She Don't Dream for Me
By: caramelo
I do not own One Tree Hill or anything related to it.
Story Notes:Lots of gratitude for my awesome new beta Aleah. Muchos thanks to her for her awesome-ness (don't care if it's not a word) in finding all the little things I don't have the patience to and for listening to my random rants about anything I felt like. ;)
Chapter Twelve: Tall, Cold Glass
Brooke guided Haley's car down the streets of Tree Hill in a haphazard fashion, twisting and jerking the wheel as she saw fit. Her mind was racing, and her heart pounded against her ribs in a way that would have worried her had she not been in such a state, and Brooke couldn't seem to regain her grasp on reality.
She might have continued on this way for quite a while if it had not been for the stray cat that crossed the road in front of her. "Shit!" she gasped as she slammed on the breaks. The cat had frozen and, for a second, it looked like there was no way to avoid the collision when the car screeched to a dead stop.
Sitting there, breathing hard with her hands gripping the wheel tightly, Brooke kept a steady gaze on the animal just in front of her. The cat, a very large one, she noted, flattened its ears against its head and gave her what seemed to be an almost reproachful glare before it slunk off the road and into the woods.
Brooke finally drew a shaky sigh of relief and raked a hand through her hair. What was she doing? What had possessed her? Her blank mind couldn't supply the answers she wanted, and this only seemed to upset her more. Paying no attention to the fact that she was still parked in the middle of a thankfully empty road, Brooke drew her legs up onto the seat and curled her arms around them. She closed her eyes and tried to calm herself down.
Unfortunately, she never had the chance as another car pulled up behind her and gave an impatient tap of the horn. Sighing, Brooke reluctantly released her legs and shifted the car back into gear, continuing on her way to an as of yet unknown destination.
A few hours later, Brooke couldn't help but appreciate the fact that she didn't easily get motion sickness. She hadn't yet stepped out of the car, and she wasn't sure she'd be ready anytime. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, Brooke knew what she was doing was very wrong, that she had just stolen a car, but she wasn't about to listen to that voice.
She wasn't about to think about anything at all, really. About an hour into her ride, she had tried, but that had only succeeded in a running a couple red lights and nearly dropping off the road. Brooke was still driving at a breakneck speed, one that would get her pulled over in a heartbeat had there been any police around, still searching for something, anything, that would dull the roar of pain and confusion in her mind.
And that was when she saw it.
It was gray and somewhat nondescript, unless you counted the line of protesters crowding its entrance. Once Brooke's gaze caught on it, she couldn't pull herself away. As if on autopilot, she slowed the car down and glided it into a parking space just down the street.
With an almost overwhelming sense of trepidation, Brooke shut off the car with a sharp twist of the keys and climbed out. Automatically, she smoothed out the wrinkles on her skirt and blouse before continuing on her way. Her steps were brisk and long at first, but as the building grew steadily closer, she began to slow down, almost hesitant as she approached now.
The protesters' voices seemed to rise in volume as they reverberated in Brooke's mind. "Don't kill your baby!" they shrieked. "There's another way!"
Brooke shivered and pulled her jacket tighter around her as she stared up at the abortion clinic, a safe distance away from the attacking protesters. She bit her lip, tears welling in her eyes. This was the best way, right? Was she making the right decision?
That was when she noticed the change. It was almost imperceptible, but it was there all the same. The horde of people at the door seemed to quiet for a moment, a split-second, before they rose to a new, slightly higher level of ferocity. Brooke's eyes fell on a girl tumbling out of the doorway, not much older than herself, dressed in baggy, black clothes and keeping her head carefully down. The protesters moved to make way for her but did not silence their shouts.
Brooke could only stare, wide-eyed, as the girl raced away from the place, towards her. She was only a few feet away when the girl finally dared to lift her gaze up, and their eyes caught. Brooke drew in a sharp, ragged breath at the expression of pure, unadulterated pain and loneliness on the girl's face. The girl slowed her pace somewhat, and for a second, they shared a strange understanding as if the girl could read what Brooke was thinking.
In a flash, the feeling had broken as the girl quickened her pace again and passed Brooke by, bitter tears streaking down her face.
Any and all energy Brooke might have had left seemed to leave her as her legs went wobbly, and Brooke had to drag herself over to a nearby bench before they gave out on her completely. The desperation inside her intensified ten-fold. Brooke had to fight to keep the sobs from breaking out from her. The expression on that girl's face was unforgettable. She had never seen such utter hopelessness.
