99 reviews! How awesome is that! Thanks again to you all! Okay, before I get to Chapter Six, I just wanted to warn you that it might be a little bit longer between updates from now on – not because I've lost interest or anything, but I'm in the middle of writing my MA dissertation and obviously I need to be concentrating on that. So sorry in advance for that, but I will keep posting, don't worry! Anyway, I've really struggled writing this chapter, I've had to change the scenes I had planned because I just couldn't write what I wanted to say, and I've finally just given up and decided to post anyway because otherwise I'll never get any further! Hopefully it isn't too disastrous. Oh, and finally, there is a sex scene in this part, so if this stuff offends you or you're too young or whatever, consider yourself warned! Thanks : )
Chapter Six
"Brooke!" Hearing her name, the brunette spun round and a giggle escaped her lips at the sight of Mouth, leaning unsteadily against a wall with a cup of what looked like straight vodka in his hand.
"Hey Mouth," she grinned, giving her friend a hug. "You having fun?"
Mouth nodded. "Yup," he confirmed, draining the contents of his cup and slamming it down on the table beside him for emphasis. "But I think," he continued, drawing Brooke closer as though to tell her a secret, "I think, I might be a little bit drunk."
Brooke grimaced slightly; pulling away from her friend as the alcohol fumes on his breath overwhelmed her. "Yeah, I think you might be right there Mouth," she agreed, laughing as her friend let out a small giggle. "Hey, do you know where Rachel is?"
"Well she's not flat on her back yet, so guess that's one prediction you got wrong Davis," the redhead's amused voice came from behind Mouth, causing him to giggle again, whilst Brooke rolled her eyes.
"I do apologise," Brooke told her friend sarcastically, "clearly Clean Teens was a good influence on you."
"What can I say?" Rachel asked nonchalantly. "Maybe I could do the whole virgin thing after all."
Mouth smirked. "She's only saying that because Joel turned her down," he told Brooke conspiratorially.
"Whatever," Rachel made a face as her friends laughed. "I think he's gay anyway."
"I don't think so," Mouth sing-songed, gesturing down the beach slightly, to where Joel was pressing a pretty blonde up against the wall.
"Ugh," Brooke made a face as Rachel snorted in disgust. "What is with men and blondes?" she asked no one in particular.
Rachel shrugged. "I think it's the whole Barbie-doll thing," she opined, elaborating as her friends looked at her in confusion. "I mean," she explained, "pretty much all Barbies were blonde right?" Brooke nodded slowly, and Rachel continued with her theory, "and remember how easy it was to spread Barbie's legs?"
Brooke laughed, finally understanding her friend's somewhat warped logic. "Hmmm, so the men who prefer blondes are the ones who played with dolls when they were kids…interesting theory," she told her friend. "But I'm not really convinced."
"Well, okay, maybe it's not scientifically proven," Rachel conceded. "Although, how much fun would it be to tell Peyton that the only reason Lucas chose her was because he reminds her of a fake plastic doll?"
Brooke smirked. "Okay two problems with that though Rach," she told her friend. "One, I don't think you're in any position to call anyone fake and plastic, and two, much though I hate to admit it, I bet Luke managed to spread my legs far more easily than Peyton's. Let's face it," she continued, a cloud crossing her face, "if all Lucas wanted was an easy lay, he'd still be with me."
"Not that you care about who Lucas is with or anything," Rachel muttered darkly, wincing in pain as Brooke poked the sharp point of her shoe into her leg.
"I don't!" Brooke protested hotly, pushing her earlier confessions firmly to the back of her mind as the redhead rolled her eyes in disbelief. "I was just – wait, we weren't even talking about Lucas! We were talking about you getting blown off for some dumb blonde!"
"Yup, that we were," Rachel nodded solemnly. "And yet, somehow we're back on the never-ending love triangle. Again." She held up her hands in mock defeat as Brooke glared fiercely at her. "Okay, okay, truce. No more comments about who you may or may not be in love with. But, just in case you do want to forget about something, there are plenty of hot guys here. And you know what they say, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else!" Cackling wickedly, Rachel drained her glass and, with one last smirk at Brooke, sauntered off in search of Travis.
"Remind me, why did I invite her again?" Brooke asked Mouth seriously.
He shrugged. "Because she's hot?" he suggested, slurring slightly, before pushing himself off the wall. "I need another drink," he mumbled, tottering unsteadily towards the house.
