Next chapter! Writing has been taking a while, because of combination school and writers block. But I'm in a creative writing class that reall halps and for some reason I get all my writing done while the teacher is giving lectures, so it should get better. :D
Also, I'm still working on my other fic, Himerus and Eros, so that chapter should be up soon!
This chapter is dedicated to all the Blers on the spoiler thread at Fanforum and all the Blers on the BL thread at the CW site. Keep the faith!
--Chandler
The shrill blast of the phone ringing cut through the silence of the Naley house, pulling Nathan from the rumpled covers of his bed and the hazy clouds of his semi-consciousness. He and Haley had been up late last night, and just wanted to sleep in on this early, sunny Sunday morning.
But as Nathan was more awake than she was at the moment, he decided to be the gentlemen and grab the phone before it could wake up his wife. The mattress barely whispered as he climbed out of bed and slipped across the room into the hallway.
"Hello?"
"Geez, you sound hungover."
"You would know, wouldn't you?" Nathan fired back, grinning. "I'm talking to the girl that has a bar in her house and works in a club."
"And I'm talking to the guy who was in a wheelchair for four months, and at the bottom of a bottle for most of it."
Nathan sucked in a breath. "Ooh, low blow, Peyt," he laughed, acting hurt. "But really, I wasn't drinking last night, just stayed up a little late."
Peyton grinned on the other end of the line. "The joys of fatherhood?"
"More like the joys of having Haley for a wife."
"Ugh! Nate, ok! I don't need to know that stuff: I believe you." Nathan laughed silently; he could imagine Peyton in her office, grimacing. He leaned against the wall in the hallway as she continued, "So where is your wife this morning? Or do I not want to know?"
Rolling his eyes, Nathan told her, "She's in bed, just a second." He tilted his head so that he could see the room, looking for his wife. Haley was just sitting up in their cream white bed, her hair messy, sun glinting in her brown eyes as it streamed across the bed and her face. She stretched and yawned, and Nathan smiled.
"She's just waking up. Do you need to talk to her?"
"Yeah, thanks. Sorry to steal her so early for a few minutes."
"Ok, whatever, Sawyer. But you owe me one though," he said as he strode back into the bedroom towards Haley, "Because she looks so pretty right now."
"Cheeseball," he heard Peyton mutter on the phone, and this time he knew she was rolling her eyes. Nathan handed Haley the phone.
"It's Peyton," he said simply. Haley took it, waking up and seeming much clearer now. Nathan turned and stepped into the bathroom to run some water over his face.
Haley put the phone to her ear. "Peyton?" she yawned.
"So Haley: how's your music life?"
Haley absently climbed out of bed. "It's good, I guess…" The blunt and seemingly random question struck her off guard, and she shrugged.
"Well, how about we make it better?" The excitement in Peyton's voice as obvious. "You told me Friday night that you wrote a song. How about you come record it today?"
"Uh, sure," said a taken-aback Haley. She shrugged, like she was more confused about Peyton's excitement than actually recording; she hadn't really given much thought to Peyton's request before she accepted. "When should I come over?"
"Is three good? I have to go over to Clothes over Bros this afternoon to help Brooke, because apparently she has to have me critique it every time she makes a new article of clothing, which is pretty much all the time." Peyton gave a little laugh. "Also, because I'm sure you need the morning to wake up after your late night."
Haley turned and gave a laughing Nathan a simmering glare, then told Peyton "Three's great."
"Good," Peyton said, "I'll see you then. And kick your husband's ass for me, will you?"
"Definitely. See you later." Haley hung up the phone with a beep, delighted as old memories of recording washed over her. She really thought about the fact that she had a new song, she could get back into this, and she was overjoyed.
"What was that about?" Nathan asked from the bathroom that adjoined their master bedroom. Haley leaned against the doorframe where she had finished her conversation with Peyton for a moment, thinking.
"Peyton wants me to record again," she finally said with a hesitant smile, as if she was considering how odd the situation seemed.
Nathan laughed. "That's great Hales. You wrote a song a few days ago, right? The day Luke went to the hospital?" They hadn't talked about it much, considering everything that had happened in those two weeks.
"Yeah," she said, and gave him a hug. Nathan squeezed her shoulder, a gesture of congratulations. "I told Peyton the other night that I had, but I didn't realize she was going to make me record it." Suddenly, she kicked herself; how did Haley know that she could still sing? All the fears and worries from a few weeks ago came back in a rush, but she didn't voice any of them.
