Brooke avoids Lucas' eyes as she hurries past him and stares at the ground
as she silently follows Peyton inside. She can't help but loathe the girl
right now-Peyton's ruined everything Brooke has worked for and established.
And the real kicker was that Peyton swore to Brooke that she and Lucas had
a strictly platonic relationship: he was "fair game". So she has no
legitimate reason to be bitching like this.
What also confuses Brooke is why she is willing to fight for Lucas. Normally she would have gotten her play and moved on to the next person on her list-because there is always a list. But for the first time in Brooke Davis' life, she's happy just being with Lucas.
The house is empty now as Brooke strides along the hardwood floors. She has no idea where Nathan's parents are; Deb is probably at Karen's Café and Mr. Scott had most likely arranged some agreement for the leasing of the house in return for, perhaps, an eon of intense and strenuous workouts from his son.
Brooke stares through the giant window adjacent to the Scotts' front door, staring out into their driveway and front lot-Nathan and Haley are out walking hand-in-hand. She studies the pair with bitterness. What did Nathan do exactly that garnered him so much happiness? Sure, Brooke wasn't exactly Mother Theresa herself but, come on-the name Nathan Scott is synonymous with cruelty and arrogance.
Brooke rounds a corner and enters the kitchen. Peyton is standing at the bar, a beer in her hand. She takes a heavy swig then looks at her friend. Her eyes are a cold blue and, although the blonde is trying her best to hide it, incriminating. Brooke feels cheep under her stare.
"Peyton."
The blonde seems to awaken now, as if Brooke's presence is now finally being noted. Brooke reminds herself that she did nothing wrong, and had Peyton really liked Lucas, Brooke would have been more than happy to step aside.
Ok, maybe she wouldn't step aside but she would have been a lot more liberal in her advances on the boy.
"You could have told me you were with him, Brooke," Peyton declares quietly as she takes a sip from the plastic cup.
Brooke really doesn't want to have this conversation. She suddenly realizes how cold the room is standing there wet in her skimpy red two- piece. She pulls the towel tighter around herself.
"Oh Peyton, come on," Brooke says rolling her eyes. "It's really not that big of a deal."
"Oh, it never is to you Brooke. The only thing that ever concerns you is a lack of both beer and boys!" She's yelling now and all Brooke can do is stand there and take it. "Lucas is different and -" she pauses, as if searching for the right words to say. "-I can't believe I'm just going to sit back and watch you play him like this."
Brooke stares wide-eyed at her, utterly and completely dumbfounded; for once, she's at a loss for words. "I can't believe you're making such a big deal out of this." She stops too, staring at Peyton Sawyer. "Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I want happiness and security too?"
"Oh please Brooke-that's a crock of shit and you know it. Your idea of happiness is a nice lay with some bourbon on the side!"
So the truth is out now. Everyone including her best friend is under the impression that Brooke Davis is nothing more than a cheap slut. "I guess it's good that you got that off your chest," Brooke says quietly, staring at Peyton, studying the blue hues in her irises.
She walks to the icebox and pulls out a Bud. She holds it up towards Peyton, nodding towards the bottle. "Does this make you happy? I hope this just helps to confirm what you obviously knew all along." She rips the cap off and chugs it, the cold liquid burning as it cascades down her throat.
She slams the half-empty glass on the countertop then turns back to her friend, who's staring at her in confusion. Damn, Brooke needed that. "Let me tell you this Peyton. I may not be perfect. In fact, I know I'm not perfect. But I have been good to you. You can't say that I haven't been there for you," Brooke declares in a quiet hush. Her eyes are watering, but she continues. "You know that if you told me you had feelings for Lucas Scott I - I wouldn't have been in the situation I was in outside."
"Brooke, I know-" Peyton tries to speak but Brooke interrupts her.
"No, you don't. People can change Peyton." Peyton is looking at the floor, and then her head rises and meets Brooke's unwavering stare with an equal tenacity. "I like Lucas, Peyton. But I guess you've won two battles here."
