Chapter Two – The Victim of Self-Inflicted Circumstance
"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve," I count aloud as I slam the barbell up and down over my body doing bench presses. I've got twenty pounds over my normal rep weight on each side, but right now I'm so keyed up I can't even feel the burn.
When I can't do anymore I let the weights slam down onto the rack not caring that everyone in the room is staring at me, probably wondering what's up my ass. It's a good thing I don't give a shit about any of them or what they think right now, and it's an even better thing they're all keeping their distance. I wouldn't turn a good fight down now; hell, I wouldn't turn a bad one down, either.
I stalk out of the gym towards the locker room without looking at a single person in there even though I know their eyes are on me. Why should I give a rat's ass about any of them, though? I've already fucked up the only relationship that really matters to me, all in one night. All in the matter of a few hours.
I didn't bring a gym bag with me, so I just stomp straight out of the gym to my Tahoe and jump in. A part of me wants to find an excuse not to go back to the apartment, but I know I can't be a coward about this. God, I already know I've done huge damage by leaving her this morning. By dumping her out of my bed. I really fucked that one up.
My phone rings, and I grab it out of my pocket as fast as I can, hoping that it is her. "Haley?" I practically beg.
"No, it's not Haley, it's your fiancée!" Susie snaps, shocking me to the bone.
"Wh – what? My what?"
"What? WHAT? That's my line, Nathan! God, I know I'm not a genius, but did you think I am unable to read? Hello, I get the school paper every morning, and I always look at the gossip section. Is this your idea of a sick joke? How could you?" I know something is seriously wrong now – I've never heard her sound like that before.
"Susie, calm down. I have no idea what you're talking about. Calm down and tell me, okay?" She sniffles as she gets herself under control. "Okay, tell me what's going on?"
"Nathan!" she screeches, and I literally have to hold the phone away from my ear, "Get the fucking paper! And then you better have a damned good explanation for what is going on!"
The click in my ear indicates she hung up on me. "She fucking hung up on me," I marvel, thinking no one had ever done that before. Focusing on what she said, I pull over and jump out of my car, grabbing a newspaper off of a bench at the bus stop.
I flip to the gossip page and my heart sinks at what I see: Star Basketball Player Engaged. Along with a picture of me and Susie. Shit. God, no wonder Suze is freaking out. She's only fucking eighteen, I'm sure getting engaged isn't at the top of things to do list right now. Plus, she's smart enough to know I'm not The One. But here it is, someone has apparently made that decision for us.
My phone rings again, and I pick it up slowly this time, not sure who I'm hoping it is. "Hello?" I ask cautiously, sounding shell-shocked to my own ears.
"Did you read the paper yet, sunshine?" a cheerful male voice comes through the phone.
"Who the hell is this?" I bark.
"Geez, Scott, calm down, it's just me, Javey." Shit, this was a fucking prank, it dawns. Every year, the seniors play pranks on the freshman and sophomores on the team, and every year they try and get them back. They usually do it before the last month of the school year, though. This is Javey getting me back for gluing feathers all over his room. How was I supposed to know he was allergic?
"Fucking A, Rodriguez, do you know what you've done? Do you have even the slightest clue how big and hard you've fucked me over?"
"I – I was just joking, man," he stutters out, clearly nervous now. Oh, he has no clue what he's in for, what I'm going to do to him.
"You have ruined every aspect of my life," I grit out through clenched teeth, "And I will ruin every aspect of yours, you got that you little punk-ass piece of shit?"
"Scott, man, it was a joke!" he exclaims, trying again to explain.
"Listen up and listen good, you little worm! A joke is hiding someone's jersey in the locker room! A joke is filling someone's shoes with shaving cream! Printing false wedding announcements is not a joke, you piece of shit!"
I slam the phone shut, unwilling to hear another word he has to say. What damn difference does it make now? Everything is already ruined, and if I'm being honest with myself, I ruined it all last night, anyway. Jesus Christ, Haley will flip if she sees that paper before I can talk to her.
I drive back to the apartment as fast as I dare, barely talking the time to grab the keys out of the ignition before I run up the stairs to get to Haley. I fling open the door, stepping inside. I jump back when something cracks under my feet. Glass. Broken glass all over the cold linoleum of the entryway.
And it is from the picture that was on the table by the door. The one of Haley and I at our high school graduation. She knows, or she's pissed at me for taking off. She has to know, and she has to be hugely pissed at me. She wouldn't leave broken glass laying all over the floor of our apartment if she didn't.
"Hales?" I call out cautiously, half expecting her to hurl another framed picture of us at me. I walk down the hall to her room, letting myself hope that she might still be asleep, that maybe she doesn't know anything about the newspaper. But that hope was just in vain I realize when I see that her room is torn apart and all her books are gone. It looks like a bunch of things off her dresser are missing, too.
I let myself drop down on her bed and feel the emptiness in the room, the emptiness throughout the whole apartment. Hollow, that's a good word for things. For the room, the whole place, but most of all, how I feel right now. Like I'm empty, there's nothing inside of me.
It's obvious where she went – Brooke's. I'm smart enough to know that Haley has a lot of friends here, but none as important to her as Brooke, so that's where she is. Hell, I think Brooke took my place in Hales' life at least two years ago. That's when I stopped trying as hard with Haley, that's when I stopped making sure I knew every aspect of her life. I found out I was replaceable.
It was a hard lesson, but one I now know I should've seen coming. I guess my head was just so far up my ass about everything with Haley that I missed it. I missed it completely. It was almost overnight, it seemed, like one day I was her best friend and the next Brooke had taken my place, almost like I'd never been there before. Haley, who'd never been easy friends with other girls before, had replaced me with the ultimate girly girl.
But even if everything up to that point was Haley's fault, everything that happened last night was mine. It's no wonder she left. I'd have left, too, if I were her. Basketball is the only thing in my life that I've managed to retain without wrecking, and it's probably a miracle I still have that.
