Peyton spent the rest of her evening in her bedroom, angry and hurt and guilty. She was mad at Lucas for the things he'd said and assumed. She was hurt that he hadn't felt what she'd felt when they kissed. She was guilty that she had done something as petty as setting up a date with him standing right next to her. She just read a book and listened to music. Every little noise she heard, she hoped it was him coming to apologize.
Lucas sat in the living room for another couple hours watching a basketball game. He could barely follow the plays, because his mind was full of Peyton. He'd said all the wrong things, but he still felt they were right. He stood firm in his belief that it was a bad idea for them to get involved. So why did he feel so terrible? He'd wanted so badly for it to happen, then when it did, he'd put a stop to it going further. Then he realized that he was the one running this time, not her.
He thought about the conversations he'd had with Nathan and Haley in recent days. Even Skills had asked if there was something going on. He could only hope that something would happen to prove to him that she was ready for a relationship. He couldn't see how she could be. Just a week earlier, she was still in love with her ex-husband. How could she possibly be over that already? He knew one thing for sure; his heart couldn't take losing Peyton again. It had hurt like hell the first time, and he wouldn't do it again. The way their friendship was, she'd just be mad for a few days, then things would just go back to normal. At least he hoped they would.
----
Peyton woke up the next morning and knew that she couldn't avoid him again. The stubborn side of her just wanted to be in the house with him all day, barely speaking, to show how angry she was at him.
She got up and ran herself a quick shower before making a pot of coffee, then starting on eggs, bacon and toast. She was going to torture him with silent kindness. She knew him, and she knew it would drive him crazy.
He walked out of his room after being awoken by the smells coming from the kitchen. When she saw him, she poured him a cup of coffee and set a plate on the table in his usual spot.
"Morning," she offered, turning back to the stove.
He knew what she was doing. He sat at the table and took a sip of coffee.
"Thank you," he said as he began eating. He wasn't sure what she did to the eggs, but they were delicious. He wanted to comment, but she sat down across from him and began eating. She wouldn't make eye contact.
"Plans today?" she asked, spreading raspberry jam on her toast. It was her favourite, and when she'd complained that he didn't have any in the house, he'd bought some specially for her. He smiled when he saw her take a bite.
"I'll probably just write. Maybe go for a run or something, but I have a deadline coming up and my editor will kill me if I don't send her some pages today," he explained. He'd lost, he knew. He knew her response would be one or two words, and he'd just given details. He knew Peyton, and he knew that this was one of her tactics. He let her have the victory.
"Alright," she said. Her response made him laugh at how well he knew her.
"What about you?" he asked, trying to coax her into saying something more. He knew it was futile; she was the most stubborn person he'd ever met.
"Nothing special," she offered, finally looking up at him.
"What about your date?" he baited. He knew it would piss her off, and frankly, he didn't care. He just wanted to break down the wall she'd put up.
She tilted her head and glared at him. They finished the rest of their breakfast in silence, and she walked out of the kitchen, leaving dirty dishes in the sink. He was just about to comment on her leaving the mess, but he figured she was nice enough to cook for him, so he wouldn't complain. He wanted to annoy her, but he didn't want to be a total jerk.
He tidied the kitchen, and she stayed in her room with the door open, blaring The Cure because she knew he hated the music. He stood at the sink smiling and shaking his head. She was playing hardball.
When he was done cleaning, he grabbed his laptop from his room and took it to the kitchen table. He knew the sound of typing drove her completely crazy, so he decided to work as close to her open door as he could. And for good measure, he made sure to press the keys a little harder than he usually would.
When her album had finished, all Peyton could hear was the clacking of his keys, and she could only shake her head. They knew each others' weaknesses, that was for sure. She wracked her brain thinking of her next move, then it dawned on her. She remembered back to a few years ago, when Lucas had mentioned that seeing a girl in a sports jersey was one of the sexiest things he'd ever seen. She didn't have a jersey, but she'd seen something hanging in the closet that would do the trick.
She emerged from her bedroom in just a faded Ravens tee shirt, her tanned legs seeming endless as he watched her walk past him. She noticed him staring.
"It's hot in my room," she said with a smirk she knew he wouldn't see. His eyes were fixed on her lower half.
She filled a glass with water and took a sip as she walked past him and back to her bedroom. Ten minutes later, she was laying on the bed reading and he walked in with a fan, plugging it into the wall and pointing it directly at her.
"There you go," he said. He shot her a wink and left to return to his computer.
But damn, it was hard for him to leave her alone in that room.
Around 2:00, Lucas walked past her door on his way to the washroom, and couldn't stop himself from peering in. It had been silent for a while and she hadn't done anything in retaliation to his fan maneuver. She was curled up on the bed, in his old tee shirt, with her hands tucked under her cheek and her legs bent at the knee. The copy of Pride and Prejudice she'd teased him about just a week earlier was laying on the bed next to her.
