By late Friday afternoon, Lucas had hardly seen Peyton since the morning when she'd made that little comment and essentially slammed the door in his face. He'd known why she did it, and he understood it. He didn't think she'd avoid him like the plague - out of necessity, he was aware. He knew she was out of the office all Thursday morning checking with recordings at a studio downtown, and he knew that her Friday was a busy day as well.
But he didn't give a damn about any of that. He wanted desperately to see her.
She had her door open - uncharacteristically, of late - and it was nearing 4:00. He was walking past and he caught sight of her, sitting in her chair as she spoke on the phone. Her hair was pulled up, and she ran a hand over her face as she looked at something on her computer screen.
He knew that she wasn't impressed. He could tell. When he started listening to the conversation, his suspicions were proven correct.
"What the hell is she wearing?!...No...No, it's not acceptable...Because she's not Janis Joplin, she's a pop singer!...Get her out of that right now, and fire her stylist...No, I'm not joking...I'll have something sent over in 20 minutes...Trust me."
"It's so nice when all your anger isn't directed at me," Lucas said from the doorway once she'd hung up the phone. She hadn't even noticed him there.
"The day isn't over yet." He smirked at her, and she closed her eyes and let out a breath, letting herself smile.
"What's wrong?"
"A suede vest with fringe and a paisley top on an 18-year-old pop star," Peyton said distractedly as she dialed the phone. She smiled and held up one finger to Lucas, and he just nodded and closed the door, taking a seat across from her.
"Brooke, please. It's Peyton...Brooke! Hi. It's me. I have a crisis...Alicia's photo shoot...Thank you! She's a size two...I know. Bitch..." Lucas laughed and Peyton winked at him. "Something fun, but just a little grown up. Something that when girls see the album cover, they're going to want to wear...Thank you, Brooke. I love you!"
Lucas chuckled again and waited patiently as Peyton recited the address where the clothes needed to be sent, and she was smiling when she hung up the phone.
"Crisis averted?" he asked.
"Yeah. But now I owe Brooke, and that's never fun," she joked. "What can I do for you, Mr. Scott?"
"Come to dinner with me tonight."
"Luke, we...we can't do stuff like that," she said softly, shaking her head and avoiding eye contact.
"Yes we can," he countered. "At my place. Come over whenever."
"Lucas."
"I love that you think that I'll take no for an answer. It's cute."
"Luke..." she tried again.
"See you later. Dinner's around 8:00," he said, standing and walking back to the door. "I'll text you my address."
He'd closed the door behind him before she got the chance to ask what kind of wine she should bring.
----
Walking up to Lucas' building, Peyton felt a whole lot of nerves swirling around in her stomach, and she had absolutely no idea why. She was simply meeting a man she was seeing. She was having dinner with someone who she was growing increasingly fond of.
But this was now all on his terms. He'd initiated this meeting, when she'd essentially initiated the other two. She was going to his place for the first time, and he was cooking dinner, and he'd been insistent that she show up. They both obviously knew she would.
She'd gone to her place after leaving work, and changed into a lightweight cotton summer dress. She also grabbed a pair of jeans, a tank top, and a pair of underwear. She had no idea what this evening would entail, but she felt it safe to assume that she'd be spending the night. She didn't want to end up like he had the weekend before, lounging around half naked in his apartment. She knew he wouldn't complain if that were the case, but she still didn't want it to go that way.
She'd grabbed a bottle of red, and a bottle of white on her way to his place, and when she stepped through the door, the doorman smiled at her cordially when she told him her name. She wondered what Lucas had told the man. He gave her simple instructions to Lucas' apartment, and she stepped onto the elevator.
And as much as she wanted them to, those nerves wouldn't disappear.
She knocked on the door with as much confidence as she could, and he answered with a smile, and a dish towel draped over his shoulder. He kissed her before either of them had said a word. He kissed her like it had killed him not to be able to kiss her for days.
"You're here."
"Um...yeah," she said, smiling as she looked at him. He rolled his eyes, knowing she was biting back a sarcastic remark. She followed him inside and kicked off her shoes. "I brought wine. I didn't know what you were making, so I got a shiraz and a pinot blanc."
"OK. I'm just making a chicken cacciatore."
"Just?"
"It's easy," he said with a shrug. "Come in. Sit. I'll pour."
