There is an underage consensual sex scene in this fic, as well as depictions of underage drinking/smoking. Please read at your own discretion.
Obviously AU, but still retains a lot of what happened in S1/S2 of the show. Happy reading!
Disclaimer: I do not own One Tree Hill or the characters, nor make any money from this.
"Hey, girlfriend. Bad time?"
Brooke scoffs and rolls her eyes. "I'm sorry, do I even know you?"
"Whatever," Rachel Gatina laughs derisively and struts away to go join the gaggle of dance team girls hanging out in the courtyard.
"She. Is. The. Worst!" Brooke Davis huffs in annoyance and her best friend, Peyton Sawyer, gives her a somewhat sympathetic, yet mostly amused look. "God, I swear she was created just to torment me or something!"
"Just forget about her. Remember the list," Peyton says soothingly and wraps an arm around Brooke, leading them away from the courtyard. She's well-versed on how to handle Brooke's so-called "temper tantrums."
The list. The list. The list.
It's something of a calming mantra for Brooke, a motto she can repeat over and over in her brain. She's spent four years working on the list ever since her first day of high school, inspired by countless movies and TV shows. Senior year is all that really matters. It's the last hurrah. The big bang. Admittedly, her senior year bucket list has gone through many tweaks and changes, rewritten over and over, modified due to heartbreak or anger or regret. But when she spent the past summer in California with her grandparents, she gave her list a lot of thought. She has it up on her poster board, front and centre so she can stare at it everyday.
1. Win reelection for student body president.
2. Take home ALL the trophies for cheer classic.
3. Go to the BEST parties.
4. Don't let any dumb high school guy get in the way in your life.
5. Ignore stupid people and their extremely stupid bitchy attitudes and weird fashion sense.
Okay, number five is worded differently but the general idea is there. Rise above it all. Take the high road. Yadda yadda be gracious and all that. No one ever talks about how hard that stuff is. People are far more interested in spouting that logic than actually acknowledging that it's kind of a challenge. Luckily, Brooke's had more practice than most on the subject.
"What are you doing tonight? Wanna study?" Brooke asks as they sit down on a bench just outside the front of the school.
Peyton's lips twitch into a semi-apologetic smile. "Me and Jake are gonna hang out - his parents are watching Jenny, he has work off tonight, but you can still-"
"Stop right there, P. Sawyer. No way am I gonna third-wheel you two lovebirds…you guys deserve a night together." Brooke knows it isn't always easy for them; Jake has Jenny, work, school, and Peyton is working at TRIC way more than usual. But those two are blissfully head-over-heels for each other, so Brooke knows better than to intrude on their happiness.
"How about tomorrow? We can study at Karen's. I'll buy you a mocha."
"You're on."
"Brooke, Brooke, Brooke!" Bevin rushes over, a mess of anxiety and wide eyes, catching the two girls off-guard, "Skills. Date. Tonight! Help! Oh, you gotta help me!"
"Bev, Bevin," Brooke laughs, "Relax, I'll help you sort everything. Hair, makeup, wardrobe, shoes, the whole deal. Skills will have trouble picking his jaw up off the floor."
"Wait, what?! We're gonna break his jaw?!"
Peyton stifles a snort and Brooke shakes her head endearingly. "What? No. As in you're gonna look amazing and Skills will be super impressed."
"Oh," Bevin sighs in relief, "that makes a lot more sense. I don't know what I'd do without your help, Brooke, thank you. I was thinking of asking Rachel-"
"No! Nope," Brooke amends with a stiff smile, "no need to ask her. She'd get your whole colour palette wrong, just a fashion disaster waiting to happen. I have everything covered."
It's not like Brooke set out to hate Rachel from day one.
When news of a new student joining Tree Hill High made its rounds through the grapevine, Brooke was admittedly curious, the whole town was. They didn't get new people that often and when they did, it'd become all anyone could share and gossip about for a couple weeks. It was pretty easy to spot new students, but it wasn't until Rachel started hijacking Brooke's carefully arranged social standing that Brooke really started paying attention.
Rachel went ahead to Principal Turner within days of being enrolled in school and asked to form a dance team (which, really, dance? Lame). Then a couple of girls on the cheerleading squad decided dance was a better fit for them and as captain of the squad, Brooke was fuming at losing some of her best flyers. She'd raged at Principal Turner and demanded some type of end to the dance team, but apparently Rachel had acquired enough signatures to form the club and they'd gotten new funding for the dance team. Brooke knew it was code for "my parents donated money to the school," as her own parents were no strangers to the strategy, but it still irked her to no end.
And then Rachel started to ingratiate herself into Brooke's circle, charming them with her stupid high couture clothes and fancy life experiences, emanating a tacky air of shallow elegance that Brooke could see right through; unfortunately, it seemed like she'd been the only one. The girls who used to trail after Brooke began following Rachel instead, her outfits were the ones to envy and suddenly she had the best advice.
But Brooke swore she'd rise above it all. She was still one of the most popular and hottest girls in school. Boys wanted her, girls admired her and Rachel would, above all, absolutely not torpedo her senior year. Maybe her dance team would magically turn into a burning pile of screaming girls and her clothes would get dumped in tar or something. Never say never.
This is Brooke's year. Nothing is going to ruin that.
"Alright," Brooke looks up at the person leaning against the locker next to hers, "how ready are you for tomorrow's international relations test?"
She raises an eyebrow and smiles. "I think you already know the answer to that."
He laughs. "You wanna share notes?"
"Oh my god, yes," Lucas Scott hands over his notebook and she grins, "You're a lifesaver."
"I try."
Lucas, the only boy she's ever really liked and the only one to break her heart in her sophomore year, no less by cheating on her with Peyton. It'd been hard to forgive either of them - and an even harder blow to her world. But her and Peyton patched things up and her relationship with Lucas was now starting to look a bit like a friendship. Not quite, but they were getting there.
"Here's mine," she hands over hers and begins walking with him, "Switch back by the end of the day? I can drop by the cafe if you're gonna be there."
"Sounds good. So, how's the presidential campaign going?"
"I have all the posters ready to be printed and hung up tomorrow. Erica won't be running this year and Mouth has promised to help me out with a bunch of tech stuff. I think I've got it in the bag."
"No competition?"
"I don't think so - or at least no one who has a good shot of beating me…" they round the corner and there's a giant poster on the wall of Rachel's grinning face, the words "GATINA FOR PRESIDENT" embossed in bold lettering. "What the hell is this?!"
"I guess Rachel's throwing her hat into the ring."
"Ugh, I can't believe her!" Brooke viciously rips down the poster, "Where is that two-faced witch?!"
"Uh, Brooke…"
She storms off, Lucas trailing after her quickly and she knows Rachel's locker is in the geography wing, she's seen her primping and bragging about some trendy outfit only she could ever assemble; Brooke finds Rachel at her locker, talking with two girls from the dance team.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Brooke shoves the poster in Rachel's face.
"Uh, I was talking with Emmy and Priya until you assaulted me with your nasally voice."
"Scram," Brooke bites out to the two girls before giving Rachel a venomous glare, "I meant the poster!"
"See, Brooke, there's something called a student election," Rachel says slowly as if speaking to a five-year-old, "and I'm gonna win president."
"Okay, first of all, I don't need your obnoxious sarcasm, it's a terrible look for you, and second, Rachel, what makes you think you're gonna be president? With this trashy thing you call a poster? You might as well call it now and concede."
"Oh, like you could do any better. Can you tell me anything about what made you a memorable president? I doubt anyone here could tell me a single thing."
Brooke scoffs. "Oh, it's on. By the time I win this election, you're gonna wish you never stepped foot in Tree Hill."
"Game on," Rachel crosses her arms with a steely look, "This'll be a piece of cake. I'm gonna kick your ass, Davis."
"Bring it on, try your worst," Brooke spits out, "Come on, Luke, I'm not spending one more second inhaling Rachel's skunk perfume. I have work to do."
"Peyt. Peyton. Peyton! Come on, we have to go," Brooke shakes her best friend as she puts her hair into a side braid. Peyton groans and snuggles further into her mattress. "Peyton! I am not letting Rachel beat me to school. We have to put up the posters!"
All original game plans are flying out the window. Into the trash. New ones, bigger and better and cooler, are being formed right now in Brooke's head. She called Peyton for an emergency meeting where they spent all night modifying her posters, finishing up the designs and printing them out to hang around school. She already called and texted a bunch of her other friends to help her set up the posters and come early for school. Rachel already has posters up and Brooke is not letting her get any more headway.
Peyton eventually gets up (not before giving Brooke a good dose of stink-eye) and eventually they're transporting cardboard boxes filled with campaign posters into the trunk of Brooke's car. Peyton plays her loud rock music on the way to school, but it feels good. Like Brooke's armed for battle and ready to brave the trenches.
