Light as a feather

by Clavyus

BRUCAS. She is twenty and he is twenty four, both living in NY. They are slightly acquainted from Tree Hill. They meet, and quickly fall hard for one another. A complete story.

2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 – Lucas

"Ok, it's time to face the world."

It's been about four hours since we met at Victoria's Secret, and I know I am in trouble. I've been in love exactly twice, once in high school, and once in college. My heart has a type. Intense, uninhibited, fearless. Brooke fits it perfectly. But the trouble is not how much she is like the others. What is freaking me out is how much she isn't. There is an innocence, a vulnerability, a light to Brooke that I never saw in the others. I've had my heart broken twice, but I've recovered. I'm a writer, and heartbreak is the finest raw material for my trade. I'm not afraid of heartbreak. But the way she pulls at me... I need to slow down, to get to know Brooke. I have a thousand questions floating around in my mind, about her history, her heart, her dreams. Annoyingly enough, foremost in my mind right now, I can't remember her last name.

She grabs my hand and pulls my slightly reluctant backside back to the living room. There are two girls there. A tall, gorgeous redhead wearing skinny jeans and a revealing white top and a pretty, shy looking brunette in a light blue business tailleur. The redhead grabs Brooke in a tight embrace. "So, you filthy whore. You finally decided to put the equipment in use again." She gives me a thorough once over and adds. "And such a fine piece of ass. Can I take him for a spin?" The redhead would probably also fit my type. I like her assertiveness, but I feel absolutely no sexual spark. I wonder if my reaction would still be the same if I had met the redhead before Brooke.

"Girls, this is Lucas Scott. These are my roomates Rachel Gattina and Millicent Huxtable."

I exaggerate my southern drawl for effect and do a slight flourish. "Enchanted to make y'alls acquaintance", which affords me an amused glance from Brooke, and a slight blush from Millicent.

Brooke turns to Rachel with a sharp look. "And the fine piece of ass is mine, slut." They exchange a glance and laugh.

"Ok, whore, hands off. But. How was the sex?"

Brooke deadpans it. "A hard ten"

That makes Millicent look at her feet, and Rachel give me a level stare of appreciation.

"Flattery will get you anything you want, pretty girl."

"No flattery, handsome. Just the truth. A gorgeous man and a generous and skillful lover, who somehow, knew exactly how to please the first time around.

Rachel sighs. "I'm doing something wrong. I haven't had sex that I would rate better than an eight in a year."

"Your problem is too many one-night stands, slut. Excellent sex requires knowing your lover, and that takes time. I never had a lover come pret-a-porter like Lucas here. She touches my arm and gives me the sweetest of smiles. "I think we are going to find out what exactly lies beyond a hard ten."

I don't find myself without words very often. But this made me speechless. Truth be told, this first time with Brooke was very good, easily in my top five. My first girlfriend was an incredibly sexy, enthusiastic and skilled older girl, who took the time to teach a young boy everything, and my college girlfriend was also an amazing, adventuresome lover. However, it was definitely against all my instincts to discuss this stuff in public.

"And where did you find this prince among man, whore?"

"He came into the store this afternoon to buy lingerie for his girlfriend."

Brooke and Rachel laugh.

"A fine piece of stolen ass. I see. I'm very proud of you."

Brooke snuggles against me and places a hand flat on my chest. "He was underappreciated."

I'm captivated by the give-and-take between these two. I put my arms around Brooke and pull her against me, looking at Rachel. "What about you two? How did you meet?"

Brooke is the one who answers. "We met in high school."

I must have looked surprised. I would have noticed the redhead if she was around. Brooke explains.

"She moved to Tree Hill for senior year. We hated each other at first, but eventually we became very close."

"What about you, Millicent? How did you meet?"

"Please, call me Millie. I work for Brooke, helping her run Clothes over Bros. I used to live with my parents in Jersey, but I would often crash in their couch when work ran a little late. Eventually they asked me to move in."

"Millie is the business manager at CoB and a sophomore at Columbia. Don't let the cute, shy act fool you. There is one hell of a sharp mind behind those green eyes. Rachel is a model, very on demand. If you keep an eye out, you will see her in a few outdoors around town. She moves around a lot, our apartment is just her home base."

