Sorry. You guys can kill me. I know it's been forever since I last updated, but here's an extremely long chapter to make up for that fact. I just started college, andso I have been pretty busy. I appreciate all your reviews. It's what keeps me going. Please continue to read and review, and I will keep writing. If you are able, let others know about how great this story is (ha ha, well I hope you think it is at least) so they can read and review. The more people the better. I think you will all enjoy this chapter. I know I enjoyed writing it. Also, keep in mind with the character of Mike and his language. He doesn't speak the way most normal people speak. The words in his quotes may appear misspelled, when in reality there is no way to spell the words he says. Mike is from the hood. That is how he speaks because he has lived his entire life on the street. I just thought you should all know, so no one would be offended by thinking they were misspelled words. Anyways, on to the story. Remember people, read and review, and I will get the next chapter out very soon. Love you guys...Woot woot


Chapter 8

It was an endless night of tossing and turning for Nathan Scott as he looked intensely at the crumbling ceiling of his Los Angeles apartment. After walking nearly 15 miles home the night before, Nathan fell into bed completely exhausted at midnight. The last time Nathan remembered ever walking to that extent was when Coach Whitey kicked he and Lucas off the school bus and left them in the middle of nowhere with no signs of civilization. Lucas. Dammit, Nathan thought to himself. That's how the whole evening ended with a conversation about Lucas, and Brooke abandoned him on the side of the road. Well, it was more of a shouting competition with no mediator. He said a few wrong things, and he gets kicked to the curb. Luckily for Brooke, she had been in the driver's seat, because if the situation were reversed, he would've done the same thing. Suddenly, he pictured a wandering brunette skulking thorough the midnight woods, and a smile plastered his face. The smile didn't last long for his mind was plagued with visions of angry Brookes dancing around his head. So much for counting sheep; now I'm counting angry Brookes, he said to himself.

Okay, maybe he did feel a little bad about leaving things that way with Brooke. Maybe his anger did get the best of him. Okay, his anger did get the best of him, which he often allowed. He couldn't help it. Every time someone broached the subject of Lucas, all he could see were angry shades of red from all sides of the perspective. Brooke couldn't possibly understand his hatred toward his older half brother because she was so clearly blinded-sided by all the lies that spewed from his lips; the same lies he himself had believed earlier that year. Lucas had lied to him about visiting Haley and about blackmailing their father. He had evidently remembered asking Lucas to no longer pursue the destruction of Dan, and Lucas looking at him pointblank to say, "I promise." Those two words hit Nathan like a ton of bricks. He had heard those words a number of times in his life; the first incident being the latter and when he married Haley. It's not like he gave a damn about Dan anyways. He would've gladly ruined Dan himself, but the problem always returned to his mother. His mother was determined to put the broken remains of the Scott family back together, and that included making Dan a part of that aspect. To Nathan mother, who had just gotten out of rehab, it was to be a fresh start. Nathan complied with his mother's wishes because not only did he believe her words, but also he wanted to compensate for the fact that he was such a dick to her all those years before. Lucas had nearly ruined all of that by providing his mother with evidence of Dan's illegal activities. This was the very same evidence his mother chose not to pursue despite her resistance. Lucas had broken his promise to Nathan.

Then of course there was Haley. Lucas lied to Nathan about visiting Haley in New York, and he brought back annulment papers to prove it. They were signed and ready to go by the time Nathan discovered them. And that was the last time Nathan spoke to his brother. He sighed as he rolled over on his side to the present time.

"Yo, dawg. There's some cold pizza on the counter if you hungry. Better hurry before I finish it." Mike stuck his q-tip-shaped head in Nathan's room.

"What time is it?" Nathan yawned groggily as he stretched his limber body across the mattress.

"I don't know. Do I like a damn Rolex to you?" He sighed as he stepped into his roommate's bedroom. Nathan opened his eyes and took in Mike's disheveled appearance. He was wearing a sleeveless Shaquille O'Neal jersey from his Lakers days and was clad in an obnoxious pair of boxers covered in red and green jalapenos. Nathan shook his head in dismay and sat up in bed to grab his wristwatch off of his dresser.