To lose Haley, though, and know for sure this time it is forever, that aches. It makes it a little harder to breathe knowing that I'm not going to be able to tease my best friend, that she's not going to use my shoulder as the one she cries on. It makes it damn near impossible to catch my breath when I realize that I'm the reason she's crying, I'm the reason she's hurt.
Last night was selfish of me, incredibly so. I know that, and I knew it even as I proceeded to take off her clothes and tease her body until she forgot it was me, forgot that I'm just her friend. Things got out of hand for me the last few days. Haley had been giving me the brush-off more and more, and I snapped. I picked fights with her and I hounded her to tell me what her problem is. When that didn't work, I talked her into coming out with me. And that turned out real well. Only I can fuck up hanging out with a friend.
Maybe if we hadn't talked about my parents I wouldn't have panicked and grabbed onto her like she was my lifeline. Hell, maybe if, even now, I didn't absolutely know that she is the closest thing I'll ever have to a lifeline, all of this would be easier. She was all I had – really had and could trust in having – and now she's gone.
Suddenly angry, mainly at myself, but there is some reserved for her, I tear out of her room down the hall, knocking down everything I can find, trashing everything in my way. I knock pictures off the wall, tear down posters and basketball schedules we've taped up. I kick over the couch, and I overturn the barstools. This isn't going to solve anything; in fact, it will make more of a mess both figuratively and literally, but it feels good to lash out.
The last thing left hanging on the wall is a picture of Haley and I together when we five or six over near the door. I grab it off the wall, about to chuck it as hard as I can, but I can't bring myself to do it. Shit, it might be all I have left of her.
A knock on the door startles me, and I spin around hoping against hope that it is Haley. "Haley," I say as I open the door.
"Once again, not Haley. Again, not your fiancée, either," Susie mutters as I stand back to let her in. "What the hell happened here? Were you guys robbed?"
"I – no, we weren't," I say shortly, not in the mood to deal with her, even though she doesn't deserve for me to be so curt with her now. Out of everyone, she is probably the most innocent victim.
"What's going on, Nate? Your place is trashed, Haley's apparently gone, and there was an article in the paper saying we are engaged? What happened?"
She's got her hands planted firmly on her hips, and I can tell that no matter what I say, it won't be a good enough explanation. "It's nothing, Susie, just leave it, okay?"
"Leave it? Hell no, half of this involves me directly! Why was there an article about us in the paper? Is that your idea of a sick joke?" she accuses, jabbing her finger in my face. "How could you do this to me? My sister, in case you forgot, also goes to school here! She called my parents, Nate, who called in a panic!"
"Fuck no, it isn't my idea of anything," I spit, "Look, it was of the damn freshman on the team. That was his idea of a stellar "prank" on me. I'm sorry it hurt you, too."
"So, you don't expect us to get married or anything?" she asks, sounding ridiculously relieved. "Because I'm not about to get married, not to you." She pauses, probably realizing how bad that sounds. "Sorry, but I know your past, I know your love of women. I don't even trust you've stayed faithful so far, so there's no way I could marry you."
"Well, you don't have to sound quite so happy about it," I chuckle, a tiny bit of the tension draining away.
"I'm sorry," she sighs, "It's just – I really like you, Nathan. You're a good guy, and you've got a great future. I might've even thought I'd be a part of that future, but when I saw that headline, it just gelled and I knew that you and I, we aren't meant to be."
"It took this for you to figure that out?"
"Better than on our wedding day or something, right?" she shrugs. "I'm sorry, Nathan. I don't know where you saw us going, but I'm just beginning to think this is the end of the line." Mutely, I nod my agreement. She stands on her tiptoes and gives me a kiss on the cheek. She pulls away, crinkling her nose at me. "You smell like perfume, Scott. I'll pretend like I didn't notice that so we can end on a good note. And I won't point out how it sort of proves my whole point."
"Thanks, Susie," I tell as she steps toward the door. She smiles softly at me. "I'm really sorry if Javey's stupid prank messed anything up for you."
"Oh, I'll just have some explaining to do, but I'm sure you will, too. Good luck, Nathan. Clean that broken glass up before you hurt yourself."
"Thanks, you too." God knows I'm going to need it.
Once she leaves, I look around at the mess I've made. I grab the dustpan and broom, and take Susie's advice – I clean up the glass. Even though the glass is gone now, it is still broken, and when the rest of the place is straightened back up, I realize the same is true of it. Yeah, it looks like it did before all this, but I know it will never the same again. It's broken.
I spend the better part of the day moping around the apartment neglecting even my usual afternoon ritual of joining the guys in a pick-up basketball game to keep my skills sharp now that I'm in that black hole period between the NCAA tournament and the draft. Instead, I lay on Haley's bed, pathetically enough, and hope against hope that she'll come back so I can explain things to her.
She doesn't, though, and I'm not surprised. Why would she? Why should she? "Fuck this," I mutter aloud to myself, "She left, and didn't give me a chance to explain. Why should I sit here and mope over her leaving?"
I jump in the shower, standing under the hot water for a few minutes after I'm done grooming, and then jump out. There's no way I'm staying here now. It might be Sunday, but I'm newly single and newly friendless, so I might as well go out and live up my Big Man on Campus moniker one last time before college ends.
I end up at the basketball house, which actually only houses two basketball players. But it's sort of a team hangout, and since it is nearing the end of the school year, they've got something going on nearly every night of the week. Markus, a fellow senior, greets me at the door.
"Scott, my man, what brings you by on a Sunday? Here to celebrate your engagement?" he laughs, clapping me on the back. "Sorry, man," he backtracks when he sees the look on my face, "Javey told us what happened. I just figured you'd have realized it was a joke and let it go by now."
I shake my head at him. "Not a funny joke. You shits didn't know about it, did you?"