The whole crew is already standing around the parking lot when they arrive: a yawning Haley leaning against a disheveled Nathan, Lucas waves as he rubs his eyes and Mouth seems to be the only one who's somewhat more awake. Bevin and Skills are lying on the hood of her car, looking dead to the world with their mouths slightly agape.
"Okay, people," Brooke announces as she gets out of the car and opens the trunk, her friends crowding around; Lucas is busy shaking Skills and Bevin awake. "Here's the deal. Forget what you know about war. Nothing is more important than taking down Rachel. Every hallway in school should have my face plastered all over it. I want to be burned into everyone's brains."
"Ew," Peyton mutters as she hands out the boxes of posters and rolls of tape.
"You know what I mean, P. Sawyer!"
"Where do you want us to hang everything up, Brooke?" Haley asks pleasantly.
"Divide and conquer is the first step. Split into twos, we can cover every wing of the school. Second floor is smaller so two of us cover that ground and the rest of us do the first floor. Lucas, Mouth, you guys do the math and science wing. Haley, Nathan, you're on the second floor. Bevin and Skills, English and humanities wing. Me and Peyton have everything else."
Everyone starts nodding. "Got it, Brooke."
"Yeah."
"Good to go!"
"Thanks for coming in early, guys. I really appreciate it," Brooke smiles, "and don't forget to use four pieces of tape!"
Eat your heart out, Gatina.
Soon enough, the school hallways are plastered with Brooke and Rachel's faces on posters. Principal Turner's already had Brooke in for two "reminder" meetings on the rules concerning student election (and so has Rachel, so ha, at least she's under watch, too). Peyton's been making pins for all their friends to wear and Nathan's agreed to be her "celebrity sponsor" as the star of the school's basketball team. Rachel, admittedly, has been doing the right things - fluttering between social circles, handing out stickers, doing the smart stuff Brooke would've done in a heartbeat. It's infuriating. Never has someone so aggravatingly tested her time after time again.
Brooke is in the main school foyer area setting up a booth where she has boxes of cookies from Karen's Cafe set up to be handed out to the students of Tree Hill. Haley has last period off and agreed to help her set up while Brooke convinced Mr. Domingo to let her out of class early. Principal Turner said they couldn't do booths during class time but once the school day was done, it was fair game.
"Okay," Brooke swipes hair out of her eyes and faces Haley, holding up a plate full of decadent chocolate chip cookies, "what do you think?" She pretends to offer a cookie, "Vote for me for class president! Or, no…a vote for Davis is a vote for…no, that's dumb. Ugh, nothing catchy goes with my name!"
"Don't overthink it. Just a simple 'vote for me.' Everyone knows who you are and I think it's pretty clear what you're running for," Haley gestures to her posters lining the walls, "You've got this."
Brooke manages a brittle smile and nods jerkily, feeling somewhat more reassured. Haley has a strange way of making her feel better - maybe because she's the nicest and smartest girl Brooke knows, she's not sure, but it's refreshing either way. Back when Brooke was dating Lucas, they'd go on double dates with Haley and Nathan, there were even a few times where Brooke would hang out with Haley or ask to study together. Admittedly, they'd been distant after Brooke broke up with Lucas, as Haley was his best friend first and already getting cheated on didn't leave Brooke in the most benevolent state. But eventually they started talking again once the melodrama died down.
The bell rings. Brooke straightens her posture and watches the incoming hallways expectantly. Students rush out like water out of a broken dam. They swarm down on their booth at the sight of food and in only a matter of seconds, people are crowding them for a cookie.
"Vote for me! Vote Brooke for president! Vote for me!" Brooke trills loudly as she passes out cookies and Haley gives her an excited grin as she says something along the same lines. People don't stop coming. Elation makes her smile wider.
Peyton and Jake pop up to the forefront of the booth. "Brooke, this is great!"
"I know!" Brooke squeals.
"This is awesome," Jake adds, "Seriously, these cookies are amazing."
"Thanks! I really think this will help…"
Somehow a voice rises over the din. "BROWNIES! WE HAVE BROWNIES!"
Some of the crowd around Brooke's booth thins and she exchanges confused looks with Peyton and Haley, who clearly heard it, too. Brooke gets up on a chair carefully and a supernova of disbelief and anger explodes inside her at the sight across the foyer.
Rachel holds out brownies for students to take from her own decorated booth armed with dance team girls, drawing them away from Brooke's booth. Her shirt is emblazoned with the words "RACHEL 4 PRES" in white text and her hair is in a neat ponytail.
She arches a finely plucked brow at Brooke and smiles smugly.
Brooke slams the door shut. Stark silence greets her but she knows that there are people home. She drops her stuff in her bedroom and heads for the kitchen to grab a quick snack; she already ate at Peyton's but she plans on being up for another couple hours.
Her mom's in the kitchen, eyes intently scanning her computer. "Hi, sweetheart. How was school?"
"Fine. Good. Same as always," she shrugs and grabs an apple from the fridge.
"How did your cookies do? Were they a big hit?"
Brooke blinks, surprised her mom remembered. Even if the cookie booth already happened a couple days ago. "Yeah, they were great. Everyone loved them…but, oh, you won't believe what-"
Her mom's phone rings. "Sorry, just give me a second," she answers, "Hello? Oh, hi! Yes, thanks for calling, especially so late…"
Brooke trudges out of the kitchen. A second is really an hour in her mom's world and she's learned not to wait around for that. She then peeks into her dad's study and he's looking over papers as someone talks to him on speakerphone about ROIs and market shares. She mutters a tiny "hi," as he spares her a brief smile and wave. She heads back to her bedroom to work on her cheer routine and finish up a rough essay draft.
The buzzer goes off. The room explodes into celebration and whoops swell through the air. Brooke hugs her squad and jumps up and down. Their school swarms down from the bleachers to crowd the basketball team, people patting Nathan and high-fiving him as he heads over to Haley with a grin. Peyton is already pelting Jake with a hug and kiss.
It was a no-brainer that they'd win - everyone knows they're on their way to state, but it still feels good. Brooke's hugging people and congratulating the players when she's suddenly face-to-face with a sneery Cynthia Marsten, cheer captain of Port Dyllon.
"You guys are just lucky you have the Scott brothers," Cynthia spits out venomously, "otherwise you'd be stuck scrubbing the bottom of the leaderboards."
"Oh, please, we have skill and talent. Did your team ever have either of those things? It's pretty clear your squad doesn't."
"And yet you always come runner-up to us every time at the Cheer Classic."
Brooke scoffs. "Don't count on it this year."
"If you manage to beat my squad, I'll shave my head and get a tattoo on my ass. You're just never good enough, Brooke."
"That's the best you can do?" Brooke sighs dramatically, "God, even your insults suck."
"Like yours are any better. It's written in the stars: Brooke Davis will always come up short. Can't win at the cheer competitions, can't even win with boyfriends. Isn't that why Lucas Scott preferred fucking your best friend over you?"
Brooke recoils like she's just been punched, because how does Cynthia know that? She tries to think of a comeback, something to regain her footing but it's like an ugly fat scorpion stung her and she's too busy clutching her wounds.
All of a sudden, hands come out of nowhere and push Cynthia squarely on her shoulders, sending her sprawling back into a group of random students celebrating; she stands back up with a sputter, her face red in humiliation and anger.
"WHAT. The FUCK?!" Cynthia yells, "You fucking bitch!"
Rachel stands there, manicured hands on her hips with a casual shrug. "Oops, sorry. My hands slipped."
Brooke stares at her, dumbfounded; Cynthia gets up in Rachel's face. "Who the fuck do you think you are?"
"I think I'm the girl who's about to beat your ass if you don't get out of my face right now," Rachel exclaims dangerously, eyes blazing, "I have no problem messing up your cheap nose job and ripping out your tacky highlights. Just try me and see what happens."
Cynthia huffs and backs away with a vicious glare; Brooke is still in shock over what just happened and watches Rachel turn towards her. "Uh…"
"I wasn't doing it for you, okay, Davis? She was being a bitch, that's it," Rachel bites out sharply, "Don't think I was doing it out of some kindness."
"Okay."
Rachel is still looking at her strangely. "I'm gonna go. Afterparties to attend and all that."
Brooke nods and watches her swinging red hair disappear into the thick of the crowd.
Brooke is bent over on the ground as she looks over Coach Lin's notes for their cheer routine, 80s disco music blaring through her earbuds. She gets back up and stands in the middle of the mat, changing the song to "Kung Fu Fighting" and restarts the routine, sweat dripping down the back of the neck.
She's in the middle of blocking out a roundoff when the door opens and she stops, embarrassed; she takes out her earbuds and turns around. Of course it's her. "What are you doing here?"
"Ms. Lin said I could practice my dance routine here," Rachel crosses her arms, "she didn't mention I wouldn't be alone."
"Well, I'm already practicing here. I need to learn these moves so I can help out my squad next practice."
