Warnings: This chapter is spoilerish...
A/N: Ok, I'm not sure where I'm going with this, but it will be Brooke/Peyton eventually, I promise. I just have to set the scene, relay a sort of ambiance, if you will. I don't know how much more I'm going to follow the plot of the show, cuz I like borrowed dialogue and whatnot, but I have to break away obviously, when the girls hook up. That should happen within the next couple chapters. If you read, please review! It helps me update faster.
My eyes flutter open as I feel movement beside me. I didn't hear you come in. You try and slide under the covers with me, you're really warm. There's a swat to my thigh as you whisper for me to make room. I roll over on my side where I can't see your face. A small price to pay to have your body so close to mine. You sigh and press your forehead to the back of my shoulder.
"What's wrong?" I contemplate turning to you, but decide against it because I know I'll be so busy watching your lips move I won't hear a thing you say.
"I'm tired, Peyton."
"Go to sleep then." That sounds reasonable. It is 3:00 in the morning, after all.
"No, I'm tired." I try to hear the difference. "I'm just tired of everything, you know? Like it all just seems long and hard and pointlessly exhausting."
This time I do turn over. We're much closer than neccesary. I mean, it's a big bed, there's no reason for your face to be inches from mine. I can feel your breath on my cheek and I'm trying not to think about what that's doing to me, I'm trying to smell alcohol on it.
"Brooke, have you been drinking?"
You roll your eyes, those big hazel eyes. "I'm serious, Peyton."
"So am I."
"No, I haven't been drinking." You shift a little and I think your going to turn your back to me and I have to fight the urge to pull you back. But lucky me, you just reposition yourself so you're on your back, looking at the ceiling, and I can stare without worrying that you'll catch me.
"I just think that..." Your hand finds mine under the sheets and you start playing with my fingers. I don't even think you realize you're doing it. "I feel like--I don't know."
"You miss him." And the words are out of my mouth before I think them, and I know it was the wrong thing to say because your hand leaves mine and returns to your side.
"No, I don't."
"Yeah, you do."
"No. I don't." You're vehement about it, so I wait for you to elaborate. "Maybe I miss the idea of him.Of an us, you know? Like, I don't want Lucas, and I don't want just anyone, I want--I want..."
"Love? Again," I finish for you. You mull that over for a second before responding in the affirmative with a nod.
You turn back and meet my eyes. "You think we'll ever find that again?" My stomach does a little flip at your choice of words, but I know that you meant we separately, not we together. I manage a nod and swallow around the lump in my throat and answer that I really hope we do. And I really hope we do.
You have to sleep on your stomach and I have to not watch you sleep. You mumur a "Good night" before closing your eyes. I think I spoke back but I'm not posistive. After a while, a long while, I'm able to tear my eyes away. I close my own but it's like you're tattooed on the inside of my eyelids. I can still see the line of your jaw, and how it fades into your ear. I can see the curve of your hip where I'm sure my hand would fit perfectly. I can see your hair, shining faintly, reddish-brown and softer than spider silk. I can see your teeth, almost glimmering, where your mouth fell open a little. Your lips are red and I wonder briefly if they would taste like strawberries. I lie still and wait for sleep, reminding myself over and over how to breathe.
When I wake up a couple hours later, I don't move. I don't dare blink. Your arm is draped around my stomach and your head is pillowed in the crook of my neck. I risk a glance at your face. Do you have any idea how adorable you look sleeping? Brooke-Watching is my favorite pastime and I love watching you sleep. Part of me wants to keep you like this forever. The other part of me wants to shake you awake just so you will look at me and I can see those eyes again. The latter part wins; we have to go to school.
Between classes, I see you sneak off with Felix to a supply closet. I don't know what you see in him. Besides the obvious. But I don't tell you what I really think about the two of you. No, I keep my opinions to myself, mostly. I believe you're making a mistake with him, but it's yours to make. But, gee, who will you come to when it all falls apart? Reliable, dependable, Peyton, that's who. Because I'm always here to pick up the pieces. I'm just the shoulder to cry on, the attentive ear to complain to, the comforting hand to hold. I'm the one you come to when you need something, not when you want something.
But I know want I want. I've always known. Nathan was just an experiment. And I hate to say it, but so was Jake. Contributing factors to test my theory. Process of elimination, if you will. I mean, why do you think I spend so much time with Anna? I'm trying to make you jealous, and only half succeeding. I see the way she looks at me. It's how I look at you when nobody's watching. I've been there, I've done that, and deja vu is not what it used to be.
This is what I'm thinking when Anna is at my house, sad because she thinks something's wrong with her. This is what I'm thinking when Anna is on my bed, close to tears and in my arms. This is what I think when I sit back a push some hair out of her face. And you are all I can think about when Anna's lips are pressed to mine. I'm wondering if yours would be waxy from that lipstick you wear. I'm wondering if your hands would cup my face instead of staying hesitantly on the bed. I'm wondering if I could smell your flowery perfume instead of the fruity stuff Anna wears. I'm not thinking about how much Anna cares about me, and I know she does. I'm thinking about how much I care about you, and I do. Anna is great. She is all the things I said she was, but she's not you. And that's what I want.
And I know this, so I pull away. I must look dumbfounded or confused or surprised because I'm all of the above.
"Oh, my god!" Anna breathes, standing quickly.
"Anna, that not really my thing," I say just as quickly. Not sure why I'm lying.
"I'm sorry." And she's turning to leave. "I'm-I gotta go."
"But, it-it's cool, Anna!" But she's gone.
I should have told her before. Then things wouldn't be so incredibly awkward. I wouldn't be at her door, in her room, begging her to be who she is. See, because that way, I can at least live vicariously through her. But no, she doesn't even think she can still be friends with me. I know that feeling. I question breifly whether I'm ever going to get to speak to her again.
I go home. I think about calling you and decide against it. If I didn't run into you at Anna and Felix's house then you're probably out with him doing I-know-what. Because you're not here. No, not when I need you. But that's for the best because then I'd have to explain why I need you, and I'm not going there again. I crawl into bed and see if I can still smell you on the sheets. My eyes drift to a drawing on the wall before they close. Truer words. People always leave.