Of all the silly things she could have done to torture him, the one she hadn't intended was working the best. He stood for a moment watching her, and wishing he could just lay down next to her and pull her body close to his. But he couldn't.
He returned to the kitchen and grabbed his laptop. It was time to end the game. He was going to retreat to his room as a symbol of his surrender. He closed the door part way and continued to work away, sending new pages to his editor, and talking on the phone with her when she called to thank him.
A few hours later, he was listening to soothing music and still writing, when there was a gentle tap on his door.
"Come in."
She pushed the door open with her free hand, but was holding the front of her black strapless dress to her chest.
"Can you zip me?" she asked timidly, almost as though she wished she didn't have to ask. He sighed and shook his head before standing and walking over to her. She turned around and his had found the zipper at the small of her back.
"There," he said, as his hands pulled the zipper to the top of the garment. He noticed her holding a necklace in her hands, and took it from her. He gathered her hair and swept it to the side gently before reaching around to rest the necklace on her skin and clasping it at the back of her neck. His fingertips gently grazed the nape of her neck and she hoped he hadn't heard her take a quick breath. He had.
"Thanks," she muttered, turning to walk out the door.
"What time are you going to be home?" He knew he had asked in undisguised jealousy, but he needed to know. He wasn't sure why.
"I'm not sure," she replied, still with her back to him.
"Well...be careful," he offered.
Something about that statement made her want to scream. He was acting like a boyfriend one moment, and an overprotective brother the next. She walked out of the room without saying another word.
Each time she thought of his hands on her skin, she felt a tingle run up her spine.
----
The drive to Brooke's place had felt shorter than she wanted it to. She couldn't stop thinking that this date was a bad idea. It wasn't that she wasn't ready to date, it was that she wanted to be at home with Lucas. Even when they weren't speaking, or were playing cruel tricks on each other, she still would rather be with him than out with someone else.
She walked into Brooke's house without knocking, and found the brunette wearing a navy blue halter dress, her hair pinned up loosely, and her makeup flawless.
"You look hot!" Brooke shouted as she saw Peyton.
"Not so bad yourself. You know, for a mom," she teased. "Haley already come get Emma?"
"Yeah, she came about an hour ago. Mama needed time to get ready," she said with a laugh.
Peyton perched on a stool at Brooke's kitchen counter, and immediately the brunette noticed that something was off.
"You OK? I mean, I know this is your first date since Joshua," Brooke asked delicately.
"I'm fine. Just...I didn't think I'd have to do this again, you know?" she said. It was the truth. She thought she was done with dating.
"Well, if you get uncomfortable at all, just like, blink twice and we'll go to the bathroom or something," Brooke offered.
Peyton laughed. "I'll be fine, but thanks."
There was a knock at the door, and they exchanged a look. They both walked to the door and Brooke pulled it open.
"Hi Dave," she rasped, smiling.
"Brooke, you look great," he said. "This is Eric."
The man extended his hand to both women.
"This is Peyton," Brooke offered, then Dave shook the blonde's hand.
"Nice to meet you both," Eric said. He was attractive. His brown hair was short and he wore rimmed glasses that somehow suited him. His eyes were deep chocolate brown and he had a kind smile. She could tell he was as nervous as she was. Blind dates were never fun at first.
They made their way to Dave's car and made small talk as they drove to the restaurant.
Once they were seated and Dave and Brooke had started their own conversation, Peyton decided to make the best of the evening and at least make an effort.
"So Brooke said you're an artist?" Peyton asked, needing an ice breaker. The waiter poured her a glass of wine and she'd never been more thankful to see alcohol in her life.
"Yeah, I'm just here for the week for a gallery opening. They're showcasing some of my work, so I flew down from New York," he explained.
"You live in New York?" she asked. For some reason, she was relieved to know that he didn't live in Tree Hill. It was as if the pressure was off.
"Yeah, I have a studio there. I grew up in Baltimore, but that's not exactly a hot spot of artistic activity," he said with a chuckle. She smiled politely.
"What kind of art do you do? Anything I might know?" she asked.
"I'm actually a painter. I work mostly with oils. Kind of modern, interpretive stuff."
"That's great," she said with a forced smile.
The waiter came to take their orders. Brooke sensed her friend's discomfort, and began a conversation that would include all four of them. She reached under the table and gave Peyton's knee a soft squeeze to show her support.
They made it through the meal and were sipping coffee when Dave mentioned to Eric that Brooke and Peyton had grown up and were friends with Lucas Scott, their favourite modern author. They began talking about his work and his words and their favourite characters from his novels.
Peyton's mind flashed to the image of him sitting at the kitchen table in front of his computer, staring at her as she paraded past him. She would have gladly traded that moment for this one. She looked to Brooke and blinked twice. Brooke's face fell.
