Disclaimers: Not mine except what is...
A/N: I didn't explain before that each chapter will be a different character's perspective.
Peyton
My father has to be the most stubborn man on the planet, no matter how long it's been, no matter how many times I tell him, he refuses to believe that I'm okay. No, Dad, I don't need your money. No, Dad, Kessie isn't too much to handle. No, Dad, I'm not seeing anyone. No, Dad, I'm not lonely. The only question I ever answer yes to is whether or not I can talk right now.
I'm on the phone with him telling him about work, trying to let him know how well things are going while I try to make breakfast. I think I dropped a shell into those eggs...
"I am on the phone!" God, she can see that I'm talking, she talks to her grandfather all the time, she can give me one minute. I go into the living room and I hear her rummaging through the cupboards, one of these days, that kid is going to have a seizure from all that sugar intake.
Where they hell are my car keys? I left them on the counter... Kessie's yelling that she's going to be late again. As if I don't know what time it is. I reach under the couch and feel for my keys. Ew, I really need to vaccuum under here. My fingers close around something that isn't my keys or a giant dust bunny. I pull it out and it's an old photo. Of me, Lucas, and Brooke. No time to get nostalgic right now. I shove the picture back under the sofa, Kessie found my keys.
I hate driving in the rain. I pull into the parking lot and up to the front of the school and Kessie releases the death grip she had on the seat. This is when I remember I forgot my wallet. Again. Which means Kessie has no lunch money and I don't have my license. Again. She made her own lunch? Good kid.
"Girl after my own heart," I say and kiss her goodbye. I hope she's not late again, her teacher's a real bitch.
It's another three hours before I get to work. I hate inventory week. Had I known it would so much work to manage this place, I probably still would've accepted, just would've bitched more. Working at Tric when I was young helped me stay grounded, plus, memories and whatnot. I keep myself busy counting glasses and bottles, trying not to think about what I'm trying not to think about. Doing that is a lot easier when I don't find pictures of her under my furniture. If that picture was taken in high school and I didn't find it until this morning, when was the last time I cleaned under that sofa? I shudder to think.
Brooke has been a sore topic since the unpleasantness that was our "relationship." After we broke up, there was a lot of avoiding and then angsty looks in the hallway, at least until she was able to get convince everyone that we had just been going through a phase. Of course she went back whatever boy toy was waiting and got off scott-free while I was labeled Tree Hill's resident lesbian. That was fun. But I'm over it. That part at least.
Now Brooke, Brooke is another story entirely. I wish I could say that after all these years I've gotten over her, but absence makes the heart grow fonder, right? It's not like I'm doing it on purpose, I mean if I could stop loving her, I would. But things are rarely that simple. You know what's simple, though? A Gin and Tonic. This is why I like my job. All I have to worry about is mixing drinks and mixing music. The bouncers take care of the drunk guys and the drunk guys take care of the drunk girls. See? Simple. Nothing about my club could possibly confuse me.
"Hey, I'm looking for someone?" I hear from my spot on the floor wher nobody should be able to see me. Either the glasses have started to whine or some chick has been dumb enough to ignore the giant CLOSED sign on the door.
"Come back later, we don't open till 8:00," I say into the inside of the bar. I don't hear footsteps so I assume this woman isn't leaving and I stand up. I have to put the mug away and I hope the girl can take a hint.
"Peyton?" When I turn around, I don't realize I've dropped the mug until it hits the floor and shatters. Damn.
"Brooke," I breathe the word, apparently I've been holding my breath. Her hair is different, longer and wavy. She's all tanned and glowing. She smiles a little and I can see those dimples. She's been smiling a lot, she's going to have laugh lines pretty soon.
"Hey."
"Hi." Que the awkwardness...
"You, um, you dropped something."
"What? Oh! Right, the glass..." I bend down to pick up the shards. When I stand back up, Brooke's produced a broom and dustpan out of nowhere. I take them from her and my fingers brush hers for just a second, I'm not sure, but I think she flinched.
I take care of the mess and Brooke has seated herself at the bar. I have no idea what to say. I've thought about this moment a million times before, what I'd do if I saw her again. I've had entire conversations in my head and now I can't think of a single thing to say. I go back behind the bar and pull out a bottle of Cuervo, I don't think Ican do this sober.