"It's noon," he declared as he looked at Mike with a smirk on his face. Mike was shoveling a cold slice of pepperoni pizza into his massive mouth as he glanced at Nathan. "At least one of us knows how to tell the time around here." Nathan pressed his feet against the cold floor and shivered as he walked into the kitchen with Mike following close behind. He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a half-empty carton of milk and observed the expiration date as the day before. Systematically, he removed the lid and smelled the contents of the container and then poured himself a bowl of Lucky Charms. Mike grabbed another slice of pizza and gagged at Nathan eating a spoonful of his favorite cereal.

"You sick man."

"What?" Nathan asked as he looked between bites. Mike pointed to the expired milk container sitting on the counter.

"That milk is older than my socks." Nathan looked down at his bowl of cereal and shrugged.

"It tastes fine to me," he mumbled. Mike shook his head in disgust.

"Whateva' you say, Tree Hill. So, uh, how'd it go with fine ass last night?" Nathan nearly choked on a marshmallow balloon at the mention of Brooke. He attempted to clear his throat subtlety but to no avail.

"Fine."

"Yeah, will I figga' that. You didn't get back 'til late last nigh. I heard you stumblin' in hear at the ass crack of dawn." Mike took another bite of his pizza. "So, did you do it?"

Nathan spat a mouthful of cereal onto the table at the sound of Mike's question.

"No, Mike. We didn't do the "it" you are referring to. I told you, we're just friends."

"I'm just sayin', I don't see how any playa' could be just friends wit' her. You either gots to be terrified of the genral population of women or just downright gay." Nathan smiled.

"I'm not gay, and I'm not afraid of women. Well, maybe except for Brooke. She can be a little scary at times," he paused as he ate another spoonful of cereal. "Last night she dropped me off in the middle of nowhere because we had a stupid fight."

"What y'all fight about?"

Well, I pretty much dogged her ex-boyfriend who I hate and who also happens to be a brother of mine."

"Aww, well that ain't that bad," Mike replied.

"Yeah, but then I called her aslut, and I swear if hell could freeze over, it sure as hell froze over at that moment."

"You, what? Are you crazy, dawg?"

"Yeah, it was so stupid. I just got so mad when she defended Lucas."

"A'ight. Lemme give you a little advice bro. You ain't neva' suppose to call a woman a slut to her face," Mike paused in thought. "You call ''dem sluts behind their backs." Mike slapped Nathan on his back and hooted in laughter at his own cleverness. Nathan rolled his eyes.

"This, coming from the guy who has never had a girlfriend." Nathan added dryly. Mike looked up in horror and snorted.

"Hey man, I don't prefer 'dat term: girlfriend. Plus, how in the hell would you know?"

"Well, you've never brought a girl over..." Nathan sipped the contents of his cereal bowl. Mike recoiled at the sight of Nathan's dastardly manners.

"Oh, boy! Didn't yo' mama ever teach ya to use a spoon? And anyways, you think I bring a girl over to this dump. Hell to da' no. Not if I want to have a shot at gettin' some." Nathan laughed and shook his head as he looked at Mike.

"I thought you were dating Halo?" he asked.

"Halo?"

"Yeah, you know that video game you've been obsessing over ever since we moved into this so-called dump." Mike pretended to look offended, which made Nathan grin even more.

"Hey, don't diss my Halo, man. I don't diss yo' nasty cleaning habits. Besides, I got my own prospects." Nathan raised an eyebrow.

"Oh yeah, like who?"

"Well, there's 'dat nice-lookin' woman down da' street. You know, 'da one 'dat works at 'dat pet shop? Well, I figga' she wants me cause she always smilin' at me and wavin'. Yeah, I'm almost positive she wants a little "somthin' somthin'" from the love machine." Mike enthusiastically thrust his hips into the air as he leaned into the counter. Nathan laughed as he put his bowl into the sink.

"Ok, you mean Nicole?" Mike nodded as he turned to face Nathan.

"Yeah, how'd ya' know her name?" Mike asked in curiosity.

"Oh, she asked for my phone number last week," Nathan stated matter-of-factly while he opened the fridge and retrieved a box of orange juice. It was Mike's turn to gag on his slimy, cold piece of pizza that had just met his lips.

