Disclaimer: One Tree Hill and its characters belong to Mark Schwahn, The CW, etc. I'm simply whoring them for my own amusement.
Spoilers/Warnings: I'm screwing with pretty much everything in the OTH verse. For now if you've seen S1, you're golden.
Summary: AU. A one night stand blossoms into much more than Lucas and Peyton originally bargained for.
AN: The reviews for this fic have been effing AMAZING. I'm so glad that you guys are liking it. I was a little hesitant posting because Lucas and Peyton were kind of not themselves. But that's the point of AU, to make the characters a little different. Also, those of you that were HAHA NALEY AREN'T TOGETHER YAY made me LOL. Instead of torturing LP like I usually do, I've decided to do that to NH instead.
—
02. With You, Without You
Are you going to tell me who or what put that dopey grin on your face?" Brooke Davis asked her best friend, looking across the table at Peyton who couldn't stop smiling. It was a welcome change from the career driven, lonely, woe-is-me Peyton that she'd gotten used to over the years.
She'd flown to L.A. for a business meeting so her and Peyton had gathered for a late lunch before her return flight to New York later that afternoon. Brooke had noticed the difference in Peyton the second she'd spotted her across the room, entering the restaurant. She walked straighter, with a little skip in her step, an obnoxious grin plastered on her face. It was as if—and the notion was disconcerting—as if she was in love.
Both of them had been so busy at work that they hadn't had as much time to talk on the phone and email and texts conveyed absolutely nothing, aside from what was in print. Now that they were face to face, Brooke could tell that Peyton kept trying to disguise her apparent joy. She was curious what had brought on the change.
Peyton dug into her salad, insisting, "What dopey grin? There's no grin, dopey or otherwise." Frowning at the lack of salt on her salad, she reached for the shaker, but Brooke scooped it up, withholding it.
"You don't get the salt shaker until you tell me who he is and why you haven't mentioned him before."
Peyton groaned, even as she put her fork down, picked up her glass of wine and sat back in her chair. "Do I have to?" There was no point in denying that there was a man in her life; Brooke had known her long enough to know when she was lying.
"Didn't I tell you about that moment of utter stupidity with Victoria's assistant?"
"Yes, but I found Heath completely adorable. I couldn't believe that you didn't pursue that."
Brooke shrugged, not wanting to think about her mother scaring away yet another man that she was interested in. "Couldn't. Before I knew it Heath had been fired and replaced with some bubbly twenty year old who eats her hair. But we're not talking about me, much as you'd love to distract me with talk about my utter lack of a love life. Spill it."
Refusing was useless, Peyton realized. "Fine. Okay. His name is Lucas."
Brooke's hand shot out, pointing her index finger at Peyton, declaring, "Ah-ha! I knew it was a guy."
"Don't make a big deal of it, Brooke."
"Why not? It is a big deal. You haven't been this gonzo over a guy since… since he who will not be named." As a rule they didn't bring up Jake. Since him, Peyton hadn't had an honest to God relationship—and the mistake that had been Jake had happened forever ago, in high school.
Peyton had been happy to casually date, hooking up for random sex dates (though not many because Peyton was a serial monogamist), but that had been the extent of her relationships. No matter what Peyton did, how hard she tried, something always went wrong, prompting Peyton to bury herself in music, her work, the only relationship she needed, Brooke remembered Peyton telling her once.
Taking a sip of her wine, Peyton regretted the decision not to have a Vodka and 7 like Brooke. She could use something with a little more burn to it. Especially if she was going to have this conversation with Brooke. "It's new and… and, well, he's out of the country for a little while."
Brooke mulled over that vague little explanation for a moment. "I'm going to refrain from judgment until you give me all the details."
Peyton knew there was no getting around Brooke when she was adamant about something, especially if that something was the new man in her best friend's life. Brooke would badger her until she told all. "Fine. You remember that event we went to the last time you were in town?"
"Yeah. You had just signed that new girl to the label. You used my clothes for her album's cover art." Brooke quickly caught the drift. "You met him there," she realized, her lips tipping into a smile. "You deserted me with all those boring fops so that you could go have sex with a hot piece of mancandy? It better have been worth it."
Feeling her face flame, Peyton touched her cheeks, murmuring, "Oh, it was," Brooke following her movements tenaciously.