Nathan smiled, ignorant of her worries. "Well, that's good that she is. It's about time that you started singing again, especially if I'm living my dream."
"Thanks, Nate." She felt a little better when he said that, and she even smiled. "So what will you do today without me?"
Nathan went back into their bedroom and began digging through drawers. "I'll probably go hangout with Lucas. I'll bring Jamie with me, because he hasn't hung out with his Uncle for a while."
"Sounds good," Haley said, nodding. "I'll leave at around two thirty, and be back by five. Deal?"
"Fine with me. Let's go get Jamie."
He shut the door, slamming it louder than he had intended it to; the sharp crack echoed around the empty house, driving home the fact that they were, indeed, alone. His eyes followed Brooke in front of him as she strode lazily across the living room and collapsed onto the couch with a sigh that Lucas considered a bit over dramatic. She stretched her arms over her head like a cat and yawned wide, then looked up at him.
"What's the matter," he asked; a small, teasing smile played on his lips, "Seven AM too early for the princess?"
"Usually, yeah," Brooke laughed in response without a second thought, "But I could make an exception today. Especially for you mom, Lily and Andy."
It was ten o'clock; Brooke and Lucas had just gotten home after a hellish airport trip to drop off Karen, Andy, and Lily. It had all started this morning. First, Karen had overslept by a half hour, which led to everyone else getting up a few minutes late as well. After realizing that the plane left at nine, there had been a mad rush to get all the bags together and everyone get ready. Lucas, in all the chaos, had tripped over Lily's stuffed animal in the hallway, flown forward with limbs flailing, and landed face first; for a good five minutes Lily and even Brooke couldn't stop laughing.
After all the preparations had been made, Andy had made the unfortunate discovery that Lucas's mustang was too small to fit four adults and one child plus enough bags for an extended stay overseas. So, Brooke had called Rachel to bring her SUV, which she would return later at Clothes over Bros. That had taken another ten minutes for the car to arrive, and by the time they arrived at the airport it was almost eight o'clock. They hurried crazily through the checkpoints and as they waited for Karen, Andy and Lily, Brooke took to silently bemoaning her makeupless, hapless bun appearance, so Lucas had put an arm around her to pass the time.
Despite the morning madness, it had been a cheery departure. Karen was genuinely happy to be traveling again; Lily realized what all the bags and plans and checks meant, and her brown eyes sparkled with excitement. Andy was just glad to be with Karen and Lily. Lucas had been a bit more subdued on the ride and during the security checks, but as they waited he seemed to brood less and smile more.
Brooke echoed her boyfriend's attitude all through the airport and most of the ride home. It was only when they got into downtown Tree Hill did Brooke's smile begin to fade into a tired, worn face.
Pulling himself back into the present, Lucas watched Brooke yawn and stretch out on the couch for a moment in the living room. He stayed rooted to the rug in the doorway and thought about the scene. He had grown up in this house, slept on that green couch sometimes, reclined comfortably back to watch a basketball game on those same cushions when he was twelve. Now, here he was, gazing at the girl he was madly in love with, one of the closest things he had to family, smile at him and lay back on that same couch.
He moved forward to her without conscious thought, smiling.
She just looked so pretty and alluring and charming that Lucas had to collapse next to her on the seat, just to take Brooke in his arms and curl her body into his. He drew her close instinctually. The TV in front of them didn't go on, the phone didn't ring, nothing. There was only calm. The mid-morning sun never shined on this part of the house, so the whole room was cast in a dusky sort of shadow. The early morning rays of sun that had hit the living room earlier had left the whole room warm and lazy; everything seemed to move slower for them. Brooke felt so close to him in the stillness.
"So they're really gone," Lucas mused aloud, finally filling the silence. Brooke's quiet murmur of assent made him continue: "Now it's just us." There was the merest hint of… playfulness, sweetness, love in those last words. He said them like he was truly happy.
"It's nice," Brooke said into his chest. With a quick glance down, Lucas saw that her eyes were still closed, her cheek against his chest. "But I guess Peyton's sort of right: people—"
Lucas cut her off before Brooke could finish what seemed to be Tree Hill's catch phrase. "Well, you're still here, right?" he asked, giving her shoulder a small nudge and looking down again. "Or is there something you need to tell me?" he teased.
