You all are some good friends! Pretty much 99% of you would tell your friend if their bf/gf was cheating. Shoot, some of you have even been in situations where you had to go through that process of telling or not. Multiple kudos for being awesome in yet another way besides being amazing reviewers. ;)
*Special A/N bottom of ch.*
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Part 2: Something I Can Never Have
---x---
Chapter 25 – Everybody Is Someone Else's Secret
Junior Year
---x---
March 10th
She stretches her fingers out at her sides and tries her hardest not to clench them into fists. She's actually a little relieved that her heartbroken roommate isn't in school today. Because she has an agenda and she has to stick to the plan. Giving into her deepest desires will not help anything. Especially Brooke.
She's waited patiently for this. Nearly 28 hours, to be exact. Usually she would have had the culprits on their knees directly after finding out the truth of their wrongdoings but Brooke had been a mess yesterday and Rachel would never let anyone see her friend as anything less than the strong and independent girl that she is.
Now an entire day has gone by and she's decided that enough time has passed between now and then. The excitement of a public brawl has diminished over the day – especially since Brooke never showed up – and not many Tree Hill students follow her around campus looking for a fight at four o'clock in the afternoon. School's out and everyone is gone but for the ones attending club meetings or sport practices.
A fact that she has of course planned for.
"Hey!" Rachel calls out as she catches Lucas coming out of the boys' locker room.
She can see him stiffen at the sound of her voice and his shoulders visibly tense up as he pauses to look at her. It might have been a whole day since he was being caught with Peyton but she bets that it has probably really started to sink in that the blonde was a mistake he wants nothing more than to take back. At least that's what it looks like when she watches his facial expression.
He looks like it wasn't worth it.
Like all he wants to do is take it all back. But she doesn't fall for it and she doesn't pity him.
He should have fucking known better than to cheat on her best friend and his sad face only pisses her off more.
"Look Rachel, I already know I screwed up," he starts as she comes closer, "I don't need—"
"Shut up," she barks and his mouth snaps shut on demand. A scowl takes over his features but he remains silent. "I told you that you were going to hurt her," she laughs at him bitterly, "I warned you and what did you say to me?"
"Rachel, I—"
"What did you say, Lucas?!" she shouts.
Truthfully, he must be surprised that this confrontation hadn't occurred sooner, yet he still seems lost for words.
"I said I wouldn't do that," he mutters and hangs his head.
"You not only lied to me, you lied to Brooke. I cannot believe I actually fell for your little speech. For a while there, you made me think that you were the one for her. Did you know that?" her voice grows higher by the second and Lucas glances around them, probably to see how many people are watching.
"Rachel, maybe we should talk somewhere els—"
"Stop talking," her barks and her hand flies up, "did I say you could speak? No. I didn't. So shut the fuck up. When I want you to talk I'll wave a Scooby snack in your face like the dog that you are."
Her tone is fierce and something resembling of anger passes over his face. "You know what Rachel?" he spits, "None of this is really any of your business, now is it? So why don't you try living a life of your own and butt out of Brookes?"
Her eyes widen is shock and she stares at him. "Well look who grew a pair? You really gonna step up to me of all people Luke?" She shakes her head and clicks her tongue. "You jumped too far ahead honey, try someone smaller and less likely to be ten times out of your league."
"How about you get out of my face and I won't tell Brooke that you are the reason this all happened to begin with." He hisses back in her face. "You knew we were drunk and you left us together so you and Owen could hook up. Pretty slutty move, huh Rachel?"
Silence.
It's complete silence between them because Rachel is two seconds away from letting loose. She wants to fire at him as if she were standing at a shooting range and he was the target. Her right palm tingles because she wants to slap that smug look off his face. But then he blinks at her and frowns, pulls away and sighs.
"I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry," he says and now she slaps him.
"Be a man, Lucas. Stick to your guns. You don't insult someone and then say you're sorry," she scoffs. "You are so lucky she loves you," she mutters with angry flushed cheeks, "because if she didn't you wouldn't be here right now. You'd be dead." Her eyes flash with a fire so intense Lucas takes a step back. "Please remember, I'm not the only one pissed at you."
His brow wrinkles as he mulls over her words and then the penny seems to drop because he swallows loudly.
Owen.
She smirks. That's right you little wimp. Owen would love to get his hands on you!
"Rachel," Nathan's deep baritone breaks her staring match with Lucas. "Let it go," he instructs her and is bold enough to push between her and Lucas. "You'll only piss Brooke off," he warns her.
She glances at the dark haired Scott before returning to stare at Lucas. She wants to ask Nathan if he cares about Brooke at all–if he did he should want to drive his fist into Lucas' face just as badly as she does,–but she doesn't. Not in front of Lucas.
Instead, Rachel clenches her eyes shut and takes a deep breath to calm herself. She is always in control, she has to be. She cannot allow this asshole—Lucas—to unravel her now.
"It's not your fault," Nathan whispers in her ear. Her eyes flick up to meet his and he seems to want to say; It's mine. Her lashes flutter open in shock to see him shake his head. "Go home and be with Brooke, I got this."
A new staring match begins – this time between her and Nathan. And this time she forfeits.
"I have one more stop," she mutters.
She's sure that he knows what she's taking about and he nods. "Do whatever you have to do. Just don't fuck with Lucas or she'll never forgive you."
Rachel slowly takes two steps back and pauses to send a final glare towards Lucas. "Like I said, you are so damn lucky she loves you."
She storms off and the remaining two Scott boys watch her go. A thick cloud of tension hangs over their heads and Lucas braces himself when Nathan turns to face him. He's not quite sure what part Nathan has in any of this. He hardly has ever even seen Brooke talk to his half-brother since he's known her and yet Nathan is looking at him now as if he's just broken his sisters heart.
But Lucas obviously mistakes his affection for something that it's not. Nathan has never seen Brooke as a sister, more like another part of himself that he'd yet to decipher as a lover. At first it evens confuses Nathan and he still has no clue why he cares so much how Brooke feels. All he knows is that it's the only thing keeping him from shoving a fist in the boys face.
"You're not even worth it," he shakes his head and leaves Lucas standing in the hall like the clueless fool that he is.
---x---
Her next stop is anticipated and Peyton waits for her in the parking lot by her car. The blonde had been scarce all damn day but she can't hide forever.
And Peyton knows that there's no use avoiding this because she started it the moment she pressed her lips to Luke's. It'd been her plan from the start to take down Tree Hill's golden couple. Jealousy is one of the most powerful emotions a human being can posses and Peyton has always been unable to handle her emotions.
"Looking for me?" she teases Rachel as she leans against her car and crosses her arms.
Rachel scowls and narrows her eyes, "How do you sleep at night?"
"I sleep just fine, thank you." She lies through her teeth. Truthfully she hasn't slept much at all lately and it's starting to take its toll on her sanity.
"So I guess this is all my fault for leaving him drunk and unattended that night, huh?" Rachel scoffs. "I thought you were her best friend, Peyton. What definition of that do you live by? How do you even look at yourself in the mirror?"
"I love that she sends you to do her dirty work for her." Peyton says with a superior air about her. "Tell me, how does it feel to be the guard dog, Rachel?"
