Author's Note: I got a pretty angry review last chapter, and it kind of surprised me. To said reviewer, who I'm sure knows who they are, I never promised that this story would end a Brucas, and I'd appreciate it, if you didn't tell me I'm digging myself into a hole. I like to write because it's fun, and this was just a storyline I thought I'd really enjoy writing. If you don't like it, please just don't read it! There's no need to insult my writing, because I'm already weary enough of it. I personally don't think I'm a very good writer, but what I love about this website, is people care enough to read the story and review! I'm sorry if you don't like what's happening right now, but I'm working hard and I can't please everyone.

Sorry to blab on and on. Enjoy.

Movie Script Ending

Chapter Thirty-Two: What Goes Around Comes Around

Of course, when she and Lucas had returned to their large house, they'd discovered that the milk had gone rotten. Desperate for any excuse to leave the house, which was in a way to her, the scene of the crime, Brooke offered to go out and get milk.

She realized she'd been staring at the milk section for probably about fifteen minutes before she finally shook herself out of her daze, reaching for the first milk carton she saw.

As she slowly walked down the aisle, she looked down at the milk in her hands. Of course she'd gotten soy. Ew. She turned to walk back towards the milk section, and didn't see the person turning the corner until they'd walked straight into each other.

She winced, rubbing the spot where both of their heads had collided. She squinted as the person she'd run into came into focus.

"Oh," was all she could say. Haley stood before her, looking both uncomfortable and annoyed.

"Hi," the girl replied coolly.

Brooke decided then that if Haley wouldn't make an effort to speak with her, neither would she. She side-stepped the woman, and had just passed her when Haley said, "How was your trip?

She didn't even try to hide the bitterness in her words, and Brooke winced once more, this time though, not from pain.

"It was fine, thanks." Her tone matched Haley's, and she wondered to herself if Haley had ever really liked her.

"How great."

Brooke turned around slowly, eyes meeting hesitantly with Haley's. She wondered what Haley would do if she knew about her and Nathan. For some reason, she was surprised to find that she did not care.

"Yeah," She said softly.

Haley rolled her eyes and began to leave, but then stopped in her own tracks, turning around to look at Brooke. "Do you know what it's like to have all your closest friends alienate you because of something you can't even control?"

"We knew Nathan first. Peyton and I grew up with him. He was one of our closest friends." Brooke told her, and she couldn't help but find it ridiculous that she felt it necessary to explain herself to Haley.

Haley nodded. "Maybe so, but Lucas was mine first."

A streak of jealousy ran through Brooke, and she said through a clenched jaw, "Nathan and Lucas are brothers."

"Whatever, Brooke."

Unable to look in the girl's chocolate colored eyes any longer, Brooke turned on her heel, walking back towards the milk section, Haley's words repeating themselves over and over in her head.

"Maybe so, but Lucas was mine first."

--

She was napping so much lately. It seemed she was always tired. She could have a great night of sleep and wake up feeling as if she'd been up for three days. Some would call this depression, but she didn't care, as long as it went away soon.

Something smelled very good. She opened her eyes, turning on her side to look at the clock. It was six-thirty. What she smelled was probably dinner. She vaguely remembered hearing Lucas say something about dinner that night. She could not for the life of her remember what it was.

By the time she'd finally gotten enough inspiration to get downstairs, several minutes had passed, and she was almost wishing she'd never woken up in the first place. As she neared the kitchen, the scent grew stronger, and she winced, suddenly knowing that her husband had probably gone out of his way to make her a nice dinner.

"You're awake," He greeted her with a warm smile, his eyes flickering with delight. Guilt traveled through her veins, taking the place of blood, and taking her over.

"Did you do all this for me?" Brooke's voice was small as she looked around the kitchen. A large vase of red roses decorated the kitchen counter, and Lucas had several pans of food cooking.

He shrugged. "Of course. I thought you'd like it."

"No, I do. I'm just.." she struggled to find a word and finally settled sheepishly with, "underdressed."

"You look fine to me. More than fine, actually." He looked her over, and she fought the urge to cross her arms over her chest.

"Lucas, I'm in my sweatpants."

"I know," A chuckle. "But I was planning on bringing this up to the bedroom for you anyway."

"Dinner in bed?" She raised an eyebrow.

He blushed. "Yeah. Like we used to."

She smiled despite herself. Dinner in bed was something she and Lucas had done thousands in times. Whenever they would visit each other in college, in the earlier stages of their marriage, and even at times when they were in high school. She could still remember the sensations that had run through her stomach as she and Lucas had laid in his twin-sized bed for the first time, munching on banana cream pie that his mother had made.

"I'd like that." She told him, willing herself to forget the present and immerse herself completely in the past; the way they'd been.

And she would.

--

"Alright, can you see?"

"It's kind of impossible for me to see when I'm blindfolded, and your hands are over my eyes."

Dave nudged her as he guided her from the bedroom downstairs. "You're such a smart-ass."

Peyton laughed. "Don't tell me you're just figuring this out now."

He kissed her neck, and goose bumps formed on her arms. She shivered. "So, what's this surprise of yours?"

"Stop talking and you'll find out." Dave whispered huskily in her ear, and she felt the need to comply immediately.

Once they had finally stepped off of the carpeted floor onto the hard, kitchen tile, he removed her blindfold. She gasped, surveying the room from top to bottom. He had covered her little kitchen table with candles and a full-course meal. He'd dimmed the lights, and cleaned the kitchen. The lights outside illuminated her small backyard, and he'd moved the table closer to the window so that it would illuminate them as well.

She bit her lip, and turned to face him. "Seriously? You've gone all romantic on me?"

He leaned in towards her, pressing his lips to hers slowly and softly. "Seriously."

She tugged at his hands, guiding him towards the table he'd prepared for her. "Good. I'm all for the whole romantic thing."

"Good to know." They kissed once more, and then lowered themselves to the table, hands interlaced.

She wanted to hold on to him and never let go at that moment.

--

"Is it a computer?"

"Nope."

"Oh.. Something else electronic?"

Dave sagged his shoulders. "I can't believe we're spending our romantic dinner playing twenty questions."

"Hey," She argued. "Don't knock twenty questions. I personally think it's very romantic."

He laughed loudly, shaking his head. "You're a liar."

She smiled at him, but it faltered after a moment. "Want the truth?"

"I hope so?"

"I'm kind of new to this. To being, you know, this romantic with someone. I've only done it once before, and even then, there was so much keeping us apart. This is new to me, and I'm scared, so I try to avoid it best I can."

He leaned closer towards her. "Look, Peyton. I love you. I mean, I've figured you know that, but.. I mean, I really love you."

She couldn't say the words back, and she didn't know why. She loved Dave. She loved Dave. She loved Dave…

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you. And that's - that's the real reason I wanted to have this dinner with you tonight," He got slowly down on one knee, pulling her hands from her lap. "I love you, Peyton Sawyer. Will you marry me?"

She could not move, could not breathe, could not even believe what she was hearing.

The doorbell rang and a knock followed, and Peyton looked from the door to her boyfriend's hands.

"I-I have to get that." She stood, and walked through the dark house towards the door. She figured that she was going through something of a mental breakdown. The closer she got to the door, the farther away it seemed. Shadows from the candle light danced tantalizingly around her, and Dave seemed so far away that she could no longer feel his presence.

She pulled the door open, and when she saw the person on the other end, she froze.

"Jake."