"Would you excuse us? We're just going to run to the ladies' room," she requested.
Both men stood as Peyton and Brooke left the table. Once they were behind the door of the washroom, Brooke spoke.
"What's going on, Peyton?"
"Brooke, I can't do this." Her voice was rushed and soft
"What are you talking about?" the brunette asked gently.
Peyton knew she had to explain her sudden freak out to Brooke. She also just needed to tell someone about the recent events that had taken place in Luke's room between the two of them.
"I kissed Luke the other night and I...I can't do this," she said, her eyes meeting her friend's, which were filled with surprise.
"You kissed Luke!? Why didn't you tell me?" Brooke bombarded Peyton with questions, still shocked at the secret she'd just been let it on.
"Because it's all a disaster right now because I'm an idiot and I'm scared." Peyton ran her hands through her hair and closed her eyes, inwardly relieved that she'd finally said the words out loud.
"Sounds familiar," Brooke muttered
"Brooke!"
"Sorry! But it's true!" Brooke pointed out. "Why are you scared?"
"Because I shouldn't even be dating anyone right now, let alone one of my best friends. I just...God, it's Lucas, you know? And he's...Lucas."
"I know, honey," Brooke said comfortingly, somehow decoding that simple statement. It meant what she knew it meant. "But maybe you are just feeling this way for him because he's been there for you."
"No," Peyton said adamantly. "I don't think that's it."
"OK." Brooke would have loved to argue, but something about Peyton's tone suggested that it was more than just mixed emotions or confusion. She knew that Peyton wouldn't risk her friendship with Lucas if she wasn't sure of how she felt. She also knew that Peyton and Lucas were the two last people to ever be clued in to their own feelings.
"I have to go," Peyton said, checking her face in the mirror before turning back towards the door.
"What am I supposed to tell Eric?!" Brooke pleaded, making Peyton turn to face her.
"Tell him I'm sick or something! Please, Brooke." Her voice was desperate and she knew her best friend would sense the urgency.
"Ugh! Fine. But I want all the freaking details tomorrow," she called after her friend as she exited the bathroom, leaving Brooke there, completely confused as to what had happened. She thought back to the day before. A kiss certainly explained why Peyton had hid out at her house, and why she had seemed distracted the entire time, and the tense phone call she'd overheard.
---
Peyton called Nathan for a ride to Brooke's to pick up her car, and he didn't ask any questions. He just assumed that the date had been too much, too soon after the divorce. He asked if she was OK, but that was all. She thanked him for the ride and he offered a polite smile and a hug before she left his car.
She sat behind the wheel of her old car in Brooke's driveway for a few minutes. She was going to go home to Lucas and apologize for all the stupid things she'd done in the past few days. Avoiding him, the date, her silly games earlier that day. She looked at the clock and saw that it was only 9:30.
He heard her pull into the driveway and glanced at the time. It was early. Either his suspicions that it was too soon for her to be dating were true, or it had simply been a short meal.
She walked into the house and saw him sitting on the couch. He turned his head to look at her. He'd forgotten how gorgeous she had looked when she'd left, and felt a pang of jealousy knowing that he hadn't been the one who got to stare at her all night.
"Hi," she said softly. He was surprised that she was the first to speak.
"How was your date?" he asked.
"Fine," she offered. It was a lie, but he didn't know that
"You kiss him, too?" he muttered bitterly, turning back to his book. He wasn't even sure what made him say it. Jealousy or regret or...jealousy.
"Dammit Lucas. You can be a real ass sometimes, you know that?" She stalked over to stand in front of him in the living room. He closed his book and set it down next to him on the sofa.
"Right. Because making a couple comments is way worse than kissing someone and going on a date with someone else two days later!"
"Oh, I am the last person you want to play that game with," she sneered.
"What does that mean?" he asked, irritation in his voice.
"The name Brooke Davis ring a bell?"
"Please, Peyton, that was in high school," he said, the tone of his voice dismissing her comment.
"Yeah, well it still happened. And you started a relationship with her! And do I need to mention Nikki, too?" If he was going to plead ignorance, she was going to pull out all the stops.
He went silent. She was right and he knew it. She knew it too.
"That's what I thought," she said softly. "You know, the reason I'm home right now is because I couldn't stop thinking about you all night. And I would have told you that, but you decided to act like a complete jerk before I could." She paused to take a deep breath that she hoped would calm her. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm not ready for this...whatever this is. So if what you wanted was for me to realize that we are just...not anything? Mission accomplished."
He heard her voice break and he knew how upset she was, but he couldn't go to her. He couldn't bring himself to go and wipe her tears. He had always done it when someone else had caused her to cry, but when it was his fault, he cowered. The irony was not lost on him.
She went into her room and closed the door and waited. She waited for him to rush in and apologize and take her in his arms and tell her had been wrong.
He never came.