Brooke sighed, and turned to follow her friend. "Me too," she muttered. "Several, I think."
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I really do love you… Sorry pretty girl…Fuck her in your own time. Echoes of Lucas spun round in Brooke's head and she sighed, grabbing her glass and downing the contents in an attempt to make him disappear.
It didn't work. Brooke groaned in frustration. She had drunk enough to sink a ship, and yet none of her sorrows could be considered drowned. Scanning the room for her friends, she saw Rachel leading Travis upstairs. Catching her friends eye, she gave her an almost imperceptible wink. "Whore," she mouthed silently, but Rachel only grinned in response and scampered more quickly up the stairs. Sighing again, Brooke poured herself another drink and leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes.
"Hey you," Ryan's voice jolted her back into consciousness and she smiled at him. "So, you having a good time?" the boy asked, clearly concerned about her.
Brooke shrugged slightly, glancing up into his eyes, which shone in the same dazzling blue as Lucas's. Dammit, she cursed inwardly, downing her drink and slamming it down on the table next to her. Licking the traces of vodka from her lips, she remembered Rachel's earlier suggestion: the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, and made her decision. "Not really," she told Ryan, moving closer to him and purring seductively, "but I'm sure that could change." Slipping her arms around the boy's neck she drew him down to her, kissing him hard, desperate to erase the ghosts in her head.
Ryan groaned into her mouth as she deepened the kiss yet further and she smiled, pulling away slightly to allow herself a smug smirk at the desire written across his face. "Come on," she murmured huskily, "let's go upstairs." Grabbing Ryan's hand, she pulled him in the direction of the empty bedroom she had spotted on the way down from the bathroom only minutes before.
Slamming the door behind them, Brooke pushed Ryan back against the door, kissing him even harder than she had before, grinding her body into his. "Brooke," he gasped, as she finally pulled away, but she only smirked, stepping further away from him and, with one fluid movement, slipping off her dress and allowing it to form a silken red puddle on the floor.
"Brooke…" Ryan moaned again, entranced by the perfect vision who stood before him, naked apart from the lacy red lingerie that had, she remembered as she stood there, been Lucas's favourite. Lucas. Brooke shook her head slightly, trying to force her former boyfriend out of her thoughts. "We don't have to do this you know," Ryan whispered, correctly reading the hesitation that had crossed her face.
Spying a bottle of whisky on the dresser, Brooke grabbed the bottle and gulped gratefully at the contents. Setting it back down, she locked eyes with Ryan who was watching her intently. "Oh yes we do," she told him firmly, unhooking her bra with on hand and slipping it off expertly, caressing her nipples as she did so.
Ryan nodded, unable to take his eyes off her. "Okay," he agreed.
"Good," she purred, taking his hand once more and leading him towards the bed. Pushing him down onto it, she straddled him, making quick work of unbuttoning his shirt and pushing it off, before starting work on his trousers. "No," she whispered, as Ryan moved to take her nipple into his mouth. He looked up at her, confused, and she smiled, lifting herself up slightly and pulling down his trousers and boxers in one swift movement. Rolling over so that Ryan lay on top of her, she glanced once more into his eyes. "Just fuck me," she whispered desperately.
Understanding, Ryan slid his hand underneath the scrap of lace that separated the two of them, forcing two fingers inside her and grinning as she gasped in pleasure. Discarding the garment, he lay back on top of Brooke, adding another finger to those already inside her, moving them firmly in a steady rhythm. She moaned, writhing beneath him, and closed her eyes, losing herself in the sensations that vibrated through her body, and allowing herself to forget about the boy who had hurt her so badly.
Sensing her desperation, Ryan removed his fingers and positioned himself on top of the brunette, before driving himself into her. Brooke gasped at the feel of him, and he began to move in and out of her. "Harder," she whispered frantically, and he obliged, thrusting inside her faster, their bodies slamming together with every stroke, until at last the sensation overwhelmed the girl and she screamed out in relief as Ryan emptied himself into her.
Gasping, Brooke finally opened her eyes. "Luke," she whispered, as her green orbs met the dazzling blue ones hovering above her.
Ryan smirked. "You're more wasted than I thought," he observed, placing a quick kiss on her lips as he lifted himself off of her. "I'm Ryan, Luke's…" he paused for a second, remembering, "Luke's your ex right? The one who hit me with the volleyball?"