"How does it feel to be the backstabbing bitch, Peyton?" she counter asks spitefully.
The way that Peyton rolls her eyes drives Rachel crazy and when the blonde chuckles, "What do you plan to do to me Rachel?" then Rachel can think of a million tortuous punishments.
But Peyton continuous, "You and I both know I don't give a shit about anything. Kick me off the squad, blacklist me from all future Raven parties or take away my popularity," she grunts. "I could really give two flying fucks," her hands tuck into the pockets of her leather jacket as she shrugs.
"How about I kick your ass?" Rachel gives the challenge.
"You can try," Peyton mutters bored and completely unmoved by Rachel's threatening step towards her.
"You're pathetic," Rachel scowls.
"That's what they tell me," Peyton chuckles.
"What was the point of this anyways? You don't even like Lucas," Rachel's high voice grows even more shrill as she grows more and more upset. "What the hell is your problem with Brooke? She's done nothing to you."
"Maybe I just don't like the bitch?" Peyton lifts a shoulder from under her black cowhide jacket, although the voice isn't as cocky as before. Her eyes flicks to the side and for the first time Rachel sees the hint of a bad conscience. But just as with Lucas, it does nothing to placate her.
"Wrong answer," she hisses and drops her duffel bag down at her side. "Wanna run that one by me again?"
"You don't wanna do this with me Rach," Peyton grunts and pushes off her car.
"Oh, really? I don't, huh? Because you are just the all knowing Peyton Sawyer, so emo and bitchy yet too chicken shit to just do what everyone else is waiting for." Rachel presses forward until their nose to nose. "Why the long sleeves today Peyt? Are your track marks showing?"
"Fuck you." Peyton whispers.
"What was that honey? I didn't quite get that last bit, all I heard were whiney little squeaks." She smirks. "Poor, poor little Peyton Elizabeth Sawyer. Her mommy's dead and her daddy doesn't care about her. Oh what to do? Oh whoa was me!" Rachel clutches at her chest. "My life is just so horrible that I must poison everyone else around me in order to busy myself from ending it all!" She throws her arms out at her sides.
Peyton stands speechless but her heart pounds in her chest all the same.
"How did I do?" Rachel bites the tip of her tongue and fights back a grin. "I think I did a damn near perfect impression of you." Her hands move to her hips and she waits for the curly blonde to respond to her taunting words. "Oh come on P. Sawyer, where is your smug smile now?" She asks innocently and bats her lashes.
Trembling lips and welling eyes are all that is left of Peyton as she and Rachel engage themselves in an passionate staring contest. Rachel grows tired and moves in for the kill.
"Let's get one thing straight here bitch," she bites like a snap dragon, "whatever it is that you're going through? Please believe me when I say that no one gives a shit. You've abused every last right you had with everyone around you. Nathan can't stand you, I sure as hell can't stand you, Lucas can't even utter your name without wanting to vomit and Brooke?" She scoffs. "You're screwed sweet cheeks. You have no one in your corner, consider this your resignation. You're done."
"You think I care?" Peyton scowls.
"No," Rachel shakes her head, "because as long as Brooke still has a beating heart you will forever remain intact. Just like I won't touch Lucas, I won't physically touch you."
"I feel so damn, fucking honored," Goldilocks spits out.
"You should, because she's the only reason I don't go to town on your ass," Rachel sneers.
"Why don't we skip the bullshit, huh? Why don't you and I settle this right here and now?" Peyton shrugs out of her jacket and tosses it into the back of her car.
Rachel licks her lips happily, "I was hoping you'd say that."
---x---
A freezing pain shoots its way from her cheekbone to her head and then it works its way down to her gut. Brooke continues to hold the green bag to the side of her face and refuses to back away even though Rachel is hissing and snapping like a temperamental wild cat.
"Hold still!" Brooke scolds the redhead.
"Fuck you, hold still! How about I slap a pack of frozen peas on your face!" Rachel growls out.
Brooke giggles and lets go so that Rachel can hold it herself. The sound is strange coming out from her lips and the laughter stops. For the last thirty something hours she mostly cried and her lips are not used to twitching upwards.
"I can't believe you guys were fighting," She snickers and against her will, a smile tries to make it through again. "If Whitey hadn't walked into the parking lot in time who do you think would have won?"
"Honestly? I have no idea," Rachel laughs softly and winces from the pain that shoots through her brain.
"Wow, who knew P. Sawyer could throw a punch?" Brooke wonders out loud and traces her fingertip gently along Rachel's bruised cheek. "This must hurt like fuck."
"You think?" Rachel growls and rubs the spot on her head where Peyton had practically ripped hair from her skull. "Who knew the bitch fought dirty?"
"Bevin says that Peyton's going to have one hell of a shiner come tomorrow morning." Brooke bites her bottom lip to keep from laughing because this isn't funny. She will not encourage behavior like this…
She actually starts to giggle now because she sounds like her mother.
"I'm happy to amuse you," Rachel deadpans and gets up from her place in front of her vanity mirror.
Brooke stands up and starts to clean away the things that she's been using to patch Rachel up and Rachel glances at her in silence, thinking that truthfully, it doesn't matter that her left cheekbone is going to bruise and be hideous in the upcoming week. She doesn't care that the right lower side of her scalp will be swollen and tender for days until the roots of her hair begin to repair. Nor does she care that come Monday morning she's going to have to defend herself against the gossip mill.
Because contrary to how she looks or feels, Peyton still has a busted lip and swollen eye. And yet none of that matters really. Not in the least.
The reason? Well, she's standing two feet away, wearing the first hint of a smile in over 24 hours.
It's not wide, and there aren't any dimples accompanying it, but it's at least better than all night when she listened to Brooke's crying and had no clue at all how to make the girl feel better.
It's small, but it's still a smile.
That's all Rachel cares about.
---x---
March 11th
It's after dinnertime but not late enough for it to be impolite to knock on the front door of Rachel's big house. He makes sure because he doesn't want to make her parents upset by ringing the doorbell too late. Not on top of everything else.
He's been by Brooke's mansion already but no one answered the door there and it had seemed dark and empty. So even though Brooke's redheaded friend scares the crap out of him at the moment, he's taking his chances because he needs to talk to Brooke.
He's waited, because he figured that she needed time to calm down, but he can't wait any longer. It's been three full days. She wasn't in school yesterday or today and he needs to see her so he can at least try to say he's sorry.
The metallic 'ding dong' of the doorbell sounds from within the house and he shifts his weight on his feet. He doesn't have the slightest clue what to say if Brooke is here, it's just that with all the chaos he's created – Rachel and Peyton had even had a fist fight in the school parking lot – and he has to at least say sorry.
He can hear someone coming down the stairs and then the front door opens. He prepares for another scolding from Rachel but instead he has to tilt his head upwards to meet the eyes of Rachel's 6'5 tall boyfriend.
Crap.
"What do you want?" Owen scowls and Lucas can practically feel himself shrinking.
"Is Brooke here?"
He hates that his voice sounds so thin but not only is he nervous, Owen is also both older and stronger and the guy had warned him about hurting Brooke.
