Author- Emily-Grace Mendes (Brookebynature)
Disclaimer- I don't own the characters, only the plotline.
A/N- A big thank you to those that reviewed last chapter,I really appreciate them. Hope you enjoy this chapter xxx
Just Watch Her Move
Chapter 2- No Regrets
They stumbled in through the door, his hands snaking around her hips, hers wrapping around his neck. Their breath mingled as their faces moved closer together, alcohol being the overpowering scent.
The two of them fell onto the bed, her on top of him, his view obscured by a hazy blur of brunette hair somewhere in the glazed picture. Her hands moved to his shirt, unbuttoning it at his head hit the pillow, causing him to groan as the starchy white surrounded him.
She wasted no time in throwing back the covers, the different sized decorative pillows being thrown without care onto the hardwood floor which seemed to be covered mostly by a large square plum-coloured rug.
"Nice apartment" he managed to slur, almost incomprehensively before his tired blue eyes shut, and she distanced herself from him as he started to snore quietly, his mouth open part way. She nodded, and drew the covers back over him, making a line on the smooth comforter by dragging her hand alongside his sleeping form, satisfied that there was enough division.
It was only after she had showered and changed into a comfortable pair of tracksuit bottoms and tank top that she laid herself on the bed, a reddish purplely coloured quilt draped over her.
She didn't shut her eyes, she preferred to watch Lucas sleep, wondering what it was that drove people like him to stay trapped in the life which made them so unhappy, so in need of an escape. He seemed like a decent enough guy, a little stressed maybe, but still decent.
He wasn't the first guy she'd met who had turned to the club in which she worked as an escape, and he certainly wouldn't be the last. But there just seemed to be something about him that made her want to know more, that made her want to understand.
And then she thought back to his wife, who would either be the type to be sat at home, worried out of her mind that something had happened to him, or that he had finally left her without warning. Or she'd be the type to not give a crap, focusing instead on either having an affair, or a drink. Brooke guessed the latter.
The rain was pounding against the glass windows when he woke, turning groggily in the bed, and coming face to face with a woman he only vaguely remembered.
"Shh" she placed a finger lightly on his lips, feeling the stickiness of alcohol and saliva mixed together, not overly pleasant, but not entirely repulsive. "nothing happened before you start worrying that you cheated on your wife."
He let out a sigh of relief, a throbbing headache preventing him from thinking about much else. "How did I…"
"You were drunk. Almost passed out at the bar so I figured I should take you home." she smiled, showing him a pair of dimples that triggered a few flashbacks.
"Are you going to dance for me again?"
"Do you want me to dance for you again?"
He shrugged, a grin forming on his face.
"If you're going to act like you couldn't care either way, at least act well"
"Who says I'm acting?" he moved closer to her, practically out of his seat.
"Please" she rolled her eyes "All the guys I know want me to dance"
"You're pretty cocky. That's not always an attractive quality you know"
She leant over the bar, revealing slightly more of her skin as she flashed him a dimpled smile. "Maybe not. But look me in the eye and tell me you don't find me attractive."
He smiled nonchalantly, and moved closer still so that his blue eyes locked with her hazel ones. "I don't find you attractive."
"Liar"
"You look like you're thinking" she told him, propping herself up on one elbow to get a closer look at the dishevelled blonde-haired guy in front of her.
"I would be if I didn't have this headache" He brought his hand up to the side of his head, rubbing his temple roughly.
"Yeah well I don't do asprin, so you'll have to take a trip to the drug store on your way to work."
"Shit!" He jumped up, causing the bed to creak and Brooke to fall back onto her side, her arm in an awkward position underneath her.
"What?"
"I was supposed to be at work an hour ago."
"Who's your boss?"
"Where are my clothes?"
"No." she stated "That's not how the rules of a conversation work. See, I ask you a question, and you should answer before asking me one."
"I need my clothes, I have to be at the office."
"If I give you your clothes will you answer my question?" She cocked her eyebrow, somewhat amused at the frantic state Lucas was in.
"Me." He shouted. "I'm my boss. Can I have my clothes now?"
Brooke climbed off the bed and made her way from the bedroom to another room, which Lucas assumed was the bathroom after hearing a fan start to whirl upon Brooke opening the door.
"Here" she handed him the pile of folded clothes before sitting on the edge of the bed, watching him put on his shirt.
"So if you're your own boss" she started, returning to her earlier position of laying on the bed, one arm propping up her body. "Why do you even care about being late? You can't fire yourself."
He ignored her question and carried on dressing hurriedly, oblivious to the smirk on her face.
"Well I guess it's a good job we didn't have sex."