"And I need to help my team. We have a recital coming up."
"How very middle school of you, Rachel."
She rolls her eyes. "I'm not leaving. We're just gonna have to share the space."
"Fine," Brooke bites out, "You can take the right side of the room. Don't butt into my side."
"What are you, eight?"
Rachel still retreats to the right side of the room and starts unpacking her duffel bag; Brooke puts back in her earbuds and tries to concentrate. Tries. But Rachel is like an annoying wasp buzzing after her, the itch on her back she can't reach, ignoring her is like trying to ignore a cyclone.
The list. Winning cheer classic. Ignoring stupid people. The list.
Brooke's just landed a back handspring when she notices Rachel watching her through the floor-to-wall mirrors. She takes out an earbud again and huffs defensively. "What?"
"Nothing. Just checking your form."
"Bite me," she mutters and goes back to ignoring Rachel.
They practice together in silence for the next hour and, okay, Brooke does subtly watch Rachel practice a few times; she definitely isn't bad, her form is mostly flawless and Rachel does have rhythm. She could be a cheerleader in another life, not anywhere near cheer captain, but somewhere close to the middle of the pack.
By the time it's five o'clock and Brooke is feeling both sweaty and tired, she's packing up her stuff while Rachel is still dutifully going over her routine, rarely stopping within the past couple hours. Brooke leaves without saying goodbye - but not without leaving an unopened granola bar near Rachel's mat.
Brooke picks up her phone with a drawn-out sigh and texts Virginia for the fifth time.
Where is this girl?! I'm gonna leave, NOT kidding
Tonight's her turn to be the driver for DW-Not-I, the baby she came up with last year as class president and thankfully it's still going strong; she managed to wrangle a car with help from Lucas's uncle, Keith, but it is now in need of repairs, something she hopes to appeal to Principal Turner about once she's reinstated as class president. So, she's stuck staring up at some luxurious mansion, Greek columns with a fountain adorning the circular driveway, waiting for whichever student she's supposed to drive home to come out after fifteen minutes of waiting.
Just be patient, B! She'll be out soon
Maybe Brooke should ring the doorbell. Say hi, mingle and then confront whoever's keeping her waiting around. She may as well get a party out of tonight. A group of people swell out of the front doors and Brooke's stomach lurches, thinking she'll have to drive home multiple rowdy drunk classmates. The last thing she wants to deal with is someone vomiting in the car. The stench will never fade. They hug and laugh, waving goodbye until Brooke spots someone reaching for the car handle.
Universe, you have GOT to be joking. "What do you think you're doing?"
Rachel slides into the backseat, blinking at her from underneath glittery green eyeshadow, her hair gleaming like silk. "You must be the lucky driver that's been hounding me."
"It's been fifteen minutes!"
"It's been ten, relax. Nice sign, by the way," Rachel points to the "Vote for Brooke" sticker on the dashboard, "A little too tacky for my taste."
"You would know, wouldn't you?" Brooke sneers, "The sooner you get home, the better."
Rachel opens her mouth to say something when her phone rings and she answers it in an irritated voice. "Hello?" Brooke pulls away from the house and begins driving to Rachel's address, "I'm on my way home now…it's not curfew yet, what's the problem?...so? I don't see the big deal…she can do that herself! She's not a baby…dad, could you get off my back for once?! God…fine, whatever…yeah. Okay. Okay."
Rachel hangs up and fiddles with her phone as Brooke watches her through the rearview mirror just a second longer before focusing back on the road. She vaguely remembers Theresa or Bevin or someone from cheer talking about how Rachel lives with her dad and stepmom and half-brothers. But Rachel's conversation sounds achingly familiar - far too reminiscent of Brooke's calls with her parents when they would momentarily pay her any attention to scold her.
She finally reaches Rachel's house, not too far from Brooke's neighbourhood and it's a beautiful white mansion adorned by grey turrets and a wide patio wrapping around the house. Brooke can see people waiting on the patio, she can just about make out the figure of an older man in a suit carrying a toddler and a little boy playing on the front steps.
"Have a good night," Brooke murmurs as Rachel gathers her things; she senses a distrustful look sent her way before the car door slams.
Brooke watches Rachel walk up to the house, the little boy runs up to greet her and she pats him on the head kindly; the older man waits, his face grim and Brooke watches Rachel's shoulders tense as she walks up to him.
Brooke drives away as they go inside.
"Mouth! Mouth!" he turns and Brooke barrels into him with a giant hug and beam, "The video was AWESOME!"
"Thanks!" he bursts out with a laugh.
"Seriously, oh my gosh, the editing was so cool, it could've been on MTV. My whole math class applauded after the video finished airing. You did such a good job, I couldn't have done this without you."
"It wasn't any trouble, Brooke, I was happy to do it."
"Still! I'm totally gonna repay you for helping me with this campaign. You can be my tech guy!"
"Tech guy?" Mouth hums thoughtfully, "I like the sound of that."
A few students walk by and wave at Brooke; she gives them a smile and waves back, delighted by the attention she's getting today. Today was the launch of her class president campaign video, which aired during the class announcements. Not only has her popularity soared, but Rachel hasn't done anything remotely similar or even said a peep. Point for Brooke, Gatina left in the dirt.
"Hey, future pres!" Peyton walks up with Jake, giving Brooke a one-armed hug, "That video was awesome, you guys did such a great job."
"Seriously, my whole class was impressed," Jake adds, "I think any local news station would air it."
Brooke and Mouth exchange excited looks. "Really?"
"Yeah," Peyton nods in agreement, "bring it to the town, get people listening! Gotta be more interesting than the normal stuff they play."
Brooke's phone buzzes and she opens the message, thinking it's someone else complimenting her on the campaign video. Instead, she lets out a strangled noise and Peyton gives her a strange look.
"Brooke? What is it?" Peyton peers at the message, "Oh, I see…"
"What's up?" Jake frowns.
"Rachel's throwing a party and the whole school's invited."
"She can't," Brooke whispers, outraged at the turn of events; no one in school can refuse a party, especially when there's already so little to do in town. "She just can't!"
"I just got a text about it, too," Mouth adds apologetically, "it's at her family chalet, only forty minutes outside of town."
"Brooke," Peyton says quickly, "Brooke, you should go."
"What?"
"Beat Rachel at her own game! You're, like, the queen of parties, you should go and show her up. Make everyone forget who's even hosting, get everyone to talk about you. You know, in a way that isn't embarrassing or weird."
"Worse comes to worse, the rest of us will be there and we can hang out and drink all her beer, eat her food," Mouth smiles, "she has to deal with the cleanup."
Brooke hums thoughtfully. "I did hear that Rachel's chalet has a hot tub and a movie room. Wouldn't be so bad to try those out…"
"See? All the more reason to go," Peyton wraps a reassuring arm around her, "look, I think you got the president thing in the bag anyway whether you go or not, but if you wanna get Rachel, then go."
Cool night air skirts around Brooke's calves as she darts down the steps to the hot tub. Rachel's party is in full swing, Brooke's been around the whole place, socializing and drinking, but she's taking a short break and it's a cool night out, not many people are heading all the way out to where the hot tub is, closer down to the lake; Bevin and a couple of the other girls told her where to find it. Who is Brooke if not someone to take advantage of an amenity like a hot tub?
She stops when she finds the hot tub; it's on a small deck just off the lake, a dingy string of lights hanging above the tub as the water glows blue from underwater lights. And Rachel's sitting in the tub, hair up in a messy ponytail with a cigarette between her fingers.
"Oh," is the only thing that comes out of Brooke's mouth. Rachel raises her eyebrows, clearly unimpressed.
"Did you come to admire the view or something?"
"No," Brooke snaps, "I was gonna try and relax for a bit."
No longer interested in being the centre of attention tonight?"
"Still interested. Just need a breather."
"Well, it's a free country. Don't let me stop you from enjoying yourself."
Brooke holds Rachel's gaze bravely as she removes her cotton teal dress, baby-blue bikini underneath. She finds it hard to back down - especially when it comes to Rachel.
Brooke steps into the hot bubbling water and sinks into the tub; she settles comfortably onto the seat molding, watches Rachel's lips pucker and blow out a thin stream of smoke.
"Hm?" It takes a moment for Brooke to realize Rachel's saying something.
"Earth to Brooke?" Rachel says and holds out her cigarette, "Hello, I'm trying to do something nice here."
"I don't really smoke," Brooke says but takes the cigarette anyway and Rachel's hands are warm as they brush against hers.
Brooke brings the cigarette to her lips and it feels strangely intimate after watching it dangle from Rachel's mouth. She inhales a puff of smoke, holding it in her lungs before blowing out a steady stream; through the haze, she catches Rachel's eyes lingering on her. A dizzying bubble pops in her stomach and even though she's submerged in a hot tub, it feels like goosebumps are running all over her insides.