"You what? I can't believe ya, dawg. Every time a playa' such as myself, "Mike gestured to himself, "wanna get some action, you comin' and hornin' in on my game." Nathan listened as he poured the orange liquid into a smudged glass and took a gulp.

"I didn't give her my number, Mike," he reassured him. Mike's agitated expression instantly turned to relief. "But I did get her number." He smiled in satisfaction at the altering expressions on Mike's baby face as they would switch to anger to relief and revert back to anger again in a millisecond.

"What?" Mike shuddered in horror.

"I got the number for you, Mike." Once again, Mike's face was on autopilot as its aggression adorned to relief.

"Oh, wow! That's more like it!" Mike followed Nathan to his room, and Nathan opened the drawer to his nightstand as he rummaged through several gas receipts and additional phone numbers until he finally pulled out Nicole's number and gave it to a speechless Mike.

"There you go."

"Thanks, Tree Hill." Mike smiled as he examined the crumpled piece of paper with her name scribbled in purple handwriting and admired the purple heart placed over the "I" in her name. "Since you done somethin' nice for me, I'm gonna do somethin' nice for you. I'm gonna give you a bit of advice, dawg. Call fine ass and apologize."

"But I don't want to. It's not my fault." Nathan sighed in frustration as he sat down on his bed and looked up at Mike standing there in his ridiulous wardrobe.

"Yeah, well you a man. It's always gonna be yo' fault even if it ain't. A woman is always right. If she cheat on you, then you cheated on her. It's yo' fault." Nathan looked at Mike in bemusement.

"You suck at giving advice dude," Nathan grumbled. Mike brushed Nathan's comment of his should and continued.

"Seriously, dawg. You got to call her and at least talk to 'da girl." Mike pulled his cell phone out from the waist bend of his boxers and handed it to Nathan. "Hell, you can use my phone to call so she know it ain't you." Nathan looked at Mike's Nokia in repulsion. Mike noticed his reaction. "Shut up. Don't even say it. Where else am I suppose to put my phone if I ain't wearin' no pants?"

"What else do you keep in there?" Mike followed Nathan's glance to his jalapeno pepper boxers.

"I ain't got no room for nothin' else down there," he grinned proudly. "Anyway, call her. I'll supervise." Mike pointed to the phone in Nathan's hand. Nathan sighed and reluctantly punched Brooke's number into the device and cautiously put the phone to his ear to await her answer.

"Hi, this is Brooke Davis." Nathan immediately heard her phone transfer to her voice mail, and he had encountered electronic convenience, or just another method for someone to avoid phone calls. "I'm either too busy to come to the phone right now or I'm screening and won't answer because I totally don't like you. Leave a message, and I might call you back." Nathan heard the beep and hung up in relief and looked up at Mike who had his arms crossed as if he were taking the role of supervisor a little too seriously.

"She knew it was me. Somehow she knew," Nathan sadly admitted.


Dear Lucas,

Hey there! Remember me? How's your summer so far? Mine has been great. I spend a lot of time with my parents, who both took the summer off to suspend some much-needed time with their daughter. We live in this huge mansion on the beach. It's so massive that I have managed to get lost several time. But then again, you know me. I get lost crossing a street. Oh, we also have this gigantic library with so many books that they are literally stacked to the ceiling The old book smell remind me of you. Uh, I'm not saying you smell like old books. Actually, you smell a lot better than old books, kind of like a mixture of aftershave and the mountains. But that's beside the point. Anyways, I've actually taken to reading some of these "smelly" books, surprisingly enough. Right now I'm in the middle of Grapes of Wrath. You know, that's that book you tried to get me to read last year but I couldn't get into it because I thought the entire book was about grapes. My mistake. All in all, I'm having the best time of my life here.

Oh, who am I kidding. I could never lie to you. All of the above is untrue (excluding the library part, and yes I am reading that book). I am having a horrible summer. My parents are hardly around, and I'm all-alone in this creepy mansion, which I have gotten lost in by the way. I don't have any friends here, well except for one. But we just got into a huge fight, and some of it is my fault/ I should be more sensitive to other people's feelings shouldn't I? And yet I'm too stubborn to apologize. Anyhow, I miss everyone in Tree Hill. I miss everything about Tree Hill.

