Stand in the Rain
Author's Notes: Thanks to everybody who reviewed and favorited. It always makes me smile.
Just wanted to answer a couple questions I've been getting:
First, Peyton did not die in the shooting. The whole dream sequence when Brooke saw Peyton bloody in the school was just a reflection of the guilt she has for leaving her behind. The next couple chapter will delve into that.
Second, as of this moment, Bella is out of the picture. She's in Florida with Renee and Phil. She may or may not resurface later in the story: it depends on what my mind comes up with.
Third, just because Rosalie likes Brooke, it doesn't necessarily mean she's going to turn her attitude completely around. She is, after all, Rosalie.
Also, there's a poll up on my profile. You're input would be really fantastic.
Now, onto the story!!
Her laugh was ridiculous.
Edward grinned as he followed Brooke into her apartment, shaking his head at the sound that was pouring out of her mouth. Her laughter was unlike anything he'd ever heard. Just the sound of it made him want to laugh, which was a rare occurrence in itself.
When he thought back on his short time with Bella, he realized that her laugh had never done that to him. When she had laughed, it was almost like a giggle--never too loud or never too soft. But when Brooke laughed…
When Brooke laughed, it was like it she didn't care in the slightest bit how ridiculous or how loud she sounded. It was just authentic.
Which was why he loved to hear it.
"So, on a scale of one to ten, exactly how pissed off is Rosalie at me?" she was asking him as she tossed her bag and keys onto the kitchen counter.
Edward smiled, shrugging. "Surprisingly, I don't think she is at all," he said, shutting the front door behind him. "I think she was more in shock that someone had the nerve to stand up to her than anything else. She respects you now. Which, when it comes to Rosalie, just might be better than her liking you."
Brooke laughed again, turning to him and putting her hands in the back pocket of her jeans. She smiled, shrugging, and he couldn't help but be amazed by her again.
He really hadn't known what to think when he'd first seen her at Forks High a month ago. He hadn't given her much thought, come to think of it. A new student was all he'd known, and he really hadn't cared to know much more than that. Then she'd walked into the lunch room at the side of Angela Webber, and for a second it was as if his past had come back to haunt him.
She had been nothing like Bella. Bella had been beautiful, but in a more low-key way. She didn't want to attract much attention, so her beauty had been much more natural; almost plain, in a way. Brooke was the kind of beauty that caused men to look twice as she passed by. Despite her make up and her done up hair, it had been clear to him that she didn't even need to work hard for it. She was naturally beautiful as well, but tended to enhance it. She hadn't reminded him of Bella in any way.
But then he hadn't been able to hear her.
Every voice sounded loud and clear in his head except for hers. Even when he had focused with everything he had, all he'd heard in the mind of Brooke Davis was silence.
It wasn't until she'd sat next to him in English that he'd discovered this situation was very different from the one with Bella. He'd braced himself when he saw her move towards her seat, convinced that her scent would be delicious and overwhelming, just like hers had been. Then she had sat down, and when her scent had reached him, he realized that it truly was intoxicating. But not in the way he had thought.
He hadn't found himself hungry; his body demanding to feed on her right then and there. Instead, he'd simply felt attracted.
She HAD been intoxicating. His body had just reacted in a way he'd never seen coming. And he hadn't been able to turn away.
For the first time in over 80 years, he hadn't thirsted for a human's blood. His throat--while still uncomfortable with the scent of her blood pumping through her veins--didn't burn with urge to feed. It was barely a tickle when he was near her. A secondary thought.
And then she'd smiled at him shyly, and he'd been pulled in without a fight.
He looked at her now, standing in the middle of her apartment, and realized that he cared more for her in a matter of weeks than he had for Bella in months.
He smiled, glancing around. "You haven't unpacked."
She shrugged again, looking at the boxes stacked against one of the bare walls. "Haven't had the time," she said, smirking at him. "What with all the stick ups and vampires hassling me and all."
He laughed, still amazed at how easily she had accepted the truth. But, then again, she'd seen her fair share of evil in the world. Maybe he shouldn't be so surprised.
"It'll get done," she said, walking to the couch and plopping down amidst the fluffy pillows. "First I have to get rid of the white-washed walls. They're really depressing." She smiled, patting the cushion next to her, and he crossed the short distance to take a seat.
"Why are they depressing?"