"Nope, it was all Javey, man. Sorry, didn't know it upset you so much."
"Yeah, well, it messed everything up, Mark, so I'm sorry if I'm not just over it already. Susie broke up with me, and everything else is just shot to hell."
"Oh, wow, sorry, Scott," he mutters, nonplussed, "Well, uh, how's Haley? I assume she made it home okay Friday?"
"Yeah, she did," I snort, "But I wouldn't know how she is now. I doubt she'll ever speak to me again after everything."
"She's mad because of the prank?" he asks, surprised.
"Let's just say it didn't help matters any."
"Okay, man, well, uh, you know where the bar is," he says, stepping aside as I walk past him without another word.
There's probably no reason for me to act like a total dick to everyone I come into contact with, but at this point I don't care. I don't say anything to anyone I pass, even the guys I've known for almost four years now as I head straight for the bar. I grab a fifth of whiskey and walk out onto the deck, ready to get drunk and stew in my own anger and guilt for awhile. Maybe wait until Javey gets here and kick his dumb ass.
There's no one else out here, which is fine by me. I don't need the company of anyone right now, I've got more than enough going on in my own head as it is. Small talk just holds no appeal, and for once in my life, neither do the basketball groupies. Hell, even when I've actually been in a relationship, like with Susie, I'd at least look. Oh, I'm a shithead cheater, I know that, which is why it's weird I have no interest in them now.
But even those morons can read the mood that I'm in, and they're staying far away. It hasn't stopped them from staring, but at least none of them are hanging on me tonight. I drink straight from the bottle, seeing absolutely no reason to get a cup. The first few swallows burn bitterly, but after that it becomes a haze of warm tingling that is soothing in a weird way.
By the time I'm halfway finished with the bottle, Javey has arrived. I see him glancing nervously at me, but I ignore him until I get a little more alcohol in me. The drunker I am, the better. The last thing I need is to kick his ass so bad I get arrested a month before the draft.
When I polish off the bottle, I'm stumbling and having to grip at the railing to stay upright. A lot of people are looking at me like I have something all over my face, but I just glare back. I storm through the apartment to find him.
"So, you're actually brave enough to show up, huh?" I slur, jabbing him in the chest with my fingers, "Because you're going to be sorry by the time I'm through with your sorry ass."
"I'm already sorry, man," he backs away from me, holding his hands up, "I didn't know something so small would cause you such big problems. I'm sorry, man!"
"Come on, Nate, let him go, dawg," Markus tells me, trying to drag me away.
"Why should I?" I scream, fighting Mark's grip on me, "He ruined everything! He ruined my life! And I should just let him go? Screw that bullshit!"
"Outside," Markus barks, forcibly dragging my unsteady ass out the front door. "Knock it off!" he commands when I begin shouting obscenities back towards Javey. "What the hell, man? Why you acting like this?"
"He ruined my life!" I rage, looking around for something to hit. If Markus wasn't bigger than me, I might've gone for him.
"How'd he do that?" he asks quietly, "You didn't love Susie anyway, so I know it wasn't that. Does this have to do with why Haley's friend told me to tell you to fuck off when I called Haley's cell to have her come get your sorry ass?"
"You called Haley? How'd you get her cell number?" I bite out, taking a step towards him. When did I become so easily provoked?
"The other night, dawg, I made her give it to me so I could call and make sure she got home okay." He shakes his head at me. "Dang, what's your problem?"
"She hates me," I mutter dully, not wanting to talk to him about this, "I doubt that the whys and the hows really matter much."
"What'd you do?" he asks point-blank.
"None of your damn business," I bite off, glaring at him.
"Why you taking it out on Javier if you're the one who screwed up, man? That's pretty shitty, don't you think?"
"Because he – he trashed my life, Markus, don't you get it? I might've screwed up with Hales, but he made it worse. Probably unfixable!"
Markus looks at me like I'm the stupidest person on the planet, not wrongly, of course. "Man, you need to take some responsibility. For four years now, whenever you fuck up, whenever you get caught with two girls or whenever you were late for practice, you blame someone or something else. It's never your fault, is it? So go on, tell me how none of this is your fault, either. Do it, I dare you to say that with a straight face."
I don't say anything in response. What is there to say? Yeah, I know I'm a complete shit? Because I do, in some ways, but I'm not going to admit it to him, not with all these people standing around staring at us. No way, no how.
"No response?" he questions after a minute under my glare.
"Not for you, man. Not anymore." I move to walk away, but he grabs my arm to stop me. "Let me go. I'm not going back in to your precious party, so don't worry. I just don't want to be around anymore assholes for the night."
"Good luck escaping yourself," he sighs, and while he delivers the words without heat or venom, the truth behind them is staggering.
"Yeah, well, I've always known I'll have to live with myself, and I've always known I'd deal with that fact however I had to."
He nods before turning away and walking back in the house. I watch him go, and I feel a little sorry that I've turned him away, too. Knowing there is nothing left for me here, I turn and walk away, back towards my place.
The streets are quiet, and no one stops me as I stumble along. I want to see Haley so bad, to maybe try to explain, to maybe yell at her for giving up on me, that if I knew where Brooke's house was, I'd probably go over there. The only thing that saves me from that fate worse than death is my complete and utter lack of knowledge about the goings on in Hales' life.
"Fuck," I mutter to myself as I trip, landing on my hands and knees on the pavement of the sidewalk. I hoist myself to my feet, kicking at a garbage can that seems to be taunting me with its perfect ability to stand without falling. I can't do anything without falling.
"Hey!" shouts a voice from the house I'm in front, "Get away from my property!"
"Oh, piss off," I mumble, throwing the finger his way as I trip over my shoelaces, falling onto his lawn.
"Look, guy, you're on my property. I don't know who you think you are, but you can't come around here acting like you're above the rules."