I miss being woken up at 5 in the morning because that irritating neighbor of yours plays that stupid Army song via surround sound. I missing bugging Peyton. I miss your mom's cooking. I miss walking in on you in the shower. I miss my dollhouse. Mostly I just missing being the girl behind the red door. Only you and I know what that means. I 'I've been thinking a lot about what you told me before I left for California, but I still have a lot of thinking to do. But you must know that I miss you very much and think of you often. I know that I will never send this letter because I am too chicken shit. Somehow it is therapeutic to sit and write my feelings down on a piece of my favorite stationary and enclose the letter in a sealed envelope addressed to you. I do this everyday, but I fail to send it. But it brings me closer to home. After all, I am absolutely miserable without my Tree Hill.

Love Always,

Cheery

Brooke sighed heavily as she laid on her stomach sprawled atop her bed while her chin was prepped up against the bulk of her red throw pillow. She stared at the envelope the bore the address of Lucas Scott, and she hesitantly folded the letter and placed it into the envelope, which she sealed. Kicking the letter aside, she turned her body to lay on her backside side as she stared blankly at the tid-bits of glitter in her ceiling. Ever so slowly, Brooke's eyes grew heavy with the promise of sleep as her eyes nearly succumbed to her drowsy state.

It was another glorious afternoon in the smog-infested city of Los Angeles; it was the perfect kind of weather to fly one's kite through the effervescent skies. It was the kind of afternoon comparable to those Technicolor films in the 1940s when the bluebird would awaken the entire suburban neighborhood with its rampant chirping. However, Brooke had never been a friendly neighbor, as Mr. Rogers would say. In fact, she was the ungrateful neighbor who sought a way to kill that irritating bluebird, resulting in the sudden departure of Technicolor and the reemergence of black and white. Yep, she was a black and white kind of gal, not exactly a morning person really. But what was Brooke Davis doing asleep in the middle of a perfectly good tanning day you ask? Two words: Nathan Scott. Brooke could never remember feeling so angry with someone. She never figured she'd get into such a quibble with someone she used to know only as her best friend's jackass of a boyfriend. They had never been close, and neither ever really to mind. Brooke and Nathan just went on with their own separate lives; perhaps they would bump into one another at group organizations or whatever, but they never had a conversation that lasted beyond two minutes tops. They seemed to be social acquaintances more so than anything else. Sadly, they never even considered themselves friends. So then why did Brooke decide to invest her summer in recruiting Nathan as her newest buddy? And why was it that as soon as they had started approaching some semblance of a friendship did they both decide to bite each others' heads off? "Maybe it was a sign. Maybe that means we shouldn't be friends," Brooke thought to herself.

Brooke recalled the fight and she could hear the world "slut" roll off of Nathan's tongue like it was a regular part of his vocabulary. Brooke had been called a slut many times before that she was accustomed to it and even considered forgoing her middle name and replacing it with that filthy word. Nathan had even called her a slut before, but Brooke had never taken it to heart; until now, that is. His words had pierced through her heart like a dagger. The term reminded Brooke of a past she yearned to forget. But you can't run away from one's past despite one's honorable intentions. Forcing all thoughts of Nathan out of her head, Brooke's eyes fluttered in drowsiness as she was whisked away into a delightful afternoon map. Served her right after the lack of sleep the night before. She had completely wasted her time thinking about him.

Brooke groaned as she heard a sound coming from what sounded like the kitchen. The parents were not supposed to be home until the day after, so it couldn't be them. Brooke glanced at her alarm. IT was almost 6:00 p.m.. She had been asleep for nearly three hours. Cursing the kitchen perpetrator for walking her during her peaceful slumber, Brooke pulled off the covers of her pajama- clad body and sunk her feet into her fuzzy, pink slippers. She tiptoed to her door, which was slightly ajar and peeked one hazel eye through the slit as if expecting a visitor. Brooke could only see the white walls and shiny wood floors of the hall. Suddenly, Brooke jumped back a few feet from the door when she heard an object crash onto the kitchen tile. Her heat leapt into her throat as all fearlessness faded from her mind and body. She instinctively wrapped her arms around pint-sized self in protective mode, and her mind raced with an onslaught of panicking thoughts. What if it's a burglar? Did I lock the door? She shook her head and realized she had no weapon of any sort of protect herself.

