Season Two – New Beginnings.
She's Brooke and I'm Peyton.
She swings round, a smile fixed firmly in place as she takes my hands. Gently tugging me along the hall, I follow her reluctantly. He's back – Lucas. Apparently he's come back to mend relationships he left behind in his wake. I catch her staring at me sometimes, but she can't know who I'm thinking about, what I'm thinking about.
Felix is flash and brash and on some level she's doing this to hurt me. Jake left, Lucas is distant and I'm alone without her. She's still there, physically. Mentally? She's a million miles away. We laugh and we talk and we act-pretend that everything is okay. She still slinks into my room and curls up with me, I kiss her and she responds but somewhere deep inside I know she's cut herself adrift.
She's pretty in that dress. She dances with Felix as I sit and watch at the table. He holds her too close to be proper in polite company – but when was Brooke ever proper? I lose her as the night goes on, she dances, she flirts and Anna shrugs my hand off her like she's been burnt. I feel more alone than ever.
Dyke. Dyke. Brooke laughs a little. I turn away from her, I've been branded, damaged goods. She doesn't care. She slips into bed with me, her eyes seek mine in the darkness and I know that she still loves me. Has always loved me. I don't know what to do.
It seemed so easy – drugs replacing this feeling and everything would be fine with the world. She whispered the words to me last night. She thought I was asleep. I love you, Peyton. She loves me – do I love her? I don't know any more.
Jake came and went and he took my heart with him. She knows. She's chosen Lucas again. As if being closer to him will somehow bring her closer to me and now she's leaving for the summer – maybe forever. I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I wish I could be strong for her like she is for me. I am Peyton and she is Brooke.
I hug her before I leave and I'm truthful when I tell her I'm going to miss her. I wish she wasn't leaving. She's going and I'll be alone, when she kisses me goodbye it's automatic for me to respond. Her hands grip me tightly as if she doesn't want to let go. I push her slightly from me. Her eyes on mine, her hands loosely held in my own. I wish I knew how to love her.