"Who do I think I am?" I laugh mockingly – at him, at me, at everything, "I think I'm the great Nathan Scott, basketball star extraordinaire. Who the hell do you think you are?"
"I'm the guy who owns this place," he smirks, setting off my anger, "And I want you off my property."
"Ha," I laugh, "You should be happy I'm on your property. Probably made the value go up a bunch. I'm important like that."
"Buddy, I know who you are, but that don't mean I'm going to let you come in my yard and kick my things around. Now, get out of here before I call the cops."
I step further on the lawn, taunting him, trying to provoke him into a fight. "What's your problem, man? It's just a stupid, plastic trash can."
He shakes his head at me, stepping off his porch and walking towards me. Even drunk, I can tell he isn't as small or as old as I'd figured, but that doesn't bother me. I'd probably fight Tyson right now, if he were here.
"Get out of here before I kick your ass, kid," he growls, pushing his shirtsleeves up. I just grin back at him, thrilled to have antagonized him to this point. He stops when he gets a few feet away from me, so I take another step towards him.
"You think you can kick my ass?" I laugh, stomping my foot into his grass, creating a divot. "How do you think you'll do that, exactly?"
He doesn't say another word, just hauls off and hits me in the jaw with a hard right. I stagger backwards, but manage to keep my footing. I charge at him, catching him in the stomach with my shoulder, knocking both of us to the ground. We roll around taking shots at each other. In the background, I can hear screaming, but it doesn't phase me and I keep going after him with everything that I've got.
The next thing I'm really aware of is being pulled off of this guy and people shouting at me to put my hands behind my head. I freeze at the realization that I'm in trouble – possibly big trouble – numbly following the orders of the police officers.
All of a sudden, it all hits me. The bright, flashing blue and red from the squad cars, the throbbing in my jaw, the trickles of blood from my forehead and my lip, the way my right eye feels pressurized from the instantaneous swelling. I can feel the bile rising in the back of my throat as an officer slaps cuffs on me, tightening them painfully. Not fans, I guess. Or else I'm so messed up in the face that they can't recognize me.
As he starts to read me my rights, my knees buckle, and they let me fall to the ground as I start vomiting. When it subsides, I wipe my mouth on my shoulder, unable to do it with my bound hands. The officers pull me to my feet and roughly shove me in the back of the car. People all around me are speaking, but their voices seem disjointed and far off as consciousness seems to become harder to maintain.
I must pass out in the back of the car because all of a sudden, I'm being dragged out and roughly set on my feet. Shaking my head to clear it, I see that I'm at the police station and that things are about to go further downhill. There are a couple of reporters with camera guys here, so I duck my head down hoping they won't see me. No one calls my name or says anything, so maybe they missed me.
"You're in trouble, Scott," the officer who is guiding me into the station says, "That guy you were beating on? He's pressing charges."
"He threw the first punch," I mumble.
"You were in his yard, you were kicking his property, and you were working on destroying his yard. Come on, kid, you have to know that doesn't make your case look too good."
I nod, closing my eyes in frustration. "What's going to happen to me?"
"We'll book you; you know, prints, mug shot, process you, basically. All that stuff. We've already got your wallet with ID, so the other arresting officer is out there drawing up the papers. He'll be in to question you when he's done."
"Okay, when can I get someone in here to post bail?" I ask, my voice monotonous and lifeless, which is eerily reminiscent of how I'm feeling in general now.
"Not until morning, man," the officer sighs, "Sorry. He's pressing charges, you're going to have to spend the night so that you can be arraigned. You're lucky tomorrow is Monday, or else you'd be here for the weekend." He shrugs, and I think he must feel bad for me because I do detect some sympathy. "Get a lawyer," he advises, "Having representation at the arraignment isn't a bad idea."
I nod, which immediately brings on a wave of dizziness I could've lived without. "Any chance he'll drop the charges?" I ask quietly. I know it's unlikely, but I guess it probably won't hurt to know exactly what I'm looking at here.
"Never say never, but it doesn't look like it. He's pretty mad about what you did, and he looks about as bad as you." He looks me up and down. "How much did you have to drink?"
"A lot," I admit, "Enough that I don't know for sure. Probably a fifth of whiskey."
He nods. "You smell like a distillery, and you look like you haven't slept in a month. Maybe a lawyer can spin that in your favor."
I choke back a bitter laugh at that. "Thanks for the info and advice," I sigh as he stands up to leave. He nods, and suddenly I'm alone in the small room with only a table, chairs, and old-fashioned rotary phone. The quiet once the door clicks shut hits me like a ton of bricks – it is oppressive and overwhelming. A suffocating presence.
"Fuck, I'm going to jail," I moan, dropping my aching head into my equally aching hands. Now that the alcohol and adrenaline are wearing off, I'm beginning to feel the toll that the past couple of nights have taken on my body.
The other officer comes in and reads me my rights again and then takes my statement of what happened tonight. I keep it as vague as I can; Haley being hooked on Law and Order a few years back helped me on that one.
It goes by quickly, and when it's done, he tells me I can make a phone call now. I ask him to get the seldom used number out of my wallet since I don't have it memorized, and then he leaves me alone in the room to make my call.
My gaze drifts between the phone and that of the number hastily jotted down on a small piece of napkin, torn and frayed and faded after years of being banished to the dark of my wallet. "If I don't call him, I'll have to call him," I remind myself, cringing at both options, but more repulsed by the latter.
I pick up the heavy receiver of the phone and quickly dial before I have a chance to change my mind. When his sleepy voice comes through the phone, I almost hang up, but will myself not to.
"Luke?" I begin, my voice shaking with nerves, "I need to call in that favor."
The rest of the night passes uneventfully; luckily it was a quiet Sunday, so there were only two other guys in the cell, and one cried all night, curled in a ball in the corner, and the other was so drunk he didn't even know who I was. The morning also passes quickly, Luke arranged for me to have a lawyer there, and got me out on $1500.00 bail, which I'll get back if I can the guy I fought with to drop the charges.