"So, why's there a big thing? You like him, don't you?" Before Peyton could open her mouth to say otherwise, Brooke cut her off, saying, "And don't even think about trying to deny it, Peyton Sawyer." Brooke meant business when she started using the full name.
Defeated, Peyton heaved a long sigh, hating that her best friend knew her so well. "Everyone I've been with since Jake… I never wanted anything more. I mean, I did because we all want our Cinderella story. And ultimately that's what I want—the fairytale. But the relationships didn't last. Something always went wrong."
"How was Lucas different?" Brooke asked, her curiosity getting the best of her. She wanted to know everything she could about this mysterious and magical Lucas. Because he had to be a wand wielding Harry Potter-type if he got Peyton to get past her relationship issues.
"With Lucas, it wasn't just sex. We honestly liked each other. That night when we left together, it was supposed to be just that—just sex. But I don't know… we talked. Most of it was flirtation, but later… we had real conversation. And in the morning, neither of us wanted it to end there. We're going to start dating when he comes home."
"So. Mr. Mancandy? Where is he now anyway?"
"England," Peyton answered flatly.
"You slept with an Englishman?" Brooke asked, surprised. After all, she was the one with the accent fetish. How had Peyton kept a delicious morsel that talked with a British accent to herself? And did he have a brother?
Peyton shot Brooke a disgruntled look. "Of course I didn't sleep with an Englishman. You know those accents do nothing for me. That's your thing. No, Lucas is an author. He's on his book tour. Right now he's in England, his first stop is in Brighton. At least I think that's what his itinerary said."
"Oh," Brooke gasped, taken aback. Normally Peyton was attracted to musicians or producers, those who were in the same business as she was. Authors were… well, they were just different—but a good different. They were more a hell of a lot better than freaking musicians in her book, that was for sure. "Do you know what he writes? If he's any good?"
"I went to the bookstore after I Googled him and—"
"—you Googled him?" Brooke cut in, amused that Peyton had done such a thing. She made a mental note to get this guy's name so that she could do some Googling herself, make sure that he was good enough for Peyton. Not that Peyton would weigh her opinion. Peyton had completely ignored her when she'd expressed her concern (and disdain) for Jake Jagielski. How that farce of a relationship had lasted two and a half years, she'd never know.
Peyton continued, ignoring Brooke altogether, "Anyway, once I realized that he was the same Lucas Scott—which I should have known since we were at the same party— I went to the bookstore. There was a display of his books and an announcement that he'd be ending his book tour there. I overheard this group of girls talking about how awesome he was and how they couldn't wait until his next book."
"He must be something."
"He's something alright," Peyton mumbled. She had liked Lucas—liked Lucas. He wasn't the atypical L.A. celebrity, oozing charm over a façade of self-involvement. He was charming, but his charm was genuine; he wasn't so because he wanted something from her, like those that had come before him. The feeling had been mutual and those feelings had developed into more over the past few weeks over their long phone conversations and in-depth emails. He needed to come back soon—she was starting to miss him.
"So… what now? You wait for him to get back?"
"I guess," Peyton said, not bothering to tell Brooke that it wasn't like she didn't talk to Lucas. He'd only been gone three weeks and they'd talked at least three times a day, if not more.
Brooke felt it was her duty to point out, "A lot can happen in two months, Peyton. He could meet some British babe and fall head over feet and you… you could get hit by a bus tomorrow."
"Hey!" Peyton complained, "Why do I have to be the dead one in your scenario?"
Brooke flashed her a wicked smile. "For all I know you're lying to me about Lucas being English and therefore if you die, I can have him for myself."
Peyton balled up her napkin, throwing it at Brooke. "I'm aware of just how much can happen in two months. If women can wait for their husbands to return from war for years, I can wait a few weeks for Lucas to come back from signing books."
"What a mature perspective," Brooke commented as her Blackberry went off in her purse. "Sorry, sorry," she apologized to Peyton as she fished her phone out of her purse.
Waving it off, Peyton told her, "Work doesn't stop just because you're out to lunch."
"She did it again," Brooke murmured, staring down at her Blackberry, aghast. Stuffing it back into her purse, she told Peyton as she reached for her glass, "Victoria rescheduled my flight. I need to get to the airport. Now."
Both women stood up. "Remind me again why my mother works for me? I must have been insane when I made that executive decision. There's no getting rid of her now." As they hugged, Brooke murmured in Peyton's ear, "See this is why you should've come to work for me. I wouldn't be suffering with my mother, I'd have you instead."