This time, Brooke sat up to look him in the eye, mildly impatient but smiling. "Yeah, I'm still here. I always will be. But it kinda sucks when it's your real family that's leaving, instead of your girlfriend."
She laid her head back on his shoulder again, and the silence resumed weighing down the air.
For a long moment, he didn't reply. Then finally he took a deep breath and said, "I love you, you know that?" It was more of a declaration, a decision, than a mere statement; Lucas said it with some force and finality.
This again prompted Brooke to sit up and meet his clear, blue eyes. "I know, and I love you too." But within seconds, Brooke's face broke into a flirty, disarming grin as Lucas started laughing. "What?" she asked incredulously. For a second, after she had replied that she loved him, Lucas had looked like he was about to kiss her. Then his cerulean eyes shined and he gave a quiet sort of laugh.
"Luke, what'd I do?" Brooke asked again, raising an eyebrow. She was laughing as well, though it was more of a nervous, unsure laugh.
He motioned with one hand, like he was waving away her questions. By now, Brooke had pulled slightly away from him, so that they were sitting more next to each other than with each other and they could make eye contact.
"Nothing," he laughed, "Nothing. It's just that Lily made me promise to say that to you as often as I can, because she has decided that I don't say it enough." Lucas shrugged, smiling wide as he waited for her thoughts. Brooke just fell back onto the pillows, eyes closed and a hand pressed over her face.
"It seems like a lot of five year olds are invested in our relationship," she finally said, past the hand that covered her eyes.
Lucas laughed again. "I would say so. We just have to find Jenny Jaglieski now." This brought a bright smile from his girlfriend, though he could barely see it because her hands were pressed against her face.
But a few seconds later, when she pulled her hands away from her face, Brooke's eyes had become tired and stressed. Lucas knew she should be stressed; the line for her store, though she had designed the whole thing before Luke's accident, had been put on hold while he was in the hospital and was now overdue. There had been many times this past week when Lucas would wake up and open his eyes in the middle of the night to see her sitting up or pacing silently. He openly worried about her, but Brooke played it off effortlessly.
"Yeah," she said, more absently than she had been. Now, she leaned back onto Lucas's shoulder, snuggling against his chest to make him put his arm around her. She curled up like a cat in his arms.
"You seem distracted," Lucas observed quietly. "What's going on in my pretty girl's head?"
Her answer had a bit more attitude packed in it this time. "First off, your pretty girl does not like being referred to in the third person, and possessive at that, like Chris Keller's plaything." Lucas gave a pained grimace, but Brooke didn't see his face and continued on, albeit with a softer tone: "But your pretty girl is thinking about all the million things she has to do today." She sounded angry and frustrated and tired, but Lucas had to admit it turned him on a little bit when she got heated like that. But as a good boyfriend, he pulled her tight in a comforting hug.
"What do you have to do today?" he asked, resting his chin on the top of Brooke's deep brown hair. Lucas felt her chest rise and fall in a deep sigh.
"Well, I've got the new line, which I still have to transfer from paper to real life. We're having a sale today at Clothes over Bros also, so I have to help man the store while creating my line, I have to check up with Peyton because I haven't called her, I—"
Lucas chuckled, low in his throat. It wasn't his normal laugh; this one was smoother, yet had a rather gravelly tone, like rocks sliding over one another. Brooke considered it incredibly sexy. It took her mind off the rest of the day.
"What, Lucas?" He took his chin off her head, and Brooke leaned away from his body to face him better. The chuckle died in his throat, but that half smile remained, as did the roguish blue eyes.
His answer was simple. "No, that's not what you're doing today."
"Luke, you asked what I'm doing, if you're just going to jerk me around—"
There was that little laugh again, except it was a bit stronger, and maybe a mischievous tone was a bit more pronounced. "Ok, maybe it was the right answer; but to the wrong question." He moved a little bit away from Brooke, then, using his body, Lucas gradually pushed her down until she was lying back on the couch and he was steadied over her. "Had I asked what you had planned, that would be fine. But I asked what you were going to do…"
Instead of smiling at Lucas' clever wordplay, Brooke kinked an eyebrow and bristled slightly. "Really? Ok then, Mr. Scott, if you know me and my plans so well, what am I doing today?"
