Here's the next part, and I promise updates wil start coming faster. Same thing for anyone who reads my other story, "Don't Blink." It's started to roll now.
Anyways, the chapter title belongs to the always great Dashboard Confessional.
Read and review!
She typed the name into the search bar and hit enter. Down at one AM, up at five, she thought, finishing her second cup of coffee, doing work for a job I got last night. What a life I lead. Peyton set the cup down and leaned closer to the laptop as the band's MySpace page loaded completely.
Last night, Peyton had gotten a call from the record company she'd sent her résumé to. It had been at just a little past midnight (They were on the west coast, where she was in New York), and the woman on the other end of the line had told her that the New York branch was in need of a new employee. She was to show up on Monday. Peyton had gone immediately home, ecstatic. She had gotten the job she had been wanting for three weeks.
It was midmorning on Saturday, and she had spent the last two hours searching the internet for various unsigned artists that would look good on the label. Peyton was counting on the whole day to herself, Brooke, and Rachel, to listen to the newest music and put a list of great bands together so she could get there on Monday prepared. God, she felt like an excited school girl, but she couldn't help it; this was the job Peyton had pursued for weeks, the perfect way to get into the music industry.
She hadn't seen either Rachel or Brooke since last night, but had no doubt that they would turn up soon. Since Brooke had been together with Chase, all nighters had pretty much become Rachel's mode of operation, but Brooke could occasionally be found coming home in the early morning. Peyton stayed out of that sort of thing mostly. She was more of a DD type of girl. Well, she tried to be.
Just as Peyton was wondering when Brooke might get back so she could show Brooke the list of bands and they could listen to some new music together, Peyton heard the front door in the entryway open. She heard heavy, tired steps shuffling across the tile, in the direction of the bedrooms.
"Brooke?" Peyton called.
After a pause, she heard Brooke's cheery, "Hey, P. Sawyer." The steps were much springier as Brooke turned towards the living room area.
"Hey Brooke, I'm sorry about last night," Peyton started before the girl even got into the room. "I got the call for that job at that label, and I kinda bailed without thinking. I was just checking out some new music for the job. Where were you last night?" Then Brooke came around the corner.
Brooke was beat tired, and it showed. She didn't have much makeup on, and what she did have was slightly smeared. Her hair was messy, though it looked like she had done her best to smooth it in a short amount of time, and her eyes seemed puffy and pink near the edges. The clothes she was wearing, the same ones she had been in last night, were wrinkled.
"What, did Brooke Davis pull another famous all-nighter?" Peyton joked. "Where'd you go?"
Brooke shrugged, giving a small smile that didn't show her dimples. "I met this guy…"
Peyton had been friends with Brooke a long time, and knew her better than a sister. And when Brooke Davis turns up looking like she did after mysteriously disappearing for the whole night and says she met a new guy, you know she and said guy didn't just go out for drinks. Peyton was well aware of this, and instantly put two and two together.
"A guy… what about Chase?"
A little stab of guilt shot through Brooke again, as it had been doing at random intervals all morning. She closed her eyes "He just…"
"Brooke, what's wrong?" The blonde's voice grew stern.
Instead of answering, Brooke shrugged it off, smiling and showing her dimples this time. "Nothing," she said with a laugh. Her smile and dimples were her best techniques when she wanted to convince someone she was ok. Peyton knew this about her too, and didn't take the bait.
"Nice try, Davis," the blonde said, giving Brooke a sad smile, "But the dried mascara tears on your cheeks tell otherwise. What happened?" she demanded. By this time, Peyton had stood up and was walking across their upscale loft toward Brooke curiously and suspiciously.
A deep, long sigh came from Brooke, and for a second Peyton didn't think she was gong to say anything.
"I…" Sigh. "When I went up to the lounge last night I looked out the window and saw Chase kissing someone outside then they got into her car and left," she said this all very fast, without stopping or punctuation. Peyton's eyes opened wide, but Brooke kept talking. "I want downstairs and looked for you but you had gone, and you had my money and I didn't know what to do." Brooke stood totally still in the spot she had been standing in the whole time. Peyton was just shellshocked.
"Brooke—"
"It was Rachel."
Oh no. Oh, no, no, no. "T-the girl that Chase—"
"Yeah."
There was that stabbing feeling in Brooke's chest again, except this time it was raw pain instead of guilt.
Peyton seemed to recover herself. "Oh, Brooke, I'm so sorry. No wonder you feel so bad…" She rushed at her friend in a hug.
But really, that's not the half of it, Brooke thought to herself, gingerly accepting the hug as if she had broken ribs. She didn't breathe a word of it to Peyton, but Brooke couldn't help but think of Lucas. Most of the guilt that was burning her up was because of last night, and more importantly, this morning.