"Is Brooke here?" Owen repeats incredulously. "What's it to you? It's not like I'm gonna let you talk to her."
Owens sounds calm but his eyes are cold. From inside Lucas can hear the sound of the TV and he tries to peek around the taller guy to see if he can spot Brooke but Owen steps out on the porch and closes the door behind him.
"Listen," the big guy mutters, "I told you. I laid down the rules and you didn't follow 'em so you lost your right to see her, kay?"
"But I just –" he clears his throat and starts over. "I messed up… I need to just tell her that I'm–"
"Sorry?" Owen chuckles dryly, "Believe me; she knows what a sorry ass you are." The college quarterback waves him off with a flick of his wrist and grabs the door handle. "You can go now, Lucas. You're not seeing Brooke tonight."
Lucas hangs his head but then he scrapes up the last shreds of pride and raises his chin. "You can't keep her from talking to me. I'll see her in school on Monday either way."
Owen turns around to face him again and his face is covered by a frown.
"Why would you want to hurt her more than you already did, huh?" the older guy asks, and it actually sounds like it's meant as a question. "Once wasn't enough for you?"
Lucas hangs his head for the second time and Owen lets out a grunt that clearly says 'I thought so'. "Let her decide when she wants to talk to you," Owen continuous, "and let it be known that the only reason you're still in one piece right now is because of her. But please believe that I won't leave your face alone a second time if I hear that you've cornered her in school."
Then Rachel's big boyfriend goes back inside, efficiently slamming the door in his face.
---x---
Usually he doesn't call her.
Usually he texts her and propositions her in some lame way, making her call him back. Or maybe he should use past tense here. He used to text her before she went and got official with Lucas.
Now, two full days after Lucas managed to fuck up that relationship royally and Brooke showed up at his door, Nathan has no idea how to act. He's texted Brooke twice to apologize but she doesn't answer and he wants to check up on her somehow.
The break-up between Brooke and Lucas was what he'd been aiming for but the victory tastes slightly sour after seeing Brooke cry the way she had. And for once he's not calling for a booty call. He's not sure why he's calling her really, yet he dials her cell phone number for the third time and waits.
Just like the earlier two calls, the signals sound in his ear, but this time – instead of going through to Brooke's voice mail – Rachel's annoyed voice greets him.
"What the fuck do you want, Nate?"
"Uhm… hi to you too, Raye. Is Brooke around?"
"She's in the shower."
Trying to figure out what his next move should be, he plays with the zipper on his windbreaker. Should he ask Rachel to have Brooke call him back?
"I'm guessing she doesn't want to talk to you," the redhead mutters, "since she didn't pick up the last two times you called. I'd be pissed at you too if I was her. You know what you did was fucked up. Deliberately shoving Lucas and Peyton in her face like that? Jesus, Nate what were you thinking?"
"Yeah but… I wasn't. I just—but she–"
He's just about to say that Brooke's probably over that since she let him have sex with her after but Rachel interrupts him.
"Don't take it too hard Scott. She's hardly talking to me either. I'm gonna try and get her to leave the house tonight because its driving me nuts to watch her be this crushed. Maybe she'll call you tomorrow when she has some perspective?"
The totally uncharacteristic way in which Rachel is actually reassuring him tells him that she doesn't know what he and Brooke did on the night that Brooke found out about Lucas' little sidestep. If she did, she would probably accuse him of taking advantage of Brooke. If she knew, then Rachel wouldn't admit that Brooke is sad.
"Where are you going?" he asks instead, "Up to Duke?" It is the safe bet because Rachel wouldn't submit Brooke to a party where Luke or Peyton might turn up.
"Nah, I was but there's this cheerleader DVD night at Bevin's house or some shit. I'm gonna see if I can get Brooke to go…" she pauses and it sounds like she's closing a door, "don't come over though, okay? Brooke needs some breathing room from everything 'Scott' for a while. If you want I can have Owen swing by and pick you up if you want to head up to Duke with him."
He ponders the request and then he nods into the phone. It confuses him that Brooke hasn't told Raye about their little rendez-vous. Maybe she regretted it?
"Just –" he's a breath away from saying 'take care of her' but the phrase would only piss Rachel off, so he bites his tongue. "Tell Owen to call when he's on his way," he mutters instead and hangs up.
"Who was that?" Brooke's raspy voice startles Rachel who whirls around and plays it ultra cool.
"No one," she says. "Feeling better?"
Brooke pulls the towel tighter around herself and shrugs, "Define… better."
Rachel heaves a sigh and hesitates to reach out and touch her heartbroken friend. She still cannot believe Lucas did what he did. It was so out of character of him, he was supposed to be the good Scott.
"Can I have my phone back?" Brooke asks silently and holds a hand out.
Rachel purses her lips as if to contemplate her decision then hands it over, "Any particular reason Nathan is calling you five times a day?" the redhead asks.
The two girls engage in a staring contest, each unwilling to look away. Rachel is trying to read Brooke's mood while she's just trying to keep a blank face. What was the use talking about something she wants to forget? Running to Nathan was stupid, which she's sure that Rachel would be the first to tell her, and she sure as hell doesn't want to talk about what Lucas and Peyton did. It'll only make it hurt more.
"You're going to have to talk about it sometime, you know," Rachel mutters.
She hates when the redhead reads her mind like that. A shiver runs down her spine from the cold of an open door and Brooke's eyes dart to the stairs. The front door downstairs slams closed and suspicion seeps in.
"Someone here?" she asks.
Rachel shrugs careless, "Would you come downstairs if there was?"
"No," comes Brooke's immediate answer.
"Then what the hell do you care?" Rachel snaps.
"Watch it," Brooke growls and turns to the closet to grab clothes. She knows that Rachel hates it when she's closed up like this but being a bitch about it is not helping.
"You coming with me to Bevin's tonight?" Rachel asks in a slightly less sharp voice.
"No," Brooke mumbles and tries to sneak past Rachel to the closet.
"You've been a zombie for days, Brooke. I'm getting sick of it."
"Then maybe I'll just go home," Brooke yanks a shirt off the rack and a pair of jeans. She can't handle fighting with Rachel, not now. And even though she's not even looking at the redhead, her tired posture must be enough because her friend sighs.
"You know that's not what I mean, B"
"Then what, Rachel?" she snaps angrily, "You have no idea how I feel right now and I'm sorry I can't just jump right back in the party circuit and act like nothing happened. Maybe you could, but I can't."
"What the hell does that mean?" Rachel steps in closer, "You know what, Brooke? I am trying so fucking hard to be cool and understanding and all that shit but that's not me. And you know what else? This emo-version of you? It's not you, Brooke. You're so much better than…" Rachel hesitates and waves a hand out towards her, "whatever this is."
Owens footsteps are heard coming up the stairs and Brooke bites back a nasty retort.
"What's going on up here?" he asks and looks between the two girls standing in Brooke's room.
"Who was here?" Brooke asks and Rachel rolls her eyes.
"Why?" Owen wonders aloud.
"Was it Nathan?" she snaps.
"No," Owen frowns, "why? You two back on?"
"No," she shakes her head, "definitely not."
Rachel eyes her seemingly unconvinced.