Leaning back, Peyton started, "Brooke—"
"I know, I know," she assured Peyton with a wave of her hand. "I like clothes, you like music. We probably would've killed one another in a month anyway."
"A week," Peyton corrected, teasing Brooke with a wink.
"Good luck with Lucas."
"And you with Victoria."
Brooke snorted. "I'll need it."
Peyton watched Brooke walk away, wondering how different her life would be if she'd taken up Brooke's offer and became her partner in Clothes Over Bros. Her life would've been decidedly different, of that she had no doubt. But it was what it was and there was no point weighing what could have been. She liked her job, her life. Besides if she'd taken the job, chances were she never would have met Lucas.
As if realizing that she was thinking about him, she received a text message from the man himself: Signing over. Raining outside. So bored. Wish you were here.
Peyton reread the message twice more, her mind awhirl, contemplating the unthinkable. She could either sit back and let her pseudo-relationship with him fall apart or she could do something to ensure its longevity.
Placing a call to her office, Peyton tapped her foot anxiously as she awaited the call to connect. Her assistant picked up on the second ring, prompt as always. "Gigi," she said, before the girl could get her greeting out, "check my schedule. I want to see if I have anything pressing in the next week or two. I think I might take a vacation."
—
Four weeks later…
Arriving in front of the bookstore, Peyton took a moment to ogle the cardboard cutout of Lucas that stood on the sidewalk, advertising the hours of his signing. Finishing off her coffee, she threw it into the trashcan, following a group of young girls into the obscure bookstore.
She made her way through rows and rows of books, eager to see Lucas, but not wanting to seem too eager. She had a right to be there as a reader (though, she didn't really do that unless MySpace pages counted) and as Lucas Scott's girlfriend (yes, she most definitely was). Still, she procrastinated, picking up random books while waiting for the line to shorten. Twenty minutes later, Peyton made her way toward the signing table that Lucas was manning.
Book in hand, Peyton approached the table where her author-boyfriend sat signing books, immersed in conversation with the woman in line before her. "My daughter loves you," the woman was telling Lucas. "Are you single?" the woman asked on her next breath. Peyton disguised her giggle with a cough, the action drawing Lucas's attention. He caught her eye, obviously pleased to see her by the broadening of his smile.
His flight out of Paris had been delayed due to a storm therefore he'd been later than scheduled. By the time his plane had landed, he'd had to go straight to the bookstore for his signing, spoiling their dinner plans. He'd sent her a text notifying her of his arrival back in L.A., so she'd left work early and come to surprise him. Plus, she just didn't trust that he'd bring her a copy of his book as promised.
"No," Lucas told the woman, handing her back the signed copy of his book, catching Peyton's eye. "I'm not single."
Deflated, the woman took her book and walked away. Peyton stepped forward, slowly, handing Lucas her book, feigning an overzealous fan. "I love your writing, Mr. Scott. It's so… Gosh, what is the word I'm looking for?" she asked, touching her chin with her finger.
"I think the word you're looking for, miss, is deep," he whispered, emphasizing the word, knowing that it was innuendo.
Peyton smiled knowingly as Lucas scribbled something in her book. She told him, "No, that is most definitely not the word I had in mind. Maybe the right one will come to me later," throwing around a little innuendo of her own. Getting serious, she asked him, "Does that happen often? Mothers trying to hook you up with their daughters?"
"More often than you would think," he said, closing the book, handing it to her. "The majority of the time, it's the single girls hitting on me, casually slipping in their number so that I see it when I open the book to sign."
"That sounds completely awful," she remarked, jealousy gripping her with its claws. She didn't want to think about girls approaching him at book signings, low-cut shirts, heaving bosom, insistent on bedding the successful and intelligent Lucas Scott. Her Lucas Scott. The second that little overture entered her brain she squashed with the three inch heel of her boot. "How do you bear it?"
Lucas shrugged, leaning forward to whisper, "It's kind of a turn on when a beautiful woman hits on me." He touched her hand softly, briefly. After all, it was how they'd met. Although there'd been some confusion as to who did the actual picking up, he insisted it was her.
"Are you almost finished here?" Peyton asked, ready to have him to herself. Tonight was his first back in the States and she intended to make it worth his while—hers too.
