Author's Note: I don't use the term emo, but something tells me Brooke would. And a couple of you have asked, but I have no idea how long this story will be. It's just Brooke's aimless life right now. Heh.
Secret Love
"We did pretty good."
I jumped when I heard him behind me. It was weird, but I could feel his presence there. I didn't turn around, staring straight forward at the masses of people dancing and just generally having a good time. He was right. Our little Winter Wonderland was definitely a success.
I nodded slowly. "I'd say so."
Finally turning to face him, I looked around. Peyton was nowhere in site. "Where's Peyton?"
He chuckled. "In case you hadn't noticed, this is a school function. Peyton wouldn't be caught dead at one of these things. Ever."
"Even if her boyfriend was hosting the event and needed a date? Damn." I laughed, but it was fake, and I was almost sure he could sense it.
"It's alright," He shrugged, nudging me. "I've got you."
Damn you, Lucas Scott. Damn you!
"Hah," I said with a fake smile. "Yeah."
We turned to face the crowds of people. Honestly, you'd probably expect this to be an awkward moment for us, but it wasn't. Over the past month, we had grown closer. The job of working on the dance had certainly helped our friendship.
Of course, I hated this.
"You don't want to," He paused, "dance, do you?"
No, no, no, no, no, no, "Sure."
Of course, Lack of Color by Death Cab For Cutie, only my all-time favorite slow song had to start playing right then. He slid his hands around my waist, tugging me slightly closer, and I wrapped my hands around his neck. Could I help it that my body just happened to scoot a little closer? Yes, but that's besides the point.
We swayed softly, and I mouthed the words softly to myself, careful to avoid eye contact.
He raised his eyebrows, smiling oddly at me. "You like Death Cab?"
I finally met his gaze, a bit of attitude swirling at my surface. "Yeah, so?"
"Whoa, lower your weapons," He said good-heartedly. "You just don't seem like the type."
"What? I seem like the 'Top 20' type?"
"Kind of, yeah." He said guiltily, and now he was the one averting his gaze.
I couldn't help but crack a smile. He was too cute for his own good. "I normally am, but they had a cool name and I had money, so I bought one of their CD's, and I've loved them since."
He laughed. "That's cute."
"You don't seem like the Death Cab type. Really. You and Peyton listen to that 'Oh-feel-bad-for-me-I'm-emo' type music." I countered happily.
"Brooke, that isn't all I listen to."
"I don't believe you." I teased him.
Lucas didn't seem to mind. He shook his head. "I like variety."
I laughed. "I believe you."
This was nice; us having a conversation. It was actually helping me not think about the fact that I was in love with him, surprisingly.
And then I had to remind myself. Nice job, Brooke.
The song ended, and I reluctantly broke away from him. We stood beside each other once more, neither of us saying anything.
Suddenly, he said, "You look nice tonight, Brooke."
God, break my heart, why don't you?
I smiled. "And I don't usually?"
"No, you always look nice. I mean - no, I didn't mean.. I-" He broke off, laughing softly. "God, can't you just take the complement?"
"Well, I just like giving you a hard time. But thanks."
"You're welcome."
"Oh," I looked him up and down, as if I needed to analyze how good he looked. Of course, I didn't. "You look nice too."
He chuckled, loosely draping an arm around my shoulder. "Thank you, Buddy."
Buddy. Huh. Way to rip out my heart.
