A/N: Second to the last chapter. This isn't any particular ship. There are elements of almost everything.
Life on the Flip Side
Chapter Four
By scarlet
There was something very strange about walking into his own house as an only-marginally-welcome guest. Naturally, it was compounded by the fact that Nathan was still in Lucas's body, but he was almost over the weirdness of that one.
Peyton raised her eyebrows in his direction and tucked herself into Lucas's side.
Nope. Still weird as fuck.
The Beach House. Home to many a drunken post-game party.
Here, Nathan was the host, the king, the god...
And there was his bastard brother, milking all his glory.
Dickface.
The skills, the looks, the power...
It was enough to make Nathan sick.
"I might vomit," Haley muttered.
The girl was growing on him, truth be told.
"Could he be more full of himself?" she wrinkled her nose as Lucas put on what Nathan considered a highly exaggerated performance. He'd never actually taken part in a belching contest...well, not many.
Tim laughed.
Peyton yawned.
Brooke checked out Nathan. Well, Lucas…sort of.
Looking for fresh meat, no doubt.
Normally, an appreciative female was always interesting to Nathan on some level. Whether it be 'look, but don't touch,' 'look and touch one's self,' or his personal favorite, 'look, but don't get caught touching.' Usually alcoholic intake was the determining factor here.
But she wasn't checking out HIS dark good looks or chiseled abs. Oh no, Brooke seemed to find LUCAS'S body ten levels of scrumptious...and possible reasons why were absolutely baffling to Nathan.
He was a weak ass pretty boy who barely made 10 points a game and in his off time, he read.
And not normal stuff, like Playboy or Sports Illustrated.
But like, the old man writer people shit.
Brooke was obviously scraping the bottom of the barrel.
Honestly. He could set her up with Tim if she was really that desperate.
"Nice game, Scott!"
People kept slapping Lucas's ass as though he'd invented the damn sport.
Had they even WATCHED the game?
Lucas wasn't drinking, probably didn't want to have to think and act Nathan-y at the same time.
Nathan planned to seriously re-evaluate all his friendships when this was all over. They didn't even notice anything was wrong...yet there he was, conspicuously avoiding alcohol.
"Don't worry about him, Lucas," Haley hip-checked him affectionately.
"He didn't play THAT well," Nathan couldn't resist whining. It was probably the body.
"I thought you were playing much better," she shrugged, "You just didn't get the ball as much."
She was actually quite doable, this Haley chick.
"Damn straight," Nathan nodded.
Haley frowned.
If the kid never even swore around his friends, it raised serious paternity questions.
Nathan refused to believe Scott genes capable, but Lucas never hesitated to disappoint. "What?"
"They're fighting."
He followed her eyes to his girlfriend and brother.
Shit.
Peyton stomped away from the group to the keg.
The longing look displayed on his own face made Nathan sick and he resisted the urge to create a huge distraction. It was just too hideous for public viewing.
Nathan turned away. Just watching was painful.
"What do you see in her?"
Nathan looked at Haley blankly. Was she serious?
"Isn't it obvious?"
"What? Legs, ass, boobs?"
AND a delightfully debaucherous sexual appetite, but Lucas wouldn't know about that.
Or he better not.
Nathan glanced in Peyton's direction and was delighted by the glare she threw back at him.
"Well?" Haley was still there.
"What?"
"Don't you know what you see in her?"
Hadn't they already gone over this?
"Lucas I know it must be more than her rack."
Must it?
The guy was flaming. What would HE do?
Nathan smiled. "It's her eyes. I feel like her soul reaches out to me."
Haley snorted, "Okay, Luke. Flaming much?"
He was SO fucking this girl against the nearest surface.
"I just like her mind…her…" Nathan wracked his brain, "…art!" he beamed. That's right, he paid attention.
"What kind of art?"
Shit. Nathan shrugged, "She draws and stuff."
Haley patted his shoulder, "Deep."
By that, she clearly meant 'pathetic and lame' which was precisely what he was going for. God, he was good.
"Why do you care anyway?"
Haley looked startled. Obviously, Lucas never thought to complain about her remarkable noseyness before.
Maybe they had tea parties and sleepovers…painted their nails and gossiped.
Wasn't, truthfully, a whole lot different than hanging out with Tim, but that wasn't one of those things one verbalized.
"Go get her, champ," Haley punched his arm and gestured outside, where Peyton sat, glowering at the world.
Generally, he avoided his girlfriend when she was in these types of mood, as she tended to practically de-ball anyone that--
Hmm…interesting…