Brooke hurriedly glanced around her room for a sharp, blunt object and picked up a bottle of red nail polish in thought. "Yeah, Brooke, a bottle of nail polish is really gonna bring the house invader to his knees," she said quietly to herself. She quickly placed the bottle back on its original shelf space and soon found herself in the bathroom, where she immediately spotted the toilet brush. She shrugged and grabbed the hand of the brush and began to make her way back to her bedroom door. She held her breath as she slowly opened the door and her pink slippers gingerly stepped into the hallways. Brooke spied the living room about 20 yards ahead to her left and knew full well the kitchen was to her right past the hall. With no plan of attack and her trusty toilet brush in hand, she cautiously made her way toward the kitchen by avoiding any creaky floorboards. As she reached the barrier that separated the kitchen and living room, she stopped in her tracks. Her heartbeat suddenly quickened as she heard someone rummaging through the drawers. She silently drew a deep breath and attempted to think of a plan. She couldn't call the police. Her cell phone was in the laundry room where she had been in the process of washing her clothes, and the home phone was in the kitchen. She looked at the front door ahead, which was located between the kitchen and living room and thought about running for it, but she changed her mind as the criminal would undoubtedly be faster than herself. She took another step and realized she was just about to do the stupidest thing she could possibly do. She was going to confront the burglar in hopes that his back would be turned and she would be able to use the proper defense mechanism that Mrs. Lowell, her defensive training teacher, had taught her and knock him to the ground. "A kick to the nuts ought a do it," Brooke convinced herself. She nodded in satisfaction and crept to the end of the barrier. She could still hear someone rummaging thought one of the drawers. Ever so carefully, Brooked peeped around the barrier's corner and immediately spied the culprit, who was rummaging for something beneath the sink with his Back to Brooke. Bingo.

"Hold it right there, buddy!" She yelled as she stepped into the kitchen facing the man's back. The culprit paused suddenly, yet he remained in the same position. "Stay right where you are. I've already called the police. They'll be here any minute." Her voice was tense as she stood ready to pounce. "I've got a..." Brooke looked at the toilet brush clutched in her hand and nervously continued, "a, uh, gun in my hand, and if you try anything, I swear to God I will kill!" She raised the brush in her hand as if ready to strike him aside the head. The culprit did not so much as move, but he spoke.

"Brooke?" She frowned as she seemed to recognize the man's voice.

"Nathan?" As if on cue, he turned around and met her petrified eyes, yet he still remained hunched near the sink. "What are you doing here, and why are you rummaging through my parents' things?" She looked around the kitchen and spotted her mother's beloved green vase that she had bought in Thailand, or at least what was left of it. Instead, the vase lay broken in green shards of glass on the ceramic tile beneath the kitchen stove. Brooke looked up at Nathan questioningly, who bore a guilty expression. Brooke raised her eyebrows. "Well, are you gonna say anything or are you just gonna stand there like the idiot that you are?" Nathan looked taken aback but calmed himself before finally speaking.

"I came over here to talk to you about last night. You wouldn't answer your cell, so I drove down to your house and figured you were home because I saw your car parked out front. I knocked on your door, but no one answered. I thought somehow you knew it was me and you were ignoring me. But, I found the door unlocked, and I called your name a few times. I found myself in the kitchen, where I accidentally bumped into that vase there." He pointed to the paces of glass at their feet. He stood up suddenly as Brooke took a step back. "I couldn't find a garbage can to clean the mess up, so I was looking in the cabinets for a trash bag when you walked in." He raised an eyebrow at Brooke. "Are you satisfied with my explanation?" She glared at him in repulsion and opened the cabinet beside the stove and pulled out a small garbage can. She sighed as she sat down and began to throw the shards of glass into the can. Nathan swore to himself as he reluctantly joined Brooke to help pick up what seemed to be thousands of confetti pieces. He looked up at Brooke, who was too engrossed in the process of discarding the glass to notice his attention.