She shrugged. ""Cause they're plain. They remind me of hospitals and guidance counselors offices. Or my mom's room, which is just as bad. It needs some color, you know? Like…purple. And a red door."
Edward frowned. "Why a red door?"
Brooke shrugged again, looking at her lap. "Back in Tree Hill, I was always the girl behind the red door. I'd just like to, you know, keep the tradition." She looked back up at him, noting his sad smile, and shook her head. "Anyway, Angela offered to help paint. Honestly though, I think she's just offering to make me feel less like the new girl and one of 'the gang' or whatever."
"No," he replied, shaking his head. "If Angela offered, she did so because she wanted to. She likes you. She thinks you need to smile more, and she hopes that by being your friend she can accomplish that."
Brooke smiled at him, arching her eyebrow. "Oh, yeah? What are you, a mind reader?" When he merely smiled, her mouth dropped open, and she leaned in closer to him. "ARE you a mind reader?" His smile grew, and she laughed, smacking her hand on the back of the couch. "Shut up! Seriously? That is so--wait." She froze, narrowing her eyes at him. "Have you been reading MY mind this last month?"
He laughed at her sporadic speech, shaking his head. "No, I, um…I can't."
"Why not?" she asked, frowning. "Is this another one of those 'because my head is so thick' jokes? Because those got really old in, like, third grade."
Edward shook his head again, amused. "No. I don't know why, I just know that you're an exception to my ability."
"Well…am I the only exception?"
He hesitated, but nodded after a moment. "Now, yes," he said, noticing the question on her face. "Bella was, as well," he added softly.
She nodded, sitting back against the couch cushion, and tucked her hair behind her ears. "So, does anybody else have any…abilities? Apart from the whole vampire thing?"
He sat back, nodding. "Jasper has the ability to manipulate emotions. And Alice can, um…Alice can see the future," he said, simply amazed at how easy it was to get lost in her hazel eyes. "Conditionally," he added at her stare. "She can only see the course people are on when they're on it."
Brooke nodded. "So, if your decisions change, so does the vision?" He nodded. "I guess that makes sense. Is that how you made it to the bank in the nick of time? She saw it all happening?" He nodded. "So…she saw me die." It wasn't a question. She knew now why his face had seemed so panicked when he'd rushed through the door. He had been worried he'd be too late.
"But you didn't," Edward replied, reaching out a hand and gently tracing the curve of her cheek.
She shivered, whether from his touch or the coolness of it, she wasn't sure. "I'm not crazy, right?" she asked very softly, staring up at him. "THIS isn't crazy. This feeling in the pit of my stomach that's telling me not to close my eyes because it means I won't see you. I mean, we've only known each other a month or so…but this? It just…feels right. I'm not crazy, right?"
She watched as his trademark crooked grin slowly stretched across his face, and she found her breathing becoming quite labored when he leaned in towards her, his eyes never once leaving hers. He shrugged, grinning. "You're a little crazy," he said, chuckling as he gently moved a strand of hair out of her eyes. "But not when it comes to this." He sighed, tracing her cheek with his fingertip. "Do you truly have any idea how much I've come to care about you?"
Brooke shrugged slightly, peering up at him from under her eyelashes as she smiled softly. "Probably not," she whispered, leaning in towards him. "But then you don't know how much I care about you, either." Her smile grew. "So why don't you show me?"
She watched as his eyes darkened slightly, and she felt his cool breath on her cheek as he slowly lowered his face closer and closer to hers. She closed her eyes when she felt his fingers massage the nape of her neck, and when his cool, soft lips gently traced over hers, she gasped. She leaned into him, deepening the kiss, and reached up to entangle her hands in his disheveled hair. She pulled him, closer, crushing her lips to his, and felt his hands trail down her back, pulling her closer.
He broke away suddenly, breathing heavy, and her eyes shot open to stare at him, trying to steady her own breath.
Edward's eyes were dark, almost black, as he stared at her, his forehead pressed to her own. "Brooke, I'm trying very hard…to be good," he whispered to her harshly, his cool breath caressing her face. "But you are making it very, very difficult to do so."
Brooke let out a shaky sigh, closing her eyes as she slumped against him. "I'm sorry."
Edward chuckled, pressing a feather-soft kiss to her forehead. "I'm not," he laughed, shaking his head. "I'm not scolding you, Brooke. Far from it, actually. I'm just asking you to keep in mind that even though it doesn't seem like it, your blood is just as…tempting…as anyone else's." He laughed at the slight pout on the young brunette's face, and he pressed another quick kiss to her lips. "It's late. You've had a long day."