"So, what are you gonna do after high school?"
"Why do you wanna know?"
Rachel shrugs defensively. "Can't I ask?"
"I don't really know what I wanna do," Brooke admits after a moment, unsure if the alcohol in her system has loosened her tongue, "There's stuff I like to do but that's not the same, you know? I'm good at this part of life. I know high school…sometimes, it feels like this is all I'll ever know. Silly, right?"
"No," she replies slowly, her gaze unreadable, "Not at all."
"Even though I'm gonna win class president?"
"In your dreams, Davis."
Brooke grins. "Come on, what about you? You must have big plans if you're trying to scoop up president."
"I guess I…I want to be important. I want to actually do something meaningful. I want people to know who I am. Not like an actor or model, but like, I want to be powerful. I want to walk into a room and have people see me."
"You want respect."
"Doesn't everyone? You can't buy it. It's earned. If I can't always have respect for myself, I might as well get it from other people."
Brooke studies Rachel's defiance, her fierce determination. "And the people who never quite see us as enough?"
"Fuck 'em. I've grown up with that my whole life - but once I'm out of here, that's it. I'll visit my brothers, but my dad and stepmom are getting nothing. Why should I spend time listening to people tell me all the ways I'm not living up to their expectations?"
"You make it sound easy."
"What's holding you back?"
"If I tell you, how do I know you won't use it against me? Launch a smear campaign?"
"I wouldn't do that," Rachel's indignant tone softens, her eyes actually earnest, "Brooke. I would never do that."
Brooke tentatively meets Rachel's gaze and she finds she can't look away, the intensity too compelling to resist, everything else fading into white noise. Why does it feel like the world's stopped spinning? There's something warm and brittle in Brooke's chest, like it can shatter with one touch and it's all Rachel. Obnoxious, brash, rude and dramatic Rachel who isn't supposed to say nice things or be so open with her. Rachel who's supposed to be her rival, her opponent, her nemesis.
Why is Brooke finding it so hard to remember these things?
Whoops and cheers rip through the air, jolting Brooke out of her reverie and a few people descend the stairs, running towards the hot tub.
Then Rachel rises from the water and everything in Brooke stills.
Droplets race down her body, over soft curves and tan skin, the overhead lights shimmering against her skin. Brooke can make out patches of freckles among Rachel's arms, like wings of a bird and legs that go on for days and it's all Brooke can focus on.
"I gotta get back to hosting. Enjoy," Rachel says breezily, stepping out of the hot tub as people get in and some of the guys groan playfully, trying to get her to stay. All Brooke is left feeling is pressing disappointment and a weird urge to make Rachel stay, too.
"Hey," Peyton laughs when Brooke finds her later, cheeks pink and eyes bright, "Where did you go? I was looking for you."
"Oh," Brooke smiles, "Nowhere, just exploring the place. But you look pretty buzzed, P. Sawyer, what have you been up to?"
That night, Brooke dreams of mischievous brown eyes, red hair, hands pulling her close, ash falling from a cigarette.
"A sole trader invests $200,000 into her business. What is this an example of: overdraft, retained profits, internal equity finance or internal debt finance?"
"Um…internal equity finance," Brooke replies with uncertainty and Haley nods encouragingly, "Yes! Okay, next question."
"Why might a business adopt a standardized global approach to marketing? Is it to cater to local tastes, take advantage of economies of sale, increase market segmentation or to minimize risk by hedging?"
"Take advantage of economies of sale."
"Correct," Haley chirps, "I think you're all set for your business quiz."
"Really?" Brooke frowns, chewing on her bottom lip thoughtfully.
"Hey, if Haley thinks you're ready, then you're more than set," Lucas adds reassuringly, "Nobody quizzes like her."
Haley squints at him playfully. "I can't tell if you're being complimentary or teasing me."
"Maybe both?" Lucas grins, "I'm gonna go grab something from the cafeteria. You guys want anything?"
"Ooh, if they have any more hashbrowns, then buy me some," Brooke replies eagerly, "I'll pay you back."
"Nothing for me, thanks, Luke," Haley adds and he walks away, leaving the two girls in the midst of their study session. "You guys are on good terms now. Like, really good terms."
"Well, yeah, we're friends," Brooke laughs, "That's the point."
"I don't wanna upset you by asking, you don't have to answer…" Haley lowers her voice, almost timid, "Do you ever miss him…? You know. Like how it was when you guys were dating."
"It's okay to ask. And I used to, but not anymore, really. He's good to have as a friend. I don't miss the boyfriend stuff, surprisingly…but why are you asking?"
"Just out of curiosity," Haley shrugs, and it's casual enough that Brooke knows it's just the plain truth.
"Davis," the two look up to see Rachel smirking at them, one hand laced through the loop of her jeans. Brooke unconsciously fixes her posture and runs a hand through her hair, adjusting her pink headband. "You ready for next week's peer endorsement assembly?"
"Of course," Brooke replies smoothly with a casual toss of her hair. She asked Nathan weeks ago, it only made sense to have the star of the basketball team speak on her behalf; their season is going great, the whole school is cheering them on. Nathan's word might as well be God's. "I got my person prepped. You?"
"I could easily do this assembly today if it got pushed up," Rachel shrugs elegantly, "You better make sure you're ready. I'd hate to see you lose your edge this late in the game."
"Oh, believe me, I'm ready," Brooke smiles and Rachel smirks like a Cheshire cat, sly and secretive, "I don't plan on giving up anytime soon."
"Good to know. I'll see you around."
Rachel struts away and Brooke eyes the curve of her jeans before realizing Haley's staring at her oddly. "What?"
"I thought you guys hated each other."
"We do."
Haley laughs. "Sometimes I don't get you at all, Brooke."
"Are you sure you don't want to stay over?" Peyton asks again as she pulls her car up besides Brooke's house. "You could just quickly pack a bag or borrow my stuff. My dad's working late tonight and you know he doesn't care."
"As much as I want to, my mom has actually asked me to stay home tonight," Brooke sighs, "Probably to talk about school."
"They're so ridiculous. You're going to be class president again, your grades are good, you're keeping up with cheer, the squad and basically the rest of the school bows down to you," Peyton points out, always so fiery and ready to condemn Brooke's parents. But she's made her peace with her family. "What more can they want from you?"
"You'd be surprised."
Peyton seems to sense something in her tone and touches her arm gently. "Sleepover this weekend, then? You deserve a break. Don't let your parents tear you down."
Brooke smiles. "I'll ask them."
"See you tomorrow?"
"Yep. Get home safe, Peyt."
Brooke steps out of the car and waves as Peyton's car slowly rolls down the street. She turns her attention to her house and trudges up the steps, unlocking the front door; she puts away her things and heads upstairs.
"Mom?" she calls tentatively.
"In the office, honey."
Brooke walks to the office where her mom is standing behind her desk, looking over a bunch of files with a frown, somehow still emanating elegance and power in sweats. Her mom, Allison, looks up, somewhat perplexed at her cheerleading uniform. "Did you have practice today?"
"No, it was a game."
"Ah. Did the Ravens win?"
"Of course. Score was 55-32. So…what's up?" Allison taps her desk with a manicured finger and Brooke notices the litany of college brochures piled on top of each other. "How did you get these?"
"Tanya got them for me. It's the end of September, Brooke. Time won't get any slower from now and it's important to think about your future. About who you're going to be."
"I want to be important. I want to actually do something meaningful. I want people to know who I am."
Brooke settles into a comfy beige armchair and stares up at her mother, unsure of what to say or how to appease her. She reaches forward to look through the brochures, recognizing Ivy League schools and prestigious colleges along with her parents' alma maters, Northwestern and Brown.
"I'm not even sure what I want to do yet. Picking a college seems more like step four, not step one."
"Not necessarily, but you gotta figure out this stuff, sweetheart. If you went to Brown, you'd be a legacy, your mother's daughter."
"Or you could be your father's daughter, go to Northwestern," Brooke's father strides into the room and presses a kiss to her head before sidling up to Allison. "What does your schedule look like on the fifteenth?"
"Check my calendar, Rob. You know I can't tell you off the top of my head. Why are you asking?"
"The Chens want to have dinner with us, and you know they're very well-connected. Could be a good career opportunity for the both of us," he scans the computer, "You have a meeting with the Newport Foundation at 6 that day. Any chance you can move it?"
"What? No, no, they're one of my top clients, I can't cancel on them."
Brooke gets up silently and moves towards the door, sensing an exit strategy. "I gotta go work on cheer."
"Ah, young lady!" Allison points at the brochures, "Take these with you and read them over. There has to be something of use to you in them. And think about what I said."
"You're a Davis, kiddo," Rob adds as Brooke assembles the brochures in her arms, "You're born to be ambitious. Aiming high is the only way to go."
"Where is he?" Brooke whispers urgently to Haley, arms crossed so tightly they're cramping and her eyes keep flickering up to the auditorium doors. "Did he answer?!"
