Hi there everyone! I'm sorry for the lack of updates on any of my stories. The fashion show that I planned FINALLY ended and then I went away, and I've had so much make-up work to do since I really slacked off. And I know this is short, but I don't know- I think it's powerful. Rate & review? Love, Sarah
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Her head is reeling. She is in his arms, but her body is limp in his embrace.
"You could at least pretend you're happy to see me," he says half-teasing, forcing a smile.
"I just… I can't believe you're here."
And she can't. He had given up on the incessant calls a month ago. Thirty three days to be exact. But what did she expect? Did she expect him to keep calling? Did she expect him to come straight to New York the second she had left in hopes of winning her back?
Yes. She did expect it.
She expected him to rescue her.
She had only answered his phone call once anyway, and the conversation was less than pleasant.
"Well, are you gonna invite me in?" he asks before she ushers him into the room. She reaches up to her head and smoothes her hair in realization of just how sloppy she looks.
"You look great," he comments reassuringly, as if he's reading her mind.
"You don't have to lie," she spits out, sounding unintentionally bitter.
"I'm not lying," he says softly. He's offended by her tone and her attitude, but he refuses to raise his own voice; not after this long, not while he's come up the coast to see her. He's upset that she didn't seem happy to see him, but what he doesn't know is that she is happy. She's wanted him to find her since the moment she left, although she won't admit this to herself.
He scratches the back of his head. "I guess you're wondering why I'm here," he states flatly.
"Kind of," she says, forcing a confused smile. She's trying her best to be warm, but in her head, all she sees is a reel of memories whirring behind her eyes. Memories that she does not want to revisit, especially while Lucas is in front of her.
"I don't really know," he shrugs. "Your parents told me how you started to ignore their calls again, and then we came up with this whole plan… I don't know. Next thing I know, I'm booking my flight…"
"Oh."
"Oh?" he repeats.
"Oh."
She turns and begins to walk toward the kitchen, her throat suddenly feeling dry. "I need a drink," she mumbles. He follows her lead, trailing close behind, resisting the temptation to wrap his arms around her from behind.
"So? This plan consisted of my parents lying to me and you just showing up on my door unannounced?" she asks, taking a sip of the vodka she's just poured herself.
He cringes at her attitude and in noticing that she's reverted back to the old habits he had thought to be gone for good. Her tone makes him as nervous and nauseous as he had been getting into the elevator to her apartment.
They walk into the living room where there is merely a couch and TV. He notices how unkempt the apartment is and how disheveled she looks. He can see her beauty radiating from underneath the misery she has surrounded herself with, but it takes some searching.
"It's weird to see you living like this. Living here," he comments, still gazing around the room.
"What does that mean?" she retorts.
"I don't know," he sighs in defeat. "This… this life isn't you."
"You don't know me anymore."
This line hits him straight in the chest and sets off the bomb that's been held in since she left.
"Oh don't play that fucking game with me, Brooke. You're talking to me. I'm not your fucking parents or Haley, or Rachel, or even Peyton, whose calls you've been ignoring also," he spits in sheer frustration. Part of him is disappointed in her less-than-welcoming attitude, but another voice echoes in his head softly: You knew it'd be like this. "It's me. I went through this, too."
She is taken aback by his ferocity, expecting the calm, mellow Lucas Scott that she had left in Tree Hill.
"We've both changed since everything happened, but goddammit, stop being such a bitch. I've been here for a total of seven minutes, and you have not once acted like this is a good surprise. If you want me to leave, tell me now so I don't have to waste my time…"
Her shoulders sink, and she suddenly loses her brave-fuck-the-world attitude. "I don't want you to leave. I just wasn't prepared to see you," she admits.
"Well, I'm here," he says, his voice now placid. He stands up and walks to where she's sitting. He slides into the spot next to her and puts a hand on each shoulder. He turns her body so that she's now facing him, her eyes having trouble locking with his. "I'm here, Brooke. And I need you to let me in. It's me, Brooke. Just let me in."
She feels the tears welling up behind her eyes, but she chokes them back. She takes a deep breath to regain her composure. His hands are still on her shoulders and after a few moments, he pulls her into a hug. His hand is on the back of her head and for a moment, for a single, solitary moment, her heart stops aching.
"What took you so long?" she whispers as a tear trails down her face.