It had been an indescribable feeling, lying there in Lucas's arms as the world outside woke up. For the first time in a long while, she had felt completely at ease, safe, protected. It wasn't love; that much she was sure of, but it was something. It was only them, like time inside that hotel room was stopped, and she loved it. Nothing else had mattered as she'd drifted off to sleep.
Then, of course, the loud vibrations of her cell phone had interrupted her dreamlike state. She had grabbed it quickly, reluctantly squirming out of Lucas's warm, muscular arms. It was a text message, and her heart constricted as she realized who it was from.
Hey, I'm so so sorry I ducked out last night. I'd had a few drinks, and the music was giving me a headache. I tried looking for you, but finally just decided I had to get out of there. I was at home sleeping the rest of the night.
I'll see you at your apartment later today.
Love, Chase.
In that instant, a half dozen feelings came crashing down on her. Pain, anger, fear, betrayal. Chase had the nerve to play it off as if nothing had happened? A shuddering breath escaped her throat. For a second, Brooke had considered calling both him and Rachel, but she had decided against it at the last moment. She was still in Lucas's room, sitting on the edge of his bed. The blonde had gone on sleeping.
Suddenly, hot, rushing guilt had flooded through her. She had just hooked up with Lucas, looking for consolation after her boyfriend had pursued other interests. Brooke had bought drinks with Lucas's money. She'd slept with him, led him on. The blonde boy lying next to her in the bed had taken care of her while she was hungover, ordered room service for her, and all the while Brooke had known deep down that she was going to leave him the second Lucas turned his back. He would wake up in a few hours, maybe, to an empty bed, and realize he had been used for a night. For a rebound. She couldn't be there anymore, she shouldn't be. She should've have left already. That guilt, coupled with everything else she was feeling, was almost a physical pain.
She left him just minutes later, after getting dressed and leaving him the note.
The world had caught up with her, so Brooke had kept running.
A while later, after all the pain had been rehashed, all the bad things said about Rachel and Chase, all the comforting words of consolation, Brooke came out of the bathroom after a long, hot shower. She found Peyton sitting on her bed, waiting. Brooke sighed internally; her best friend wasn't going to let this one go, no matter how much Brooke wanted to.
"Do you want to talk about this yet?" Peyton's whole music planning had gone out the window; she waited seriously for Brooke, to comfort her.
"Talk about what?"
Peyton rolled her eyes. "You know what, Brooke."
Brooke went to her dresser, searching for her favorite pair of sweats. Today was a recovery day. "Of course I know what. What do you want to discuss about it?" She really, really didn't want to do this right now. Not ever, actually.
"Well," Peyton said, looking a little off-guard, "I—how do you feel about it? What are you going to do, are you going to talk to Chase?"
Brooke slammed the drawer shut. She snapped, "I'm pretty damn sure you can imagine how I feel about it, Peyton. It's not really that difficult, not exactly a mystery sensation to the world."
Brooke was stretched thin, Peyton realized that. She averted her eyes, and Brooke softened. "I'm sorry. I just really don't want to get into this right now." She found the pair of sweats she was looking for and plopped down next to Peyton on the edge of the bed, depleted.
"I'm sorry," Peyton said after pause. "I know you Brooke, so I'll back off for now, but I need you to know that you can come to me with whatever, and I'm here for you, ok? Talk to me when you're ready." She clapped one hand over Brooke's knee and rubbed it comfortingly.
The front door to their apartment opened and slammed shut. Peyton froze, then turned to look at Brooke as if for a confirmation that Brooke had heard it as well. Brooke nodded, and a fire ignited in Peyton's eyes, one reflected by the brunette. Peyton set her jaw and stood up angrily.
They turned the corner of the hallway into the entry, Brooke a step behind Peyton. She was showing some life, and had seemed to have momentarily forgotten the night before. Both girls' faces dropped ten degrees when they saw Rachel at the door.
"Hey, you guys," Rachel said cheerily, but she avoided Brooke's gaze. Peyton's eyes narrowed. "Where were you two last night, I couldn't find you."
"Yeah, I'll bet," Peyton said, as Brooke snorted and turned away. "How was your night, Rachel?" She leaned against the wall, crossing her arms in front of her. Rachel stood in the middle of the room, like she was on a stage and couldn't quite figure how she had gotten there.
"It was good. Sorry I left, I—"
It was Brooke's turn. "Yeah, you are sorry." She stepped forward from where she had been pacing behind Peyton.
"Brooke, what are you talking about?" Rachel tried a laugh, but it was tight and strained: she was lying through her teeth.
"Hmm… I'm talking about that one guy, the one I've been dating now for four months! Oh yeah, Chase." She threw her former friend a simmering glare.
Rachel let a sigh escape her lips. Running a hand through her hair, she turned her gaze to the wall and stared at it for a long while, as if hoping it would provide her an answer to give the other two girls.