She sat back against the couch, frowning. "You're leaving?"
Edward smirked, chuckling. "Only if you want me to."
Brooke smiled, relieved, then shrugged self-consciously, when she realized he might think she was obsessive or something. "Would you mind sticking around for a little bit? You know…just until I fall asleep or…something."
He chuckled again, and in the blink of an eye he was next to her on the couch again, smirking crookedly. "I can promise you, Brooke, that I won't leave your side until you order me away."
Brooke laughed, arching her eyebrow. "Pretty sure that's never gonna happen, Cullen."
He kissed her again, his cool lips softly gliding over hers. "Good."
She'd left Edward standing in her bedroom when she'd run into the bathroom to change into her pajamas.
Brooke dried her damp face with a hand towel, swiping at the bangs that fell into her eyes. She sighed, bracing her hands against the sink, and looked at her reflection in the mirror.
What did Edward see when he looked at her?
She wasn't oblivious; she knew she was pretty. She looked like her mother. Well…at least the version of her mother pre-Botox.
But did he notice the way her smile sometimes seemed almost too big for her face? Or how one eye seemed almost smaller than the other? Did he notice how the bags under her eyes became more and more pronounced with every passing day that sleep eluded her? Did he see the shadows in her eyes that seemed to scream at her every time she saw them?
Could he tell how the guilt was eating away at her very core?
She shook her head, tossing her little pity party out the window for the time being, and turned on her bare heel, shutting off the bathroom light behind her.
Edward was standing next to her dresser, holding a framed photograph in his hand as he stared at it intently. She walked up behind him, peering over his shoulder.
It was the photo she and Peyton had taken at the Masquerade Party at Tric back in Tree Hill.
They'd gone as opposites. Or, they had planned to, anyway. They were supposed to be good and bad--an angel and a devil. Then Peyton had decided to go as the Angel of Death, which essentially canceled the whole costume idea out. She hadn't been mad, surprisingly. It was, after all, she and Peyton. And things never went according to plan when it came to them.
In the photo, they were both gritting their teeth at the camera, posing with their hands up in a claw-like motion. Brooke's bright red wig and eyelashes were a sharp contrast compared to Peyton's black and white hair and pale face. She had been so carefree then, thrilled with the idea of Lucas fighting for her affections; of playing hard-to-get. Peyton had been the haunted one, conflicted over the arrival of her birth mother; of having her whole reality shattered.
She guessed that their opposite costume idea had worked after all.
"You look happy here," Edward said, setting the picture back on the dresser top.
Brooke looked up at him, frowning. "I'm happy now."
His head shook slightly as he turned to look down at her. "Not like you are there," he said, reaching for her hand. His cold fingers enveloped her own as he lead her to the bed, sitting on its edge. "I know what it's like to be haunted, Brooke. To have events set in motion that you can never run away from. I think that's your situation."
"You think I'm haunted?" she asked, tucking her legs underneath her as she sat next to him.
"Aren't you?" he asked, tracing her cheek.
She shrugged, dropping her gaze to her lap. "I haven't really known what I am for awhile now, Edward," she said, looking up to see his bewildered expression. "Before the shooting, I used to think I was a lot of things. Now I'm just not so sure."
"I'm afraid I don't understand," Edward said, lacing their fingers together on the bedspread.
"I used to be a best friend," she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I mean, a BEST friend. The kind that never turns their back; never abandons. But the day of the shooting…"
She felt Edward squeeze her fingers. "Brooke," he said softly. "You don't have to do this. You don't have to talk about it."
She looked into his eyes for a moment, seeing the affection and the worry that they held, and she shrugged, letting him know that it was okay. "The day of the shooting, it had started out that way. Peyton and me…were just walking to class, like it was any other day. Laughing at something stupid and making plans for later. And we just look up and see this gun…and it's pointing right at us. We moved faster than I ever thought we could, and we hit the ground just as the gun went off. I can remember glass flying everywhere. On my jacket, in my hair, cracking under my boots. I remember…the silence before everyone started screaming. The panic and the chaos and…the reality that EVERYTHING had changed in that second. But what I remember most is losing my grip on Peyton's hand."