Brooke sent another glance up at the protesters, and a streak of anger coursed through her very suddenly. What right did they have? How could they fight to make somebody so miserable? It was bad enough that the girl was alone, but with so many people harassing her, screaming at her…
It wasn't right. It just wasn't fair.
Didn't they realize how hard it was?
She suddenly tasted a coppery, bitter substance on her lips, and Brooke realized she had sliced through the skin on her lip with her teeth. She brought a tentative finger to touch the cut and was almost transfixed when she pulled it away to see the watery red liquid that had gathered there.
"Shit," she murmured softly. The world seemed to come in sharper contrast around her with all its damned jagged edges. The sting on her lip was very real now, and Brooke had to force down welled tears. She had never felt so out of control in her life. She needed something to get rid of this awful feeling, or at least, to dull it.
Not wasting another second, Brooke rose wobbly from the bench and all but ran over to Haley's car. She knew where she wanted to go now. She knew what she needed.
It wasn't too long before she found the place she was looking for. Five to ten minutes, give or take. One of the city's seedier bars, just on the outskirts of downtown Tree Hill. It was lax on ID checks and had some of the strongest drinks Brooke had ever tasted. Normally, she preferred to opt for one of the few other bars, always unsettled by the dirty, violent atmosphere of this place, but today, it just seemed to be more and more appealing by the second as she approached it.
Brooke pulled into a tight parking space, surveying the crowded lot around her. It was obviously busy tonight. A tense smile spread across her face. Obviously, there would be action in this bar, maybe even a couple brawls. Definitely enough to take her mind off things, but Brooke had her doubts. Was she really up for this sort of thing tonight?
She slammed the car door shut, steeling her resolve. Of course she was. She was Brooke fucking Davis.
As she predicted, inside the bar things were getting pretty hectic. The noise was loud, full of drunken ramblings and the occasional catcall. A woman was sobbing in the corner and downing drink after drink with her friends surrounding her.
"I told you he was a cheating bastard, hun," one of the obviously less sensitive friends said to the woman. "It's good that you finally got out." A few of the other women glared at her, disapproving, before they made consoling clucking noises and rubbed the crying woman's back.
Brooke couldn't deny that she was jealous, maybe even bitter. It was horrible to be cheated on, yes, but Brooke would've appreciated a support of friends to buy her drinks and console her. Maybe if there had been anyone on her side, she wouldn't have been as messed up as she was now. That woman didn't realize what she had.
Brooke scoffed. Whatever. She wasn't really in the mood to analyze her own sob story tonight. All she was interested in was a tall, cold glass of the strongest drink they had and the warm, detached feeling that came with it. This in mind, she continued on her way up to the bar, sidling past a crowd of people and ducking away from anybody that looked remotely like anyone she might recognize.
"Hey, baby," a man leered as she squeezed past him. Brooke tried not to look revolted. The man had to be at least in his mid-thirties, if not older. Any other night she would have told him to fuck off and be done with it, but as it turned out, Brooke found as she searched her pockets, she was low on cash.
She tried her best at a coy smile. It came surprisingly easy considering how listless she felt. Maybe it was just habit by now.
Brooke nearly grimaced. The thought wasn't particularly comforting. All the same, she was desperate, and her smile barely flickered on her face. "Buy me a drink," she whispered, leaning into him and tapping a finger on his chest.
"Anything for a lady," the man grinned, mostly out of surprise Brooke assumed. He didn't seem like the type that got much action. Her suspicions were confirmed when he circled an arm around her waist and grabbed her side, as if to keep her from bolting as they made their way to the bar.
It took all she had not to recoil from his touch. But if he was paying…She chanced a glance at the man beside her and regretted it instantly. He could be my father, she thought miserably. Except for the fact that he was not so subtly trying to lower his hand and grab her ass. Brooke nearly dropped to her knees in relief when they reached the bar, and the man was forced to let her go.
He plunged a hand into his pocket and, instead of just grabbing a few bills, he came out with a thick wad of cash that Brooke knew he hadn't pulled accidentally. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes and settled for just pretending not to pay attention. The man frowned and put the majority of the bills back in his pocket, holding out just enough for a couple drinks. The bartender hurried over to assist them.