Haley shakes her head, her Nokia pressed to her ear. "Wherever Nathan is, his phone's turned off, but I'm sure he'll make it, Brooke."
"The assembly starts in a minute!" she can see the last of the students trickling in, finding their seats; the peer reference assembly's about to start, arguably one of the most pivotal moments in her presidential campaign. Brooke and Nathan have poured over his speech dozens of times, practiced over and over until it was tattooed in both their brains and now he's MIA. "What the hell am I gonna do if he doesn't show up?"
"Things will work out, okay, Brooke? I'll keep trying to reach him," Haley tries to sound reassuring, but her brows are pinched and she's sucking in her bottom lip. Classic sign that she believes the opposite will happen.
"Brooke, we're about to get started," Principal Turner says, gesturing for her to get started and Brooke climbs up the stage steps, a giant golf ball settling into the bottom of her stomach. She can sense Rachel staring at her. Peyton gives Brooke a thumbs up and a smile, which quickly fades when she seems to recognize something in Brooke's face and mouths what's wrong?; Principal Turner begins speaking and Brooke tries to maintain a facade of confidence.
But her hands are shaking and the room has turned unbearably cold, her mind going blank over what the hell she should do next. She looks to the doors but Nathan is still missing and Lucas is joining Haley, who whispers fiercely in his ear.
"...Brooke?"
"Huh?" she looks to Principal Turner.
"Are you ready for your peer reference?"
"Oh…Rachel isn't going first?"
She chances a glance at Rachel, who actually looks strangely worried and Principal Turner answers. "As rules go, whoever's first alphabetically gets the chance to speak first."
"Okay," Brooke approaches the podium, still desperately hoping Nathan will come in at the last minute. "The - the person I chose for my peer review is someone who I consider a good friend…someone who cares deeply about this school and the people in it. Many of you know him, as he…he…"
Lucas suddenly runs up on stage and Brooke stares, astonished, as he leans beside her to speak into the mic. "He's Lucas Scott. Me, I mean." He gives her an encouraging, if still somewhat tentative smile and she returns it, more hesitant but backs up a couple steps. A wave of murmurs and whispers run through the room, no doubt about how her ex-boyfriend is speaking on her behalf.
"Thanks for the introduction, Brooke," he faces the audience and Brooke watches, unsure of his next words, "So, I know most people know who I am, and who Brooke is…and what our history is." This time, the room snickers and giggles, causing her face to redden and she almost glares at Lucas, wondering where he's going with this speech.
"But I'm not up here to talk about that. I'm here to speak as Brooke's friend. These past couple weeks, I've seen how hard she's been working, waking up early to hang up posters, brainstorming ideas how to improve our school, all while handling homework and being the captain of the cheerleading team. She has one of the biggest hearts of anyone I know and she shows up every time for the people she cares about, including everyone at our school. I'm pretty sure many of us have gotten free rides home through DW-Not-I, she updated the vending machine snacks and launched a fundraiser to buy new textbooks for the school. I can't wait to see what she does next as this year's class president."
The room breaks into raucous clapping and cheers as Lucas steps away from the podium and Brooke launches herself into his arms; the beam on her face is so wide it aches and her eyes burn but all she feels is pure joy. The room sounds like it's almost gone crazy and Brooke whispers in his ear: "Thank you."
Rachel finds Brooke in a quiet moment when her friends aren't coming up to hug and celebrate with her, or Nathan isn't apologizing for the twentieth time after a family emergency came up.
"Hey," her hand is on Brooke's arm and she can't help but glance down before meeting Rachel's face, "Good job."
"You, too," Brooke replies quietly, feeling oddly bashful, "You guys came prepared, I could tell. Nice speech."
"Lucas said some pretty inspiring words. For a second, I almost considered voting for you instead. Almost."
They both laugh and it feels surprisingly natural. "Never in a million years did I think we'd be here."
"Here?"
"Having a normal conversation like we're just two people who actually like each other."
"So, you like me, Davis?" Rachel grins slyly and Brooke's cheeks redden.
"Shut up," she grumbles and Rachel laughs, "Jury's still out."
"Let me know when you finally decide if you like me or not."
"You care that much?" Brooke's mostly teasing - but a tiny part of her is oddly curious to know Rachel's answer.
"Maybe a little. After all, when I win president, you'll be my VP. We're gonna have to learn to coexist."
"We can kiss and make up - after I become president, you mean."
Rachel's eyes soften and something in Brooke warms at that. Like a furnace just flicked on. "Enjoy today, Brooke."
She walks away just as Peyton comes towards Brooke, fixing her with a curious stare. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah, why?"
"It's just, you were talking to Rachel."
"Oh," Brooke waves a hand dismissively, "she just said good job. She was impressed by Lucas's speech."
"More like fuming," Peyton laughs, "Did you see her face when Luke was up there? She looked so jealous. I bet she wanted to claw his face right then and there."
"Oh," she blinks, unsure what to make of this information and Peyton shakes her head endearingly.
"Sometimes I don't know what goes on in that head of yours. Come on, this is good news! We need to celebrate!" Peyton wraps her up in a hug and leads them back into the fray of their friends chatting excitedly.
"Brooke! Jello shot!" Lissa waves around a tiny plastic shot cup filled with green jello, and Brooke accepts with a grin. She's only had two shots so far, and she's no lightweight. The night's still young.
She downs the shot as two guys squeeze by, smirking and eyeing her like she's food; she smiles and continues moving through the house, waving at people she recognizes and stopping occasionally to greet a friend. Some kid from a neighbouring school sent out a round of invites and it's like something out of a 90s movie, a giant mansion with twisting hallways and eclectic rooms that somehow lead to three others. It's already a nightmare to track down anyone; Nathan and Haley are somewhere in the back, she saw Peyton and Mouth in the kitchen and many other people circling around the house.
"Hey," Brooke passes by Skills, "Have you seen a washroom?"
He shrugs. "Upstairs, maybe?"
"Thanks!" she moves towards the foyer and spots a staircase, squeezing by people to get upstairs. She can feel the bass of the music pounding underneath her feet as she knocks and peeks into rooms.
She manages to find an empty washroom deep into the house and locks the door in case some drunk teenager decides to barge in. She looks over her hair and makeup, adjusting her burgundy halter top and notices a balcony, opening up the doors to let some cool air in. She breathes in the fresh night and feels somewhat more grounded after hours of inhaling alcohol, sweat and tobacco.
"...no, I'm not downstairs, I haven't seen him," an eerily familiar voice says from somewhere nearby and Brooke looks around. "Out by the pool, maybe? If you see his friends, ask them, too. 'Kay," Brooke shuts the balcony doors and climbs over the railing, moving towards the source of the voice, "Hope you find him. Later."
Brooke carefully maneuvers herself around the curve of the roof and dodges tree branches as she moves deeper into a giant roof alcove; she finds Rachel lying on the roof, blowing smoke out of her mouth and a small flask lays beside her.
"How'd you find me?" Rachel asks, dark eyes scanning Brooke, "I thought I had a pretty good hideout."
"You're pretty loud. And it's hard not to miss you," Brooke settles tentatively beside Rachel, "Mind if I join you?"
"Free country," Brooke lies down beside her and stares up at the night sky, dimly making out a few stars, "Cigarette?"
"Just one smoke. One." Brooke takes the cigarette and inhales slowly. Rachel's hand accidentally brushes against her hip.
"Sorry."
"No…no, it's fine."
"This party's really something, huh?"
"Absolutely. Random idiots grinding up on you, someone yelling in your ear all the time, god, who wouldn't want to miss this?" Brooke laughs and Rachel joins in, "I can't think of anything better to do on a Friday night."
"Nothing at all?"
"Nope, not a single thing," Brooke can hear the smile in Rachel's voice and chances a glance at her, taking in the easy contentment on her face, the way it seems to light her up. "Nowhere else I'd rather be."
Rachel sits up on her elbows and places the cigarette in what looks like a portable ashtray, tilting her head back and releases a heavy breath. Brooke's eyes trace over her glossy red hair, the curl of her lashes, the slight upwards curve of her painted lips. Trying to memorize the tiny intricate details that make up the girl beside her.
"So, why aren't you downstairs with everyone else? Glittering in the spotlight like you normally do?" Rachel asks nonchalantly.
"Glittering?"
"I just meant - whatever. It's not like you're stuck here. I'm not keeping you."
"I needed a break, some time to clear my head. Too much noise going on. And if I didn't want to be here, I'd leave. I'm choosing to be here."
Rachel shifts to turn her head, staring down at Brooke, a vortex of emotions running through her face. "Careful. It's starting to sound like you like me. We can't have that."
"No," Brooke can't tear her gaze away from Rachel's, something in her expression struggling to break free. She's too enraptured now, the end of the world could arrive and it wouldn't change a damn thing. "We can't have that."