"Brooke, what the hell are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about how you've established that I'm a filthy whore." Peyton looks away, ashamed. She's about to cry.
Good, Brooke thinks. Feel my pain.
"And you've also shown just how much more Lucas likes you than he does me."
Peyton has tears streaming down her cheeks when she looks back to Brooke. "You know none of that's true, Brooke."
"He would have never gotten out of that pool if I had been the one doing the walking-in on."
"Brooke," Peyton whispers quietly, her voice choked with emotion. "I shouldn't have said all that crap, I'm so sorry-".
"-No Peyton, you're right. This is the first time I've ever lost anything I really cared for, but I guess I kind of had it coming, huh?"
Brooke spins around on her bare heel and walks out the door of the kitchen, the towel tightly held about her shivering body. She's shaking more from the incidents moments before than anything related to temperature.
Her bag full of a fresh change of clothes is on the steps leading to the second story and she hefts it. All Brooke wants right now is to be alone at home-something she's never done before on a Friday night.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Lucas is sitting in the swings in front of the monstrous household owned by Mr. Dan Scott. He's barefoot and bare-chested, but the night air is warm; besides, he's too lost in thought to notice.
He still feels the sparks, and he's still light-headed. Brooke's kiss was explosive and electric and he felt like he ignited when her lips brushed his. He never wanted it to end-but it did. It seems that their relationship only brought hardship but he doesn't want it to end. Not yet, not now, and not under these circumstances.
He tried to follow her inside, to catch her and tell her to stop, but when he proceeded inside, he heard her and Peyton going at it and he knew that was not where he wanted to be.
Peyton.
"Lucas."
He's ripped from his thoughts by the same girl that was occupying them. He turns in the swing and sees Peyton Sawyer walking carefully down the concrete walkway. She stands beside him: her forehead is creased in worry and he can tell she's uncomfortable.
But she couldn't be nearly as uncomfortable as he is right now.
"Mind if I--?" Peyton asks, pointing towards the seat next to him.
"Go ahead," Lucas replies, trying his hardest to plaster a reassuring smile across his face-but, alas, he fails miserably. "How's Brooke?"
"I don't know. I-I said some things to her that I really regret, but I was so angry."
Lucas looks at her inquiringly, his eyebrow raised. As if in response, she clears her throat.
"Lucas, I was wrong, and I'm sorry. I'm just like you-I want you and I want us. I was just so stupid and I didn't notice what was standing right there in front of me," Peyton softly whispers in the darkness; he can tell she's been crying, as there are mascara marks down her cheeks that he can see even through this masking blackness surrounding them.
He looks up to the sea of perpetual ebony and locates Orion in the sky. A star dances across the heavens then winks out of view.
"Peyton, I don't know what to say to that," Lucas truthfully states.
"You know what I want you to say." Peyton smiles at him gently as she sways forwards and back in her swing, her feet dragging across the grass.
Lucas rises from the swaying apparatus and pulls Peyton to her feet in front of him. He presses his lips to hers. He waits for that familiar feeling he's grown accustomed to-that explosion, that spark, that ignition, that electricity flowing through his veins; he wants to feel like he's flying, like he could dance across the clouds forever, or run a thousand miles.
But he doesn't feel it-it never comes.
And he knows what he has to do.
He softly pulls away and places his hand on Peyton's shoulder. His face is sad and then so is hers. "Peyton, I wish you had felt this way back when I felt this way too."
She nods, and then smiles. She's obviously better at conjuring those up then Lucas is. "I get it. Well, you go get her Lucas. Because I know she wants you. And I think she's genuine."
Peyton caresses his cheek then smiles again to herself. She turns around and walks back through the grass. Her car is parked in the driveway and she opens the door. As if remembering something, she turns her head and looks back to Lucas.