Brooke blushed with embarrassment. "Yeah, sorry about that," she whispered.
The boy shrugged, slipping on his jeans and searching for his shirt. "No worries," he told her nonchalantly, locating the garment and pulling it on. "So, can we do this again?" he asked, moving towards the door.
Suddenly horribly conscious of her nakedness, Brooke grabbed the sheet and wrapped it around herself, sitting up slightly and looking over at Ryan, avoiding his gaze. "Umm, I don't think so," she muttered.
Ryan nodded easily, clearly unconcerned. "Okay," he told her, pulling the door open as he spoke, "well, it's been fun Brooke. I'll see you around."
"'Kay," she whispered to the door as it shut behind him. Lying back in the bed, Brooke considered herself for a moment and a tear sprang to her eye as she realised the similarities between her behaviour that evening and her behaviour on numerous occasions before she had first become involved with Lucas. The pattern was simple: get wasted, screw a stranger, repeat as necessary. But where once before Brooke had lain satisfied and uncaring after such encounters, she now felt herself fill with feelings of disgust and self-loathing. "I'm a whore," she told the empty room, the sounds reverberating off the walls and back to her, relaying the sentiment over and over again.
"Way to go man!" A voice Brooke recognised as belonging to Rhys came from downstairs.
"She was hot!" Another unfamiliar voice added to the mix, along with a host of catcalls and whistles. Burning with shame, the fragile girl realised that the voices were talking about her, and what she had just done with Ryan, and she sprang to her feet, clutching the sheet around her as though the disembodied speakers could see through the closed door. Desperately, she scrabbled for her clothes, pulling on her underwear and bra and slipping the red dress back over her head, hoping to cover the shame emblazoned on her skin.
Clutching her shoes in one hand, Brooke quietly slipped through the bedroom door, pushing through the throngs of drunken teenagers and finally escaping to the relative silence of the beach. Images of the day flickered through her mind and she quickened her pace as though to avoid them, but such a task was impossible: flirting with Ryan on the beach and Lucas's seemingly jealous reaction…her confession to James followed by the more dramatic one to his mother…Rachel's taunting…shot after shot of numerous spirits…seducing Ryan…Ryan's blue eyes that were perfect reflections of Lucas's…thoughts overwhelmed her. Finally, breaking into a frantic run towards the sanctuary of her own cabin, Brooke allowed the tears to fall.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Brooke!" Peyton gasped in embarrassment as her friend burst into the cabin. Quickly, she wriggled out from underneath Lucas, pulling her shirt back on as she did so.
"Hey P. Sawyer. Luke," Brooke muttered, forcing a smile onto her face as the curly blonde finished adjusting her clothing and grinned up at her. "Ummm, I'm gonna…" she gestured towards her bedroom but Peyton shook her head.
"No, stay," she ordered, "we want to hear all about the party, don't we Luke?"
"Yeah," Lucas mumbled unenthusiastically, slumping back onto the sofa without bothering to cover his naked torso, knowing full well he wasn't going to enjoy this conversation.
"Ummm, there's not much to tell," Brooke began, nervousness evident in her voice. "Mouth's incredibly drunk, Rachel's screwing…Travis? Is that his name?" Shaking her head in answer to her own question the brunette continued to babble, "so yeah, same old same old really."
"What about you?" Peyton asked, a drop of sadness tangible in her tone as she probed for information about a girl she had once been so close to. "Anything happen with Ryan?"
"Uh…" Brooke shifted nervously, desperately trying to avoid Lucas's penetrating stare.
Lucas snorted. "You fucked him, didn't you?" he asked, his voice calm, but as Brooke raised her eyes to meet his she caught the glimmer of anger cloud the blue.
"Luke!" Peyton nudged her boyfriend sharply, before turning to her friend. "You don't have to answer that," she told her.
Brooke managed a small smile. "It's fine Goldilocks," she reassured the other girl. "We're all friends now. And yes," she continued, turning to Lucas, "to use your words, I did fuck him. And, since you seem to have such an interest in my sex life, it was fantastic," she lied, swallowing the lump in her throat as she stared at her former boyfriend. "Oh, and his face is fine, thanks for asking," she tagged on sarcastically.
"It was just a volleyball," Lucas muttered darkly, averting his eyes from the fire in her green ones, trying to hide the jealousy that was rising up inside him as, unbidden, images of Brooke and Ryan together formed in his mind.