The lawyer is decent enough to drop me off back at the apartment and simultaneously goes over all I need to know about what I'm about to go through. Once I'm showered and cleaned up, I realize I should feel better, but somehow, I don't. Today is going to be a thousand times worse than yesterday was, and that's saying something. But Luke is coming, and I know the first words out of his mouth will be something along the lines of 'serves you right', 'I told you so', or 'you're finally getting what you deserve'.
I clean up the last of my mess from yesterday, trying to give him as little to nitpick about as possible. This is going to be a long, tense day with him, and if we can keep it semi-civil, it'd be a miracle.
I still can't believe he's coming. He almost sounded worried, but I doubt concern for me is keeping him from his beauty sleep, so he's more than likely coming to gloat. He's going to ask questions that I don't have answers for or that I'm not willing to answer, and he's going to do it with that superior attitude where he makes me feel like shit because he was the little boy wronged and I was the one who allegedly had everything.
The worst of it will be him rubbing Haley's absence in my face. He and Haley might've broke up years ago, and didn't really date that long anyway, but he always acts like he's some authority figure on her and my relationship with her. It won't take him long to beat me down for her absence, that's for sure.
Haley and I didn't drink often here, but there are several fifths of liquor in the freezer just in case. It's tempting to pull one out and get good and drunk before Luke gets here, but look where that got me last night. Jail. And antagonized beatings are a lot more likely with me and Luke than me and a random guy whose trash can I kicked, so alcohol is a bad idea.
Once the place looks decent, I let myself collapse on the couch and sleep. Last night was admittedly lacking in rest, and I'm pretty exhausted now that I'm letting myself feel it. my eyes hurt and are swollen from the punches I received. My jaw is sore and purple. I have bruises and cuts on my arms and chest. Basically, I'm a mess.
The hours before his arrival are filled with dread as I sit in this now lifeless apartment waiting for him to call me for a ride from the airport. Time drifts by and just when I'm starting to think he's changed his mind, there is a knock on the door.
I lift myself off the couch with much effort, and open the door to find Brooke looking as smug as I've ever seen anyone look, myself included.
"Someone finally did humanity a favor and tried to put you out of our misery, huh?" she apprises as she looks me up and down, "Well, they failed, but I give them bonus points for blackening both eyes."
She pushes past me into the apartment and breezes down the hall to Haley's room. I don't say anything, just let her go, standing with the door open so that she doesn't waste any time in getting out. Yeah, I have about a million questions to ask about Hales, but I'm sure as shit not going to ask her any of them. This bitch isn't getting crap from me.
"You know, Nathan, this silent treatment isn't getting you anywhere. I mean, you aren't giving me anything to tell Haley, good or bad. Of course, everything from you is pretty much bad right about now, at least where Haley is concerned. Especially your performance in the sack." She sticks her head out of the bedroom to give me a pitying look. "You know, for a guy who has so openly had so many conquests, you'd think you'd have the performance aspects of it down a little more. What a shame."
"Brooke, just get what you came for and go. You picking a fight with me isn't going to get either of us anywhere."
She steps fully out of the bedroom to glare at me. "You know, you still think you're so great. That's what I don't get about you. Time and time again you do some asshole thing that hurts people, even those you allegedly care about, but you still think you're better than everyone, that you are somehow entitled to more than us normal peons."
I turn away from her, looking out the door. "It's a good thing that what you think only matters to about two people," I tell her over my shoulder.
"And too bad for you that one of them is Haley." She re-emerges from the bedroom with a filled bad. "Really, Nathan, fucking her the night before your wedding announcement comes out? That's class."
I'm about to tell her where she can stick her opinions when Luke's voice sounds behind me. "Fuck who?" And then, "Wedding announcement?"
"Shit," I mutter softly without turning around. Brooke smirks at me, so she clearly knows this is a situation I did not want to find myself in.
She turns her smile on and saunters past me to Luke, who, when I finally turn, I can see has really bulked up since the last time I saw him. He's not a scrawny kid anymore. He looks at me with questions in his eyes, but I just shrug for now, not wanting to get into anything when Brooke is here.
"So you, new boy," Brooke begins, sizing Luke up with a lick of her lips and a hair toss, "You obviously don't know the most recent developments in the 'Nathan Scott is a Raging Asshole Towards Humanity and Should Be Stopped With Tranquilizer Guns and Castration' saga." He shakes his head warily, eyeing her with the same gusto she eyed him with. "Excellent," she crows, not unlike Mr. Burns, "You'll get the full Brooke Davis version, then!"
"And you're Brooke?" he asks, his eyes darting from me to her. He looks taken aback by my appearance, which is odd considering he knew I was in jail for assault and battery.
"The one and only. Anyway, you're what? You're something to Nathan, and I know it isn't a teammate."
"Yeah, you've screwed enough of them to know whose on the team, huh Brooke?" I snap out caustically, pissed she's still here, pissed Luke appears to be hanging on her every word, and pissed that Haley couldn't come for herself.
"Oh, Slut Boy, I get what you're trying to do, but it won't work. Calling attention to my sex life does absolutely nothing to minimize the fact that you seduced your so-called best friend who has been nothing but great to you and then dumping her back in her own bed before she wakes up on the morning that your engagement to your bubble headed girlfriend is announced." She pretends to look thoughtful. "Yeah, there isn't much that minimizes that, is there?"
"What?" Luke asks softly but dangerously. The anger underlying in his voice is a clear hint at how he's going to take this, and it won't be pretty.
Brooke grins at me. "Well, I think I've done enough. Seeing as how I'm still Haley's friend – you know, because I didn't dick her over. Funny how that works," she whispers confidently to Luke, "Anyway, since she still, oh, likes me, I ought to get back to my place and give her these things she needs."