"I guess you'll be bringing her home then? I doubt I'm her favorite person at the moment." She's grinning now and Lucas knows he hasn't made a mistake.
"I guess so." He stops, then clears his throat, as if remember to ask her something. "Hey Peyton, hold up!"
She stops and looks back up as she gets into her vehicle. "Yea?"
"Thank you," he answers.
She shakes her head, blonde curls bobbing about her face. "No Lucas, thank you."
He watches her drive off, speeding as usual. He turns back to the household. He hears Haley and Nathan off in the distance and that familiar jealousy doesn't come back. In fact, he almost feels happy for Hales because he knows that, out of anyone here, she deserves happiness the most.
He steps one foot inside, the hardwood cold against his sole. Lucas closes the door behind him and strides inside.
"Brooke?" he calls, poking his head in and out of rooms.
He hears a door open somewhere and walks in the direction of the noise.
Brooke comes striding quickly through the living room, digging frantically through her purse for her cell phone. Her makeup is smeared, and it appears she's been crying too.
She looks up and watches him stand there. Her face is sad, her beautiful green eyes devoid of the sparkle that he always sees dancing mischievously in them. He hates to see her like this, and all he wants to do is love the pain out of her.
"Lucas, I am so sorry about everything that happened. I was crazy to think that you would ever-" She stops as his hand cups her chin and lifts it towards his face.
"-To think that I would ever want to be with you? Brooke, there's a side to you that few people see. Yet, you've been kind enough to show it to me. And I love it." Her hand closes over his, holding it against her cheek. Her jade eyes seem to brighten and he sees them dance again as he heals her, revitalizes her.
"All that I want, Brooke, is to be with you tonight." He kisses her then, and she wraps her arms around his neck, returning his kiss with an astounding fervor and passion.
They release each other and she grins at him, that same beautiful grin that sends him spiraling into a sea of perpetual epiphany and bliss, the dimpled cheek that makes him go weak in the knees.
"Well this evening has been a bucket full of surprises," she states in that low, sexy murmur of hers, kissing him again as her fingers caress the nape of his neck.
"Come on," Lucas proposes. "Let's go somewhere else."
Brooke just nods and takes his hand, their fingers intertwining.
What also confuses Brooke is why she is willing to fight for Lucas. Normally she would have gotten her play and moved on to the next person on her list-because there is always a list. But for the first time in Brooke Davis' life, she's happy just being with Lucas.
The house is empty now as Brooke strides along the hardwood floors. She has no idea where Nathan's parents are; Deb is probably at Karen's Café and Mr. Scott had most likely arranged some agreement for the leasing of the house in return for, perhaps, an eon of intense and strenuous workouts from his son.
Brooke stares through the giant window adjacent to the Scotts' front door, staring out into their driveway and front lot-Nathan and Haley are out walking hand-in-hand. She studies the pair with bitterness. What did Nathan do exactly that garnered him so much happiness? Sure, Brooke wasn't exactly Mother Theresa herself but, come on-the name Nathan Scott is synonymous with cruelty and arrogance.
Brooke rounds a corner and enters the kitchen. Peyton is standing at the bar, a beer in her hand. She takes a heavy swig then looks at her friend. Her eyes are a cold blue and, although the blonde is trying her best to hide it, incriminating. Brooke feels cheep under her stare.
"Peyton."
The blonde seems to awaken now, as if Brooke's presence is now finally being noted. Brooke reminds herself that she did nothing wrong, and had Peyton really liked Lucas, Brooke would have been more than happy to step aside.
Ok, maybe she wouldn't step aside but she would have been a lot more liberal in her advances on the boy.
"You could have told me you were with him, Brooke," Peyton declares quietly as she takes a sip from the plastic cup.
Brooke really doesn't want to have this conversation. She suddenly realizes how cold the room is standing there wet in her skimpy red two- piece. She pulls the towel tighter around herself.
"Oh Peyton, come on," Brooke says rolling her eyes. "It's really not that big of a deal."