"I'm sorry, Brooke. It was an accident," he apologized She finally looked up at him wearing a frown as she heard his attempt at half of an apology.

"Sorry for what; causing the argument we had last night or for breaking mo mother's favorite vase?" She sneered at him she continued picking up pieces of glass. Nathan rolled his eyes.

"I'm sorry for breaking the vase. Can it be replaced?" His voice was full of hope when he asked her.

"Nope. It's one of a kind. My mother bought it in Thailand." She looked up again at Nathan, but her expression was softer than her previous glances as she noticed the look of concern in his eyes. "But it's not your fault. Accidents happen. Besides, my mother would kill me if she knew I moved the case from the coffee table to the kitchen table just so I could put my feet up on coffee table. She gonna murder me anyways when she finds her beloved vase missing. Oh well, nothing I can do about it," She sighed as she chucked the last piece of vase into the garbage and both stood simultaneously. She looked at Nathan and the two exchanged awkward glances. Tired of non-verbal Nathan, Brooke turned on her heels and walked to the living room where she planted herself in her father's chair. Taking her lead, Nathan followed her to the living room and sat on the sofa. He sat with his elbows atop his knees and his hands clasped anxiously together. Brooke's feet, still adorned in her pink slippers, were cuddled beneath her as she stared at him expectantly. Nathan noticed her look and obliged.

"I didn't mean anything I said last night, okay."

"Oh, like when you called me a slut?" she snarled.

"Especially when I called you that," Nathan looked uncomfortably at his hands. "You're not a slut, Brooke."

"Oh, I'm not. Tell me something I didn't know." Nathan avoided her cold gaze as he continued speaking.

"Your relationship with Lucas is none of my business, and I had no right to discuss it.." Nathan looked at Brooke for assurance.

"Go on," she nodded.

"I can't even being to tell you all the problems Lucas and I have. I can't forgive him. you see, that's how you and I are so different Brooke. You can forgive people like Lucas. I just can't. I can't forgive Lucas. I can't even seem to forgive Haley." Nathan looked at Brooke, whose gaze was no longer cold. In fact, her eyes seemed to understand Nathan's misery. "And I guess the reason I blew up at you last night is because of that. I guess in a way, I resent you." Brooke sighed heavily and pulled her legs up to her chest as she leaned back into the recliner.

"I understand, Nathan. Believe me. I was in the same position this, what with the whole Pacey, Joey, and Dawson scenario." She averted her gaze from Nathan's as she spoke. It was as if she were embarrassed to be speaking to Nathan about something so personal. But she continued. For some unexplainable reason, something felt so right about sharing her experiences with Nathan. "It took me a long time to forgive Lucas and Peyton, but I realized I had to. I'd be just as bad as them if I didn't. Until this day, it was the hardest thing I have ever done." Nathan's eyes filled with admiration for the woman before him. He had never met someone so forgiving, and suddenly he felt an urge to learn more from her.

"How do you do it Brooke?"

"I don't know." Brooke shrugged. "I guess I just realized that everyone, including them, makes mistakes; even big ones like that. I've been guilty myself. Hell, I'll admit it. I am the queen of mistakes. It all came down to one decision for me. I decided I'd rather have Lucas and Peyton in my life than not have them in my life." she gazed sadly at the fireplace. "It was a pretty lonely time in my life." Brooke's eyes were filled of sorrow as she finally looked at Nathan.

"I just don't think I can ever forgive him," he revealed.

"These things take time. It will all work out. You'll see. I thought I would never speak to either Lucas or Peyton again. Now look at all of us. Peyton and I are best friends again, and Lucas and I were able to salvage a friendship." Nathan nodded. "But there's one thing I will always remember." She smiled in thought. "Actually, it something Karen told me after everything happened." She looked into Nathan's imploring eyes. "You can forgive, but you should never forget." Nathan's blue gaze penetrated her hazels, and he felt for the first time that everything really was going to be fine. He flashed his Scott smile in her direction.

"Have you always been this optimistic?"

"Only on Saturdays," she grinned back.