When she spoke again, her voice was quiet and defeated. "Look, I'm not in love with him. I wasn't last night, I'm now, I never will be." Rachel raised her head to look Broke in the eye seriously and resolutely. "It's not like I've been lusting after him, and that was my chance. No. I was just… I was drunk, like I've been at a million parties, drinking the drink of the night and searching for the guy of the night. Then Chase came up to the bar; he'd thrown back a few, but he wasn't as drunk as I was. He told me about how he couldn't find you and he just started talking to me.
"He started saying things, telling me sweet things, and I guess all the drinks made him sound better, and it kinda just… escalated from there. Brooke, you have no idea, I feel so bad. I'm so sorry, I just…" She dropped her hands from her sides and turned away, at a loss for words."You have to know that, Brooke, I'm sorry."
Silence stretched between the three. Peyton shot daggers, and Brooke regarded her anxious friend with a blank face. Finally, "That almost makes it feel worse, Rachel."
"Brooke—"
"No. In some weird, twisted way, if you'd had feelings for him, it would have been slightly more justified, even though it still would have been worse than wrong. But the fact that you treated my boyfriend as a random hookup and then had the nerve to lie about it to my face?" She shook her head. "You're a whore, and a joke, and not worth it."
Her eyes flashed. Rachel wasn't one to take these things lying down. She moved towards Brooke, gritting her teeth, but Brooke stood resolutely across the room with a look on her face that dared Rachel to come closer.
But this time it was Peyton that stepped forward; she crossed her arms and stood in front of Rachel at the door. "You should leave. I'm pretty sure you've got the cash or connections for a place to stay for tonight. And if not, I'm sure you can always go find someone's boyfriend to crash with."
Anger flared in the fiery redhead's eyes again as she turned to Peyton. "Listen, Peyton, I love you but this doesn't really involve you." Her voice was low and dangerous.
"And now it's time for you to go." Peyton's voice was just as dangerous. She pushed past Rachel, hitting her shoulder and knocking her sideways in the process.
She held open the door, but Rachel barely looked her way. She instead watched Brooke, who had her hands crossed over her chest. Brooke just waited and gave Rachel a glare that spoke more than they had said aloud.
Rachel shook her head. "I'm sorry, Brooke." With a heavy sigh, she went through the door. Peyton slammed it shut before the redhead was two steps out. Brooke closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, more tired than ever.
Peyton leaned against the door, breathing a deep sigh. She hadn't even been directly involved in this, and it was stressing her out. God, think about what Brooke was going through. For some reason, she also suspected there was something else that Brooke wasn't telling her, but she decided not to push it. She opened her eyes to see Brooke leaning against the wall.
"Go get some sleep. I'll wake you up later."
It turned out that later was actually a few minutes. Peyton opened the door to Brooke's room quietly, to check up. She was ordering dinner early since it was a Saturday night, and wanted to see what Brooke wanted.
She wasn't surprised to see Brooke's bed empty. But in glancing around, Peyton saw that Brooke wasn't even in the room. Her eyes alighted on the door that was opened to the balcony.
Outside, the late April wind lifted Brooke's deep brown hair around her face from where she leaned on the balcony rail. She wasn't doing anything: just looking and watching everything. Peyton approached warily from behind.
"Ok, B. Davis, you know if you cry, I cry. If you laugh, I laugh. If you jump off a balcony…I get a parachute and save your stupid ass. Don't even try it." She jokingly held her hands up in surrender. Brooke smirked and rolled her eyes, beckoning for Peyton to come join her.
She gave the blonde a reluctant smile. "I'm fine, before you ask," she told her. "I just needed to breathe. De-stress."
"You'd be crazy if you didn't," Peyton shrugged. She decided to skip the dinner discussion, and they settled on silence. The two friends just watched New York from their third story balcony. Neither could really figure what was going on in the other's head.
Presently, Peyton's attention was attracted by something on the sidewalk below them. She tapped Brooke on the shoulder. "Hey, check it out." Peyton gestured down.
The sidewalk was relatively empty, and the people below could be clearly seen from the balcony. Peyton pointed out a young man coming up the sidewalk towards their building, and it was easy for Brooke to see the full head of dark brown hair, her favorite black dress shirt that he always wore for her, the bouquet of tulips in Chase's hand.
Brooke's heart squeezed a little.
But that wasn't the only thing Peyton was pointing to. There was another figure, long, slim, model-esque, with red hair. Rachel. She had just come out of their building, and was headed towards Chase. She stopped in front of him, and looked right up into his face for a moment. He said something, pointing to the building with the hand that held the flowers.
The crack of her hand across his face could be heard all the way up on their story. Peyton's eyes went wide, and her face broke into a small grin. Brooke's jaw dropped.
