AN: I know, I've been a horrible updater. I fully expect the flogs and punishment to commence post haste. All I can blame it on is work, work, more work, and up until the last few weeks, a complete lack of interest in One Tree Hill. Who I have to thank for my brand spankin' rejuvenated inspiration I have no idea. Who wrote the last couple of episodes anyway? Cause I'd like to send them cookies or something, the Breyton cuteness was all over the place. Anyway, this is the second to last chapter. I actually wrote it at work last weekend and just now had the chance to type it up. I hope to have the entire thing finished by the end of the month. I only get a chance to write when I'm on the 5am shift, which I won't be until NEXT weekend, but I'll try and get some done in the meantime. Thanks to all of you for the amazing continued support. I'm sorry to have left you all hanging for so long. This update is a bit on the short side, but hopefully you like where I've left things off for now.
The plane ride was unfortunately, uneventful. Six hours of total peace and quiet. Which meant I had nothing to do but sit in the tiny cramped coach seat and worry. The closer I got to LA the more freaked out I became. I have faith in Brooke, I do. It's me that I'm worried about. I'm bad at relationships, my track record proves that. I don't want to close myself off. And this 'thing', whatever it is with Brooke, is something I really don't want to screw up.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please put your seats in their upright position and secure your trays. We're ready to make our final descent into Los Angeles International." The overly cheery flight attendant's voice rang throughout the cabin. The plane bounced a bit, fighting through the smog filled turbulence of the California sky.
Oh I really hate flying.
Ten minutes and two near panic attacks later, we're safely taxiing towards the gate. With one final shudder, the plane comes to a complete stop and the seatbelt lights shut off. The captain's voice echoes over the intercom this time. "On behalf of Delta Airlines we'd like to thank for flying with us. The local time is 10:48 pm, and it's a balmy 78 degrees. Welcome to Los Angeles folks." And as soon as he finishes the mass exodus begins. At the rate these people are moving I'll be lucky to get into the terminal by midnight. Though this does give me time to figure out how I'm going to greet Brooke.
One of our usual 'best friend' hugs? That seems so……….casual now, considering everything that's happened between us in the last twenty four hours. A kiss is far too pushy though. Especially without talking to Brooke about everything first. I don't want to jump the gun before I'm sure it's even been loaded yet.
Twenty minutes later and I'm walking down the jet way, backpack slung over one shoulder, my little roller luggage dragging behind me. Everyone around me is in a frantic rush to get into the terminal, pushing roughly past me. In the space of five minutes I've lost count of how many times I've had to readjust the shoulder strap of my bag. I'm apparently getting my first taste of why they call LA LaLa Land.
Maybe I'm getting myself all worked up for no reason. Six hours doing nothing but thinking about this moment, worrying about it. And Brooke might not even be here. Of course I know that's utter bullshit, but it's really the only thing keeping me from running back towards the plane and begging them to take me back to Tree Hill.
"Well if it isn't Little Miss Slowpoke." I snap my gaze up from the badly carpeted jet way at the sound of Brooke's teasing voice. Her familiar playful smirk is firmly in place.
I try and come up with an excuse for my dawdling, already knowing that she'll see right through me. "I was practically sitting in the tail Brooke. You know that has a tendency to happen when one books their flight four hours before it's supposed to take off."
She rolls her eyes good-naturedly, totally seeing through my lie. "Whatever Peyton. The white knuckles kinda give you away." If I hadn't actually looked down at the hand with a death grip on the shoulder strap of my bag, I might have been a bit more believable. Then again, this IS Brooke. I swear the girl has a direct channel into my brain frequency or something. I really should find it un-nerving. Just like the all knowing smirk that hasn't fallen from Brooke's face since I stepped into the terminal. She's enjoying my discomfort, it's obvious. Which ironically enough actually puts me at ease. Maybe that was her plan. She CAN be a sneaky bitch when she wants to be.
"Well are you gonna hug me or just stand there making fun?" I smirk at her in return, satisfied when I see her cocky expression falter for a moment. After a few seconds of hesitancy, she walks into my open arms, molding her body to mine without even consciously doing it I think. I bury my nose in her thick chestnut hair, inhaling the sweet scent of cherries and vanilla. The familiarity of it all relaxes me completely. The world around us seems to slow from the frantic LA pace, which is a welcome relief.
Brooke giggles a bit, going to pull away. But I'm not having it, at least not yet. Which only serves to make her laugh even more. That throaty, adorably playful laugh that is just SO Brooke. "Ok, from slowpoke to sappy in less than five minutes. Where's my Peyton and where have you stashed her?" The nervous butterflies still occupying my stomach give a little twitch when she calls me 'hers'. It's not like it's that rare of a thing. But she's right, I'm getting all sappy.
Lovely.
I refuse to be one of those dopey 'so-in-love-and-the-stupid-expression-on-my-face-totally-gives-me-away' people. Haley is like that. And I love the girl dearly, but I REALLY don't want to resemble what she constantly looked like when she was first dating Nathan.
Wait, does that mean I've already jumped ahead to actually dating Brooke?
I try to come up with yet another excuse for my clinginess, but I can't even manage a stutter before Brooke cuts me off with a gentle fingertip to my lips.
Oh there are those lovely butterflies again. This is getting ridiculous.