"You're staying in with me. We're going to take advantage of this new alone time." It was more of a decision made for her than a suggestion. Lucas' lips brushed over the exposed skin of her neck, an almost imperceptible touch that left her skin tingling.
"But—"
"You don't think I can persuade you?"
His question held a challenging tone, a dare. Brooke opened her mouth to reply, but whatever she was going to say was lost in his blonde hair as Lucas began leaving sloppy kisses over her neck and jaw line. One calloused hand rubbed the denim of the jeans on Brooke's upper thigh, moving in slow circles; he moved his lips slowly away from the side of her neck, to take her red lips. Brooke pressed her body back up against his on impulse. It felt so natural. She inhaled deeply, a happy sigh, with a hint of longing. Lucas's other hand slipped under her shirt and moved across her stomach, his hands like ice leaving trails of fire behind; her whole body was crackling with energy, and above her she knew Lucas was feeling much the same by the way his hands moved.
The plans for her day were almost out the window. How Brooke would love to lay here all day, curled up in this hazy dream with Lucas, kissing softly for hours in the warm shadows. No store, no line, nothing, nothing but him and her.
And as soon as she thought about everything she had to do today, Brooke realized that she had to leave him and step out of this dreamland. She was on the knife edge of giving in, but she knew she shouldn't. Couldn't.
Sometimes she hated reason and rationale.
"Luke," she whispered, because the warm, hazy atmosphere made her feel like she should, "Lucas."
At first, it seemed like he didn't hear her, but the side of Brooke's head was pressed against his again, and she was whispering directly into his ear. She knew Lucas just didn't want to listen; hell, neither did she.
"Lucas," she mumbled again, finally forcing him reluctantly away with both hands by pushing gently on his chest. They sat up straight on the couch again. "Luke, your pretty girl is too tired to play right now, you know that," she said. He was smiling good-naturedly, laughing even, at their impromptu make out, but Brooke could detect the cleverly hidden traces of disappointment in his clear blue eyes. "I'm sorry; I know I'd be too stressed. I wouldn't even be able to enjoy it—"
"You wouldn't?" he teased, with a raise of his eyebrow and another impish smile. He was getting far too good at those.
"Ok, I would," she relented, granting him a smile, "But not right now."
Lucas nodded and smiled again, and there was that flash of disappointment in his eyes. "That's fine, Brooke."
"Broody," Brooke laughed softly, shaking her head. She now sat on her knees on the couch, sideways to face him. "Broody, look; I know that the last time we had sex was probably high school. This is the perfect opportunity, but it's not right yet. And yeah, I know, that sounds really hypocritical coming from Brooke Davis, but trust me. Do you?"
He gave her a look as if she had just asked him whether the sky was blue or water was wet. "Of course I trust you, Brooke. It's fine, like I said." Like he was brushing away a fly, Lucas shrugged and waved a hand. He became much more cordial and business-like. "So, you heading off now?"
Brooke kinked one perfect eyebrow, leaning in closer to his face. Her voice had dropped; now it was low and raspy, enticing and drawing him in. "Wait a second, you think you're getting off that easy?" At Lucas's hesitant nod, Brooke scoffed in that same voice. "Oh, no, no, no, boyfriend. I had to cut our little make out here short, but tonight, if you're good, maybe we'll take advantage of this big empty house. We'll have the night to ourselves, and I'll be done with all my work stuff. Maybe you can even give me a backrub to relieve any left over stress?" She cocked her head, eyes sparkling mischievously and her lips forming a little pout. Lucas wasn't the only one who was skilled at those roguish smiles.
Of course, he was still a little let down. But that promise had his heart racing, more than ever before. He leaned into Brooke, accepting her light goodbye kiss reluctantly. With another hug and one last long whiff of the intoxicating scent that rolled off Brooke's skin, Lucas let her go. Brooke floated off the couch and grabbed her purse. Like he had from the doorway, he watched her intently. He remained sitting on the couch.
Brooke was a half step out the door when she heard Lucas call from the doorway. "Brooke." She turned back. "You are my family, and I do love you."
"I love you too."
The newsroom was unusually quiet. It was break time, and Mouth thought maybe there was a party going on in the lounge room or something, because everyone was gone. The big office space looked abandoned. It didn't really matter, though, because the news wasn't on again until five anyways, so no one really needed to be working right now.