It takes Brooke's brain a couple seconds to register what's happening, she isn't sure who moves first, who initiates it but they're kissing. Rachel's kissing her. She's kissing a girl. It's different from kissing a boy, no stubble, no cologne but rather soft and smooth lips, hair tickling Brooke's cheek and a sort of tenderness settling in her chest that she's never known before.
They break apart and Rachel scans her face, her expression dazed, like she can't believe what's happening and neither can Brooke. But then she caresses Rachel's cheek lightly, whose eyes flutter at her touch and Brooke holds her cheek more firmly, pulling Rachel down to kiss her again.
This time, it's a little more insistent and greedy, Rachel sucking on Brooke's bottom lip and occasionally nibbling on it, Brooke returning the gesture just as easily. Somehow, it's the drunkest she's felt all night and she wants to keep chasing this feeling. Never wants it to end.
Rachel breaks it off again, lips swollen and eyes dark, sending a thrill through Brooke as Rachel moves to hover over her, who shifts eagerly so Rachel can lower herself comfortably.
"This good?" Brooke whispers, staring at Rachel's lips.
"Perfect. Wonderful."
Brooke cards her fingers through Rachel's hair and reaches up to kiss her, their mouths meeting hungrily. Rachel tastes like strawberry lipgloss and tobacco and minty gum, her skin a fire against Brooke's and she vaguely registers a hand gripping the side of her thigh. Rachel moves her attention elsewhere, sucking and kissing along Brooke's neck persistently, occasionally nibbling Brooke's ear teasingly.
"Oh god…Rachel… god," Brooke groans, her hands shaking just as Rachel sucks on a particularly sensitive spot behind her ear, "Fuck, fuck, Rach…"
Rachel laughs breathlessly against Brooke's skin, pressing sloppy kisses along her collarbone and her hand drifts up Brooke's thigh, tracing circles along its path. Brooke dimly registers her jeans being unzipped, arching her back upwards as Rachel slips a hand into her jeans.
"May I?" Rachel whispers and Brooke nods drunkenly, too caught in her own arousal to say anything else. They kiss again, Brooke nibbling on Rachel's bottom lip and tugging her shoulders closer, relishing the feeling of Rachel's body on top of hers as Rachel slips a finger inside Brooke and her mind goes slack.
"Oh, fuck. Rachel…" Brooke groans as Rachel's finger brushes over her clit and curls upwards.
"That's what I'm doing, babe," she murmurs and begins to circle Brooke's clit in earnest, gradually increasing her speed.
Brooke's vision turns slightly blurry, trees melding into silhouettes and all she can make out is Rachel's face watching her.
Rachel pinches Brooke's clit and her body shudders, her mind turning to mush and her mouth is open in a silent moan as she orgasms. Her eyes squeeze shut, caught in the visceral sensation of pleasure running through her body and when she opens her eyes, she sees Rachel's triumphant and aroused expression, and they kiss lazily.
Rachel Gatina just gave her an orgasm. Rachel fucked her on the roof of some stranger's house. And Brooke kind of wants to do it again.
"Brooke! Honey, where are you?! Brooke, you here?"
"I'm in the den!"
Footsteps get closer and Allison walks into the room, peering at the sight of Brooke lying down on the couch, textbook propped up by her legs. "You're not usually in here."
"Change of scenery."
Allison studies her for a moment. "Peyton's at the door. She said she's been trying to reach you. Are…are you two in a fight again?"
"No! We're fine."
"Are you feeling alright?"
"I'm fine, Mom. Jeez."
"Hey," Allison's tone turns stern, "that's no need to be rude. I don't appreciate the attitude."
"Sorry," Brooke says quietly, "I'm sorry…you can let Peyton in. It's okay. Thank you."
"I'll go get her."
Brooke slides her legs down and shuts her eyes. She's not upset with Peyton or avoiding her - she's avoiding everyone. Suddenly everything she thought she knew about herself is just…so uncertain. And it all has to do with Rachel.
They stayed a bit longer on the roof after…what they did, occasionally kissing and mostly talking about whatever, possibly everything, Brooke too lost in the cocoon of bliss they'd created. At least, until Rachel got a text that the cops were coming and the cocoon quickly unraveled, reality before them and they went their separate ways.
Brooke woke up the next day with a billion questions on her mind. She definitely hadn't been drunk, just barely tipsy and Rachel had admitted last night that she had a high tolerance, so they both knew what they were doing. Did this make her gay now? Does she still like boys? What does this mean about her past relationships? Or maybe she's bi? Pan? Or some other term she doesn't know? Shouldn't she know this stuff already? Does she need to have it figured out? What will her parents and friends think?
Brooke has no clue how to go about even figuring any of this out. Last year, a girl named Anna Tagarro had moved to their school for a bit and she was bi. All of Brooke's friends were super supportive, they always defended Anna but then she moved away, leaving Brooke with no one to ask about this stuff. Except for one person, and she couldn't go to her.
And that was what scared her the most - she wanted to see Rachel again. Sometimes, she could feel the ghost of Rachel's lips against hers and it made her tremble a little. She remembered everything from that night - she could see it all so clearly, feel the rough roof beneath her, the way her hands felt in Rachel's hair, it overwhelmed her. And she didn't know if she was ready to deal with that.
A hard poke to Brooke's cheek rouses her and she glares up at Peyton. "Hey!"
"Hi, you," Peyton laughs and hops over the couch, settling beside her, "I called your name, like, five times and you were staring into the distance like a zombie. What's up?"
"Nothing," Brooke holds up her textbook, "just been studying all day."
"You haven't been answering my calls or texts yesterday or today," Peyton points out tentatively, "You've been radio silent this whole weekend…is everything okay? Did something happen at the party?"
"What?"
"You disappeared halfway through and then all you said later was you made it home safe. I just wanted to check up on you…maybe I'm being paranoid, but if something did happen, you can tell me, okay? You can tell me anything."
They've been best friends since the second grade. Brooke came over to her house every day after Peyton's mom died, they've gone bra shopping together and styled each other's hair for school dances. Even a boy couldn't tear them apart. Brooke isn't ready to tell her this.
"I was just really hungover and spent all of yesterday resting. I'm fine, really. But I appreciate you looking out for me, P. Sawyer."
"Of course. Anytime."
"You wanna get out of here? We could go to Karen's. You know she'll give us a free muffin."
Peyton smiles. "I'll start the car, you grab your bag."
Brooke pushes open the double doors and stares out at the near-deserted parking lot. She internally groans and settles on checking her messages; Coach Lin is a stickler for the no-phones rule and it's only now that she sees her dad's message.
Running late. Be there soon.
Because of course her parents can't be on time.
She leans against the cool brick wall, wondering why on earth she let her mom borrow her car and why she was okay with Coach Lin keeping her way later than cheer practice went, because captains apparently needed to work more on strategy. Strategies they'd already gone over dozens of times. But it did provide a nice distraction to be able to throw herself into cheer. Because there's still the big fat matter of-
The doors slam and Brooke jumps, looking toward the noise and oh-
"Hey," Rachel shifts from foot to foot, eyeing Brooke like she may flee any second.
She manages to find her voice. She hasn't spoken to Rachel since the night of the party. "Hi. What are you…"
"Detention. Third time this month I forgot to hand in my chemistry report, so Mr. Kynes thought sitting in a classroom for two hours was the best way to solve that."
"Right."
Rachel leans against the brick wall down from Brooke, not quite beside her but close. She clears her throat and her voice comes out low, almost guarded. "You've been avoiding me."
"No," Brooke glances over and Rachel gives her disbelieving look, "Maybe. I…look, I've never done that stuff with a girl, okay? I didn't even know you were into…or that you…you know what I'm trying to say!"
"I like everyone. Doesn't matter if they're a boy or girl or something else, I don't care. If you're hot, you're hot. I just don't advertise the information because this is Tree Hill, but I've known since I was fifteen."
"You have it all figured out."
"Not really. I just know what I want."
Brooke's not sure, but it feels like Rachel's inching closer and closer. Or maybe she's the one who's been moving this whole time. Maybe it was both of them. But that same feeling is back, the one from the night of the party, something that's been inside her for a while. And Brooke knows this isn't a one-off, shallow feeling. It scares the shit out of her.
"What do you want?" Brooke asks, her voice hoarse. Part of her wants the answer but another refuses to hear it. Want wins out.
Rachel brushes her hand against Brooke's hipbone and leaves it there, gently rubbing circles into her skin. Brooke's breath hitches and she blinks heavily a couple times, trying to maintain her composure.
"I thought that was obvious. Don't you know, Brooke? Don't you get it?"
Rachel leans in and her nose brushes against Brooke's cheek, the ghost of her breath on Brooke's neck. "Rach…"
"Tell me you don't feel this. Say it's just me that's in this. If you don't want this…just tell me…"
"You know I can't," Brooke murmurs, and much to her own chagrin, manages to step away from Rachel with tremendous effort. "But I can't do…this either. I need time."