Suddenly, Rachel's eyes widen and she points at me. "Of course! You are Lucas Scott! Co-captain of the state champion Ravens with your brother. I've seen your picture in the display case at Tree Hill High a bunch of times." She turns to Brooke. "You were there when they won state."

Brooke gives a broad grin. "And guess which player I had a crush on?"

Rachel turns to me. "Did you remember her from high school?"

"Sure. You know Peyton?" Rachel nods. Not a whole lot of love there. "Peyton was already dating Jake during freshman year. Jake was a close friend of mine, and Brooke and Peyton were joined at the hip, so we did hang out a few times. I had a bit of a crush on your friend too, although we never connected." I look into Brooke's eyes and give her a smile. "Until today."

We get a little lost in each others eyes for a moment. Rachel bursts our bubble, grabbing Brooke by the arm and dragging her to the bedroom. "Excuse us for a moment." She closes the door behind them. I smile, imagining the conversation taking place behind the bedroom door.

Millie speaks softly. "They are very close."

"I can see that."

Millie looks at me with a very sweet smile. "I've known Brooke for nearly two years now. I've never seen her look at a boy the way she is looks at you. That's probably what was freaking out Rachel. Please, be gentle with her. She is the most caring person I know."

"I'll do my best, Millie." I look into her eyes. "Is there someone in your life, sweetie?"

"No. I hardly have the time. Between CoB and Columbia, I have my hands full. Why?"

"I have a dear friend I would like to introduce to you. He's been unlucky with his heart, but he is a really good guy, and I think you two might hit it off. Would you mind?"

"No, I'm game, I guess. Give me your phone." She fiddles with it for a bit. "I put in my phone, and Brooke's, just in case." What's your friends name?

"Marvin. Marvin McFadden. He works as a fact checker for Sports Illustrated."

"Have him give me a call." She smiles. "Drinks after work, maybe. Brooke is always on my case that I should meet boys." I have a glimpse of the mind Brooke was talking about. "Trouble is, I have no patience for kissing frogs. I'd rather go straight to the prince."

I cast about the room for a letter or a magazine. I spot some kind of marketing envelope and check the recipient. Davis. Of course. PSawyer and BDavis. Millie is smiling at me. "You didn't know her last name."

I laugh, embarrassed. "I used to know it, but it's been six years. I'd forgotten it and it was killing me."

Rachel and Brooke come back into the living room. Rachel seems a bit subdued, and Brooke has a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Let's go, gorgeous, a shower awaits."

Soaping up a cuddly, responsive Brooke is the best foreplay ever. Her chestnut hair is long, almost to her buttocks, and soft. Her shampoo smells of green apples and she loves the handling of her hair, and the scalp massage. Then, I slowly soap up that exquisite body. My hands are rough, from years of handling a basketball, and her skin is silky soft, with hard toned muscle underneath. I take special care with her folds, until she starts moaning. She puts her hands on the wall and pushes her behind up and out. She is short, but has really long legs, so all I have to do is squat a bit. I take her from behind, holding her waist with one hand, as I caress her nub with the other. She keeps one hand in the wall, and turns back, grabbing my head with the other hand, and pulling me in for a kiss. Now, french kissing a slippery, very flexible girl, while inside her from behind. So, that's a sample of what is beyond a hard ten, I guess. I'm ready to explode, so I slow down the action, as I intensify my caress. She begins screaming my name, and I accelerate again. As I feel her walls contracting, I get there, hard.

We dry up, and Brooke gets close to me, with a hand in my chest, looking me in the eyes. I'm getting ready to kiss her, but I notice she is serious, a little sad, and there is a hint of tears in her eyes. I notice the moisture turns her amber eyes into a soft green. "What is it, pretty girl?"

"This is too much, too fast. What is it with you, with us?"

"I don't know. It scares me too."

"We should try to take it slow, get to know each other. I'm not sure we can, though."

I laugh. "It feels like there is only one speed for us. Straight downhill, without brakes."

"That's literally a recipe for disaster."

"I know. It's pretty exciting, though."

She gives me a level stare. "I don't know if I'm up for this, Luke."

That statement nearly stops my heart. I'm really not ready to let go of this incredible girl. If there is anything I've learned in life, it is that the only way to hold a girl like Brooke is with a soft touch, light as a feather.