"Then who—" the redhead starts but is cut off by her phone's shrill ring.
"Don't answer that," Owen shakes his head.
"What?" Brooke grimaces.
"It's gonna be Lucas," he tells her. "He was just here trying to talk to you."
"Great," Rachel scoffs. "The guy just can't take a hint, can he? I mean, he's been begging me for two days to get you to talk to him. I tell him to fuck off and what does he do? He shows up at our house? Just how dumb—"
"Rachel, please shut up," Brooke groans into her hands just as her phone starts up again.
"Handle it, Brooke," Rachel points down at the phone. "Or I will," she mutters and pushes Owen out of the room. "Let's go, we're going out to eat before Owen heads back to Duke. If you're not coming out with me then I'm not going to that stupid movie night. But Brooke?" she eyes her carefully, "When I come back I expect this to be taken care of," she points at her phone then walks out of the room.
Owen shoots Brooke a look that lets her know that he'll handle Lucas for her if she wants. She shakes her head and sighs down at her phone. Rachel's right, she's better than staying home and hiding. She's better than this cowardly version of herself.
Snatching up the phone she yanks it open and barks, "What do you want?" into the receiver. Offense is the best defense, right?
"B-Brooke?" Lucas stutters as if he can't fathom why anyone would want to yell at him.
"Yes," she answers full of sarcasm, doing her best to cover the tremble in her tone that comes from just hearing the blonde boy's voice. "This is the number you dialed after all," she continuous, "Unless you were trying to contact Peyton. In which case you may want to try again with a triple six area code. I know it's considered a long distance call—but then again, since you two can go to hell? I'm going to assume you're both on the same calling plan."
"Brooke, please," Lucas begs, "I'm sor—"
"Let me make something very clear to you, Lucas," she snaps and she clenches the cell phone so hard that it's a wonder it isn't breaking, "I don't care how sorry you are. In fact, I don't even care enough to continue this conversation."
"Brooke, just allow me to explain," he pleads with her.
"Fuck you, Lucas!" she shouts into the phone, "Fuck you and your lame excuses and everything about you. Just leave me alone and stay the hell away from me!"
The tears spill over and she knows that she has to end the call now, before he says anything that might make her crumble.
"But if you'd just lis—"
Click.
---x---
Almost an hour later, Brooke is laying in bed staring at the ceiling and trying to convince herself that she's not pathetic.
She should be on her way to Bevin's to join the rest of the squad for their monthly DVD night, but she just can't. Even if she went with Rachel she'd still feel like shit and ruin the entire atmosphere of the movie night. Brooke knows that as captain she should be there. But damn it, she doesn't want to go—and not because she's too depressed, she tries to convince herself.
She just doesn't feel like it, right?
She should be passed being depressed, she thinks. At the moment all Brooke should be feel is annoyance and anger. And she's angry, alright. Angry at herself for letting her guard down and annoyed at the world for continuing to turn while she's left behind sweeping up pieces of her heart. So excuse her for not wanting to spend her night surrounded by a bunch of overzealous teenage dimwits.
Her phone beeps with a text message from Bevin asking where she's at. She doesn't bother with a response. It beeps again, this time from Ashley and again she ignores it. Then it beeps a third… fourth… fifth time and she looks down to see a text from almost every Raven cheerleader.
He's not worth it, B. Come over!
Peyton's a bitch and Lucas is a scumbag. You need to be with your friends!
Screw Lucas, he's a loser! We miss you!
Peyton's not here, please come!
Do you still have my Mean Girls DVD?
The last is from Bevin and Brooke can't help but snort out a small laugh. She dries some stray tears off of her face with the sleeve of her sweater and she's in the middle of a reply when a knock at the door causes her to jump and drop her phone down to the floor. Who the hell is that?
Scooping her phone off the floor, she pulls her shorts out of her ass and grimaces as she walks over to the door and peeks through the peep hole.
"You have got to be kidding me," Brooke grumbles before yanking the door open. "What part of stay away from me, do you not understand?"
"Brooke, please," he holds a hand up, "I know you don't have any reason to listen to me…"
"You're right, I don't," she grabs the door to slam it in his face but his hand darts out to stop it.
"Just give me 60 seconds, okay?" his sad blue eyes beg her.
"And why should I?" she scoffs. "I'm sorry but lying-cheating-asshole cutoff was 9 o'clock," her hand goes for the door again and is stopped once again.
"Well, I don't want to argue," he quickly intercepts. "You don't even have to say anything. Just listen. Please, Brooke. I'm not asking for forgiveness. I just want you to know how sorry I am for what I did."
She huffs back at him in disbelief.
"How sorry you are?" she rolls her eyes, "Do you know that the entire time that we were dating I actually felt inferior to you? What a joke. You are just like every other guy on the planet. You're a liar and a cheater."
"You're right," he quickly agrees, "I lied to you. And there's no excuse for that—"
"No, there's not," she grimaces at her own hypocrisy and new tears burn in her throat. "Peyton, I can expect this from," she laughs bitterly at the fact, "but you?"
"What kind of friendship do you two have?" he balks flabbergasted. "I have never in my life seen two people who obviously hate each other claim to be best friends."
"Whatever, times up," she grabs the door for a third time and manages to get it half way closed before Lucas sticks his foot in between. "Lucas, I don't want to hear it!"
"But you have to know that it was a mistake," he yells out to her. "I made a huge mistake and for that I am so, so sorry, Brooke. I love you, I do. I was just confused and I—"
"Shut up!" she grabs onto the doorway to steady herself as her entire body shivers with rage. "I have been trying so hard to be the bigger person about this. But you know what? That's not who I am. I am not who you made me out to be and I am sick and tired of pretending that I ever was."
Lucas blinks down at her confused.
"You made a fool out of me, Lucas. I opened myself up to you and what did it get me? Nothing. You are a Scott through and through. Your father would be so proud."
He looks horrified at that and it feels like the tiniest victory. The way she's been hurting for the last couple of days makes her want to hurt him back.
"You walk around as if you are so much more superior than everyone else when the reality of it all is that you are worse…" she continuous, "And as for excuses?" she then shrugs, "You don't owe me any. We're not together anymore, so now I don't have to pretend like I actually care what you have to say. I don't have to do anything for you."
His eyes narrow as the words start to take their toll.
"You never opened yourself up to me," he mutters a little defensively, "I tried making you talk to me and you –"
"Don't," she stops him. "Don't even go there."
Sure, there were sides of her that she never showed him, just like she said herself a minute ago. But in a bigger sense, there had never been a boy that she had tried so hard to let in. She had allowed herself to fall for him. To love him and to even say it to him out loud.
She had really tried.
What hurts the most is how painfully clear it is now that none of her efforts were enough for him.
"I made a mistake, Brooke," Lucas says again with a sad expression, "but I've never been in a relationship before. You've been with six guys before me and –"
Of course. Out of all the things she did tell him, he chose to remember that exact piece of information.
"Screw you, Lucas," she hisses, hurt. "This has nothing to do with how many guys I've slept with. You cheated on me with my childhood friend. I even asked you if you still loved me, after you had already been with her! And you lied!"
Lucas hangs his head.