The man leaned in close. "You want anything special?" he asked. Brooke shook her head noncommittally, and the man turned away. She couldn't have cared less as long as it had alcohol in it. She wasn't even sure what he ordered for her, Brooke realized, as she watched the bartender walk off to get them their drinks.
"It'll be a surprise," the man said, as if she cared.
Brooke shrugged, and the bartender came back with two tall glasses with what looked like just regular beer in them. God, this man was cheap. "Surprise," she muttered sarcastically as she was handed her drink.
The man raised a brow. "You could show a little gratitude."
Shrugging again, Brooke looked back down at the glass in her hands. Beer. Cheap beer. The glass wasn't even very cold. There wasn't much to thank him for. "Trust me," she said flatly, "Gratitude isn't a strong enough word to describe what I feel."
But Brooke could think of plenty of other words that would work better. She'd even tell him a few if he asked nicely enough.
"Can't even find the words, huh?" the man leered, obviously pleased with himself. "You know, actions do speak louder." He moved in close and slipped a hand into her back pocket.
This time, Brooke did recoil. "Shit!" she hissed as some of the beer spilled over the rim of the cup and onto her hands. She set the glass down on the counter and grabbed a few napkins to wipe herself off.
The man snatched the napkins right out of her hands. Brooke looked at him blankly. "What the hell are you doing?" she demanded.
"I just bought you a drink," he said angrily. "The least you could do is show a little thanks."
Brooke narrowed her eyes and ripped the napkins back out of his hands. "Fine," she said through gritted teeth. "Thank you. Now, go away."
"Not that kind of thanks," the man said, taking a step closer.
Fuming, Brooke took her index finger and jammed it into his chest with her nail to force him back a step. "Listen, asshole," she said, "I've had a bad enough day already without having to put up with your horny I'm-gonna-bang-a-girl-that-could-be-my-kid shit. I came here to forget about all that stuff and try to find a decent guy to buy me a drink, and of course, I had to settle for you, because if you haven't noticed, there are no decent guys here, and it turns out I probably should have picked Mountain Man over there in the corner because you're a cheap bastard with a bad taste in drinks."
The man stood there, shell-shocked.
Brooke rolled her eyes and took a deep breath. She let it out with a sigh, staring at the man impatiently. When he still stood there, she gestured impatiently, "The whole glare and sigh routine I just did? That was your signal to leave."
The man finally seemed to snap back to his senses. "I don't think so," he said nastily as he tried to advance on her once more.
For a second, Brooke felt the smallest twinge of fear, but a loud, slightly drunk voice cut in sharply. "Is this man bothering you, honey?"
Brooke spun around, and the man stumbled. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry when she saw the group of women from earlier that had been comforting the girl who had been cheated on. The one she had deemed insensitive was heading the group.
The man looked positively horrified. Brooke nearly did give into laughter. "No, I don't think so," she said. "He was just about to leave." She gave him a positively wicked smile.
The man scowled, but he was smart enough not to go up against a group of ultra-feminists. "Yeah," he mumbled. "Leaving."
They didn't take their eyes off him until he had completely exited the bar. And that was when the group burst into giggles. "What a jackass," one of the women drawled. All the rest nodded in agreement, and the head of the group turned to Brooke. "She's right, honey. I'm sorry he tried to get his hands on you."
Brooke shrugged. She didn't know when the change had occurred, but for some reason her giggles had subsided, and she felt strangely close to tears. "It's all right. I've handled worse."
The women clucked in disapproval, but said nothing. That is, except for the first lady again. "Men are pigs," she agreed. Then, quite suddenly, she smiled. "My name is Connie."
"I'm Brooke," Brooke answered back politely. "Thanks for, um, stepping in."
"Quite all right," another woman said before identifying herself as Rena. "I think about half the bar was about to put a stop to it; we just got there first."
Brooke smiled weakly. She knew it was a lie. Half the bar was drunk, and the other half just flat out didn't care, maybe even found it amusing. Except for these women, of course. "Well, thanks again," Brooke said awkwardly, shuffling her feet, "I guess, I'll just get back to my…" she gestured helplessly over to her glass.