I look into her eyes. "I know enough that if I am to hold onto you, pretty girl, it is with both hands open. Stay if you can. I'll treasure every minute. Go if you must. I'll miss you, but I'll wait for you to come back."

Her eyes soften. "Thank you, Luke. I guess that's exactly what I needed to hear." She goes on tiptoes and gives me the sweetest kiss I've ever got..

"Do you want to come to my place after the club tonight? Maybe spend the weekend?"

"I have work to do, sweetie. I need to complete the sketches for my spring line, and I have a project to finish for school."

"I have work too. Basketball practice tomorrow morning, manuscripts to read and my own novel to work on. We can keep ourselves company, maybe get to know each other a bit, and have a little fun."

"Ok, Luke. You're on. I'll make a little suitcase with some changes of clothing and my work. We will swing by after the club and pick it up on the way to your apartment. Do you run?"

"Yes I do. We can go for a run tomorrow morning. Three miles? I'll cook breakfast afterwards. It has to be early, say, around seven. Basketball practice starts at nine."

"Three miles is fine. I don't usually wake up that early, but it's ok. I can go back to sleep a bit after breakfast. You a good cook?"

I smile. "You're in for a treat."

"I like the confidence."

The club was just three blocks away, so we walked. Brooke and Rachel were wearing minidresses, Brooke in red and Rachel in black, with stilleto pumps. Millie had black skinny jeans, a green tank top and sandals in matching color. The doorman knew the girls, so we went right in. We found a small table in the VIP mezzanine, and, after a couple of rounds of shots, Rachel and Brooke went dancing.

"So, Millie, How long have you worked for Brooke?"

"About two years. I answered an ad for a part time secretary job and became Brooke's assistant. In the beginning Clothes over Bros was just an internet site and Brooke's designs. Buying the materials, making the items, shipping, accounting, it was all done by third parties. My job, initially was to answer customer complaints, making sure the contractors did what they are supposed to do, making payments, and so on. The whole thing kept growing, with Brooke's designs getting organized in seasonal showings, adding physical points-of-sale in stores, systematic marketing. We kept hiring more people, like seamstresses, to physically make prototypes and runway items, we started keeping some inventory, improving our customer relations. Now we rent a three story building in the garment district, and we have thirty employees. Revenue is at high seven figures, but we are probably going to expand dramatically next year, mainly through sales in large chains. We have a meeting next week with Victoria's Secret, and if it goes well, other retailers will probably follow. This will mean a dramatic expansion in sales and revenue."

"If Brooke is running a large, successful business, why is she working as a salesperson?"

"She says she needs to have some personal contact with the customers. We want to open our own store sometime, and then I imagine she would work there occasionally. Brooke is an incredible designer. I think she will soon be leading the industry and dictating fashion. You can already see it in small ways. This year's collections of the large retailers, specially those marketing for teens and young adults, are influenced by design choices introduced by Brooke last year."

"You clearly love your work."

"I love working with Brooke. By all rights, she should be an insufferable diva. Instead, she is warm, caring and principled. She also works harder than anyone else. Her biggest problem is her witch of a mother..."

Brooke comes back from the dance floor, glowing with sweat and very happy. "Rachel found a nice boy toy to play for the night." She sits on my lap, finishes my drink and gives me a glorious, sloppy kiss. "It's your turn, gorgeous. Your presence is required at the dance floor."

"I'm not a very good dancer, pretty girl. I hope I won't disappoint."

"Just relax, follow my lead, and you'll be fine."

The music has a fast beat, and I start moving to it, keeping my eyes on Brooke. She is looking at me with an amused expression. She pulls my head down and speaks in my ear. "Relax, gorgeous. Loosen those hips." She places her hands on my hips, and pulls me along, until she can feel me moving more freely with the music. She gives me a bit of space and shows me arm and shoulders motion, and leg movement. I follow her lead, and I can feel myself beginning to enjoy it. She pulls me down again and

whispers. "Good boy. Now keep doing it, but focus on me. Enjoy the show." Brooke goes into an incredible bump-and-grind , eyes in my eyes, hips moving with a life of their own. First her arms are up, over her head, then her hands come down, back of the neck, down her sides, back at her buttocks. And up again. She turns around, grinds her backside into me and goes down, twisting in tempo. I go right down with her, hands lightly in her hips. Now we are glued together, my front to her back, She goes back, and I keep following her lead, truly enjoying dancing for the first time in my life. We keep going for another couple of songs, until she grabs my hand and pulls me back to the mezzanine. When we get there Millie is gone, and we are both a bit short of breath.