"I didn't lie," he mumbles, "I was just confused… I do love you."
"And what about Peyton?" she asks, trying her very hardest to keep her voice cold and her lip from trembling. "You love her too?"
He starts to talk but she holds her hand up to stop him.
"Never mind," she shakes her head, "I don't want to hear it. I'm not your girlfriend anymore. In fact? I'm not anything to you anymore. When we're in class, you keep your gaze forward. If you see me in the hall, you turn and you walk in the opposite direction. At practice and at games you keep your focus on the ball and nowhere near me or my squad."
"Brooke," he starts.
"From this point on? You're invisible," her eyes darken as she pries his fingers from the door. "Just like you were before."
She sneers and this time when she slams the door closed in his face, he does nothing to stop her.
How can you if you're invisible?
---x---
He gets home late that night. Too miserable to face his mother after everything he's done and hoping she'd be asleep by the time he walked through the door. But despite everything, he's still a good boy in most ways. And he makes curfew just a few minutes shy of ten.
"Luke?"
His mother's low tone makes him stop in the middle of the kitchen with held breath.
"Yeah?" he calls out and wipes a hand over his tired face.
Her footsteps are light but the sliding of her slippers against the hardwood floors make him cringe. He can feel his palms start to sweat just as she flicks on the kitchen light and squints up at him with a look of concern on her face. He's so ashamed of himself that he almost asks her to turn the lights out.
"You were out late," she stops in front of him and wipes a soft hand down the side of his face, "you look exhausted. You and Brooke need to start calling it a night earlier."
"That won't be a problem anymore," he mumbles and tries to sidestep her.
"Whoa, whoa," she stops him with a firm hand at his elbow, "since when do you mumble under your breath at me and walk away?" she scolds him in disbelief.
His eyes close as he inhales a deep breath through his nose, "Mom, not now." He exhales loudly and tries to pull his arm away.
"What happened? You and Brooke have a fight?" she asks.
He shakes his head and looks down at the floor, a hand rising to rub the back of his neck.
"Talk to me honey. You know you can tell me anything," she reaches out for him again and motions to the kitchen table. "Sit down with me for a little bit."
"Ma," he groans.
"Sit," she commands him.
"I really don't want to talk about it," he replies with eyes trained to the table between them.
"Did you break up?"
He nods in response but fails to look up into her face. He's terrified she'll see right through him the moment he does. She's his mom, it's what moms do. They see the truth and filter out the lies.
She gets up from the table and starts towards the cupboards, grabbing to mugs and two packets of hot chocolate. Great, he thinks to himself. She's going to bribe him with warm cups of liquid comfort and then she's going to get him to confess. She is the ultimate closer of all cases that involve hidden secrets being held from her.
He decides then to jump the gun and get to the inevitable.
"I cheated on her with Peyton," he confesses.
Karen drops the ceramic coffee cup and cringes when it crashes into the sink and breaks into three pieces. Her shoulders are tense as she sets her hands onto the counter and takes a few seconds to comprehend what her son has just told her.
"It was a mistake," he quickly adds, "I was confused and trying to figure something out that I should have known from the start."
Slowly, his mother turns around to face him. The disappointment in her eyes makes him cower into his chair and look back down at the table.
"It's all my fault and I can't take it back," he whispers. "I lost an amazing girl because I second guessed myself."
When his mother doesn't respond he continues as if to explain himself because if she doesn't listen, he feels like no one ever will. He needs her to see his truth, and he hopes she will filter out the lies just like she always has.
"I got drunk at a party," he cringes and gulps because he knows what his moms face will look like if he looks up. "And," he licks his dry lips, "and I was mad at Brooke. She keeps things from me, you know?" he glances up but darts his gaze back down when the scowl on Karen's face makes his blood run cold.
"But that's not why I did it," he sighs, "she's very private when it comes to her family. I can't force that stuff out of her. But I'd like to think that if something was wrong she'd tell me?" he shakes his head. "I've been hanging out with Peyton a lot lately, as I'm sure you've noticed."
She nods.
"Well, we've been talking. And at first it was about Brooke." He sighs and clenches his fists under the table. "Peyton let me in on why Brooke is so closed off and told me to wait it out. So I did, and while I was doing that I started to grow closer to Peyton. Who let me in, all the way." He laughs as he starts to remember their time spent together. "She told me about how much she missed her mom, and how she felt as if her dad stayed away because she reminded him of her."
He shrugs and covers his face with his hands.
"I'm so stupid," he laughs at himself. "You know I kinda knew from the beginning that she was setting me up?" he admits to his mother who watches him without saying a word. "She was always staring at me funny. Like she was trying to figure out the right thing to do or say next. She'd tell me something about her and then she'd just… watch me. At first I thought it was because she was embarrassed or because she felt vulnerable. But now," he scoffs, "I can see that she was calculating…"
Karen's mouth sets tight as she listens to her son speak.
"After Cotillion, everything changed. Brooke changed. I could see she was trying so I decided to pull away from my friendship with Peyton. I knew it bothered Brooke how close we'd gotten, and at that point I didn't want to complicate our relationship any further. She was trying so I had to try too, right?" he looks at his mom who nods slightly.
"Then one night I went to see Brooke and she was leaving Rachel's house with some people from Duke," he grimaces at the memory of Brooke drunkenly giggling, riding piggyback of Tyler Gage. "I tried to call her, I was furious that she'd lied to me. She told me she was going to stay home and study and then I see her leaving to go party. She knows how much I hate when she goes to Durham because…" he stops.
"Did you not trust her to go up there without you?" Karen speaks for the first time in a long while.
Lucas shakes his head, "No, I trusted her. I was just upset that she didn't trust me enough to tell me the truth. It was as if she was embarrassed to admit to the things that made us different. But I love her for all those things," he shakes his head.
He never once actually gave life to thought of Brooke cheating, despite the little voices of doubt that wondered what she did in Durham.
"There was this party a few weeks ago after one of the games," he starts up again. "I was still a little mad at Brooke for lying but I was more mad at myself. There's obviously a reason she kept those things from me. And I'll be the first to admit that I openly expressed to my disliking of her hanging out with those college guys. But a part of me was jealous that I couldn't be them. I don't like to party and get drunk, ma," he locks eyes with his mom, "I like to stay home and read, or hang out with a small group of friends."
"Did she ever make you feel ashamed of that?"
"No, never," he tells her, "that's just it. She accepted me for me and I was so sure she knew I felt the same way for her."
"But you just said you told her how much you didn't like her going to Durham," Karen reminds him. "That doesn't sound like full acceptance to me, Lucas."
"Yeah, I know," he looks down.
"You can't force yourself to be someone you're not," she replies in a soft tone. "And you should never have to."
His guilt consumes him then. Had he made Brooke feel as if she couldn't be herself around him? A sick feeling in his stomach tells him that he did.
"I'd like to go to bed now, mom," he whispers.
"We'll talk later," she says and stands up to leave.
He nods and remains seated at the table even after she's gone. That party had marked the beginning of the end. He'd been drunk and not himself that night. Peyton had been there, porcelain skin and golden curls. Big blue eyes, trembling lower lip…
Kiss me, Lucas.