"So, are you seeing him again?" Peyton interrupted before Brooke could respond, obviously trying to diffuse the tension in the room.
Brooke shrugged with feigned nonchalance as Lucas moved closer to Peyton on the couch, placing a kiss on her neck as he snaked an arm around her shoulders, his eyes never leaving Brooke's as he did so. "I dunno," she answered, "probably not. I think I'm gonna stick to one night stands from now on, less pain that way. Although," she continued, focusing her gaze on Lucas, searching for a trace of emotion, "Ryan was hot…"
Peyton nodded in agreement. "Yup, he certainly was," she told her friend, before turning to Lucas. "Sorry baby," she purred, but Lucas only bent his head down towards her, kissing her passionately in what he knew was a childish attempt to irritate Brooke.
The blonde girl let out a small gasp and Brooke rolled her eyes, choosing to ignore the sight before her and simply continue with the conversation as though Peyton was still paying attention. "Trust me Blondie," she said, forcing out a small giggle, "he looked even hotter naked."
Peyton tore her lips from Lucas's and grinned at her friend. "So why don't you see him again?" she suggested, pleased that she and Brooke seemed to be sharing things in the way they used to.
"I might," Brooke glared at Lucas over Peyton's head as he slipped his hands under the blonde's shirt and he smirked in response, knowing that Brooke's mind was filling with images of the many times he had teased her by stroking her stomach and back whilst her nipples ached for his touch. Shaking the images away, she continued speaking to Peyton, doing her best to ignore Lucas. "But you know what they say," she teased, "so many boys, so little time."
The blonde girl laughed, as Lucas rolled his eyes, biting on Peyton's neck again in an effort to block the jealousy increasing within him at Brooke's words, and failing miserably. "Ah good, the old Brooke Davis is back," he bit out sarcastically, earning himself another jab in the ribs from Peyton.
"And just what is that supposed to mean?" Brooke spat back, her green eyes flashing at the implications of his words.
Lucas shrugged. "Nothing," he grunted, "I was just saying, when I first met you that's what you were like, drinking too much, different guy every night…" he trailed off, raising his eyes to Brooke's, silently challenging her to deny his words.
"So you're saying I'm a whore?" she questioned, pain clear in her voice as she stared at her former boyfriend, all thoughts of Peyton gone from both of their minds as they glared at one another.
The boy shrugged again. "I didn't say that," he qualified, a tremor of guilt in his voice as he read the hurt in her eyes. "I just don't think that's any way to live, that's all. You'll only get hurt."
Brooke laughed, a shallow, harsh sound. "Unbelievable," she muttered, "you of all people are worried that I'll get hurt by a few one night stands?" The sarcasm cut through Lucas and he almost flinched as she continued, her voice rising with every syllable. "I tried the commitment thing, remember?" she asked furiously, "and let me tell you this Luke, in case you don't recall, it didn't fucking work!"
"So what?" he retorted, blocking the guilt that threatened to return. "So you're going to go around screwing every guy you meet so you never have to risk opening your heart again?"
"And what if I am?" Brooke shouted, all restraint lost as her eyes danced with rage and unshed tears, "what the fuck has it got to do with you Lucas Scott?"
"It's got everything to do with me," he barked back equally angrily, disentangling himself from Peyton and standing up to face her, blue eyes never leaving green as he towered above her. "I care about you Brooke! Just because we're not together doesn't mean I don't care what happens to you!"
"That doesn't make any sense!" she screamed back, "if you cared about me we'd still be together, and we're not so you obviously don't, so just…" her voice trailed off as tears threatened to escape, but she managed to spit out an end to her sentence "just… shut up," she gasped weakly.
Lucas sighed in frustration. "Brooke…" he tried, but she shook her head, refusing to look at him.
"You okay Brooke?" Peyton got up from her place on the couch and moved over to the pair, pushing Lucas away so that she could get to the fragile girl who was urgently willing herself not to cry.
"Pey," Brooke gasped, realising at last that her friend was still in the room. "I'm sorry P. Sawyer," she murmured, guilt overwhelming her as she comprehended what she had come so close to admitting.
The blonde girl shook her head sympathetically, slipping an arm around Brooke. "It's not you who should be apologising," she told her, shooting an angry glare at Lucas. "Luke, apologise," she ordered.