Neither of us say anything to her as she breezes past us and out the door. The smug smirk on her face tells me I was completely right in not trying to rationalize myself to her; she hates me, there is no way she'd believe me. Even if she did, I'm not so sure that she'd tell Haley the truth. She just hates me that much.
The silence that stretches between Luke and I tries to lull me into a false sense of security, but this is one time that I know silence isn't golden. In fact, he's probably just gathering his words so that he can rip me the biggest new one possible all in one breath.
"What happened, man?"
That's it? That's all he's got? But…that's not possible, this is Luke, Mr. I'm Too Busy Reading Steinbeck and Being Better than You to Stoop to Your Level, how could he stop there?
"What happened? With what?" He rolls his eyes at me. "Well, a lot has happened in the last few days. Should we start with the fight and why you had to find me a lawyer and bail me out? Your check is on the fridge, by the way." He nods tersely. "Or should we start with how I've managed to wreck or let get wrecked the only things I care about in this world in the span of two days?"
"What happened with Haley?"
Got to go right to the heart of the matter, as usual. "I treated her worse than I've ever treated anyone in my life."
"It's true? You slept with her?" From the look on his face, I'd say he thinks I did this to spite him, not because of anything to do with Haley and I. Ass.
"Yeah, I did. Just two nights ago. Can you believe that? Two nights ago, I was sleeping with Haley, and now here we are, having some asinine conversation about it."
"Asinine?" he asks sharply, "How do you figure it's asinine? She's my ex-girlfriend and your alleged best friend. You know, Haley and your friendship with her was the one thing in your life that I always thought you did right by. What happened?"
"I snapped, Luke! Is that what you want to hear? She's been pushing me away for months if not years, and I never got the courage to ask why. So finally, I just pushed and pushed until she gave me something that made me think that, yeah, maybe she does still feel something for me. Maybe she's not ready to entirely cut me out of her life."
"And sex is your answer?" he snots, disgusted sounding, "Because that fixes all things? Do you ever learn anything?"
"Obviously not," I mutter, noticing that we're still standing near the door that is wide open. I move to shut it, and he drops the bag he's carrying onto the floor and steps over to the couch.
"You know, you'd after going through what Dan did with my mother our senior year, well, you'd think you'd have learned that maybe sex isn't always the best answer."
"That was different," I argue, "That is nothing like what happened with Haley and me."
"Then what happened with you two? Was it flowers and candles?" he taunts, obviously having figured out that it was anything but, "Was it love poems and teddy bears? No, clearly it wasn't, and clearly whatever happened really messed with Haley's head if she left."
"Yeah, I screwed up, Luke. I know I'm not a literate genius like you, but even I'm smart enough to figure out that I wrecked something I'll never get back. Nothing with Haley and I will ever be the same."
"Whose fault is that?"
"Mostly mine," I admit, fully aware of all the ways I've screwed that relationship up, "I'd never dispute that."
"Oh, how big of you," he retorts sarcastically, "And what is this of an engagement? Since it's not yours and Haley's, who's the unlucky girl?"
"Get out," I growl, pissed off that he's going to fly all the way up here and then treat me like this, "You have some nerve. Yeah, you found a lawyer to save my ass this morning, and yeah, you very temporarily lent me some money, but like I said, the check is on the counter. I don't need this from you, I have real concerns."
He shakes his head. "I knew you were in serious trouble when you chose to call me. I know I'm not at the top of your list, so I figured whatever it was, it was big. So I got on a plane after I got you the lawyer and the money. Figured that if you called me, you might actually need me."
"Why would you think I need anyone?"
"You're a lot of things, Nate, but stupid isn't one of them. Foolish, yeah, and sometimes dumb, but you aren't downright stupid. So I knew if you were getting arrested and jeopardizing your draft status, then something was seriously wrong. Speaking of foolish, I thought you might need someone, so I came. My mistake."
He doesn't make a move to leave, though, so I'm either stuck with him or lucky to have someone here. Only time will tell on this one.
"I didn't mean to hurt her," I say finally, "It just happened. I didn't plan it out, it wasn't something I'd been thinking about. We went out, we were talking like friends, and she asked about Mom and Dan, and it was hard to talk about. One minute she's comforting me, the next my hands are up her shirt."
"God, Nathan."
"I know. I know!"
"Well, she was willing, so why'd she run?" he wonders aloud, "It wasn't just your mistake to make, you know?"
"And this is where I really screwed up," I sigh, "When I woke up in the morning, I panicked. I didn't know what to do, I figured she was going to hate me and end our friendship. I couldn't face that, Luke." He nods. "I carried her into her room. She sleeps like the dead, you know."
"And you left her?"
"Yeah, I did. Went to the gym, lifted weights. When I was leaving, Susie called me, hysterical. One of the jerks on the team ran a wedding announcement for she and I in the school paper."
"Damn," he whistles. "Haley freaked out about it?"
I shrug. "She was gone by the time I got back. Judging from what Brooke said, I'm sure that only made what I did seem that much worse."
"How'd Susie take it?" he asks with a wince.
"We broke up. I guess that sums up how she thought about the idea of being engaged to me, huh? No way, no how."
"Sorry, man," and he says it with enough sincerity that I actually do believe him, although pity isn't what I want or need right now.
"Well, that's pretty much that," I sigh, ready to be done with story time.
"What about the fight? Or are we conveniently forgetting that little nugget of bad behavior? Sweeping it under the rug?"
I shake my head. "I'm not ignoring it; but it's the least of my worries."
He snorts in disbelief. "You're crazy! Do you have any idea what this is going to do to your draft status? Assault charges aren't exactly something to scoff at."
"I know that, but what difference does it make if I've screwed up every other aspect of my life? What difference does it make if I'm miserably unhappy in all other aspects of life?"