He looked at her this time, his blue eyes narrowing as a smile played on her lips, those dimples that seemed to control him on display once again.
"And why's that?" Lucas asked, curious to know what she meant.
"I've hardly got a conversation out of you as it is. I bet you're even less talkative after a one night stand."
"I don't do one night stands" he informed her.
"Neither do I."
One single muffin was on his beige coloured desk when he finally made it to the office, set in its usual place, by the mouse mat, accompanied with a cardboard cup of strong black coffee, no sugar, just the way he liked it. Except, this morning, he didn't want the blueberry muffin that he had eaten everyday for the past six years. He fancied something different, anything but a blueberry muffin. And black coffee. Suddenly it didn't appeal so much with it's harsh, bitter aftertaste and teeth-staining skills. Lucas wanted to try hot chocolate, or herbal tea. Okay, maybe not herbal tea, but the point was, he wanted something out of the ordinary. For him anyway.
He figured he should call Peyton, at least tell her that he was at the office, and not lying in gutter somewhere, dead to the world. But he didn't want to. It was the first time he realised how much he had grown to dislike the woman he once loved more than anyone.
He'd tried to brush it off for months, choosing to believe that all married couples went through this stage at some point. But he knew that he had fallen out of love with her long ago, and that he didn't have the desire to try hard to make things between them work.
She hadn't done anything wrong, at least, not that he knew of. She hadn't cheated on him, she hadn't become an alcoholic or drug addict, although, he wouldn't have blamed her if she had.
It was just the little things, like the way she curled her nose up if he wanted to play basketball with his Brother down at a little place called the river court, that angered him. Previously, her whining about her split ends, or broken nails had been bearable, cute even. But every time she so much as inspected her nails, Lucas could feel himself becoming more and more frustrated, worried that he might one day snap, and do something he regretted.
Lucas wondered if that day had already come, and that in fact, he had snapped, and turned to Brooke, even though he knew nothing about her. But he didn't regret a thing.
Hips swaying, bodies grinding to the loud music as drinks were poured. The usual scene in Club Loca y Divertido, Spanish for 'crazy and fun' And Brooke loved it. Salsa night was her favourite night of the week, the one night where she could dance freely without having to return to the bar every couple songs to serve drinks. Lucas dropped the car keys onto the side table as he entered the large hallway, the huge sound of emptiness greeting him like a cheer when he shut the door behind him.
"Peyton?"
No reply
"Peyton are you home?"
No reply.
He shrugged to himself, heading upstairs for a shower, contemplating whether to ring his wife, or just wait until she returned. Their earlier phone conversation had resulted in yet another argument, this time with her ending it by slamming the phone down, leaving nothing but a dazed Lucas to try and comprehend what she had just said. 'I'm over this'
There was still no sign of her when he emerged from the shower, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. There was no note left anywhere, no car or house keys on the hook, indicating that she would have some idea of where she was going. A bar probably. After all, that's where he was heading.
His eyes searched for her as soon as he entered the building, identifying her on a raised platform above a sea of sweaty bodies grinding to salsa music. His breath hitched in his throat as shebacked up against a wall, the red dress she was wearing creeping higher up her leg as her hips swayed from side to side in perfect timing.
Her eyeliner was smudged, he could tell as he made his way nearer to where she was dancing, a beaming dimpled smile on her face. All thought of alcohol strayed from his head as he continued to watch, choosing to stand by the bar, rather than take a seat like he had done the previous night.
Only a desperate need for the bathroom made him move from the position where he had been almost rooted, a need that he wished he hadn't had as he returned, and saw that she had left, the blonde girl from the night before in her place.
"Couldn't keep away huh?" a raspy voice echoed through his eardrums, creating a small smile on his face as he turned around, the heat radiating off the brunette standing before him.
"I wouldn't say that." He tried to play along with her game, finding it increasingly harder not to think about what she would be like in bed. Or naked. Or both.
"So you came for the scotch you don't even like?" she questioned.
"Who said I don't like scotch?"
"You did. Right before you told me that you didn't find me attractive."
Lucas nodded, smiling. "I remember."
"Ready to admit you were lying yet?"
He shook his head. "Maybe I'll admit it when you tell me something about you."
"Why do you care?"
"Why do you?"
"I never said I did."
"So why did you take me back to your apartment? If you didn't care, you'd have just left me."
"So maybe I do care."
He watched her walk away, amazed at her ability to have him wondering more about her after every word she said. She was mysterious, confident, sexy. She was different, and he liked that. But there had to be more about her. And he had to know.
Betcha thought they were going to get it on...
Please review guys xxx