He presses the heels of his palms into his eyes and shivers. It'd been a mistake, but everyone knew that the truth came out when alcohol was involved. At least, that's what he's heard. Small nagging voices surfaced from deep within the confines of the subconscious mind.
He'd had a crush on Peyton Sawyer since he could remember. How could he deny a feeling that'd been there practically forever? That night, drunk and stumbling for the bathroom to splash cold water onto his face led to those pleading blue eyes and trembling lips…
Kiss me, Lucas.
Shaky hands run through his hair as he rehashes the nightmare that was his own willful actions. The first time was a mistake that opened Pandora's box. It gave way to a multitude of questions and doubt. He'd always wondered what it'd be like to actually be with Peyton. His imagination could only get him so far and when he'd gotten with Brooke he'd thought those feelings were buried.
Until that night. Afterwards he'd felt sick and shameful, especially when he'd seen Brooke smile up at him and tell him she trusted him. The very words he'd wanted to hear all along and it was too late.
The second time 'it' happened he'd gone to tell Peyton they were a mistake and that it would never happen again. He was with Brooke and he loved her. But then he'd gone into Peyton's house and found her crying on her bedroom floor over an old family photo album. She told him how much she missed her mom and how she hated her dad for staying away for so long.
There is just something about a crying female that shuts Lucas down and the need to comfort said emotional mess becomes irrefutable. Instantly he'd had her in his arms and with a soothing hand rubbing up and down her back he'd whispered that everything would be okay.
Kiss me, Lucas. Make everything better.
Days later he was wiping down the counters in his mothers café and contemplating theoretical suicide. He could no longer say it was a mistake because the second time he'd wanted to do it. He'd wanted to make everything okay. He'd wanted her to stop being so sad and depressed. What was so wrong about wanting someone to need him like that?
By then he'd equally cared for both girls. He loved Brooke, and yet he'd think of Peyton's broken mess and want to fix it. He planned to tell Brooke, because keeping secrets from her was the very thing he hated that she kept from him. He just didn't know how to tell her without losing her completely. Especially since he wasn't sure who he was meant to be with.
With Lucas, everything was about fate. Everything happened for a reason. It had to, or else nothing in life made sense. He was meant to fall in love with Brooke, he was meant to sleep with Peyton and he was meant to make a decision between the two of them.
Even it damn near destroyed him.
Peyton had promised to keep quiet and not say a word until Lucas made up his mind. She'd been so tremendously understanding. It'd made his heart ache for her because what girl was willing to stand back and allow a guy to choose between her and her friend? The very thought made him feel disgusting. The fact that he was torn between two best friends was both novel worthy and morally repugnant.
The third time they'd been in the library discussing Brooke. His guilt was consuming him and he'd still been unable to choose who he was meant to be with. It wasn't about who he wanted to be with anymore, it was about fate. Why would fate bring Peyton back into his life if it wasn't meant to be? Was it a test for his and Brooke's relationship? Had he failed?
"I know you're confused," she'd said that day, "and I'm not trying to push you, but…" she'd nervously pushed a stray curl behind her ear, "can you just tell me something?"
He'd nodded and she'd taken a breath, stepped in closer and absently trailed a finger across his chest. Her brow was creased in deep thought and he'd thought then that he'd given anything to get inside her head. To know the real Peyton Sawyer.
"What's so special about Brooke?" she's asked. "Because for the life of me, I can't figure it out. I mean, everyone chooses her over me. But why? I just need to know, okay? Why, Lucas? Why her?"
She'd looked so sad in that moment with the soft light from outside making her tearful eyes stand out. So beautifully sad and the most vulnerable he'd ever seen her. He reached up to wipe away a tear that had started to slide down her cheek.
"I'm sorry you feel this way, Peyton," he'd told her.
Then she'd looked up at him, those tearful big blue eyes, those two trembling lips and said it again, "Kiss me, Lucas."
"God!" Lucas groans out into the kitchen, his chair scraping against the floor as he pushes it backwards. He grabs his head in his hands and pulls at his hair as he backs out of the kitchen towards his room.
Just how stupid and naïve can one person get? He'd been warned—over and over had he been warned. If he's learned anything from this experience it's to listen and observe rather than try to figure things out himself. Because he now knows just how inexperienced he is when it comes to all these… games.
Now he realizes that he had come running like a freaking lapdog every time Peyton beckoned. As if he had no will of his own.
His hand shoves open his door as he enters his room and looks around in search of something to distract him from his thoughts. Maybe he should shower, clean off the day. He likes that idea and pulls off his jacket and kicks off his shoes.
The prettier they are? The more trouble they come with.
He grimaces at the thought of Jake's warning. Pushing it into the back of his head he pulls off his shirt and tosses it to the floor. He's not sure he can bear to look at himself in the mirror when he enters the bathroom. He unbuckles his belt next, slides it out from the belt loops and hangs it over the back of his computer chair.
His fingers unfasten his jeans and pushes them down his legs. He lets them pool at his feet then kicks them away where his shoes lay abandoned. Rubbing hands over tired eyes he groans and walks into the hall to grab a towel on his way to the bathroom.
If you're confused, that's a good thing. Because the second this shit starts to make sense? That's when you know you're in too deep, Luke.
The water runs cold at first touch but soon starts to warm as he twists the center handle to the far left. He wants the water so hot that it scalds his skin and leaves him with tender pink flesh. He still cannot believe what he's done, even after reality's setting in, he still is unable to comprehend how utterly stupid he'd been.
From this point on? You're invisible.
His thumbs slide into the sides of his boxers, grabbing the elastic in a tight grip and pulling them down. Those words uttered from between Brooke's lips had hurt so much more than if she'd screamed that she hated him. The steam from the shower fogs up the mirror in front of him and he hesitates to wipe a hand across its surface. Why would he want to look at the face of a loser?
Just like you were before.
He shivers as he imagines the way her eyes had clouded over with unleashed rage. But as soon as they filled, they drained. He'd seen the look of defeat in her eyes and he knew then as he does now that he had royally screwed up.
He bets that if Peyton has been there she'd have laughed behind a hand. He could imagine her now with a slight smirk on her lips. Yes, she'd definitely take pleasure in the aftermath of their sinful deeds. In fact, he's sure of it. Why? Because she'd smirked that day in the empty classroom after Brooke had left.
Kiss me, Lucas.
His stomach lurches and he almost slips in the shower, scalding water slapping against his naked back and sliding down his spine. He shivers even in the heat, he can imagine two small hands gliding down his back, pulling him close.
Why had he let her drag him into that classroom? The first time had been a mistake, the second and third an act of sheer stupidity. But that last time? That time in the classroom where things could have escalated beyond kissing as they usually did with her…
He'd told her to stop. For once, he'd been able to say no—but it'd been too late. Tearful eyes, trembling lips, hot breath against his mouth. She'd begged him to kiss her.
Choose me, Lucas. Love me, Lucas.
His body leans to the right so that his head can rest against the white tile wall. The steam feels suffocating but it's a feeling he's been unable to escape since that party with Peyton. Suffocation and anxiety on top of shame and guilt. He gasps for air and claws for the small window above the soap dish.