He was working though. Granted, it couldn't exactly be considered work, but instead of relaxing with his other co-workers Mouth instead was sitting in front of a computer screen, trying his best to figure out the new video-editing software. He supposed that counted for something.
"McFadden!" A voice barked, and Mouth instantly heard the 'Darth Vader' tune go off in his head for some reason.
"Yes, sir?" His boss had stormed into the room, obviously mad at something or someone. Mouth tried to think of something he could be in trouble for.
The boss stopped in front of his desk. "McFadden, what are you doing? We don't have anything until five, and you're just the sports guy."
Mouth glanced quickly at his screen then back at his boss. Perhaps he wasn't in trouble. "It's just a side project, Mr. Goldsmith. I needed the program. That's ok, right?"
"You know I'm not paying you extra for this, right? No overtime." Mr. Goldsmith had a cunning business mind, though sadly that was all it was good for.
Mouth nodded again. "Yeah, sir, I know. It's a personal project, like I said. I know I'm not getting overtime for it." In fact, the project wasn't even going to benefit him at all, not in the least. It was just an idea that could really help out a friend.
"Ok," his boss grunted. "You're on at seven tonight, right?"
"Yessir," Mouth replied coolly.
Goldsmith smacked the top of the computer lightly, smiling. He was a big man, tall and imposing, with a perpetually angry brow and silver hair, broad shoulders and a thick neck. He seemed old fashioned in some respects, like the way he dealt with employees and subordinates as a boss, but overall he was a tolerable boss.
"Good job, McFadden. I'm glad to see you've gotten out of that rut you were in a few weeks ago."
That was credit Millie; their breakup was the cause of his 'rut' and their reunion of sorts got him back on track. Mouth simply nodded at his boss.
"Good job," Goldsmith repeated, "Keep up the good work." He moved off at once, strolling across the rest of the office and once stopping to say something to a lone coworker.
Mouth just put his head phones back on and clicked on the next video file from his disk.
"I think we should shorten that skirt."
"Well, you're Rachel. You think every skirt should be shorter. We need more black to balance it out."
"Yeah, of course. Why don't we just grab some black paint and dump it on there? We can get some for your room too, while we're at it."
Brooke exchanged a quick, exasperated look with Millicent from across C/B. Brooke and Millie had been the quieter of the four in Clothes over Bros over the past three hours, contenting themselves instead with listening to Peyton and Rachel fire sarcastic remarks back and forth as they 'helped' with the clothes making.
Brooke was hunched over, holding needles between her lips and meticulously arranging fabrics on a mannequin in the center of the store. Some of her hair had escaped its messy bun and now hung in wisps around her face, but she paid no mind to it as she concentrated on the clothes. Millicent helped a customer on one side of the store but glanced over occasionally.
Rachel and Peyton both sat on the purple couch that Brooke had arranged earlier so they could watch and critique her designs. Instead, their critique had devolved into a sort of contest between them to see who could get the other angrier faster. Even the way they were sitting seemed to demonstrate their sarcasm.
Millicent directed the woman to the checkout area, the only real movement in the store. The woman, tall and blonde and a bit heavyset, barely said anything, murmuring "Thank you," when Millie handed her the change and receipt. Perhaps it was the quiet tension in the air that made her not want to talk. She was the only customer, and after she walked out Millie let loose a long breath.
"Well, that's the last customer, and the only one that we've had since the rush this morning," she announced.
Rachel looked around the silent store. "It seems like no one ever is in here," she muttered, but everyone ignored her.
"I think we should take a little break," Brooke said from the mannequin, "We can close up the store for a while and work on this without any customers right now. Sound good?"
The afternoon sun streaked into the little boutique, making everyone both tired and unbearably hot. There were mutters of lazy agreements; everyone would rather just relax and work on the clothes than have the possibility of a random customer coming in. It wasn't that they disliked the customers or the business, they just had to get this done. Peyton rose from the purple couch, went to the door and flipped the sign to "Closed."
It hadn't been ten seconds before the bell above the door rang and someone come in. Brooke couldn't see who it was because she was bent almost double with her head at the stomach of the mannequin and her back to the door. But did hear Millicent suck in a breath, Rachel sigh dramatically and sarcastically, and Peyton mutter something. But she ignored the strange reactions of her friends, and told the customer without turning around, "I'm sorry, we just closed, but we'll be open again in a few hours."