He was obviously at ease - it was his place, after all - and she tentatively stepped through the foyer and into his spacious apartment. Spacious was an understatement. It was beautiful and bright, with incredible hardwood floors and tasteful dark wood furniture. His walls were a dark taupe, and he had chocolate brown leather sofas and a large entertainment system.
She followed him into the kitchen, with its cherry wood cabinets, granite countertops, and stainless steel appliances. She watched him with a smile as he moved around, grabbing wine glasses and a corkscrew.
She perched herself on a stool at the counter across from where he was standing, and she accepted the glass of wine he handed her.
"You look great. I love that dress," he said, eyeing the blue fabric.
"Oh. Thanks."
"You OK? You seem...tense."
"Fine!" she answered quickly. "I'm fine."
"You're nervous," he said with an amused smile. "That's so sweet."
"I'm not..." He raised his brow at her and crossed his arms, and that grin stayed in place. "OK. Fine. I'm nervous."
"Well, just have some wine," he said, clinking the rim of his glass against hers.
"You're enjoying this," she stated indignantly.
"A little, yes." She let out a huff and looked away from him as she took a sip from her glass. "Peyton, relax. It's just me."
"Exactly," she muttered under her breath.
"Hmm?" he asked as he moved back to the stove, adding a splash of that red wine to the pot he had simmering.
She found him cooking to be just about the sexiest thing in the world.
"Nothing."
"Why are you nervous?" he asked, appearing in front of her, just the counter separating them.
"Because I've never been to your place, and you're cooking, and you look...amazing in that shirt," she listed off, and he smiled as he glanced down at his casual button down. "This is different than last time."
He rounded the counter and stood next to her, making her turn on her stool to face him. He draped his arm lazily over the back of the stool, rest the other on the counter, and she looked at him timidly.
"I didn't look amazing last time?"
"That's not what I meant."
"What did you mean?" he inquired delicately. She let out a quick sigh, and he did his best not to smile any bigger.
"I tried on three dresses!" she said, and he laughed. "I have my sexiest jeans in my bag, and a pair of underwear that are...I'd never wear them if I wasn't with you. I'm...you make me this crazy girl, and I hate it."
"You look incredible," he assured her. "And I'm sure you looked incredible in the other two dresses, too."
"Luke, that's..."
"And I can't wait to see you in those underwear," he murmured in her ear. "I like the crazy. It's endearing."
"Endearing."
"Yes." He pulled away, kissing the tip of her nose as she smiled. "I like that I can make you a little unglued. You're always so serious at the office."
"I take my job seriously," she said, shrugging one shoulder as he strode back to the stove to tend to their dinner.
"I know. It's one of the reasons I liked you so much."
"Liked? Past tense?"
"I like you for different reasons now," he stated nonchalantly.
"Yeah? Like what?" she asked cutely, resting her chin in her hands. He threw her a glance over his shoulder, and she laughed when she saw that he had his eyebrow raised.
"Not playing this game."
"It's fun!"
"For you. Because I'll go on and on about how wonderful you are."
"It'll pay dividends. In spades," she promised. He just shook his head when she wiggled her eyebrows.
"Regardless, I'm not doing it," he said with a chuckle. "Come on. Dinner's ready."
They moved to the dining room where she saw two place settings, a few candles lit, fresh flowers on the table, and then Lucas put on a little Ella before they sat down to their meal.
"OK. I'm intimidated," she said as he dished out her food.
"Why?" he laughed.
"You did all this, and I...I don't even think I cooked a thing the entire weekend you were at my house."
"You made coffee," he said with a shrug.
"You...you did candle lit dinner," she said, looking around the room. "It's beautiful."
"It's just a meal," he pointed out. "I have a feeling you're going to be easy to please."
"Excuse me?"
"I just mean that I think you don't have such high expectations. We haven't talked about past relationships, but I'm guessing your past boyfriends were...underwhelming," he said as he took his seat.
"Kind of a quick judgment," she said with a raised brow before taking a sip of her wine.
"Am I wrong?"
No. He wasn't wrong. In fact, he was dead on. She was 29 years old, and she'd never had a man make her a candle lit dinner before. She was lucky to get flowers on her birthday, let alone anything else. Lucas was already treating her better than most of her past boyfriends. Save for her high school sweetheart - who was a total sweetheart - she'd been...well, underwhelmed.
"Not exactly."
"More about that later. Eat," he insisted.