A freezing blast of ice cold air hits him like a bucket of cold water. Again he shivers then he covers his face with his hands and takes deep breathes.
A memory of that day floods back into his mind suddenly and Lucas clenches his eyes shut tight. But it doesn't matter how hard he tries, he'll always see the look of betrayal in Brooke's eyes. Feel the slight shake of Peyton's shoulders as she held back a laugh.
Then Brooke's eyes had teared up, her lips pressing together in order to hide the tremble in them. He'd wanted to run after her, but he'd been stopped.
"… your job here is done."
He had flinched back a step and Peyton had rolled her eyes as just before she'd shoved him out of her way towards the door.
"Move," she'd snapped when Nathan refused to budge from blocking the doorway.
"Damn, Peyt," he'd watched as Nathan stared down at Peyton with a wolfish grin, "taking people down in order to feel better about yourself. And I thought you could sink no lower," he snorted. "Tell me, you feel better now?"
"Do you?" she'd whispered.
Her scowl melted into a smirk as she slunk in closer and gave him her most pretentious gaze. In that moment, Lucas understood every warning he'd been given regarding Peyton Sawyer. She was an actress, a very—very talented and underappreciated actress.
In an attempt to ignore the dominant memory, he grabs for the shampoo and slathers it between his hands before rubbing it into his hair. He'd wondered what had been Peyton's reason behind seducing him. What was the point if she didn't feel for him what he'd once felt for her?
What was it that made her hate her best friend so much that she'd scheme behind her back to hurt her so badly? Suddenly all the past thoughts of fate and destiny sound like crap and he starts to wonder if perhaps all those books he has in his room are full of shit as well. Because the question is ridiculous.
He should be asking how the hell he himself could've hurt Brooke like that.
Love is not love, which alters when it alteration finds…
Head bowed, he inhales a shallow breath and cringes. He can recite nearly every passage of love, destiny and sorrow from long gone authors and poets. But none ring more true to him then now when he feels he's hit rock bottom.
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
Shame washes over him in waves of despair and remorse. He'd obsessed over Peyton and loved Brooke and yet in the end he'd confused the two. He still feels something deep inside of him that feels empty without Brooke. She's only been gone for a few days and already it feels like forever.
But his actions make him doubt his love because even if all those books in his room are crap, Shakespeare is right. Lucas has failed nearly every verse in the famous Sonnet 116, the one that he knows to be Brooke's favorite lyrical poem to read out loud.
If this be error and upon me proved,
He'd failed her in every way and he hadn't even realized it until it was too late. Caught up in the illusions of true love and fate and everything happening for a reason.
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
So perhaps Shakespeare truly is right, and it's just him who's been failing. Maybe it means he hadn't really been in love to begin with? He snorts and rinses his head in the water that now feels warm rather than hot. He shuts off the shower, reaches for his towel and steps outside the tub.
Never really been in love? Bullshit.
He'd been in love. With Brooke. But he'd also been manipulated to doubt it and for that reason alone Lucas realizes he doesn't deserve her. He shakes his head and wipes a clean streak across the fogged up mirror to stare at himself.
"But you will," he promises himself.
---x---
March 12th
"Oh, Rhett!"
"It's my duty to blade boys at the front, to keep our girls at home looking pretty."
The squalid crunch of popcorn muffles the rest of the dialogue. But she's seen this movie so many times she knows exactly what it is they're saying. At least this time the dialogue isn't muffled further by her own pathetic crying.
"How do I look?"
"Awful, just awful!"
Another handful of popcorn shoves it way into her mouth closely followed by a huge gulp of Coca Cola—straight from the red can. Oh no, not the silver one, the red one. Nothing but sugar and carbohydrates that will go straight to her thighs.
"Rhett, I really can't go on accepting these gifts. Though you are awfully kind."
"I'm not kind. I'm just tempting you. I never give anything without expecting something in return. I always get paid."
Brooke snorts at Rhett's charming arrogance and glances back at Scarlett O'Hara in envy. Where is Brooke's 'Rhett,' huh? Why the hell can't she have a hot bad boy at her beck and call? Is it so much to ask for someone to understand and answer you without ever having said one word? Especially after the past months of being lied to.
After almost four days of wallowing in self pity she's even tired of herself.
"If you think I'll marry you just to pay for the bonnet, I won't." The brunette on the TV-screen pouts and flicks her hair in a nonchalant manner.
"Don't flatter yourself, I'm not a marrying man."
She snorts at this and grabs another handful of popcorn.
"Well, I won't kiss you for it, either." Scarlett huffs.
"Open your eyes and look at me." Rhett demands with a hand held firmly at her chin and Brooke perks up on the couch because this is one of her favorite scenes. Even with a badly mended broken heart, she still enjoys Rhett Butler as much as the next girl.
"No, I don't think I will kiss you," The man grumbles, "Although you need kissing badly. That's what's wrong with you. You should be kissed, and often, and by someone who knows how."
Sa-wooon. God, what Brooke wouldn't give to be Scarlett in that scene. Or that movie.
Or that life…
"And I suppose that you think that you are the proper person?"
A knock at the door interrupts her little pity party of one. Brooke sighs and gets up in search of the DVD remote.
"I might be, if—" Pause.
Dragging herself up from the couch and towards the front door, Brooke runs a hand across the screen as she passes. Her fingertips lightly caressing the handsome face of Rhett Bulter—aka Clark Gable.
"I'm coming!" she shouts in annoyance when the knocking makes way to pounding. "Oh my gosh, seriously, Owen? You couldn't just use the key that I know you swiped from under the matt that Rachel keeps blaming me for taking?" she grumbles on her way to the door.
Bam! Bam! Bam!
"You are so dead, Owe—oh," she stops mid-sentence, "it's you."
The disappointment shows on her face and she really doesn't mean it. Somehow she hopes that he won't take offense, won't hold her current attitude against her. It's just that it's been merely four days since the LP fiasco and she hasn't seen him since she stumbled out of his car in the middle of the night.
With everything that's been on her mind, she hasn't really had the time to digest what they did in his backseat and it makes her uncomfortable.
With a hint of a delicious smirk on his lips, Nathan leans against the doorframe with crossed arms and looks her from head to toe and back again.
"You look…" he pauses to mull it over a bit.
Brooke straightens up a bit out of reflex and unconsciously raises a hand to touch the messy bun at the back of her head. She knows she looks a mess, hell, she hasn't showered at all today. She's bound to have some major funk and although she's in her cute pink boy shorts and small matching cami top, she knows—knows she looks…
"Awful," he finishes, a grimace taking over the arrogant leer.
Her shoulders sag almost instantly, "What are you doing here?" she growls.
Suddenly his eyes are trained below her face and one quick glance down makes her scoff and cross her arms over her chest.
"Cold?" Nathan's smirk grows higher just as his eyes meet hers.
"Fuck you, Scott. What do you want?" she snaps.
She sounds angry, bitchy even, but the strange thing is that his half-insinuating, half-disrespectful comments feels weirdly calming. This, she knows. This, she can deal with and handle.
"How you doing?" he asks, and just because of that, his voice is softer for a second, throwing her off.