"Very nice, pretty girl. You can take me dancing anytime you want."

She laughs. "I knew it. Someone as good in bed as you are couldn't be a bad dancer. All you needed was a little encouragement."

"You are incredible."

She shrugs. "When I was a teenager, had this dream of being a stripper. In those days, I channeled my exhibitionist tendencies into cheering. Now all I get is occasional clubbing, or private performance." She gives me this smoky look, which I've already associated with arousal. "I took lessons, lover."

"I look forward to a private performance, babe."

"You are in for a treat."

We laugh at her tossing my words back at me. She seems to be completely at ease with who she is, and what she likes. There is a serenity to her outlook that I find captivating, and that I envy a bit. I think Brooke is what some people call "an old soul". She sits in my lap, and we engage in some slow PG-13 PDA. Somehow, this ordinary Friday turned into the best day of my life when I went into Victoria's Secret. Brooke is nibbling my ear when Millie comes back, eyes bright, sweaty and smiling, with a handsome black guy in tow. Shaved head, elegant cut suit and tie, poised.

"Hi guys, this is Neal. Neal, these are my friends Brooke and Lucas."

Brooke sizes up Millie's boy. She shows her approval with a smile. "Hi, Neal. Millie, sweety, we were planning to take off. Do you want to stay, or walk back home with us?"

Millie puts a hand on Neal's shoulder. "I want to dance some more. Would you walk me home afterwards? It's just three blocks from here."

Neal smiles at her. "Sure, I'll be happy to do it."

I get up. Neal seems like a decent guy, but I am now a friend, so I must do my thing. I invade his personal space a bit, and give him a serious, mean stare right in the eyes. "Take good care of her, man. Or else."

He takes a half-step backwards, but stays friendly. "Don't worry dawg. Clean fun and good intentions only. Here is my card." I glance at the card. He is a lawyer with a big uptown firm. That seems reputable enough. Brooke hugs Millie and I give her a kiss in the cheek. "Bye, friend. I'll be seeing you."

I get a bright smile. "Bye, Lucas." With a sly look at Brooke. "Enjoy your weekend."

We walk slowly outside, hand-in-hand, enjoying the night air. After a couple of minutes Brooke speaks softly. "I loved you being protective with Millie."

"I like her."

"You know, that's easy. Everybody likes her. She obviously likes you too, and that is unusual. For all her innocence, Millie is slow to warm up to people, and she has great instincts. I always loop her in when hiring someone, and she is right on the money most of the time. I guess, in the future, I'll be using her to vet boyfriends as well. Brooke gives me a broad smile, knowing full well what she just said.

My heart skips a beat. "Boyfriend."

She bites her lower lip and looks a bit shy. "You know as well as I do this is not just a fling."

I grab her by her waist, lifting her up, and swirling her around. "Girlfriend." I laugh. "You are amazing, Brooke Davis." I bring my new girlfriend back to the ground and kiss her. I finish the walk to her building with my head in the clouds. I look at my watch. Half past eleven. Six hours since the store. Downhill without brakes, indeed.

We pick up her suitcase and quickly find a cab. A bit past midnight, we arrive at my building. It's a six-story brick building from the fifties, charming and well-kept, in a neighborhood that is undergoing gentrification. Nearby, there is a mixture of ethnic businesses, pawn shops and small churches, together with little boutiques, art stores and trendy little restaurants. My apartment is in the fourth floor, so we take the elevator. I open the door and she rushes in, bouncy energy and childlike curiosity getting the better of her. The apartment is a spacious two-bedroom, with a large living room integrated with the kitchen and a dining room, plus two bedrooms. The master bedroom has a full bathroom en suite, with a huge bathtub. There is also a small half-bathroom attached to the kitchen. The second bedroom is my office and doubles as a guest bedroom. It's clean and orderly. She takes in the décor, well-appointed and well-used kitchen, a large black leather couch. Trophies, books, a large flat-screen. Sound system, with an old-fashioned record player and a large record collection. She looks at my records, picks up and gives me an old solo album by Duke Ellington. As I set it up, and the smoky piano fills the room, I hear a squeal from my bedroom. She found the four-post canopied, king size bed. And another squeal. Now she found the bathtub. She runs back to the living room and launches herself at me.