She did that very thing, and she was absolutely shocked at how delicious their meal was. When she told him that, he explained that he'd learned how to cook when he was in high school, and that cooking classes were what he and Deb bonded over as he grew up. Peyton asked if he was close with Deb, and he said that his 'step-mother' was an incredibly strong woman. He went on to tell her that until the accident, she didn't even know that Lucas existed, and that when it fell upon Dan to take Lucas in, Deb was the one who made him feel most at home.
Peyton wanted to meet the woman, but she didn't say as much.
When they'd finished their meal, Lucas cleared their plates and returned with the bottle of wine, a pint of double chocolate ice cream and two spoons.
"This is my favourite ice cream," she said, eyeing him suspiciously. He'd gotten it right, down to the brand.
"I know."
"You know? How?"
"Your best friend is my brother's girlfriend," he said slyly, grinning at her.
He handed her a spoon, and she moved her chair closer to his so they could share the dessert. She made a chorus of noises indicating how good the treat was, and he was absolutely smitten with her when she put her spoon in her mouth and closed her eyes, letting the ice cream melt on her tongue.
Sophisticated Lady came on, filling the room with Ella's smokey tone and that beautiful piano melody, and Peyton tipped her head back and smiled a smile he hadn't ever really seen before.
"What?" Lucas asked.
"This is my favourite recording of this song," she told him. "Her voice, the piano, the guitar, the violin and sax solos. I might even...I could go so far as to say as it's one of my favourite recordings...ever."
He didn't say anything. He couldn't. His mouth was dry, and he was in complete awe of her. He knew she was holding back, even, keeping those secret things she loved about the song to herself.
He took her hand in his and she locked eyes with him.
"You're going to ask me to dance, aren't you?" she asked with a smile.
"No," he said, shaking his head. "Tell you to."
She shook her head, but stood and let him lead her around the floor of his dining room, candles burning, and her mind buzzing from the effects of the wine and sugar and Lucas' cologne and the feel of him against her, one hand holding hers and the other splayed across her back.
"This might be the best date I've ever been on," she said softly as he held her tight.
"You've only been here just a couple hours."
"I guess you're just that good." She smiled up at him and he kissed her gently, making her let out that content little noise he loved so much. "Thank you."
"You're thanking me for kissing you?" he asked as the song ended and he released her.
"That. This. Everything."
"No need to thank me," he insisted. "Just...keep smiling like that."
She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, and he could only shake his head at her. She had no idea how amazing she was. That she thought she had to thank him for something so simple as a decent dinner, told him again that she deserved - perhaps needed, even - to be treated like the incredible woman that she was. The men that came before him clearly hadn't done it.
"So, speaking of exes," he said once they were seated in his living room, drinking the last of the bottle of wine they'd opened.
"Subtle." He shrugged one shoulder. "What do you want to know?"
"No details." He shot her a deadly serious look, and she just nodded. "Last boyfriend?"
"Long distance. Producer from L.A. Not a horrible guy, but...long distance got too hard, and things started changing, and he kind of checked out of the relationship."
"I guess that's understandable."
"Yeah. Except he checked out with a nineteen-year-old actress from one of his films. Before he told me we were over. So...yeah."
"Idiot," Lucas mumbled. "My last girlfriend was Andrea. She worked for Dan. That should have been a red flag."
"What happened?" Peyton asked worriedly. He kind of loved that worry.
"She was just manipulative and controlling and insane."
"You were with someone who was controlling?" she asked disbelievingly.
"Yes. Why?"
"You just always seem to be the one in control."
"That's crazy," he scoffed. "You've been bossing me around since..."
"Shut up!" she interrupted, swatting his arm. "I have not."
"Peyton, I'll pretty much do anything you tell me to."
"I don't want to be that girl."
"And that's why I'm so eager to please you," he said seriously. "You don't know how much pull you have over me."
"Hmm. How can I use this to my advantage?"
"You won't. That's why you're such a great person," he told her, and she smiled at him. She leaned over to kiss him, and he pulled her close, letting her rest against his side as his feet were propped up on his coffee table.
"Thank you."
"Stop thanking me," he insisted. "Question."
"Answer."
"How long...before me, I mean...had it been since you last..."
"Luke."
"What? I'm curious." She felt him shrug his shoulder, and she tried not to tell him to back off. She didn't want to. Just, in her experience, talking about past lovers - past recent lovers - was never a good idea.
"It wasn't Julian."
"Julian is?"