Chase dropped the flowers, reeling backward and putting his hands to his cheek where she had slapped him. He said something inaudible, but Rachel's angry reply was carried all the way up to them.
"You are an ass. I cannot believe you, drunken sex? Cheating on her? What the hell were you thinking?" She raised her hand threateningly again, and Chase jumped and backed off. "Don't you dare go near Brooke, with your fake flowers and stupid smile and whatever lie is about to come through you teeth. You'd better stay away from all of us."
Chase caught her wrist and said something quietly. Peyton strained over the balcony to hear him, but to no avail. The look on Rachel's face and her next response told the story, though.
"Yeah, I know it's my fault too. I screwed you, I screwed up, I screwed her over, and I feel horrible about all three. But you weren't nearly as drunk as I was, you knew full well what you were doing. And now you have the audacity to go and try to act like nothing happened. I'll say it again: don't you dare go near her, and stay away from Peyton, even. And me…"
A classic, burgundy Mustang rolled slowly by, and the engine drowned out the rest of Rachel's tirade. The two on the balcony saw Chase pick up the flowers and drop them in the nearest garbage can; Brooke let out a sigh of relief. Chase turned back to Rachel.
Without warning, she smacked him again, the satisfying sound floating up towards Brooke and Peyton, giving Brooke a proud and victorious smile. Chase stormed away down the street, rubbing his cheek and Rachel watched him go with a furious expression on her face. After he rounded the corner, they saw her shoulders drop tiredly. The redhead left in the opposite direction a few minutes later.
Both Brooke and Peyton's eyes were still glued to the ground below, and they stayed like that for a long while, taking in the scene they had just witnessed. Finally, Peyton turned to Brooke with a laugh.
Her green eyes danced as she said, "Rachel may be a joke and a whore, but you have to admit: she's pretty fierce and tough as hell when she wants to be. You got give her that."
Brooke bit her tongue reluctantly. Her eyes slipped to the street below once more. "I don't have to give her anything," she decided finally, after a few minutes. "C'mon, let's go back inside, I have a headache."
"Do you think if we paid extra, the delivery man would pick up some ice cream on his way here?" Peyton flipped slowly through the Yellow Pages, sounding bored. She and Brooke had decided on pizza, and were planning a girl's night in with all the carbs and Pay per View movies they could imagine.
It was late afternoon; dusk flooded their living room and kitchen area as the sun went down. Peyton was leaning against the small wet bar, the one that had run out of alcohol a few days ago and they had neglected to refill. Brooke got up from the stool and crossed the room.
She picked up her phone and fell onto the couch. She barely looked at Peyton. "I don't know. I guess." Her unenthusiastic answer deflated Peyton a little, and the blonde decided to broach the subject that she had been avoiding all day.
"Brooke," she started tentatively, "Who was it that you… hooked up with last night?"
Silence stretched between them for a long while. Brooke still didn't want to deal with this, so she continued flipping through the contacts on her phone. Just as Peyton opened her moth to say something else, Brooke spoke.
"It was no one. No one you would know, at least." Looking up, she smiled and showed Peyton her dimples to assure her. "It doesn't really matter anyways: he's probably leaving by now. You're getting mushroom, right?"
Peyton looked caught off-guard. She glanced down to the phonebook and the cordless in her hand. "Uh, yeah. Anything else? They have soda, right?"
Brooke hopped up. "Yeah," she said, crossing the room. "Call Tony's. The delivery guy there is really cool, I'm sure we could persuade him to stop by the store for some extra cash." She grinned again.
"Alright, good." Peyton got up, ignoring the fact that Brooke had so tactfully deflected Peyton's question; she was simply relieved that Brooke was acting like herself. Tonight would be good for them, for her.
Peyton paused midstep and turned back. "Wait; is he that one that you were flirting with at that party a few weeks ago?" Brooke's eyebrow shot up.
"Technically, no, I was trying to hook him up with you. Indie music guy, guitar player, that sort of thing." Brooke stuck her tongue out. "Tortured, like you. Now go call, I'm hungry."
Peyton rolled her eyes and left the room, going to grab the list of stuff they would need for tonight, as well as her laptop for music. "Tony's. What a generic name for a pizza place," she muttered to herself. Her voice gradually faded, and Brooke went back to the couch to pick up her phone. It was getting darker outside. She pressed a button, and her heart gave a tiny lurch at the sight of her newest contact, the number that she had stolen from his phone and added this morning. She bit her lip, smiling reluctantly for some reason.
Lucas Scott, (309) 313-0216
So really, I'd love to hear what you think on this story. I sat down the other day and planned everything out in more detail, so chapters should be flowing more quickly. (Yeah, don't hold me to that, but I'll do my best.)
--Celtic (Or Chandler)