Lucas rolled his eyes inwardly. "Fine," he muttered. "I'm sorry Brooke," he said, and as she looked up at him his heart broke to see the pain written across her face. "Really," he added genuinely, hoping she would understand.
A small half-smile crossed the brunette's face and she nodded. "It's okay Broody," she told him and he breathed out a sigh of relief at her use of his nickname. "Umm, listen," she continued, giving Peyton a quick squeeze before extricating herself from the girl, "I'm gonna get some sleep, okay?"
"Okay," Peyton smiled in agreement as her friend paused at the living room door, "night Brooke."
"Night," Brooke smiled quietly. "Night Luke," she murmured, glancing at the boy who stood behind Peyton.
He smiled softly. "Night," he whispered, and for a second she though he was going to finish his sentence by whispering "pretty girl", as he had done every night during the time they were together. But the words never came, and, sighing inaudibly, Brooke slipped out of the room.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Oh God, Luke!" Rachel heard Peyton's moans coming from the room opposite hers as she tiptoed through the house on her return from the party.
"Never would have pegged the emo-queen as a screamer," she muttered, rolling her eyes to herself as she pushed open her bedroom door. Flipping on the small lamp beside her bed, she glanced over at the other bed and sighed. Brooke lay curled up, facing the window, but Rachel could tell from the shaking of her shoulders that the other girl was crying silently. "Brooke," she whispered, but there was no reply.
The redhead sighed. "Come on Brookie, I know you're awake," she coaxed, a little louder this time. "Hell, how could you not be with that racket going on," she continued, half to herself, as she unfastened her shoes and kicked them off.
"Really not helping there Rach," a muffled voice came from the other side of the room and Rachel glanced up in time to see Brooke's head emerge from the blankets, eyes red and tear-stained.
"Well it got a response, didn't it?" Rachel shrugged, slipping her dress over her head before turning fully and fixing her friend with a sympathetic gaze. "You want to talk about it?" she asked.
Brooke smirked. "Rachel Gattina, agony aunt. I never thought I'd see the day."
The redhead rolled her eyes, pulling a tank top and shorts out of a drawer and pulling them on. "Well that's the last time I offer you any sympathy Davis," she shot back, fake annoyance hiding her relief at the fact that the other girl had managed to crack a joke, feeble though it was.
Sitting up slightly, Brooke shrugged. "So how was Travis?" she questioned, clearly wanting to change the subject.
Rachel grinned, knowing what her friend was trying to do but deciding to humour her for a while. "He was okay," she replied nonchalantly, "I've had better, I've had worse, so…" she shrugged.
Brooke giggled, amused by her friend's outlook. "How's Mouth?" she asked, suddenly remembering the drunken state he had been in when she last saw him.
"Passed out on the couch," the other girl chuckled, "I practically had to drag him home. He did keep me entertained on the way back though, he was trying to decide who he wanted to be with most: you, me, Shelley, Gigi, or some girl named…Erica Marsh?"
Brooke nodded, answering Rachel's unasked question. "So what was the verdict?" she queried, a smile on her face as she imagined the scene.
"Well I won of course," Rachel responded smugly and Brooke rolled her eyes. "Although you were doing well for a while, but then I reminded him that if he went for you he'd end up embroiled in some love-square or something, so he picked me." Catching the look of pain cross Brooke's face at the mention of Lucas and Peyton, Rachel winced. "Sorry," she mumbled apologetically.
"It's fine," Brooke whispered bravely, but Rachel could see the glimmer of tears in her eyes once more and she sighed quietly. For a moment the two girls were quiet, the only sounds those of a creaking bed and Peyton's moans, which were increasing in volume by the second.
"Man, is he really that good?" Rachel wondered aloud, and the brunette laughed in spite of herself.
"Yup," she admitted, her expression clouding over again with a combination of sadness and lust as she remembered the numerous occasions where she had felt the same overwhelming ecstasy that Peyton was clearly feeling now.
The redhead sighed again as she watched her friend. "It'll be okay Brooke," she whispered, but the other girl shook her head, biting her lip hard as she tried and failed to prevent the tears from escaping. Carefully, Rachel moved over to the bed where the broken girl sat and slipped in beside her, wrapping her arms around Brooke as her sobs increased. "It'll be okay," she repeated, but as the two lay there neither one was convinced.