"Nonsense, honey," Connie said. "You look absolutely miserable by yourself. Come sit with us." She had a commanding, booming voice. Probably scares the hell out of her kids, Brooke thought. Her own mother had always made sure to appear soft and dainty, even if she wasn't, so yelling had never been an issue in the Davis household unless it came from Brooke's nonexistent Dad.
She was reluctant to join, but what choice did she have? These women had been so nice to her; it would be rude to refuse. "All right," Brooke relented, "Just let me get my drink."
"Meet us at that table over there," Connie commanded. Brooke nodded to show she understood.
When Brooke joined the women at the table, she had halfway built her hopes up. These women seemed understanding. She had just seen them comforting another who must have left to wallow on her own at some point. Perhaps they might do the same for her. It would be nice.
She was terribly, terribly wrong.
Sitting there as a group was unbelievably awkward. Brooke could tell it would be as soon as she lowered herself into a seat, and the conversations stopped where they were. When they had all been standing together, laughing over the flight of the man, they had shared some sort of connection, but now, Brooke reflected, it had faded, and they really had nothing to talk about. The women grew more and more uneasy as the silence lingered, and Brooke knew they were regretting their invitation.
Connie was the one to finally open her mouth and say something. "Oh, look ladies," she said, with a strange, high-pitched giggle. "How handsome."
"Where?" a few of them demanded.
Connie pointed, "He just came in. By the door. It almost looks like he's looking for someone."
Brooke spun around in her chair at these words. She caught sight of Nathan's tall, muscular build and nearly dove under the table. She was just about to look away and try to hide when his gaze swept across the room, and their eyes locked. Brooke fought the urge to groan.
"Well, he's too young for us, of course," Rena said sensibly. Then, she rounded on Brooke. "But he does look just about your age, sweetie. You should go talk to him."
Brooke shifted uneasily in her chair. "Maybe later."
"Later," another woman scoffed. "If you want him, honey, you should go get him now before another broad in this bar snaps him up."
Brooke began to reply testily. "Well, if the other broad wants him so much, then…" but she never got to finish as Connie cut her off.
"Never you mind," she squealed, yes, squealed, excitedly. "He's coming this way."
Brooke didn't even bother to look up and confirm Connie's remark. Of course he'd be coming over. Just another thing to top off this perfect day. Barely seconds later, she sensed a new presence at the table, even though she was staring purposefully at her still full glass of beer, and she didn't need three guesses to know who it was.
The women tittered. Nathan pretended not to notice, but when Brooke finally lifted her head to peer up at him, she could see a faint blush rising on his cheeks. He noticed her eyes finally on him, and that was when he opened his mouth to speak. "Brooke."
One word. Just her name. That was it. But in that one word, he had managed to convey his frustration and anger and relief and something else Brooke still couldn't put a name on. Brooke's expression twisted into one of guilt, but the women around her took no notice.
"You know him?" Connie hissed, batting an arm at her. "Why on earth didn't you tell us?"
Brooke shrugged sheepishly. Connie rolled her eyes. She looked at Nathan meaningfully. "Well," she said seriously, "If nobody else is going to do the introductions, I'm Connie, and this is Rena, Jessica, Emily, Lucy, and Ann. And you are…"
"Nathan," he supplied helpfully, after a moment.
"Right," Connie said. "Nathan. I've always loved that name." When nobody said anything in the lull that followed, she added, "You two just go ahead and pretend that we're not here. Us broads have adult stuff to talk about anyway." The woman nodded in agreement and immediately began playing along.
"So Eddie and I were thinking about getting a new car," the blonde woman, Lucy, said. "A minivan. Does that say soccer mom or what?"
Brooke rolled her eyes. She had always expected adults never had much to say, but she never imagined their conversations could be this boring. Somewhere along the line, Nathan had been offered a chair that he somewhat hesitantly settled into, and she caught his eye again. He seemed to be thinking along the same lines. As soon as she looked over, however, his expression went stony again.
"Nice disappearing act you pulled today," he hissed, careful not to let the women hear. "You really outdid yourself this time."
Brooke didn't even bother to answer back. Not tonight. She was much too tired.
To say this surprised Nathan was an understatement. He had been expecting a defiant, even mean Brooke. Not this defeated version of her. It unnerved him greatly. For the next few minutes, they sat in complete silence.
Connie noticed the conspicuous silence beside her, and she would have none of it. Extracting herself from the scintillating conversation of what colors were worst for a car ("Green just screams forty year old chauffer") for a moment, she leaned in close to Brooke but had her eyes steady on Nathan.