"So, you forgive me then?" he asked hopefully as he stretched his leg.

"Of course. How could I not? After that fancy little speech?" Nathan sighed in relief. Brooke's voice softened in shame as she continued speaking. "I just hope you can forgive me for saying all those things about your marriage. It's none of my business. I wasn't there I didn't know what happened."

"No, you're right. Haley and I were the cause of our annulment. Lucas had nothing to do with it. I shouldn't blame anyone other than myself." Brooke frowned and instinctively reached for Nathan's hand, sending unforeseen shivers down his arm as he looked up into her comforting eyes. At that moment, a connection had been made between himself and this amazing girl. It was an unexpected feeling to be on the same level as Brooke Davis. He never thought of her other than the hot, arrogant, shop-aholic best friend of his ex. He never really gave her much thought, but he had been clearly wrong about her. Nathan smiled to himself as he recalled a conversation he had had with Lucas regarding Brooke. Nathan suspected Lucas had unrequited feelings for another, but when Lucas revealed that other person was Brooke, Nathan almost laughed.

"Why would you waste your time with her?" Nathan rolled his eyes as he shot a basket and watched it go through the net with ease. Lucas rebounded and dribbled the ball against the pavement of the river court and passed it to Nathan. "She's so..." Nathan shot the ball again, "well...Brooke."

"Hey, first off, you've got it wrong about her," Lucas said as he and Nathan walked to one of the benches to sit down. They both sat with their backs bent to support themselves for there was no back to the bench. "Most people are wrong about Brooke," Lucas sighed dreamily. "She's really great, you know."

"Really? This is the same girl who tormented Haley freshmen year." Nathan added. Lucas interrupted Nathan's Brooke bashing.

"Used to" being the key words here. She's not like that anymore, Nate. She's different. She's probably got the biggest heart of anyone I know." Nathan shook his head at disbelief as he heard Lucas speak of Brooke's generosity.

"Wait a minute. Brooke has a heart?" Lucas nodded, and Nathan, to this day, could not forget the look of love and adoration his older brother's blue eyes revealed. Nathan's were almost the exact replica Lucas'. "Whatever you say, dude. C'mon, let's go shot some more," Nathan added, attempting to change the subject. Lucas grinned as the two boys continued to shoot baskets for the rest of that sunny afternoon at the river court.

Nathan looked backed at Brooke with guilt as he wondered if she saw Lucas when she looked at him as deeply as she was looking at him now. The guilt overcame him as he thought of all the nasty things he had said about her over the years. Now he knew how false these words really were. As Nathan gazed at Brook's worrisome expression, he realized with amazement that Lucas had been right all along. Brooke did have an incredible heart.

"Yeah, but I'm really sorry." She emphasized the word sorry and released her grasp of Nathan's hand, who was somewhat disappointed that she had let go of him so soon.

"I forgive you." Relief washed over her face, and she smiled widely in contentment.

"Good then. I forgive you. We're even. Tell you what. Let's make a deal." Suddenly Brooke was her former happy, peppy self, and Nathan couldn't believe how quickly she could switch gears. He smiled at her as he listened. "I promise to never mention a former wife of yours, and you promise to never mention a former boyfriend of mine." Broke stuck out her tiny hand and Nathan and shook upon the mutual agreement.

"Thou shall not be named," he added. Brooke nodded.

"Exactly."

"So, uh, were you planning on scrubbing me to death or something?"

"Huh?" Brooke looked at Nathan in confusion. Nathan pointed to the toilet brush that Brooke had dropped on the floor. Brooke cheeks reddened.

"Oh, that? Yeah, well that was my last minute method of attack for you. You know, I thought you were a burglar. Oh, and did I mention the plan was last minute?"

"Yeah, but a toilet brush?" Nathan laughed

"Hey, let's make another deal. You don't make fun of my choice of weapon, and I won't ridicule your car anymore. Should we shake on it?"

"Maybe we should write out a list," Nathan suggested as the two burst out in a eruption of laughter.

And that was how the evening concluded with bits of laughter, a couple of chick-flicks of Nathan's dismay, an order of pizza, and two friends enjoying one another's company.