"Holy shit, boyfriend. This is incredible. Can I move here?"

I laugh softly. "You sure can, pretty girl. But it's going to screw up your commute."

"That bathtub! And the bed. It looks like you arranged this place thinking of me. What a dream!"

"I guess I was sort of thinking of you. I wanted something that the girl of my dreams would enjoy."

"The girl of your dreams. You have a way with words, boyfriend. Keep it up, and you'll get lucky every time. How many girls have you had here?"

"I've had female visitors. My mother, my sister, my sister-in-law. Small parties with friends. But in the sense you mean, you are the first."

"I find that hard to believe."

"I am not a player, pretty girl. Since I've been in New York, you are precisely the second girl I've been with. And both times I hooked up with Lindsay, it was at her place in Manhattan. I was a bit of a slut in college for a while, but that really doesn't suit me."

"How much do you pay for this place?" This incredible girl is, among many other things, a millionaire businesswoman.

"I own it outright." She looks surprised. "I had a college fund I never used, and I've been making decent money since I was sixteen, first as a car mechanic and later as a writer. I don't spend much. A small loan from my mother, which I already repayed, completed the deal."

"You're talking half a million or so..."

"A little less. The place was in bad shape. I enjoy working with my hands, and I am pretty handy." I love showing her some substance. I find the millionaire thing a little daunting."I think we are owing each other a slow dance."

She smiles, as I dim the lights and raise the volume on the Duke a bit. I hold her in my arms, feeling the warmth of her body against mine. She is a great dancer, and I am not bad at this. The record finishes, and we kiss, slow and deep. She stops the kiss with a hand in my chest. "Let me slip into something more comfortable." She picks up her suitcase, and goes into my bedroom. I put away the Duke, and sit at the couch, contemplating the dramatically changed landscape of my life. I feel the sudden need to share, with someone, what's happening, to make it real. There's only one person I can call. Haley James Scott, my sister in law, confidant and best friend. I drop her a text instead. "Hi, Hales, I met someone. The girl of my dreams, the future mother of my children. It's crazy. We'll talk later. Say hi to Nate and Jamie."

As I am sending the text, Brooke comes back to the living room. She has removed her make-up, tied up her hair in a lovers knot, she is barefoot and wearing an old t-shirt of mine, a Ravens number three jersey. She lifts the jersey, to show me there is nothing but Brooke under it. "You were very sexy in that dress. But you're twice as sexy now."

"I know. Who were you texting?"

"A girl."

She lifts an eyebrow. "Really?"

"You're going to have to meet her. We need her approval. Her name is Haley James Scott."

"The singer? She is very cute."

"One and only. She is my sister-in-law. But she is also my oldest, and dearest friend."

"Your best friend is a girl. I knew there was something odd about you. Have you ever considered becoming gay?"

We both laugh. "I considered it. But I like pussy way too much."

"I know."

"I was raised by a single mother. I have male friends, but I only feel truly comfortable with women." I give her an apologetic shrug. "I had to tell someone about you, about us. It makes it real, somehow."

"And what did you write?" I am very embarrassed, but I give her the phone. I am not going to hide anything from her.

She looks at it, but, much to my surprise, she doesn't laugh. She just says. "I am glad I'm not alone. You've got it just as bad as I do. We are in so much trouble, boyfriend."

She grabs my hand and pulls me to the bedroom. "Take off your clothes and lie in the bed. I don't think we need any foreplay right now. I just need you inside me."

I lie down, and she straddles me, keeping the shirt. "You know, right now, the simple sight of you lights a fire between my legs."

"For me, it's your voice. You can probably get me going just reading the telephone book aloud."

She giggles. "Condom?"

"Top drawer of the left nightstand."

She puts it in, and slowly sits on me. She stops like that for a second, hands flat in my chest, eyes in my eyes.

"I know I shouldn't say this, but I will anyways. I love you, pretty girl."

She smiles softly at that. "I've been told that boys in your current position will say anything, so I won't hold it against you. But I will tell you, I love you too, boyfriend. And this is the first time I say that to a man, no matter in which position. "

She begins swaying her hips back and forth, very slowly, while tracing circles in my chest with her fingers. We lose ourselves in each others eyes and time just seems to stop.