Then came the last voice she wanted to hear. "I know, honey: unlike some I can actually read signs."
With a sinking heart, Brooke closed her eyes. She did not need this right now. What business did Victoria have in Tree Hill?
Trying to buy time before dealing with the headache that was her mother, Brooke took the pins from between her lips and stuck them in the bodice of the dress she was working on. Victoria never took her eyes off her daughter; she waited expectantly for Brooke to turn around. Peyton, Rachel, and Millicent watched the mother and daughter silently.
Brooke too a deep breath and turned around, releasing it with an angry sigh. She regarded her mother resentfully for a moment, then finally asked, "So why are you here?"
Victoria walked carefully away from the door, strolling around the model and examining it like an appraiser would an antique. She pushed her expensive black sunglasses onto the top of her head. After a moment of tension in the store, Victoria looked back to her daughter and said, "I just wanted to see the designs, the new line. See how you're doing."
"I'm fine," Brooke said, ignoring whatever warmth was in her mother's voice. "Were you the one who talked to the board about me? About the unproductiveness of this store and the lack of a spring line?" She wasn't in the mood to deal with any of her mother's crap.
Victoria tore her eyes away from the outfit and looked up at Brooke. "Honey, I was just looking out for you. Of course I talked to the board; I don't want this company going under. You are still my daughter, after all."
"I blame that on bad karma," Brooke said, crossing her arms across her chest. "But you're not involved with the company any more. In fact, you don't even need to be here." Taking a step back, Brooke revealed the door as if it was her mother's cue to leave. Her face didn't change at all.
Victoria raised one eyebrow in a dubious look; in that moment Peyton, Rachel, and Millicent, who had been sitting quietly, couldn't help but see the small similarities between Brooke and her mother.
"I'm fine, Brooke, really," Victoria assured Brooke with a toothy white smile. Brooke gave her a warm, false smile back, then her let face drop into seriousness.
"Well, we're closed, so I can make you leave. You don't work here, you're not involved with the company. You're a customer."
That seemed to anger Victoria the most; her jaw twitched slightly. Peyton glanced down and noticed that her knuckles were getting whiter. Victoria stared at Brooke for a long moment, then she took a few composing breaths and looked around the store. Her eyes alighted on Millicent, Rachel, and Peyton, who were watching her with varying degrees of anger and hate on their faces. Victoria pointed at them and looked back at Brooke.
"What about these dead weights? You can't refuse service to me and not them."
For the first time since Victoria had come in, Brooke smiled. Even though it wasn't a truly warm B. Davis smile, her dimples showed, and she cocked one eyebrow. "Well, they work for the company."
Brooke pointed at Millicent, who was standing near the cash register. "Employee," she said. She nodded at Rachel, relaxing on the green couch. "Employee." One side of Rachel's mouth quirked and her eyes sparkled.
Then Brooke met Peyton's eyes and faltered for a second.
"Investor," Peyton announced with a grin. She pulled out her wallet and threw a five dollar bill towards Brooke. Millicent and Rachel tried desperately not to laugh; they weren't succeeding.
Brooke picked it up and pocketed it, saying, "Thank you, P. Sawyer, you now own two shares in C over B." She winked at Peyton, then turned her gaze back to Victoria. "You can go now."
Victoria ground her teeth, and it looked like she would like nothing better than to start swearing at her daughter. Instead, she turned and moved very stiffly towards the door without replying. Brooke watched her go, and as she put a hand on the door knob to leave, she stopped and gave her daughter one last look.
"So how's Lucas, Brooke? I'm not really surprised, it look's like New York is coming true."
"Lucas is fine," Brooke replied tightly. Her hazel eyes flicked toward Peyton for a fraction of a second, but she didn't think anyone noticed.
Enough is enough, Rachel finally decided. She stepped forward, crossing her arms over her chest in her trademark Rachel way. It was the first ream movement she'd made since Victoria had entered the store.
"Vicky, just leave," Rachel rolled her eyes, "You've gone past threatening to annoying. You're not achieving anything in Tree Hill; go back to New York." She was getting pissed now, and she had straightened up to her full five eight model stature.
Victoria was not impressed, it seemed; she glared at Rachel for a moment, then her eyes flicked to Brooke, who was standing just like Rachel. Peyton still leaned on the arm of the couch, but her arms were crossed. Victoria seemed to decide something, finally.