She grunts, "Like you care. Why are you here?"
"This breakup stopped being a joke when I realized that I'm not laughing," he shakes his head and steps through the doorway and into the house. "And I don't know why I ever thought that I would." His hand reaches up towards her face.
"Don't touch me," she mutters and brushes his hand away. "I can't believe you dared to even show up here after—"
"After I fucked you in the back of my truck?" he snorts. "As to why I'm here? I thought it was about time someone came over here to get you out of fake mourning."
Her eyes blaze with fire because even though she's used to Nathan's assy ways, this is a bad time to fuck with her like this. She feels bad enough as it is.
"Please do not mistake my dry eyes and annoyed scowl for fake mourning," she growls. "And as for what happened the other night?" her eyes dart down to the ground, "it won't happen again." Her gaze lifts to meet his again, "And we shouldn't talk about it, I was… I wasn't myself that night," she replies as if from embarrassment.
"You little hypocrite," he scoffs, "you knew damn well what would happen the moment you got into your car and drove to my house. You came to me, Brooke. So don't you start acting all shameful and timid. 'Cause if you're trying to imply that I took advantage of you? Then that's bullshit!"
"And I suppose you showing me what was going on behind my back was better than just telling me? Like I could ever erase that image from mind, Nathan! It's there for life!" she shouts angrily.
"Okay," he nods with false patience, "three things," he holds up three expressive fingers. "One," he drops the other two and points at her, "you avoid me at school like the plague. Better yet in fact, you avoid me altogether as if I don't exist."
"I do no—"
"Two," he cuts her off and raises another finger in her face, "you would have never in a million years believed me if I told you what was going on behind your back."
"You don't know tha—"
"And three," all three fingers are set directly in front of her nose where he soon replaces them with his intense gaze and tight jaw. "Three?" he snorts, "I did you a favor. He never deserved you, anyways."
She blinks at this in surprise, but instead of reading too much into his words, she brushes them off with a bitter laugh.
"Oh," she overdramatically places a hand against her heart, "you did me a favor!" her eyes roll deeply as her shoulders rise and fall. "How awfully kind of you, Nathan."
Nathan's boyish face looks years older in that moment, a short grunt of air pushing past his lips in disbelief. "I never said I was kind. I also never do anything unless I feel it is to my own benefit," he leans in and scowls.
"So what now, Nathan? Huh? Are you expecting me to be bursting with so much gratefulness that I'd just let you come over and claim me? Huh? Is that what you thought—no, wait," she snorts, "is that what you planned?"
He just stares down at her and shakes his head speechless.
"If you thought I'd be begging you to help restore my faith in—"
"Don't flatter yourself, Davis," he stops her short and flicks a loose lock of hair off her shoulder. "I'm not the relationship type."
"Well I won't fuck you either," she all but snarls back at him and turns to give him her back so that she can walk to the door and kick him out.
But she doesn't get far, she rarely does when she's around him. Suddenly she's jerked back around and shoved up against his chest.
"Your mouth moves," his thumb presses against her lips until it pushes inside and grazes her teeth and the tip of her tongue, "but nothing's really coming out."
She trembles right there under his gaze and in his hands.
"Relax," he whispers so close to her mouth that her eyes flutter closed, "I'm not going to kiss you." His breath caresses her lips and makes her think otherwise. "I'm not going to fuck you," he adds onto the list of things he says he won't do, "although you look like you need it badly," he chuckles.
The vibration against her chest sets her heart racing and her breaths in small quick pants. Her tongue continuously fights not to lick the thumb he has pressed against her lips. She keeps fighting the urge to suck his finger straight past her lips and into her mouth.
"You want me, don't you?" he laughs again and nods as his free hand travels down the curve of her neck to rest onto her hip. "You see, Brooke? That's what's wrong with you," he says and removes his thumb from her mouth to pad over her cheek and down to her chin. "You need to be fucked good and proper and on a regular basis."
He leans in closer, so close as if to meet his mouth with hers but veers to the right and moves to her ear instead. "And by someone who knows exactly where to touch you," his thumb travel down to between her breasts and keeps moving south, "someone who knows what they're doing…"
"Is that so?" she manages to finally find her voice just as his fingers reach the bottom of her thin top and trickle up underneath. His intimate touch causes a strained gulp from her dry mouth. "And I suppose you're implying that person is you?"
When he says nothing in return her eyes slowly wake and she sees him grinning down at her almost evilly. With a quickness she usually only sees from him on the court, he's across the room and at the door.
"Nope," he says pulling his keys out of his pocket and reaches to open the door.
"You are disgusting and I don't know why it was that I ever let you touch me," she spits out at him ashamed of her earlier reaction.
A pair of sunglasses emerges from his pocket and he opens them up, cleans them with the bottom of his shirt and then looks at her again.
"I'll tell you why, Brooke," that jackass smirk is back, "because I'm the only Scott in Tree Hill who does it for you. But don't worry," he pauses to slide the glasses over his eyes, "I'm sure you'll be back to your old self in no time."
She stands there speechless and waits until he's gone and out of sight before she moves back over to the couch to collect herself. She guzzles down what's left of her coke and jumps up to grab a new can. Then she sits back down and grabs the remote to finish watching Gone With The Wind, as she'd originally planned.
She can't help but be annoyed with a lingering feeling of déjà vu. But she doesn't dwell, she rewinds the DVD a few frames and settles right back into the couch. Fuck Nathan and his cocky self. She's hurting and just because he can make her forget about the pain for a little while, it never lasts.
Because the image of Peyton's lips against Lucas' is burned into her memory. When she closes her eyes there they are.
"Open your eyes and look at me. No, I don't think I will kiss you. Although you need kissing badly. That's what's wrong with you. You should be kissed, and often, and by someone who knows how."
"And I suppose that you think that you are the proper person?"
Brooke lays her head back down onto her pillow and wipes away the faintest tingling of tears behind her eyes. A few blinks and the tingling is gone, so she watches the TV and stares at Rhett as he gazes into Scarlett's eyes.
"I might be, if the right moment ever came."
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Q: Owen, Nathan & Lucas. Fuck, Marry or Kill. And for those of you who prefer the opposite sex: Rachel, Brooke & Peyton (we have a feeling we know who you'd kill…).
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Check out the LJ to see the Gone With The Wind scene Brooke was watching! (link in profile!)
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Special Thanks
We truly have some awesome ass reviewers. You not only read the fic but you READ this fic. You interpret the fic, you have valid questions and guesses and opinions. We love that you understand that certain plotlines are a process. We know that at times things can be slow, that they sometimes can make you mad and want to give up on us... But damn are you awesome for sticking through and continuing on with us.
We appreciate every single review and love you all. But we feel the need to single out a few extra exceptional reviewers who go way above and beyond every time they review:
Julian b, CoffeeWithCinnamon, Love's Crash Test Dummy, Rachtree, Fire Tears X, Lizzy, Yana
We know there are wayyy more people to thank and if you check out the LJ there will be more thank you's listed in a few days. Bottom line, you (everyone who has ever reviewed) have all just really blown us away with how awesome you are. So, thank you for that. You all motivate us to be our best. ;)