"You want a drink? It's legal and everything now," I say, pulling out two glasses.
"No thanks, I quit drinking." I look up because I know I must've heard wrong. She laughs at my expression. "Don't look so suprised. 276 days sober and counting."
I hand her a bottle of water and hoist myself up on the counter across from her, "Good for you."
"So, this place is all yours now?"
"Yep, Karen moved to New Zealand with Andy a couple years back and left Tric for me."
She nods and I can tell she's trying to come up with a new topic besides the weather.
"So, um--" she starts, but I just cut to the chase and ask her what she wants. It came out a little harsher than I intended it to. This time I see her flinch.
"I was back in town, thought I'd drop by and-- you know what, this was a mistake, I'm just gonna go..." she gets up and starts to leave and I find myself reaching out to stop her. My hand was on her arm and the next thing I know it's snaking around her waist and I'm hugging her. It takes her a moment but she's hugging me back and I hear her say she missed me.
When I let go, it's more than a little awkward. We glance at each other and share an uncomfortable laugh when we start talking at the same time. I let her go first, mostly because I had nothing to say anyway.
"I talked to Lucas and he told me when his mom let you have this place. I've been meaning to come down and see you for a while."
"Why?" And I just can't stop being a bitch. But I think she knows I don't mean it like it sounds.
"I don't like how we left things and I've really wanted to talk you."
"Why now? I mean, it's been like seven or eight years and you've barely said three words to me," I'm not trying to make this difficult, I'm really not.
"I know, but better late than never right? I just--"
"Oh shit, what time is it?" She answers 2:45 when I make a grab for my keys.
"Where are you going?"
"School's almost out," I say and head for the back door. I expect she'll follow me and she does. She asks me what I'm talking about and I tell her I have to pick up Kessie and invite her to tag along. Halfway through the commute Brooke's holding on for dear life and remarks that it's nice to see that somethings haven't changed.
"God, it's the same thing with you and Kessie, I really don't drive that badly. The two of you are such drama queens."
"And what is she like, your sister or?" I cast her an incredulous side-long glance.
"My daughter." She looks at me like I've told her the martians have landed. "You really didn't know?"
"No..." she says quietly with something like dissapointment. I see her glance at my ring finger and try to hold back the smile itching at my lips. "How did you--well, I know how, just like when did you..."
I look at her and she looks back down at her hands and mumbles something about how it's none of her business. I assure her that it's ok, that I don't mind talking about it. I make sure to say that and not that I don't mind telling her.
"Not much to tell. I was at school, there was a party, there was a guy. Got drunk, got laid, got pregnant."
"And the father?"
I smile a little, "What father?"
We pull up to the elementary school just as it's letting out, it figures it takes Brooke to get me here on time. Brooke waits by the car as I sweep crowd for the little redhead. See, the thing about my daughter is she's really small for her age, and she get's teased a lot for it, among other things. I can tell she's had a long day when I see her so I give her a big hug and lift her of the ground. I can smell the paint she always manages to get in her hair.
"How was your day, baby?" I ask, taking her backpack. It's freaking heavy. She mutters something dramatic and overstated that basically means bad and follows me to where Brooke is waiting. "That good, huh?"
I tell her I want to introduce her to a friend of mine and she didn't know I had any friends. Brooke laughs at this because she doesn't know my daughter is serious. Kessie gives Brooke an evil look when I tell her not to encourage her.
"Sorry, sorry," Brooke says and bends down a little so they're eye-to-eye, Kessie hates that. "And how are you today?"
"I've been better, lady," Kessie snarks.
Brooke straghtens up and I swat the back of Kessie's head. That means either shut up, go away, or mind your manners.
"Sorry, it's nice to meet you, a pleasure and all that. Can we go now?" she says, turning to me and trying not to roll her eyes.
"Well, my daughter has apparently forgotten her name as well as her manners. She's Kessie. Kessie, this is Brooke." Brooke tries not to look uncomfortable and Kessie tries not to look mad.
"And you're Peyton, great, now that we're all bestest friends can we please leave? I have to pee." She heads for the front seat then makes a beeline for the back when I tell her to. I apologize to Brooke for Kessie's behavior and buckle up for the long ride home.