Chapter 1:
"Brooke. Brooke. Wake up," Nathan said, nudging the overly-inebriated cheerleader.
Brooke cracked open one eye, as she slowly evaluated her surroundings. She was on the floor. Passed out. She assumed at Nathan's house.
"Nathan?" she breathed. "What am I still doing here?" she asked, even though she already knew the answer. She got too drunk again and made a fool of herself in front of everyone, and probably said some bitchy things to some undeserving people, as well.
"Take a guess," he said, sighing. His legs were starting to cramp up from leaning over her, so he took a seated position next to her, while she came to her senses.
"Oh, god," Brooke stated, as what she suspected was confirmed when the memories came flooding back to her. She cringed as she realized how badly she embarrassed herself in front of Lucas, in front of everyone, and how mean she was to Haley. Why was she always mean to Haley? Probably because Haley had the one thing she didn't have in her life: stability.
"Yep," Nathan stated in confirmation.
"I'm so sorry, Nathan. I completely screwed things up, didn't I?" Brooke said, slowly lifting herself up, then, sitting cross-legged next to Nathan.
"That would be an understatement," he responded, gruffly.
"You have every right to be pissed at me," she stated.
"Oh, I know," he retorted. "Why'd you do it Brooke? Why do you always do this?" he questioned, waving his hands in front him, as if demonstrating all the chaos she left in her wake.
"Why do you do it?" she responded. "I mean, why are you such an asshole to Peyton, to Lucas, and I know you're playing Haley."
"I'm not playing Haley," Nathan said, shocked she would be lucid enough to notice that now, or ever.
"Please. I may have an awful headache from this impending hangover, but I know you and I are two peas of the same pod. You treat people like shit. I'm not the only one. So don't get all high and mighty on me, just because you were in the line of fire this time." Brooke said, weakly pointing a finger at him.
"Ouch," Nathan responded. "But you're right."
"I know, I'm right." She scooted next to him, and soon they were sitting shoulder to shoulder. Both were in the middle of hazy, quasi-existential crises.
"Why do we hurt everyone we care about, Brooke? And everyone we don't care about? Why are we so awful?" Nathan asked, suddenly thinking he might cry. The pressure from everything, weighing on him.
"Well, look at our parents," she laughed bitterly. "All your dad cares about are scoring and scouts. Your mom's hardly ever here, probably to avoid your dad. And my parents, well, they don't care about me at all."
"That's not true. Your parents love you," Nathan responded, automatically.
Brooke looked at him, raising one eyebrow. Then, they both burst out laughing.
"Come on, let me take you home," Nathan said.
"I don't want to go home. Besides, it's really just a house. A nice, big, empty house with a pretty red door at the front. I doubt my parents are there right now. Probably on some trip," she said, wiping away a tear that suddenly rolled down her cheek.
"So, what do you want to do?" he asked. He looked at his watch: 3:30AM. He guessed she could stay the night. His parents wouldn't care. And it's too late to drive anyway. Besides, he was shocked to find he didn't want her to go. He was oddly enjoying her company. It was cathartic. To not have to pretend.
"Let's just sit here," she said. She blew out a breath, then carefully rested her head on his shoulder. He didn't flinch.
The two of them just sat there. Evaluating their choices, their lives, wondering if it was all worth it. It was just high school. They were only sixteen. Their lives should not be serious. Their lives shouldn't suck this much.
Then, something else happened. Nathan gingerly grabbed Brooke's hand and laced his fingers through hers.
And she let him.