"Peyton, I get it." She leans in closer to me, bringing my palm down to rest above her left breast. "Trust me, I totally get it." I can feel her heart beating a heavy cadence against my hand. I guess she DOES get it. Butterflies or a pounding heartbeat, pretty much the same really.
She pulls my hand away from it's incredibly comfortable resting place to lead me away from the now deserted gate. I have no idea how long we must have been standing there. Kinda reminds me of U2. Stuck in a moment and all that. I shake my head to toss the thought away before I end up humming the song all the way to the car.
It's unreal how huge this airport is. The New Brunswick one is smaller than even one of the terminals here. My hand must have been going a little slack along with my jaw because I can feel Brooke tighten her grip on me. "Come on PS, we're almost there." Where 'there' is I can only imagine. How many parking garages must this place need?
Apparently that's not going to be an issue though, if the tuxedoed older man holding the huge neon poster board with 'Sawyer-Davis', written in big bold lettering, is any indication. "Brooke, what did you do?"
"Oh come on Peyton, did you really expect anything less?" She teases, one eyebrow raising playfully. What did I expect? Really, not a limo. I've known her all these years, it feels like my whole life really. And she can still completely surprise me. "Besides, I haven't exactly gotten the chance to rent a car yet. I've been a little pre-occupied." She winks and then continues. "I figured we could go pick one out tomorrow."
The older gentleman steps forward towards us, obviously recognizing Brooke. He tips his hat to her, bowing slightly. Wow, where did she find this guy? "Miss Davis." He turns his gaze towards me, repeating his greeting. "And you must be Miss Sawyer." Why do I feel the sudden need to curtsey or something? He turns back to Brooke for a second, winks, and then reaches forward to grab my bags. "Is this everything?" Or are we waiting on the baggage claim?"
"That better NOT be the only thing you brought Peyton!" Brooke shrieks, taking a look at the backpack still attached to my shoulder and the roller tote at my feet. I nod in the negative, already starting to break away and head to where I assume the baggage claim area is.
"No, Miss Sawyer, you and Miss Davis head on outside. The limousine is waiting at the curb and the AC is on full blast. It was quite a scorcher today. I'll grab your bags for you." Brooke's hand has found it's way to my forearm, already tugging me along again to the spinning glass doors that lead outside. She doesn't even give me a chance to tell the man what my luggage looks like. Though, knowing Brooke, he probably has it memorized.
Five minutes later and we're waiting at the curb, popped up against the side of the limo. "He will have an extra set of keys, right Brooke?" Sure, the Town Car may have been nice and cool on the inside. But we wouldn't know since we're apparently locked out.
"Would you relax Peyton."
An awkward silence fills the moments after her slightly exasperated plea. It's uncomfortable. And I've never ONCE felt that way in her presence.
"Oh for God's sake." I don't know how much time has passed between us, the tension hanging over like summer storm clouds. But apparently Brooke dislikes it just as much as I do.
Before I'm even half aware of it, she's standing directly in front of me, stepping into my body so that I have no choice but to be pressed up against the dark tinted window pane of the car. "Come here." Her breathy whisper ghosts over my lips, the smell of her cinnamon gum filling my senses. She presses closer, her hand coming up to tangle in my unruly blonde curls. My eyes widen, understanding dawns as I realize what she's about to do. Anticipation fills my body, sending those little tingling butterflies racing up from my stomach ,burning their way through my entire body.
The first touch of her lips to mine is agonizingly slow. Just a feather's brush of soft skin, teasing against my own. My hands come up from where they had been limply resting at my side to cup the back of Brooke's neck, demanding more contact. She silently assents my request, pressing even closer if that were possible, and finally slamming our lips together forcefully. I can't help but moan a bit at the contact. I don't think I've ever felt anything so amazing, so fulfilling, in my whole life.
Not with Jake.
Not with Nathan.
And surprisingly, not even with Lucas.
I don't have much time to contemplate that thought though because the surprising sensation of Brooke's wet tongue lapping at my upper lip is enough to send any type of thought, coherent or otherwise, flying completely out the window.
Yep, that's definitely ME moaning.
"Mmmm, so how did you manage to convince your flight attendant you were 21?" Brooke mumbles between kisses. I had one tiny little bottle of vodka, how in the world can she taste that? And it was just to help calm my nerves. Hell, I needed something.
I decide to tease her a bit though. "Well, apparently there's this thing called the Mile High Club. Ever hear of it?" I lean down to nibble a bit at the incredibly inviting expanse of skin that is Brooke's neck.
"Peyton!"
I make my way up to her earlobe, pulling the tip between my lips and gently sucking for a moment before continuing. "The girl was all too willing to show me how people are initiated. The vodka was my party favor."
Brooke barely lets me finish before she closes the small gap that had opened between us so I could see her eyes widen at my little lie. She reattaches herself to my lips, immediately seeking out my tongue with her own. Ok, not the reaction I was expecting. But hey, totally works for me! Sometimes I really do love Aggressive!Brooke.
"Peyton………baby…….the only…….time…….you'll know……….what the……..mmmmm…….Mile High Club is………will be when we fly back home." Brooke manages to get out in between repeated nibbles to my bottom lip
"Hmm, something to look forward to then?"
"You bet your ass." She's moved from my lips to the side of my neck, nipping her way down from my earlobe to my clavicle. God, I wonder how long we could have been doing this if I had just said something to her years ago.