She rolled her eyes and, in a huff, pushed out the door and left.
Brooke held her breath for some reason until her mother's Mercedes had pulled away from the sidewalk; then she let out a sigh and turned back around to the mannequin, but this time it was Peyton's voice that broke the silence.
"What happened in New York, Brooke? With Lucas?"
Rachel knew everything that had happened. Millicent knew, to an extent, for Brooke had told her the story of the night she had gone into business with Victoria. Both shut their mouths now, and watched Brooke and Peyton with a touch of nervousness. Peyton paid no attention to either of them, but kept her eyes level on Brooke's back.
"Brooke?" she prompted, her eyebrows going up. Brooke still focused on the mannequin, though she hadn't moved at all. She seemed to be deciding the best way to tell the story. Finally, the brunette turned around and looked at her best friend. Peyton waited expectantly.
"I—" she started, unsure of herself. She took a deep breath then let everything go at once. "After Lucas proposed to you in LA he flew to New York for his book deal. I met up with him at a bar, and we went back home to my place. Not for sex, or anything," Brooke added quickly, seeing the look on Peyton's face, then continued, "It was just to show him everything. Then he told me what had happened, and he was showed me the ring. He was showing me how he proposed when my mom walked in and thought it was a real proposal. Luke and I left, and went out to the bars again.
"I was looking at the ring when some idiot bartender thought he had just proposed to me, and announced it. Then he said we got free drinks, so we…just went along with it all night at different bars for drinks, and then we got a free carriage ride back to his hotel where he kinda kissed me. Then I…left," she finished lamely. "I'm sorry."
During the whole story, Peyton's face seemed to have dropped five degrees. It had become stony, impassive. She still leaned on the couch, and just stared at Brooke for a long while.
Rachel and Millicent's eyes darted back and forth between the brunette and the blonde like they were watching a tennis match. They occasionally made eye contact with each other, to exchange worried glances.
Finally, Peyton's phone buzzed from her pocket. "Crap," she said, snapping out of her trance. Pulling it from her pocket, she said glanced at it and said, "Well, Brooke, your mom was right for the first time in her life. Looks like New York is coming true. I gotta go now." Her voice was devoid of its usual sarcastic charm, a fact as noticeable as the elephant in the room.
Brooke stood by her mannequin, unsure of what to do; whether Peyton had rolled with the punch, or whether she was truly mad again. As usual, the blonde showed no sign of her true feelings, and for once Brooke couldn't really read her face.
Peyton busied herself with her purse; she didn't meet any of the other girls' eyes. They waited, unsure, but she didn't even say where she was rushing off to as she went out the door without a backward glance.
There was silence in the room for a moment. "Well," Rachel finally said, "Probably not the best way to let your friend know you went clubbing with her boyfriend after their failed proposal?"
Both Millicent and Brooke shot daggers at the redhead.
Jamie burst through the door of Lucas' room. "Uncle Lucas, Uncle Lucas!" He ran right to Lucas' desk, hopping eagerly at the edge.
Lucas leaned back, relieved, away from his laptop. Writing had been stalled, as usual, and Jamie had just saved him from writers block. He grinned wide at his nephew, blue eyes shining. Jamie's sudden appearances in his house had become a regular occurrence; whenever Haley would come over, she'd allow Jamie to go get his Uncle Lucas, and Lucas definitely didn't mind.
"What's up, Jimmy Jam?"
"Me and my dad wanted to hang out since Momma is working." Jamie beamed a missing-tooth smile back at his uncle. Lucas looked around for Nathan, and found him a second later as Nate arrived at the door Jamie had left open.
"He just ran right in, didn't he?" Nathan asked, rolling his eyes. But his mouth showed the famous Scott smile all three boys had. "Jamie, I told you to go see if he's home," he added, laughing at his son.
Jamie shrugged. "I didn't know if Uncle Lucas would be here or not, so I wanted to see if he was home first before I knocked."
Lucas raised one eyebrow and stared at Jamie. Nathan had much the same expression, but neither said anything. Jamie climbed into Lucas's lap, and Lucas closed his word document and shut the laptop.
"Where's Aunt Brooke?" Jamie asked.