"Maybe you're right," he concedes, "But maybe basketball is your lifeline, and maybe success with that is what is going to get your life back in order. I'm not Dr. Phil or whoever and I don't know you as well as some guys know their brothers, but you're spiraling out of control, Nathan. And if I've learned one thing, it is that you have to fix yourself before you can fix your relationships."
Everything that he says makes sense, but it isn't easy advice to accept or follow. I've never had to fix anything without Haley, and now I'm going to have to ask myself to fix myself without her? Probably impossible.
"I don't know how to fix any of it," I admit in a small voice that sounds far off. "I wouldn't even know where to start."
"The beginning. Get your life back in order, and then worry about setting things straight with Haley and whoever."
"No 'whoever', just Haley," I sigh, "She's the only one I care to fix things with. There are a couple of people I owe apologies to, but she's the only one that matters if I fix things."
"Yeah, well, the first thing you're going to have to do is some damage control. Once word gets out that you were arrested, it isn't going to be pretty. Some teams might drop interest in you altogether, and the ones that don't will still have some serious questions to ask you and your agent. You know that, right?"
I nod, numb and miserable. "I don't have an agent yet," I mumble, ignoring his look of abject disbelief. "What? I've been approached by a few, but I've been putting it off. There's still a few months until the draft."
He shakes his head at me. "You'll never learn, will you? Come on, Nathan, this isn't something you put off until the last minute. You get this done, in advance, and then you're prepared for whatever shit comes up!"
"Well, I didn't! I'm not perfect, and sometimes I do stupid things, but who doesn't?"
He looks at me incredulously. "What the hell is the matter with you? Do you have any idea how selfish and stupid you are?" I look away, tired of him beating me down tonight. "Damn it, Nathan, you lucky bastard, you have this gift! This incredible gift where you can play this amazing sport better than the majority of the world could ever dream of! And by some miracle, you've managed to stay healthy, too."
When he says that last part, we both know that he is referring to his own life-changing injury. His voice isn't tinged with the bitterness that I know mine would be if our roles were reversed, but I know he wonders what if. Of course, his injury forged what little bit of a relationship he and I have, so maybe he doesn't always think of it as a total waste.
"You think I'm a waste, don't you?" I ask, suddenly needing, wanting to know his take on my life and basketball.
"You're not a waste, but you don't take care of the things that you should. But hey, it's easy for me to know what I can and can't take for granted because I had it taken away. I've had my slap in the face; maybe this is yours."
"Feels more like a sucker punch to the gut," I moan, kicking my feet up on the coffee table in front of me.
"That's how I felt at first," he sympathizes, "But you haven't lost it yet. Just get an agent – you must have some cards or something – and fill them in on what happened. Let them start damage control, maybe you won't lose it like I did."
I shake my head. "You know that basketball isn't what I'm worried about right now. That's just a game, just a sport, and it will come to an end sometime, right?"
"Like I said, it's easy for you to say that, you still have it," he argues, his tone obstinate. I know I'll never win an argument like this with him. "You have something that not many people have, and you look at it like it's a game, a toy to be thrown away because it isn't what you want to focus on."
I shrug. "I just don't think I can go around pinning my hopes on it like it's everything important in the world. You more than anyone should understand that."
He stands up and paces back and forth in front of me. "Look, it was different then. Who knows if I would've gone anywhere with it? Besides, you've screwed things up so bad for yourself that you need basketball, Nathan. It's not just a fallback anymore, it's going to be your savior," he predicts.
"I'm getting a degree, Luke, I think that's my fallback."
He rolls his eyes. "You're not the fucking golden boy anymore, Nathan, you've adequately proved that, don't you think?" he sneers.
"How could I forget? I've got you here to remind me of all my raging failures and moronic inadequacies."
"What the hell does that mean? I busted your ass out of jail, where I could've left you to rot or worse yet, call Dan, and now you're accusing me of only doing it so I could throw it in your face? You're a real piece of work, Nathan."
I jump up, stepping close to him. "I didn't accuse you of anything; I think it's pretty clear what you're doing here and why." I give him a cursory glance before turning away. "Fess up, Luke. You enjoy this, right? At least a small part of you does, so just admit it."
"You're diabolical. Just because you and your perverted mind would get off on someone else's trouble doesn't mean the rest of the world would, too."
"Not the rest of the world, just you, brother."
"Don't call me that," he growls, "We're a lot of things to each other – enemies, reluctant supporters – but not brothers. Never brothers."
"Then why are you here?" He remains quiet, so I push my advantage. "To rub all this shit in my face. At least have the balls to admit it."
"You want the truth, man?" I nod. "You saved my life that night, whether I liked it or not. You chose to save me, and I owe you. And if that means bailing your contentious ass out of jail, so be it."
"I thought we decided that was in the past, that there were no debts to repay," I mutter, uncomfortable with the turn in the conversation. This is one place I don't like to go – it reminds me of so many things that would be better forgotten.
"Please," he scoffs, "You think that can be shoved aside, that I can compartmentalize it right out of my head? You pulled me out of that burning tow truck. If you had left me there like the 911 operator told you to, I would've blown up with the car, too."
"I just did what anyone would do," I reiterate for the thousandth time. "I wish I could've done more," I sigh, leaving unspoken the words that neither of us have ever been able to say. And probably never will, either.
As tears fill his eyes, I turn away, unable to cope with my own guilt let alone his sorrow and grief. And maybe in the end, this is exactly what divides us. Not our childhoods, so different, but so tainted by the same person, but this one event that changed so much for Luke, and even some for me.
I was a hero after it happened, after I saved Luke. Even in my failure to save our uncle, I was still exulted as something wonderful in the eyes of everyone in town. First time for everything, that's for sure. Even though I'd grown up, as Luke said, the golden boy, there were too many people who saw the truth in me for it really to be believed. But after the accident, everyone seemed to forget or ignored that I slept with every cheerleader to pass through our high school. And some from other schools. They ignored the hazing me and my teammates did to Luke and other guys we deemed not as worthy as us. It was like a giant eraser came along and wiped my slate clean.