Lucas inspected his watch. "I'll probably be a half-hour more. An hour, tops. I'll pick up dinner and meet you at your place."
As she walked away, Peyton opened her book to read what Lucas had wrote. She stopped, making sure that she wasn't smiling when she turned to look back at him. He was watching her intently, apparently waiting on her reaction. "You gave me your number."
"Yes," he answered simply. "I also gave you leave to call me. Don't forget that."
"Thank you." She tucked the book under her arm. "I should give this to one of your adoring fans."
"What, you don't adore me?"
Peyton glowered menacingly, then spun on her heel and began making her way toward the checkout counter.
Once outside with her book tucked away in a brown bag, she pulled out her phone, dialing Luke's number, making use of the number he'd so generously given her. Again. He picked up on the fourth ring. "Lucas? Hey. It's Peyton."
"Peyton. Peyton," he repeated. "I don't think I know a Peyton. Oh. Wait! Are you the girl that just hit on me in the bookstore?"
"Ugh and to think I actually liked you. I'm totally throwing this book in the trashcan, but tearing out your number and selling it to some gossip rags. Within a few days all those single girls that you brushed off will be calling you up, waxing poetic about your eyes and your arms and your—"
Lucas warned, "Finish that sentence and you'll be sorry."
"Promises, promises." Peyton just laughed and shut her phone.
—
It was over an hour later when Lucas finally arrived at Peyton's studio. He had barely made it across the threshold before Peyton threw herself at him, smothering him with kisses, yanking at his belt with an intensity that both surprised and aroused him. The Chinese food that he'd picked up from the little restaurant that he liked, fell to the floor, forgotten in favor of more pleasurable pursuits.
"You said something about making me sorry?" Peyton reminded him, sliding her hands into his boxers, enclosing him in her warm, tight fist.
Spinning her around, Lucas pushed Peyton against the door, albeit a little harder than he'd intended. Her head scraped against the wood. "Sorry."
Peyton didn't mind. "I like being manhandled," she told him, pulling his earlobe between her teeth.
"God, I've needed to get my hands on you for weeks." A little roughly, Lucas grabbed her legs, hoisting her up; Peyton's legs scissored around his waist, her ankles locking behind his back. Lucas slid his hands up her thighs, slipping beneath the flowy fabric of her skirt—holy hell. She wasn't wearing panties. "Well. Is this a new thing?" he asked, touching her, barely, with a fingertip. "Something you picked up in Europe?"
"I knew you were coming. I wanted to be ready. But I figured it'd be kind of slutty to answer the door naked."
"Not slutty. Preferable," he corrected, pushing a finger inside her, finding her delightfully wet and ready for him. With his pants already partially undone, it was easy to get them out of the way so that he could plunge into her, Peyton digging her nails into his forearms at his hard thrust.
She met his every drive with an anticipatory tilt of her hips that had him hitting an angle that made Peyton purr every time their bodies met. Reaching between them, he quickly found her clit with his finger, touching deftly, softly, until she was pushing down on his hand, moaning, "Harder, Luke." He was happy to oblige her, fingering her with an added pressure, satisfied when she contracted around him, her scream of rapture swallowed by his mouth as he followed with a climax his own.
They remained where they were as they tried to recapture their breathing. Lucas pushed Peyton's hair out of her face, a few of which were plastered to her flushed cheeks. "I think our food's cold," he said, staring down at the overturned bag at their feet.
"I have a microwave. I think it works," Peyton added as an afterthought.
Lucas nodded, uncompelled to disengage his body from hers. He like the feel of her warm body beneath his hands, the constant beat of her heart thumping under his palm. This was the real beginning, a test to see if they could maintain a relationship, prove that it wasn't just about sex. Though, that was definitely a perk. The growling of Peyton's stomach, jolted his mind from the dangerous place it was venturing. "Hungry?" he asked, amused.
"Starving actually." She winced. "And I have a cramp in my leg. Owowow."
Lucas pulled out of her, and slowly set her down on her feet. Tucking himself back into his pants, he watched Peyton smooth down her skirt, scoop their dinner off the floor and carry it to the kitchen. He pulled off his tie, his belt, draping both over the sofa. He started unbuttoning his shirt when Peyton stunned him silent, proposing, "You should stay here. You know, instead of your hotel. I mean, it's just more convenient."
"Convenient?"
