chapter.4...lucas
June 15, 2005
The way guys are built has confused the female mind for ages. Men are put together to crave women in their younger years but then once they reach a specific age, the women hunting ceases. They then are either satisfied with their catch or have not caught anything worth keeping. I never realized how much growing up with my mom had affected me until I fell for Brooke. I didn't catch her, she caught me. I didn't let her out of the net nor did she swim out, I accidentally tipped over the net with a little help. The net remained tipped over, she got frustrated, and that was that. The fisherman lost his best catch.
Before, I had never understood the "fish in the sea" analogy. In everyone's lifetime they have a chance at their best catch. Some get it on the first try, some have a couple "best catches" until they finally settle on one, and then there are ones like me who had the chance of a lifetime and lost their best in the blink of an eye.
I never felt for Peyton the way I felt for Brooke. Peyton and me's relationship was based on one thing, convenience. When I needed someone, she always seemed to be there. Every time Peyton and I hooked up; Brooke had a way of finding out.
Almost every night when I can't sleep, I think about Brooke. My favorite memory was that time at the market...
July 28, 2004(3 days after Brooke finds out she is pregnant, Lucas
DOES NOT know about the baby)
Brooke looked up and down each aisle of the grocery store in search of everything on my mom's list. "Who goes to the grocery at three thirty on a Wednesday, isn't that like the most random time of the week?" She asked in between looking at the list and helping me guide the cart.
"Yeah," I reached for a bag of sugar off the top shelf, "That's how I knew you weren't doing anything."
"She needed Sweet and Low, too." Brooke said, pointing to the blue box of artificial sugar. "Well you think you know me so well don't you." She turned to me, ducked under my arms, and stood up on the cart.
My hands remained on the cart, knowing that at any moment Brooke would push off and guide the cart right into a display of fresh fruit. She looked so happy, so amused by everything in a simple grocery store. "Didn't do this much as a kid, huh?" I asked her, rummaging through a mound of tomatoes.
"Nope," She said, throwing two tomatoes into the bag, "Never." I handed her the bag and she put it into the cart. "My parents always had people go to the grocery for us. I never stepped foot in a Wal-Mart until I was a freshman."
"Girls like you." I felt Brooke lean back onto my chest. I could feel her inhale and exhale. I felt like I was in tune with her body, like I was almost part of her.
She pushed me away from the cart, jumped off, and said, "Girls like me what?" She waved her hands up and down on either side of her body. "What are you saying? Plenty of people wear things like this to go shopping."
I rolled my eyes, "Did you buy that sweat suit with paint stains on it like that or did that happen while you were painting your fence, Tom Sawyer?"
Her shoulders drooped and said, under her breathe, "I bought it like this."
"And how much was that pre-stained outfit, Brooke?" I squinted my eyes at her.
She threw her arms into the air, revealing her stomach from under her zip- up sweat shirt. "Does it matter?" She casually shook her head at me. I moved toward her to continue pushing the cart. She shoved me out of the way and began running with the car. "Bet'cha can't catch me!" She called out.
Her head remained toward me, which was until she ran right into a rack full of magazines. Of course, right as this happened the manager of the store came to the front of the store to talk to a cashier. Brooke lay on the ground, she couldn't move out of embarrassment.
I walked over to her and the crashed cart. The manager confronted me, "Is this your friend?" His hands were on his hips. I watched one of his eyebrows raise as Brooke managed to get up off the floor.
I nodded and took her hand, "Yes, yes it is."
The manager and Brooke began picking up the magazines from the floor. He looked up at me, "Well maybe you should keep an eye on her next time."
Brooke stood up and threw her hands onto her hips. I knew this was coming. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"Brooke," I shook my head at her, "Now would not be the best time to insult the store manager."
"What better time could there be?"
"Maybe not now." I mumbled to myself.
The large man stood up, magazine in hands. "If you are going to get frisky with me lady, then I am going to have to ask you to leave."
Brooke shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Gladly." Brooke reached into the cart and threw the sugar and tomatoes onto the floor, right in front of the manager.
She stormed out of the store. I picked the items off of the floor and handed them to the manager. "Sorry about her. Sometimes she just gets..." I began walking out the door. "Just sorry."
Once outside, I confronted Brooke, "What was that all about?"
She twisted her hair up into a loose bun atop her head. "God, I hate grocery shopping. Is it always that stressful? Stress sucks."
I unlocked the door to my truck and got in. Brooke got in and I said to her, "Let's just say I have never gotten kicked out of a grocery store before and no, grocery shopping is not supposed to be that stressful."
She looked out the window the whole ride back to her house. I watch her casually rub her lower stomach. "You okay?" I asked her.
Whipping her head around, she said, "Yeah." She smiled. "Fine." She looked down at her hands and then quickly moved them up to her chest and crossing them.
We pulled into her driveway. She opened the door and got out. We went in through the garage as always. Rosa stood in the kitchen, ready to greet us. "Ahh. Luca. Hola mijo." She reached into the fridge and pulled out two sodas. I took mine. Brooke put hers back into the refrigerator and replaced it with bottled water.
"I am trying to cut down on my soda intake." We nodded at her. "Keeps ya healthy."
"Brooke Davis worried about keeping healthy." I looked her up and down. "Since when?"
"I dunno. I have just come to the conclusion to clean up a little, maybe." She sipped on her water. "Don't wanna screw myself up even more, ya know?"
She was acting weird. She had been for the past few days. I kept my fingers crossed hoping that it didn't have anything to do with me or to do with us and if it did... then that she would tell me. She had never been good with trust, but I hoped that this time it was different. I would never hurt her again, she could trust me. I knew she could, I just hoped that she knew that too.