Rachel stares at her, eyes dark and expression indiscernible. "I can't wait forever."
It's not nothing. It's more than enough right now.
Car lights flash and Brooke spins around to see her dad's car pulling up to the curb. She spares Rachel one last glance before she opens the passenger door and slides into the plush leather passenger seat; her dad mouths a hi as someone on his phone talks about shareholders and equity investments.
Her eyes watch Rachel's silhouette gradually disappear through the rearview mirror.
Brooke sits on the pier, knees propped up as a book sits against her thighs. The night wind sends goosebumps across her skin and a boat rolls down the river. She returns back to her book and keeps reading.
'Love him,' said Jacques, with vehemence, 'love him and let him love you. Do you think anything else under heaven really matters?'
Warm brown eyes under thick lashes flash in Brooke's mind when someone vaults over the bench and lands neatly beside her; she jumps violently out of surprise and two other books beside her fall onto the ground.
"I got you so good," Lucas laughs and goes to pick up the books that fell, "Sorry, I didn't realize…" He's staring at the books and they're all self-help LGBTQ+ books, there's no avoiding what they are and Brooke's caught. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…"
"It's fine."
"Okay."
"It's…" Brooke blows out a deep breath, "I think I like girls. Or, one girl in particular, but…I don't know. I guess I've been trying to figure this out."
"I...sorry, I know this isn't the point, but it's not Peyton, is it?"
"What? No! No, no, it's not her."
Lucas chuckles. "I guess I don't really have any right to ask. But this is great, Brooke - is congratulations an appropriate thing to say?"
"I have no clue," she sighs and leans her head back, "Am I like Anna? Or am I gay? I feel like I should know this stuff. I should know who I am."
"Who says you need to have it all figured out right now? Look, you like this girl, right?"
"Yeah, I really do," Brooke whispers.
"So, what's stopping you from being with her?"
"I…" there's something painful lodged in her throat and she can't seem to push it down, "I guess I don't wanna get hurt."
Lucas is silent for a moment before he lets out a soft sigh. "I didn't help much either with that. I really hurt you, didn't I?"
Brooke wishes she could say something else, anything that relieves her of that past heartbreak, but she can't. "Yeah, you did."
"God, I," he shakes his head slightly, "Brooke, the last thing you deserve is to be afraid of being with somebody. Don't let it stop you. You are so much better than that."
"Tell the irrational part of my brain that," she chuckles weakly and stares up at him. "It's not easy putting myself out there."
"It never is. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't stop trying. Besides, you're Brooke Davis. Anyone would be lucky to be with you."
Brooke's trying really hard not to cry and so she hugs Lucas tightly, pouring everything she has into the hug; he cups the back of her head tenderly, rubbing her shoulder and she places a friendly kiss on his cheek.
"Thank you."
People are staring at Brooke.
Not in a rude or demeaning way, but they're whispering a lot. They skirt around her with hidden chuckles and grins, like sharks swimming around her, as if she's a delicious piece of bait. It's unnerving.
Her phone buzzes a couple times and she opens up her message, baffled at what her friends are texting her.
Peyton: Come find me
Peyton: Are u at school yet?
Luke: Brooke, I'm so sorry
Luke: I don't know how the rumour even started, I swear
Bevin: IS IT TRUE?!
Brooke frowns at the oddity of their messages but decides to shut off her phone - she'll find Peyton after she talks to Rachel. She's resolved herself to it and there's no putting it off; she doesn't want to anymore.
She walks through the parking lot and makes it to the courtyard where students are huddled in groups, waiting around until the bell rings and they're forced to head to class. She finds Rachel in the corner, arms crossed tightly, talking to a couple dance girls.
"Hey," Brooke says tentatively as she joins her circle; the other two girls, Liv and Aimee, give her strange smiles while Rachel's face seems to freeze over.
"Hi, Brooke," Liv responds, "Congratulations. Looks like the right girl won."
Brooke's brow furrows; is she talking about the election? Don't they have to wait another few days for votes to open? "Uh…okay?" She turns to Rachel, whose eyes are cold and Brooke feels like she's missed something. Is Rachel done with her? "Can we talk?"
"I guess," Rachel replies acidly while Liv and Aimee quickly walk away, giggling slightly.
"Um," Brooke's losing her will against Rachel's iciness and standoffishness, "I've been thinking about…well, everything, and I kinda realized that…"
"Look, if you're coming to let me down in some super condescending way, I really don't need it."
"What?"
"You got what you wanted, right? You got your precious Scott back," Rachel bites out and her voice is almost cruel, devoid of any warmth or fondness. It chills Brooke. "You had your fun with me, but that's all it was. Fun. Not like it meant anything."
"I - I don't get any of this, Rach-"
"God, Brooke, we saw you!" Rachel exclaims frustratedly, "I saw you hug Lucas Scott and kiss him. I can connect the dots. If you thought you got me, you didn't. As if I was ever actually interested in someone so shallow and selfish."
It's the last sentence that stops Brooke and she rears back like she's just been slapped. "Do you really mean that?"
Rachel holds her gaze bravely. "Absolutely."
"I can't believe I ever thought," Brooke stops, unable to say the rest of her sentence out loud.
"Thought what?" Rachel spits out, so defensive and filled with venom that it somehow takes all the steam out of Brooke.
"Nothing," Brooke says, quiet and resigned, "It's nothing."
Rachel stares at her a moment longer, her expression hard but there's something about to crack in her eyes. "Just stay out of my way."
Rachel leaves Brooke standing in the middle of the courtyard, her eyes hot and knees strangely brittle. She shouldn't be upset. Rachel turned out to be exactly who Brooke knew she was from the beginning. Case solved. Torment over.
But it still stings and she can feel it all over.
"Brooke?"
"Hey," her voice comes out shaky and Mouth's smile fades into a concerned look .
"What's wrong? What happened, is everything okay?"
Brooke blinks away insistent tears and she wants to nod and smile but it's not working. "Why do I always get my heart broken?"
"Oh," Mouth gapes slightly, "oh…is it Lucas?" Brooke stares at him, at the moment unable to speak but realization dawns on his face. "Oh, you and…oh…I didn't even realize…"
"I just wanna get out of here," she chokes out, "I can't be here. Not right now."
"Okay," Mouth nods and wraps a protective arm around Brooke, "Let's go."
They end up at an ice cream shop.
It feels strangely reminiscent of the time Brooke broke her arm in the second grade and her parents took her to the same shop to cheer her up; she even gets a bubblegum cone, just like when she was seven years old while Mouth sticks with chocolate chip.
The ice cream tastes like childhood and suddenly she wants to cry again, go back to the time where she worried about Peyton or liked playing with dolls. Back when life wasn't so complicated or difficult to navigate.
Mouth looks at her with concern. "We can stay here as long as you want. No rush."
"Thanks, Mouth," she manages a small smile and licks her ice cream cone.
"Do…do you wanna talk about it?"
Brooke sits in silence for a moment. "Rachel said I was shallow and selfish. That it didn't mean anything. I guess I thought…I don't know," something else niggles at her brain. "She said something else, too. About Lucas. That I got him back…and I kissed him?"
"Oh. Oh!" Mouth exclaims, "A bunch of the dance team girls said they saw you and Lucas by the pier…I guess it looked like you were back together."
"Rachel said she saw me with him."
"That must be it! Brooke, she probably didn't mean it. She probably felt…I don't know, betrayed or something. It's one giant misunderstanding. If you explained it to her, I'm sure you guys could work it out."
This would be the moment when everything changes and slots into place. But nothing happens. The hurt inside Brooke doesn't fade. "Maybe I go and nothing changes. But I can't…I'm not putting myself out there like that after what she called me. I can't. If she figures it out, she can come find me."
Her friends find her, later, when she returns to school, rife with concern and hugs. They don't know about Rachel, but they know something's upset her, possibly the Lucas rumour, yet she's sure most of them, the ones closest to her, suspect something else.
Peyton hugs her and reassures her that everything will turn out okay, the rumour will pass and even if it was true, she wouldn't have cared anyway. Haley and Nathan do the same, offering similar lines of comfort and Brooke is grateful for it, truly.
It's not until Lucas comes and apologizes that Brooke feels close to falling apart again. Not because he's sorry about the rumour, but he asks Rachel, or at least "the girl," as she's known to him.
"Did she…did she say something? Is that why you took off?" he asks tentatively.
"Yeah. I guess sometimes rumours can uncover the truth. She told me how she felt...and it wasn't what I wanted to hear."
"Oh, Brooke," Lucas's face falls, "I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry."
"Yeah," she nods, lips pressed tightly together, "so am I."
"Honey," Rob sighs as he strides into the kitchen, "What are you doing?"