"Oh, it never is to you Brooke. The only thing that ever concerns you is a lack of both beer and boys!" She's yelling now and all Brooke can do is stand there and take it. "Lucas is different and -" she pauses, as if searching for the right words to say. "-I can't believe I'm just going to sit back and watch you play him like this."
Brooke stares wide-eyed at her, utterly and completely dumbfounded; for once, she's at a loss for words. "I can't believe you're making such a big deal out of this." She stops too, staring at Peyton Sawyer. "Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I want happiness and security too?"
"Oh please Brooke-that's a crock of shit and you know it. Your idea of happiness is a nice lay with some bourbon on the side!"
So the truth is out now. Everyone including her best friend is under the impression that Brooke Davis is nothing more than a cheap slut. "I guess it's good that you got that off your chest," Brooke says quietly, staring at Peyton, studying the blue hues in her irises.
She walks to the icebox and pulls out a Bud. She holds it up towards Peyton, nodding towards the bottle. "Does this make you happy? I hope this just helps to confirm what you obviously knew all along." She rips the cap off and chugs it, the cold liquid burning as it cascades down her throat.
She slams the half-empty glass on the countertop then turns back to her friend, who's staring at her in confusion. Damn, Brooke needed that. "Let me tell you this Peyton. I may not be perfect. In fact, I know I'm not perfect. But I have been good to you. You can't say that I haven't been there for you," Brooke declares in a quiet hush. Her eyes are watering, but she continues. "You know that if you told me you had feelings for Lucas Scott I - I wouldn't have been in the situation I was in outside."
"Brooke, I know-" Peyton tries to speak but Brooke interrupts her.
"No, you don't. People can change Peyton." Peyton is looking at the floor, and then her head rises and meets Brooke's unwavering stare with an equal tenacity. "I like Lucas, Peyton. But I guess you've won two battles here."
"Brooke, what the hell are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about how you've established that I'm a filthy whore." Peyton looks away, ashamed. She's about to cry.
Good, Brooke thinks. Feel my pain.
"And you've also shown just how much more Lucas likes you than he does me."
Peyton has tears streaming down her cheeks when she looks back to Brooke. "You know none of that's true, Brooke."
"He would have never gotten out of that pool if I had been the one doing the walking-in on."
"Brooke," Peyton whispers quietly, her voice choked with emotion. "I shouldn't have said all that crap, I'm so sorry-".
"-No Peyton, you're right. This is the first time I've ever lost anything I really cared for, but I guess I kind of had it coming, huh?"
Brooke spins around on her bare heel and walks out the door of the kitchen, the towel tightly held about her shivering body. She's shaking more from the incidents moments before than anything related to temperature.
Her bag full of a fresh change of clothes is on the steps leading to the second story and she hefts it. All Brooke wants right now is to be alone at home-something she's never done before on a Friday night.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Lucas is sitting in the swings in front of the monstrous household owned by Mr. Dan Scott. He's barefoot and bare-chested, but the night air is warm; besides, he's too lost in thought to notice.
He still feels the sparks, and he's still light-headed. Brooke's kiss was explosive and electric and he felt like he ignited when her lips brushed his. He never wanted it to end-but it did. It seems that their relationship only brought hardship but he doesn't want it to end. Not yet, not now, and not under these circumstances.
He tried to follow her inside, to catch her and tell her to stop, but when he proceeded inside, he heard her and Peyton going at it and he knew that was not where he wanted to be.
Peyton.
"Lucas."
He's ripped from his thoughts by the same girl that was occupying them. He turns in the swing and sees Peyton Sawyer walking carefully down the concrete walkway. She stands beside him: her forehead is creased in worry and he can tell she's uncomfortable.
But she couldn't be nearly as uncomfortable as he is right now.
"Mind if I--?" Peyton asks, pointing towards the seat next to him.
"Go ahead," Lucas replies, trying his hardest to plaster a reassuring smile across his face-but, alas, he fails miserably. "How's Brooke?"