Peyton laughed that off. "That's not… what I mean. I mean, I want you here. I don't want you to have to leave." She sighed, realizing that she was trying to say something very simply and was mucking it up with her nervous rambling. "I want you to stay."
Lucas circled the counter, kissed her cheek, and whispered, "Then, I'll stay."
—
Later that night, Lucas held Peyton in his arms, reveling in the silence, of being with her again. It had been ridiculous to propose starting a relationship when he was going on tour, but he didn't want to think about losing her, letting something special slip away due to prior commitments. They'd made a real, honest effort to make a relationship work with phone calls and emails and dirty texts.
Then, after four weeks, she surprised him in Florence, appearing at his hotel with a small carry-on and a smile, explaining, "I've never been to Italy. I thought now would be a good time to visit."
She'd stayed with him for five days, tagging along with him from Florence to his last stop in Italy—Venice—before she'd been called back to work earlier than scheduled. He'd been sad to see her go, but they'd stayed in touch and those five days together had helped solidify their relationship.
"I missed you, you know," Peyton murmured, tracing circles on his chest with a fingernail. She didn't want to be saying these things, feeling these things, but in the past she'd made a habit of running from her feelings. She wasn't going to do that anymore. Lucas had come to mean too much to her for her to let her stupid insecurities to muck it all up. Lucas turned his head to face her. "That's crazy, right?"
"No, not crazy," he whispered, touching her cheek. "I missed you, too, Peyton. I tried to focus on my signings, on the work that had to be done, but my mind always turned to you. I wondered where you were, what you were doing, who you were with… if you were thinking about me, too."
She made a sound of distress. "It's all happening so fast, Lucas."
A moment of panic rendered him silent as the heavy weight of Peyton's words settled over him. They'd been moving at an accelerated rate since the moment they'd met. He hadn't stop to think about her feelings, thinking that she was as caught up in their romance as he was. Evidently, fear and doubt was beginning to plague Peyton. "Do you want to slow things down? Because we can do that."
"No!" she exclaimed vehemently. Hearing the shrill sound of her voice, she gentled her tone. "No. This is all new for me. I'm not used to feeling so much, so strongly, so fast. It's leaving me a little..." She didn't finish the sentence; there was a laundry list of adjectives for what she was left feeling.
"So we'll slow things down," Lucas said, unflinchingly. "I have no problem with that."
"You don't?" Peyton asked, surprised.
"I'm not completely heartless, you know." He would do whatever she asked him, as long as it didn't involve her kicking him out of her life. Because that he just would not settle for. He liked her, she liked him, it would be stupid for them to not explore their relationship further, see where it led. If it led them apart, then so be it, but they at least had to try.
She leaned over, distributing kisses to his cheeks, one to the other, then down his neck. "You're almost perfect, Lucas." Peyton slipped out of the bed, picking up the shirt that he had discarded earlier, pulling it over her head.
"Almost perfect?" he questioned, eyebrow quirked.
She told him as she crossed the room to the bathroom, "Well, the perfect man would be a dud. You know, a rule follower, completely unadventurous in bed, all work and no play. So not the man for me." She winked at him before she disappeared into the bathroom.
Lucas had just laid back on the pillows, ready to welcome sleep, when he heard his phone ringing. He fumbled around the floor for his pants, fishing his phone out of his pocket. He looked down at the display, frowning. Something had to have happened for his mother to be calling him at this hour. "Hello?" he answered, schooling himself for bad news.
"Lucas, it's Mom," came his mother's voice across the line, distracted, distant; she sounded as if she'd been crying.
"What's going on?" he asked, concerned.
"Your dad… he… he's had another heart attack, Lucas."
He barely registered Peyton coming out of the bathroom, the bed dipping, signaling her return. He thought of his dad's last heart attack, how paralyzing the thought was of losing his father. They hadn't always been close, but he'd turned his life around, made up from some bad choices. Now Lucas couldn't imagine his life without his father. "How is he? What do the doctors say?"
"They're not telling me much. Dr. Blanchard is already talking surgery…" She started sobbing anew, making him wish that he was there to comfort and console her.
He managed to calm her down, but not before she said his name—just his name, but with a question mark poised behind it, like people were wont to do. Lucas knew what was coming. She was going to ask him to go home and fill in for his dad while he was laid up in the hospital. Like the last time.