Brooke looks up from her spot on the kitchen counter, Chinese takeout in her lap. "Eating dinner, duh."
"You can't sit at the table? And Chinese, that's not a good sign. Everything okay at school?"
"It's fine," she mumbles, "I'm fine."
He raises a skeptical brow; Chinese is the food she always eats when she's upset about something. She ate bucketloads of it during the horrible Peyton-Lucas-cheating debacle.
The doorbell rings and they stare at each other expectantly. Brooke gestures to her food. "I'm eating. I'm too busy to get the door."
"It's probably one of your friends."
"Hello, I would know," Brooke holds up her phone, "You get it, Dad."
"Fine, but I expect you to share some Udon noodles with me, kiddo."
"Thank you!" Brooke calls after him as he goes to get the door.
She continues to dig into her takeout containers as voices murmur further up the house; her mom's footsteps pace above, probably on a call or reviewing court files. Peyton offered to come over, so did Haley and Mouth but Brooke wasn't in the mood to hang out with anyone. Vulnerability was already hard enough to do by herself, she wasn't in the mood to have other people witness it.
"Brooke," Rob returns, slightly disgruntled, "there's a girl here to see you."
She raises a brow. "A girl? Wanna try a name?"
"She said if she gave her name, you wouldn't come to the door. But you'd know her from student council." This catches Brooke's attention, causing a mix of hope and trepidation to start boiling in her stomach. "Should I let her in?"
"It's okay. I'll get the door. You can finish off the Udon, but no touching the sweet n' sour pork," Brooke hops off the counter and walks to the door; she hesitates before pulling it open and Rachel spins around, her face softening.
"Hey. Can we talk?"
Brooke presses her lips together. "About what?"
"I messed up today," Rachel responds quietly, "I came to apologize."
Brooke glances behind her and shuts the door. "I'm listening."
"Mouth found me after school and explained everything. He had some…choice words. But he kinda helped knock some sense into me. I was with some friends when I saw you and Lucas by the pier…I was angry and I jumped to the wrong conclusions. I was jealous. But that's no excuse. I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said today, any of it."
Brooke feels a rush of love and appreciation for Mouth, silently vowing to give him a big fat hug and buy him lunch tomorrow at school. She focuses back on Rachel - it's a good apology, but she still can't quite forget what Rachel said this morning.
"You said I was shallow and uncaring, and everything between us meant nothing. What am I supposed to think now?"
"I didn't mean it, Brooke, I didn't."
"As in you didn't mean to say those things or you didn't mean this?" Brooke gestures between them, "I'm not sure which option I believe right now. The same guy you thought I was back with also cheated on me with my best friend, so believe me when I say trust is not an easy thing for me to do."
"Then what can I do to earn it?"
"I don't know," Brooke admits, her voice trembling, "but it's gonna take something bigger than a 'sorry' to make this okay. Because as much as I - I want you, I can't do it like this."
"Brooke," Rachel cries, her eyes like glass and her lip wobbles precariously, "Please."
"I can't. I can't, Rachel. Good night," Brooke leaves Rachel standing out on the porch and shuts the door. She blinks away insistent tears and tries to steady her shuddering breaths; it takes her a couple seconds to realize she's somehow sitting against the door and she buries her face in her hands.
12 seconds left.
Nathan dribbles the ball down the court. Whitey's shouting plays at him.
Brooke shakes her pompoms as the school cheers and claps in encouragement. They've already won this game, but every goal counts. Anticipation fills the air, everyone stuck on Nathan and Lucas is keeping up with him, planted near the net.
Brooke's gaze slides over to the bleachers, where Rachel's standing at the back, hands resting in her back pockets. Their eyes meet for the fifteenth time during the game. Brooke vaguely thinks she's a glutton for masochism, some part of her must like this torture. Seeing Lucas after their breakup was hard - but not like this.
Nathan passes Luke the ball.
It could be so easy. She could walk up to Rachel and drag her into a corner and kiss her until she can barely breathe. Just a few steps and that's all she needs. But she's gotten burned before. She's not just going to take it again.
Luke side-steps a player from the other team and shoots the ball.
3…2…
The ball goes through the hoop.
1…
The buzzer goes off and Tree Hill's side of the room explodes into a cacophony of shrieks and celebrations; Nathan and Lucas hug, caught in the excitement as the rest of the team swarms them.
Brooke gives Rachel a sad smile.
"You did it! Brooke, you got it!" Brooke turns around at the sound of Nathan's voice, confused as to what he's talking about and he barrels into her just as she spots him; they stumble back, Brooke nearly falling over but Nathan manages to steady her. "Sorry, sorry…got excited. You basically got president! You're gonna win!"
"I appreciate the enthusiasm, Nate, but I think the votes aren't being counted until tomorrow," Brooke laughs, but he shakes his head.
"No, I mean, yeah, they're getting counted, but Rachel's dropping out! I heard her talking about it with Logan and Jess in English, she said she's meeting with Principal Turner during her lunch period. Rachel was your main competition, Brooke, so you got it!"
Brooke's head is spinning. Rachel's dropping out of the race. But that can't be possible. It can't be happening.
"...believe me when I say trust is not an easy thing for me to do."
"Then what can I do to earn it?"
"I don't know, but it's gonna take something bigger than a 'sorry' to make this okay."
"Oh, god. Oh, no. I have to go. I'll see you later!" Brooke calls as she takes off running to find Rachel; it's ten minutes into fourth period, Rachel's lunch period, she can make it, she can stop her.
Brooke races through the halls, adjusting her bag and smiling at passing students who gawk a little. She almost crashes into a group of sophomores, apologizing profusely as she dashes away and she's sure she looks like a wild animal sprinting through the school.
She bursts into the office, panting and out of breath, secretaries giving her dirty looks but her eyes scan the room, landing on Rachel, who's sitting by the principal's office. She walks over, trying to steady her breathing and ignores everyone else's eyes on her.
"Brooke? What are you doing?" Rachel asks in confusion.
"You…can't…drop…I know…" Brooke heaves, still trying to catch her breath, "You can't...drop out. Of the race."
"How - who told you?"
"Nathan heard. I can't…can't let you do this."
"Brooke, I'm doing this for you. I don't care about this president thing nearly as much as…I care about you. So, this is my version of the electric guitar in your car, the boombox outside the window, call it whatever you want, but this is my whole big gesture thing, okay? I'm fine with this."
"I'm not. I'm not okay with this. I'm not gonna be president either if you're not a part of this. No way. You've tested me this whole time, you've been stuck in my head, so, no, I'm not giving this up. Any of it."
Rachel looks at her with hopeful, shining eyes. They both know what she's really saying. "Any of it?"
"Not a single damn thing."
Brooke finds Peyton outside of school. "Hey. Sorry, I gotta raincheck on Karen's."
"Okay," she laughs, "um, does it have something to do with Rachel leaning against your car?"
"Huh?" Brooke glances at the parking lot and spots Rachel sitting on the hood of her Volkswagen beetle, waiting patiently, "Oh, um, yeah."
"Really? Now, I'm interested. I thought you two hated each other."
"Kind of the opposite." Peyton squints and gives Brooke a questioning look. "We have a thing. Well, we've kinda had one for a while. We haven't figured everything out yet, but I think we're maybe…girlfriends?"
Peyton blinks a few times before she smiles fondly and pulls Brooke into a hug. "Give me all the details, later?"
"Promise. You'll get the full story."
"Looks like you gotta rework the list."
"It probably has a few edits to go through."
Peyton laughs and pulls back. "You know I love you."
"Love you too, Sawyer."
"Alright," Peyton spins Brooke around in Rachel's direction, "go get your girl."
Brooke shoots her best friend a playful grin as she saunters towards her car; Rachel watches, mischievous lilt to her brow, her eyes twinkling and she adjusts her posture against the car.
"You ready?"
"Take me wherever," Rachel grins as Brooke leans in close, "People are looking…they're gonna talk. Gonna be a huge pain in the ass. Not to mention the parents factor in all of this. You ready to handle that?"
Brooke tugs Rachel's belt loops and pulls her in for a kiss. She dimly registers yelling or clapping, she isn't sure, but as Rachel wraps her arm around her waist and nibbles on her bottom lip, Brooke finds she really doesn't give a damn.
"Co-presidents?"
"Yes," Brooke nods, sharing glances with Rachel, "we know we're the top two candidates, and we don't care which one of us wins. We'd rather share the role."
"This is rather unprecedented," Principal Turner says, "No student has ever come to me with this offer before."
"We like to do things our way," Rachel explains, "Look, if Brooke and I are leading in votes, then it shouldn't be a problem, Principal Turner."
"I suppose we can figure something out," he concedes carefully, "but we'll keep the details private for now. Not yet announced…but I expect you two will make a good team."
"The best," Rachel replies as her hand brushes against Brooke's, lacing them together.
Brooke smiles.
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