"I don't know. I-I said some things to her that I really regret, but I was so angry."
Lucas looks at her inquiringly, his eyebrow raised. As if in response, she clears her throat.
"Lucas, I was wrong, and I'm sorry. I'm just like you-I want you and I want us. I was just so stupid and I didn't notice what was standing right there in front of me," Peyton softly whispers in the darkness; he can tell she's been crying, as there are mascara marks down her cheeks that he can see even through this masking blackness surrounding them.
He looks up to the sea of perpetual ebony and locates Orion in the sky. A star dances across the heavens then winks out of view.
"Peyton, I don't know what to say to that," Lucas truthfully states.
"You know what I want you to say." Peyton smiles at him gently as she sways forwards and back in her swing, her feet dragging across the grass.
Lucas rises from the swaying apparatus and pulls Peyton to her feet in front of him. He presses his lips to hers. He waits for that familiar feeling he's grown accustomed to-that explosion, that spark, that ignition, that electricity flowing through his veins; he wants to feel like he's flying, like he could dance across the clouds forever, or run a thousand miles.
But he doesn't feel it-it never comes.
And he knows what he has to do.
He softly pulls away and places his hand on Peyton's shoulder. His face is sad and then so is hers. "Peyton, I wish you had felt this way back when I felt this way too."
She nods, and then smiles. She's obviously better at conjuring those up then Lucas is. "I get it. Well, you go get her Lucas. Because I know she wants you. And I think she's genuine."
Peyton caresses his cheek then smiles again to herself. She turns around and walks back through the grass. Her car is parked in the driveway and she opens the door. As if remembering something, she turns her head and looks back to Lucas.
"I guess you'll be bringing her home then? I doubt I'm her favorite person at the moment." She's grinning now and Lucas knows he hasn't made a mistake.
"I guess so." He stops, then clears his throat, as if remember to ask her something. "Hey Peyton, hold up!"
She stops and looks back up as she gets into her vehicle. "Yea?"
"Thank you," he answers.
She shakes her head, blonde curls bobbing about her face. "No Lucas, thank you."
He watches her drive off, speeding as usual. He turns back to the household. He hears Haley and Nathan off in the distance and that familiar jealousy doesn't come back. In fact, he almost feels happy for Hales because he knows that, out of anyone here, she deserves happiness the most.
He steps one foot inside, the hardwood cold against his sole. Lucas closes the door behind him and strides inside.
"Brooke?" he calls, poking his head in and out of rooms.
He hears a door open somewhere and walks in the direction of the noise.
Brooke comes striding quickly through the living room, digging frantically through her purse for her cell phone. Her makeup is smeared, and it appears she's been crying too.
She looks up and watches him stand there. Her face is sad, her beautiful green eyes devoid of the sparkle that he always sees dancing mischievously in them. He hates to see her like this, and all he wants to do is love the pain out of her.
"Lucas, I am so sorry about everything that happened. I was crazy to think that you would ever-" She stops as his hand cups her chin and lifts it towards his face.
"-To think that I would ever want to be with you? Brooke, there's a side to you that few people see. Yet, you've been kind enough to show it to me. And I love it." Her hand closes over his, holding it against her cheek. Her jade eyes seem to brighten and he sees them dance again as he heals her, revitalizes her.
"All that I want, Brooke, is to be with you tonight." He kisses her then, and she wraps her arms around his neck, returning his kiss with an astounding fervor and passion.
They release each other and she grins at him, that same beautiful grin that sends him spiraling into a sea of perpetual epiphany and bliss, the dimpled cheek that makes him go weak in the knees.
"Well this evening has been a bucket full of surprises," she states in that low, sexy murmur of hers, kissing him again as her fingers caress the nape of his neck.
"Come on," Lucas proposes. "Let's go somewhere else."
Brooke just nods and takes his hand, their fingers intertwining.