"Sorry to cut in," she said, knowing very well she wasn't, "But I do have to say, that I was just noticing that you two would make such a beautiful couple, if you're not already."
A couple of the women gasped and scolded their loud-mouthed friend accordingly, but Connie brushed their comments off flippantly. "Can you imagine the kids those two would have?" she demanded, her attention back on the other women. "Absolutely gorgeous."
When the women were completely immersed in arguing amongst themselves again, Nathan and Brooke turned back to each other, sheepish and embarrassed despite everything. Desperate to break the tension, Brooke said awkwardly. "I guess I did it with the wrong brother then."
It was a time to die of embarrassment if there ever was one. Her comment hadn't done anything to diffuse the situation; in fact, it had made things worse. Nathan shot her a somewhat reproachful stare. Slowly, pointedly, his gaze lowered to the beer in front of her. "Speaking of kids…" he growled.
Brooke sent a nervous glance back over her shoulder at the women. "I didn't drink any," she said very quietly.
Nathan looked suspicious. "So you're saying you had a full glass in front of you the whole night without actually doing anything with it."
"Basically, yeah," Brooke admitted.
"Then why the hell did you buy it?" Nathan asked.
Brooke looked away, ashamed. "I didn't, exactly."
A brow shot up on Nathan's face. "Then how…" He never got to finish his sentence as Connie cut in again.
"Sorry," she said, looking anything but, "but we really have to get back to her husbands." She rolled her eyes. "Commitment and all that bullshit. But it was very nice to meet you, Nathan and Brooke. We had fun." The women had all gathered up their things and were about to leave when Connie leaned back in and added sternly to Nathan. "I'd advise you to keep a closer look out on this one though," she said, jerking a finger at Brooke. "We're leaving you in charge of saving her from the bastards in this bar from now on." Her expression became light again and she straightened up, waggling her fingers. "Buh bye!" The other women followed her out the door.
"What was she talking about?" Nathan demanded immediately after.
Brooke winced. She knew that was coming. "Nothing," she assured him. His scowl told her he didn't believe her and Brooke elaborated. "Nothing important, anyway," she sighed. "Just this jerk who bought me a drink and wouldn't leave me alone afterwards. But nothing happened."
Nathan's expression was dark. "Is he still here?" he hissed, sweeping his gaze around the room as if trying to spot the man.
Brooke shook her head quickly. "He left when Connie and the others showed up. Nothing happened," she added to reinforce her point.
An almost inhuman growl escaped Nathan, and Brooke became alarmed. "The things you get yourself into," he muttered.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Brooke challenged.
"You and I both know," Nathan said, fixing his gaze back on her again. They sat in a heavy silence for the next few moments before Nathan made a face of revulsion as the sound of chairs scraping and voices shouting filled the air to his left. It was the bar fight Brooke had been hoping for.
"Let's get you out of here," he said as he stood up and grabbed her arm.
Brooke's eyes fixated on his fingers wrapped around her. "Maybe I want to stay."
"I don't think so," Nathan scoffed. "You're getting in Haley's car and following me home."
Brooke was positive she hadn't heard him correctly. "Following you back to my house, you mean?" she said slowly.
Nathan shook his head and laughed bitterly. "Like I'm letting you out of my sight again."
Brooke cocked her head curiously, and Nathan flushed but offered no more words. He gave a small, almost pleading tug on her arm, and surprisingly compliant, Brooke rose to her feet. "All right, Nate," she sighed quietly, unsure if Nathan could even hear her. "If that's what you want."
The two didn't look back as Nathan led Brooke out of the bar. It felt as natural as breathing when Nathan's hand slid down her arm, and his fingers linked through hers. So natural, in fact, that Brooke didn't even notice at first. Her thoughts were still revolving around the idea that she would be spending the night in Nathan's apartment.
Author's Note: Chapter twelve after what may have been the longest lull between chapters yet! Yes! Haha. As for those big things I was promising, well, plans for the chapter changed a little, but overall, it certainly wasn't a small chapter. Anyway, I really must do what these Author's Notes are meant for a encourage you guys to read and review. I'm serious. The feedback for SDDfM has gone really far down again, and I miss reading all you guys' great comments/criticism. So leave me one! Pretty please?
until next time…
caramelo