton candy machine that had obviously not been there the day before. Soft but slightly obnoxious fair music filtered in the room, reminding Brooke of her favorite childhood memory.

"Coney Island," she whispered under her breath, as she locked eyes with a similarly exhausted blond man. "Luke, you didn't have to—"

Lucas came forward tiredly, pressing his index finger against her lips for quiet. "You said you only had one best day. Well, I think last night was a great day, and the day I met you was great, and every day since I found you again. I want every day to be great for you—for both of us—and I'll do whatever it takes to make it that way."

Brooke's eyes began to well over. "But this must've taken you forever, getting this all up here, waiting for me to come home." She started to sound stressed.

"I'd do it all again," Lucas promised easily. "You're what matters most to me. Tomorrow we'll do the real thing—a full day at Coney Island."

Her lips curved into that crooked, dimpled smile. "I can't believe you did all of this. It's too much...I don't deserve it...after everything I said last night—"

Lucas pressed his finger to her lips again. "Anything for you, Pretty Girl." He took her hands in his, directing her to the line of five different arcade games. "So which do you want to play first?"

She kissed his cheek appreciatively. "Whichever one you want to."

Bam! This is so long this time...but it was so much fun to write. No cliffhanger this time, but there will be in the following few chapters. They just need to be happy for a little bit before I make them totally miserable. ;) Review for quicker updates!