She pulled her hand out of Edward's, reaching up to swipe at the tears she could feel burning behind her eyes.
"One minute, we were together, and the next she was gone. I lost her, Edward. In all the chaos, I could feel someone pulling me to my feet and telling me to run, and I just ran. I didn't even realize that Peyton wasn't behind me until I got outside. I screamed for her and looked for her, but I couldn't find her. I knew she was still inside, and I knew that there was a chance that she was hurt or…" She shook her head, refusing the acknowledge the thought. "But I was scared. So I just ran with everyone else."
She looked up at him, seeing his sympathetic face, and she let out a quiet sob. "I left her behind," she whispered. "She was shot. She almost died, and all I can keep thinking is that…if I had just looked back, or if I had just run back inside to help her, maybe Lucas wouldn't have. And if he hadn't, then Keith wouldn't have either. And he would still be alive and married to Karen and they'd be happy. But I didn't, and Keith died, leaving her and Lucas heartbroken. And Peyton? She won't even talk to me, because she knows that too. She knows that I was a coward. I mean, God, what kind of friend just leaves her best friend behind in the middle of a school shooting?" She sobbed again, closing her eyes against the tears that now were flowing freely. She felt his arms close around her and pull her close to his chest. She gripped the material of his shirt tightly in his fists as she cried against him, his hands gently stroking her hair. She felt his lips press themselves softly to the top of her head.
"I know you won't believe me," he said softly. "But it wasn't your fault, Brooke. What happened to Peyton, what happened to Keith. None of it. Everything that happened was because of the decision of an obviously troubled being, who felt he had no other choice. It was a tragedy. But it wasn't your fault." He gently placed his hand under her chin, tipping her face up and wiping the tears off her cheeks with his thumb. "There's no way to tell if you could have altered the outcome by going back into the school. But, from what I can understand, Jimmy Edwards had his mind made up that day. I think it would have turned out the exact way it did. Except that if you had gone back in, you might not be sitting here with me now." He traced her cheek gently, shaking his head. "Can you really believe that you were to blame?"
Brooke shrugged, laying her hands against his chest. "I didn't exactly do anything to make Jimmy's life in high school any easier," she said softly, ashamed. "The only reason I even really knew his name before the shooting was because someone released the time capsule our class had made, and he was bashing the school and everyone in it. I didn't even know who he was before that, Edward."
"And that means that you're solely to blame for the events that happened?"
"It means I'm part of the reason. We were all part of the reason. But I'm obviously the reason Peyton hasn't talked to me since Keith's funeral. She wouldn't even look at me, you know? I tried to apologize and see how she was and she just…brushed me off. Isn't that enough of an answer as to how lousy a friend I am?"
Edward shrugged, leaning back until they were laying on the bed, Brooke cradled against his chest. "Or it's an indication that maybe Peyton wasn't ready to face what happened," he said. "You said yourself that she was shot. That, combined with the fact that she was trapped in the school, certainly couldn't have been easy. Maybe she just needed time to sort through her own feelings before she confronted anything else."
Brooke shrugged, closing her eyes as she snuggled against him, suddenly very tired. "Maybe," she said softly. "It still doesn't make me feel any less guilty, though." She sighed, stifling a yawn. "I bet you think I'm a real catch right now, huh?"
His chest shook with his laughter, and he pulled her tighter against him. "Would you be amazed if I said I think you're even more of one now?"
Brooke chuckled, too tired to much more. "You're not so bad yourself, Cullen," she mumbled, going limp against him as sleep finally won its battle against her.
Edward laid staring at the ceiling, listening to the even, slow breathing of the girl in his arms.
A hundred years of never sleeping, he'd grown accustomed to being alone at night. At times, it had been frustrating, even maddening. But lying next to Brooke right now, feeling her warm breath against his chest, and hearing her strong heartbeat, he realized that he could, and would, gladly spend the next hundred in this very way.
Sigh…
I love writing this story. I love being surprised at how Brooke and Edward interact with each other. And believe me, I'm just as surprised as you are once the words are written down. They've certainly taken on a life of their own.
So…saw New Moon. LOVED it. Rob Pattinson completely floored me with his performance, no matter how little screen time he had. Didn't feel the same way about Kristen Stewart, though. To be honest, I've never really looked at her and thought, "Oh, hey, that's Bella." But all in all, it was FANTASTIC! What did you guys think?
Let me know!