"She had to work," Lucas sighed, a little wistfully. He left it at that, though, as Nathan closed the door and sat on the edge of Lucas's bed.
Jamie looked up at his uncle. "Like my momma? She has to work today; she's going over to Peyton's to record her singing."
Lucas's head whipped around to look at Nathan, as if for confirmation. "Haley's singing again?" he asked his younger brother. Nathan shrugged. He wore a pair of simple jeans and some athletic shirt, and Jamie's wardrobe echoed his dad's.
"Yeah, I guess," Nathan said, "Peyton called her this morning and just asked if she wanted to record today. Haley said sure."
"Wow," Lucas mused, "I'm glad."
Nathan nodded. "Me too. Anyways, I thought since Brooke was busy today and my wife is gone, we could have a guy's day. Just us three and the Playstation. And whatever food you have in your fridge. Sound good?"
Lucas heaved Jamie off his lap and set him down, then climbed stood up. Jamie went running off into the living room. "That'll be great," Lucas told Nathan, "The writing is at a standstill anyways. NBA live?"
"Let's go," Nathan replied with a smile.
Within an amazingly short amount of time later, Lucas, Nathan, and Jamie were on the couch, their fingers clicking away at the controllers in their hands and their eyes glued to the screen. Jamie was on Nathan's team, although he wasn't playing as much as commentating.
"Daddy passes out to the wing," he shouted eagerly, as a clock began to tick loudly on screen. "He goes up for the three!"
"No!" shouted Lucas, frantically, uselessly pressing buttons.
"Yes!" They bellowed. The ball floated through the digital net and Nathan and Jamie jumped from the couch and high-fived. Lucas fell backwards onto the cushions, covering his face in fake despair.
Nathan and Jamie did a little victory dance, then Nathan heaved his son over his shoulder and cheered. The whole production was basically just to razz Lucas, and father and son delighted in it. Then Jamie, upside down, saw his uncle fake glaring. "Wanna play another game, Uncle Lucas?"
Lucas changed his face back to normal, sitting up. "Nah," he said, "How about some food? I think my mom decided that I didn't eat well enough or something, because the fridge is stocked." He shrugged with a grin.
"I got it," Nathan said. He set Jamie down, and added to his son, "Why don't you go pump up Uncle Lucas's ego? He looks like he could use it." Lucas rolled his eyes, and Nathan snorted with laughter and bounded into the kitchen before Lucas could retort. Jamie jumped onto the couch with the bouncy energy of all four year-old boys.
"So, good game, huh, Uncle Lucas?"
Lucas raised one eyebrow, and Jamie's perpetual smile shined up at him.
"It was just like the playoff game!" Jamie continued happily.
"Yeah," Lucas laughed, with an almost thankful undertone as he remembered Friday night's game. He got up and switched off the videogame before busying himself with looking for the remote.
Jamie still sat on the couch. "What did you think of the game?" he asked Lucas.
At that moment, Nathan came in with a plate of food and a few sodas. "Are you guys talking about the game Friday night?" he asked, setting it down. In the meantime, Lucas found the remote and fell back onto the couch; Nathan sat down on the other side of Jamie and reached for a soda. "What did you think, Luke?"
Lucas shook his head; he grabbed a soda too and began flipping through the channels. "Truthfully, I think we scraped through. Barely."
"Me too," Nathan let out a breath, glad that Lucas felt the same way, "I don't think the guys were entirely focused that night, we need to work on that."
"It's not only that," Lucas said, contemplating for a moment, "It's like… they aren't focused, but like they're not playing for any particular reason, you know? Like they are just going through the motions; and while the motions will get them through games like that, I'm not sure they can get past tougher teams. We had a hard season. We're going to need to really work now."
Jamie sat between the brothers, looking up, his head whipping back and forth as he followed their conversation. They seemed to have forgotten him for the moment.
"I know that, Luke," Nathan laughed, shrugging and stealing the remote. "I just don't think they do."
Jamie interrupted. "Well that's what coaches are for, right?"
Nathan and Lucas both stared at him for a moment, the interested looks came over their faces. "That's right, Jimmy-Jam," Nathan said, grinning. "That's what coaches are for."
There we go. The next chapter is just the next half of the same day as this one, and I promise there will be so much more drama. It's already forty percent written, but I have to UD Himerus and Eros before I can update this one :D
Thanks for reading and please review!