"Ah, Luke, lover, boyfriend, my love. I'll never get enough of you."

"I'll be here for you, my love, as long as you want me."

Her movement finally becomes more urgent. For the third time tonight, we crash together, an intense, drawn out, almost painful orgasm.

In the dark, falling asleep in in her arms, I hear her whisper.

"So, this is what they mean by "making love" after all."

I smile in the dark, and I whisper back. "It's definitely well beyond the hard ten."

She giggles. "It sure is."

The alarm goes off at seven, and we awake to a tangled mess of Brooke, myself and the sheets.

"Good morning, pretty girl. We go for a run?"

"She blinks at me, clearly still partially asleep. She looks about, looks at me and I can see when the memory of last night comes fully up. She looks at me, astonished. Good lord, boyfriend. Did all that really happen? It wasn't a dream? Oh boy, this is going to take some adjusting.." She squeals and jumps at me, dropping me back in the bed, and covering me in little kisses. I grab her, turn her around into the bed and tickle her. She screams. "I will kill you, boyfriend." I shut her up with a sloppy kiss, to which she responds enthusiastically.

"So," after a bit. "Run?"

"Give me a minute."

She puts on running shorts and a sports bra, and hunts in my closet for a sweat shirt, choosing a faded hoodie with "Keith's Auto Shop" in the back. She puts on running shoes, and she is all set. In the mean time, I also got ready, so we go out. I set a medium pace, and I look at her. "This is fine. You can even go a little faster." I tighten the pace a bit, and she seems quite capable of keeping up. We go for my usual route, which is about half a mile to a nearby park, a couple of circuits around the park, and half a mile back. The whole circuit is about three miles, and it takes us a bit more than half an hour, without getting winded. We chat about the neighborhood and about running, which she clearly enjoys a great deal. Back at the apartment, I tell her to go for a shower, while I prepare breakfast. I tell her I'll leave showering for after the practice, because I always play a little with the boys.

When she comes back, wrapped in a towel, and drying her hair with another towel, I am setting plates. "French toast, bacon, OJ and a skim latte. Jam or syrup with the toast?"

"Syrup."

We sit and she tries a bite of the french toast. I'm waiting for her reaction.

"Hm. Sexy and a good cook. Definitely a keeper. This is the second-best french toast I've ever tasted."

I lift an eyebrow for her. "Second-best."

There is a little diner in Tree Hill, called Karen's Cafe. That's were the best french toast..."

My laughter interrupts her. "What?"

"I completely agree with you, pretty girl. My mother taught me how to make french toast. I do it good, but she still does it better."

"Wait." She looks at me with wide eyes. "You are Karen's son."

"One and only. She has a daughter, but no other sons."

"I know Lilly. And your mom. Shit." Brooke is clearly very disturbed by this news.

She starts pacing up and down, talking fast to herself.

"I knew she had a son, she raised alone. I knew he played basketball. I know Luke's story with Nathan and Dan Scott. I didn't know Karen was the abandoned girl in the story. I never put it together. I never imagined. Shit."

"What is it, pretty girl? What's the problem?"

She stares at me, eyes wide, clearly distraught. "You are Karen's son!"

"That's a good thing, pretty girl. She is a really great mother."

She screams. "I know!" She grabs her suitcase and starts putting her stuff into it. "I can't do this. This is too much. I need some time."

She turns to me, halfway to the door. Tears running down her face. "Lucas, I need some time. Please, Lucas, I'll come back, I'll explain. Just give me some time."

I think of putting my arms around her, but that doesn't feel right. I remember my words to her yesterday. "Go if you must, pretty girl. Take your time. I'll be waiting for you." She gives me a quick kiss and leaves.

I stand, stunned, in front of the closed door. So, this was the crash at the bottom of the hill. I sure as hell wouldn't have predicted that being my mother's son would be a problem. Dan's son, sure, that's a problem. But my sweet, dear mother? I'll call her later, see if she has some clue as to what just happened.

Right now, duty calls. I finish up my breakfast, clean up, drop a text to Haley saying that, apparently, the love of my life just ran away for the hills, after hearing I'm Karen's son. I also promise her I'll call in the afternoon. I pick up my playbook, my whistle and head out to practice.