"We all wish it turned out differently," he intones dully, and I can see the effort it takes to pull himself together. I know that he loved our uncle like a father, and that his death had a much worse effect on him than losing his basketball ability, but I've always been staggered by the depth of emotion he felt for him.
"Yeah, I know."
"Things would be different now, if he hadn't died, I mean," he points out, "Dan would never have come after my mom, and she never would've fallen for his bullshit. Your parents wouldn't be, well, whatever it is that they are now."
I chuckle a little, even though none of this is funny. "No, they wouldn't. There is no chance that they wouldn't still be the same dysfunctional assholes that they are now."
He even cracks a small smirk. "Aren't we supposed to take comfort in the fact that some things never change?"
"We all wish it turned out differently," he intones dully, and I can see the effort it takes to pull himself together. I know that he loved our uncle like a father, and that his death had a much worse effect on him than losing his basketball ability, but I've always been staggered by the depth of emotion he felt for him.
"Yeah, I know."
"Things would be different now, if he hadn't died, I mean," he points out, "Dan would never have come after my mom, and she never would've fallen for his bullshit. Your parents wouldn't be, well, whatever it is that they are now."
I chuckle a little, even though none of this is funny. "No, they wouldn't. There is no chance that they wouldn't still be the same dysfunctional assholes that they are now."
He even cracks a small smirk. "Aren't we supposed to take comfort in the fact that some things never change?"
I shake my head. "Not that, man. Anything but that."
"Yeah, I guess that whole thing is just too crazy to have any sort of comforting feelings arise from. Creepy."
"Creepy," I repeat, "Yeah, that about sums up the jerks that raised me. I bet they're going to love all this. I can almost hear Dan now."
He shudders visibly at the thought of Dan imposing his opinions about anything on whoever will listen. "Scary," he mutters, "I'm twenty-two, and the thought of him still scares me like it did when I was twelve or sixteen."
"You think there will ever be a time when he doesn't haunt either of us incessantly?" I wonder aloud, glancing over to see the grimace twist his lips.
"I don't know. How do you get past someone like Dan Scott? How do you get past the things he did, the ways he treated us? I just don't think I'll ever forget the look he gave me when he found out that Keith died and I lived."
I nod, remembering that. It was so cold, and that was the second I realized that no matter how I'm related to him, the man was evil. My father cared so little for anyone but himself that he actually wished his unacknowledged son died along with his brother.
That was the day I began to doubt myself, too. Not only did his blood flow through me, but he'd raised me. I had both nature and nurture working against me, and all of a sudden, I wonder if I was the same way Dan was. If I was the same beast that would one day not care if his family members died or came close to it. Perhaps the type of man who would wish one of them dead or be irritated when they didn't die.
"It's burned in my brain, too," I admit, "It was so chilling that I literally felt cold, like there was a breeze in the ER."
"Aside from Keith and how broken he looked," he chokes out, "That was the most horrible thing I've ever seen."
I nod, sitting back down. This has been a really draining afternoon spent with Luke, and piled on top of the events of the last few days, I feel like I've really been through the wringer.
"Maybe it gets easier at some point," I suggest, "Maybe at some point, we'll just be able to forget Dan, forget he exists, or at least forget all the times he trashed our lives."
He shakes his head. "Doubtful. How do you forget these things? Neither of us will," he predicts, "He causes all these dramas for us, these painful situations, and we're going to be the ones dealing with it for the rest of our lives."
He shakes his head. "Doubtful. How do you forget these things? Neither of us will," he predicts, "He causes all these dramas for us, these painful situations, and we're going to be the ones dealing with it for the rest of our lives."
"Yeah, you're right. He makes the mess, and we have to deal with it." I glance at him sharply. "Am I him?"
"What?"
"Am I him?" I repeat, realizing that someone else always cleans my messes – Mark was right about that.
"You aren't him, man," he sighs, pausing when he sees what I imagine is a very pleading look on my face, "You aren't. Come on, Nate, you're a complete dickhead a lot of the time, and you pull some pretty asshole-ish stunts, but that's the same as Dan. He's just so far beyond that."
"Sometimes I wonder," I admit, "I do something or say something to someone, and I wonder if that was something he'd have said or done."
"You want to know the difference between us and Dan?" he asks, to which I nod, "We know what we've done when we mess up, and we don't take joy in it. If we can, we fix it. He doesn't. When we mess up, they're mistakes, when he messes up, it's a purposeful act."
"It isn't the same."
"No, it isn't. It took me so long to realize that, too, but trust me, once you do, you're better off. Just believe that you're nothing like him."
He leaves shortly thereafter, telling me he booked himself a hotel room. I offer him Haley's room, but he declines, admitting that it's better if we don't spend too much time together. I don't ask him how long he'll be here; just tell him that I'll see him tomorrow. And I don't hate the notion, either.
He says goodbye and heads out, leaving me alone with myself and the emptiness of this place, this newly created, self-inflicted hell I live in. A part of me wants to call him on his cell phone and ask that he come back, ask that he do anything, even fight with me, if it means filling up the deafening silence and endless void in this place.
I don't, though. Instead, I go in Haley's room, and I lay on her bed. It still smells like her, this heady mix of perfume and this sugar scrub she leaves in the bathroom sometimes. My mind goes places it isn't supposed to as I think about her under me, her over me, me inside of her calling out her name. After what that night did, pushing her to move out without a word, you'd think the memories would be held at bay, but here they are, tormenting me with their realism.
And that's what haunts me as I fall asleep on her bed, my head in her pillow: the memory of us together, in a way we'd never been before, in a way I'd never let myself imagine, in a way that changed everything.