Lucas had had to take a semester off of college the last time his dad's heart had failed. He'd had to step in at the car dealership while Nathan continued to attend classes, play basketball, following his dream to play for the NBA. At the time, Lucas had begrudged his brother the opportunity, hating being forced to step in because he was the oldest, because his dreams weren't as important as Nathan's, because his HCM prevented him from seeking a professional basketball career.
"Mom—" he started to object, glancing coyly at Peyton over his shoulder.
"Your dad was so proud of the job you did the last time. Please, Lucas."
He sighed, hating being guilted into doing something, especially when it was for his family—he was obligated. "Fine. I'll be there in a day or two." He snapped his phone shut, pushing it onto the nightstand. He dropped his head into his hands, dreading what he was going to have to do, that he was the one whose lap responsibility fell into.
"What's going on?" Peyton scooted behind him, kissing his back, wrapping her arms around his middle.
"My dad's in the hospital."
"Is he okay?" she asked automatically. Lucas hadn't spoken much about his family and what he had said she hadn't been able to discern much.
Lucas shook his head. "No." He felt Peyton drop her head onto his back, her even breathing tickling his skin.
"So you have to leave?"
Lucas didn't have to leave, but family obligation was forcing him to, much to his utter annoyance. "I don't want to leave, believe me. Since my Dad is laid up in the hospital, his car dealership is in need of someone to step in. He doesn't trust any of his employees so it's left to me to look over things there for a few weeks while he recovers. God forbid they summon the golden child from the pros." Lucas nudged her back, stretching out beside her on the bed. "Peyton, we don't have to discuss this now."
"It's okay. I want to." She placated him with a smile. "How long will you be gone?"
Lucas took a deep breath. As if their relationship wasn't complicated and fragile enough. "Don't know. A few weeks, maybe. At most, a few months."
She nodded her head, taking it all in. She didn't want to see him leave again, but what choice did either of them have? His dad was sick and he was a good son. God, he was making it so easy for her to fall for him. She kind of hated him for it. "We got through the last two months, didn't we? We'll make it through this."
They both heard the catch in her voice, recognized the note of pessimism that accompanied it. Yet, neither of them broached the subject further, intent to pretend that things weren't about to change. At least not until the morning.
—
Peyton was on her way to the studio when her doorbell rang, vibrating through her loft. She groaned, having to stop in her quest to locate her keys. Dropping her purse on the sofa, she moved toward the door as it flew open and Lucas exploded into the room. "What are you doing here?" she gasped at the same time he blurted, "You should come with me."
"What? Where?" she asked in a flurry of words. He was supposed to be on a flight home right now. What the hell was he doing? She had made peace with the fact that he was leaving again, that their relationship was going to hinge on technology was once again, that she was going to have a more intimate relationship with her vibrator than him.
"You've told me before that you can work anywhere as long as you have your cell and your laptop. Come with me… back home."
Home for Lucas was some backwater town in one of the Carolinas. Tree… something. A world away. There could only be one reason why he wanted her to accompany him home. Peyton moved from the door, giving Lucas her back. "You want me to meet your family?"
"That's not the only reason." She heard the door shut, his footsteps approaching. "I got the feeling the other night that you were pulling away, that you were giving up. And I just feel that if I leave for God knows how long that I'll lose you, that we'll lose this." He took hold of her arms, turning her around, pulling her closer. "You made do while you were Italy," he reminded her.
His offer was tempting and she could work from anywhere, if need be. Besides, if his dad's condition somehow worsened she'd want to be there with him, for him. "What if your mom doesn't like me?"
Lucas rolled his eyes. "How could she not? It's inconceivable."
Peyton wasn't swayed by that in the least. "Cute. But it's a possibility."
"Of course. But if either of my parents is going to hate you, it's going to be my dad." Lucas gathered her close, wrapping his arms around her. "So, you'll come with me?"
She acquiesced with a nod of her head. "I'll have to stop by my office, pick up a few things, make a few arrangements."
"Okay. I'll reschedule the flight for late this afternoon." Lucas dug his cell phone out of his pocket and as he was dialing the airline, he looked over at Peyton. She was pulling a suitcase out of her closet, her ponytail swinging behind her head with her every move.
His mother would absolutely adore her, of that he had no doubt. His dad was usually neutral, one way or the other, usually liking the girlfriends that his mother did. No, his parents weren't a problem.
It was his brother he had to worry about.