"Producer."
"Oh," he said softly. "Who, then? Or when, rather. I don't care to know who."
"A few months."
"We met two months ago."
"Yes," she said, for lack of anything else to say.
"Oh."
"Stop saying Oh. It's making me nervous again."
"So this person. Was he...Who?"
"You just said..."
"I changed my mind," he said. "I want to know now. I'm intrigued."
"He was...a man I used to know. He was visiting the city, and one thing led..."
"Stop. I don't want to know." She laughed and pulled away from him, and he raised an eyebrow, unsure of what was funny. "What do you mean you used to know him?"
"Luke, you need to make up your mind. If you want to know, I'll tell you the story. If not, then I won't start it."
"Tell me."
"Alright," she said. She pulled one leg up onto the sofa and tucked it beneath her, and she saw his eyes moved down to - she assumed - check to see if her dress was still covering her. She wanted to call him on it, but she knew it wasn't the time. "He is a boy - man - I knew in high school, who was always a good friend. He kind of...looked out for me. I met him through my boyfriend, and we became close."
"Oh." She glared at him, and he smiled sheepishly.
"So he came to the city from home for a weekend, and we hung out. He stayed with me."
"I don't like this story."
"You asked."
"I know. But it's not exactly a fairy tale," he muttered. She rest her hand on his cheek and he almost smiled. "So this guy - what's his name?"
"Skills. It's a nickname."
"Skills? Jesus. I don't want to know where that comes from."
"Lucas," she said, forcing him to look at her. "It was one time, and...I haven't really spoken to him since."
"Did you..."
"Did I what?" she asked when his voice trailed.
"Did you...Did he make you feel like I do?" he asked delicately. A smirk broke on his lips when she smiled and cocked her head. He felt the need to add; "Repeatedly?"
"Nice choice of words."
"I thought so." He looked over at her. "Well?"
"No," she answered after a moment. She wasn't sure why he wanted to know; why it made any difference at all.
"Really? Or are you just saying that?"
"Really. I get hives if I lie," she said seriously, and he smiled.
"Good to know," he said, chuckling at her honesty.
"Can we drop this now?"
"You don't want to know about my last?" he asked, raising his brow.
"No!" she answered quickly. "God, no."
"How come?"
"Because I want to think I'm the only woman you've ever touched the way you touch me," she said softly, leaning forward so their lips were just inches apart.
Well, he thought, that was a pretty fucking good answer.
"You kind of are."
"Liar," she said.
"No. It's...different with you," he said, his voice quiet as he averted her gaze. She knew he was telling the truth.
They dropped the subject of past relationships, and Peyton was kind of thankful. She didn't want to tell him she was very, very briefly engaged when she was 17 to a man who was the father of another woman's child. It was too early in their relationship for that conversation. She got the impression that he wouldn't judge her, but she didn't want to go there, anyhow.
They talked about their weeks as though they didn't work in the same office. They'd been trying quite hard to make it seem like they didn't, so other than the meeting they'd shared, and the conversation he'd walked in on that afternoon, he had no idea what had happened. She told him about a dinner she and Brooke had shared, and he told her about going to a couple games with Nathan.
"By the way, we're going tomorrow. Afternoon game," he said.
"What?" she asked, pulling away from him.
"I told you I'd take you." He shrugged his shoulder and took her empty glass from her hand, standing to take it to the kitchen. "The Rays are in town. Should be good."
"So you just assume I'm staying over and that I want to go with you?" she asked, smirking at him when he returned.
"You're the one with the jeans and sexy panties in her bag," he countered.
"Oh. Yeah. Was it wrong of me to assume I was staying over?"
"Oh, hell no," he answered. "I was just kind of hoping you'd spend a few days naked in my apartment. It's definitely your turn."
"Well, if we did that, how would you watch the game?"
"I have a television." He shrugged again, and she just laughed.
He yawned and stretched his arms over his head, and his shirt rode up. She looked at that strip of stomach, and she could have sworn it got 10 degrees warmer in his apartment.
"What's a girl got to do to get a tour of this place?" she asked, locking eyes with him.
"It ends in the bedroom."
"I was kind of hoping it'd start there."
He smiled at her and she placed her hand in his outstretched palm.
He didn't say anything more, just pulled her towards him to kiss her, then led her towards his bed, which, he'd be the first to admit, was where he'd wanted to be since she'd first walked through his door.
