Author's Note: Brand new story. Not sure where it came from and it's been so long since I posted here, but it wouldn't leave me and so... here it is. Completely AU, based on college, with some recognisable changes to the character's personalities just for fun. All original characters used in this fic belong to One Tree Hill creator Mark Schwahn. I hope you enjoy :)
- Chrissy
Chapter One: The Introduction
This wasn't exactly how I pictured my first year in college. Not by a long shot. But then again, sometimes the best things happen when you least expect them to, right?
And sometimes, the most inane, argumentative, and egocentric people come into your life because apparently the world tilted on its axis that fateful summer after graduating high school and I, Brooke Davis, was earmarked for a year of excruciating annoyance at the hand of the most self-absorbed, annoying creature to even grace the halls of North Carolina State University.
Okay, that last comment might have been a slight exaggeration on my part. But it would have been a damn close assessment of the last 365 days. And like all stories, the beginning was aggravatingly subtle and not an obvious prelude for what was to come.
Eight months earlier…
The day had finally arrived. As I dropped my bag onto the tiny oak desk of the lecture theatre and began pulling out my notebook, the crisp whiteness of its untouched pages calling to my heart like the most beautiful of melodies, I could already tell that college was exactly where I needed to be. The murmur that echoed around the hall as people greeted one-another and began to take their places felt like a warm blanket shielding me from the coldness of the world. The normality of it all – friends smiling as they greeted one-another, people gesturing to see if spots were free, a professor darting in with a caramel-coloured satchel clinging to his body as he held it there with a folded left arm, a slightly disheveled appearance and a coffee dangling precariously in his hand as he tried to make his way past the students who barely registered his arrival – bliss!
I smiled as I took the sight in, feeling every bit as relaxed and positive as I had hoped I would feel the day I left home. And the best part? The feeling that no one was scurrying to sit beside me or falling over themselves to try and butter me up with morning lattes and platitudes that felt hollow and contrived. That fake kindness had plagued me every day in high school and had caused an ever-growing distrust for everyone and everything, somehow seeping into my very being and becoming a part of my core. No, sitting alone in this echoing wooden classroom, complete with a squeaking whiteboard marker drawling out the professor's name across the board was like heaven itself - a place of quiet solitude and normalcy where I could start fresh and become some anonymous student who was just as average as every other person within the room. It was a soothing reprieve to know that here I was - nothing special or remarkable - just an unknown fellow student with nothing particularly alluring or interesting. Normal. Certainly not the younger half-sister of the most celebrated point guard the state of North Carolina had ever seen. And that was the greatest gift Clay could have ever given me when I announced I managed to get into NC State and would be on the same campus as my legendary brother the following year.
"Brooklyn," he had roared, scooping me up into a tight embrace and holding me close. "The pack is back together again." Dropping me onto the ground, his eyes were wild with possibilities, and I could tell he was already deciding all the ways in which he would integrate me into his thrilling campus life. "I should bring you with me this Friday to a party at my dorm- "
"-No," a single hand in the air stopped him in his tracks. Tilting his head to the side he raised a solitary eyebrow; a signature move that had become synonymous with Clay and getting what he wanted with anyone… except his half-sibling. "I want to do this on my own, Clay. I can't deal with another year of keeping up with you."
His shoulders had dropped slightly but he knew what I had meant. And it wasn't as if he had ever intended for my life to turn out the way it did. He never planned for his talent to impact me the way that it did, and I would never begrudge him for it. As a brother, he really was the best possible one to get. Always protective, always happy, always there. He just happened to be ridiculously handsome, talented, and charming to boot. With his sandy hair, chiseled features, and a beaming smile that seemed to light up the corners of his eyes as he glanced at you, he was one of those annoyingly perfect humans that every girl wanted to be with, and every guy wanted to be friends with. Few had even picked up on the fact that we shared the same father as I had somehow managed to absorb my mother's chocolate locks and emerald orbs. That anonymity was a safe haven in the beginning and I relished it, until one fateful Tuesday afternoon he had wrapped an arm around my shoulders and asked me to take some books 'home' for him because he had practice. Clay Evans suddenly had a sibling with a different surname and that just meant there was another avenue in which to access him. First came the whispers from the girls, then came the nods of respect and acknowledgement in the hallway from the boys, and then came the sudden influx of friend requests on Facebook.
It was torture.
For as much I loved my playful big brother and his charming, witty ways – I did not love the celebrity that came with him. I did not love the adoring fans that seemed to sense when he entered a room like he was a magnet that attracted everything to his core. Nor did I love the girls who wanted him so badly they believed that being my best friend would provide them the opportunity to get just that bit closer to him, leaving behind them a trail of broken friendships and a lack of trust that seemed to be absorbed more deeply by me each time. Finally, I certainly did not love the never-ending onslaught of hopeful males who wanted to be just that tiny bit closer to the legend that was Clay Evans simply by dating his sister. High School had taught me that being in the shadow of Clay was too much for my tiny shoulders to bare, and escaping that shadow was a necessity for my own sanity.
No matter how much I loved him. No matter if he happened to be my absolute most favourite human on the planet.
"Please," I whispered, my voice dropping low as our parents entered the room, more specially, our father and my mother. "I need this. I really need this."
"Brooke who?" he smiled back at me, grabbing an apple from the side table, and turning on his heel to help my mother with the grocery bags that dangled from her delicate hands. My brother was many amazing things, but his ability to completely understand me was probably his best trait and he has just given me the best graduation gift in the history of graduation gifts.
Anonymity.
And so, I sat in my first class on my little lonesome, a small smile etching at the corner of my lips as I pulled a pen from a case, plopped my bag on the chair to my right, and wrote the date at the top of my page. I almost zoned out in my happiness, relaxing into my chair as people shuffled into their seats and the murmuring died down. It was only the briefest of seconds before my senses brought me crashing back to reality and I noticed two very distinct things.
Firstly – the murmuring hadn't died down at all. In fact, it came to a complete stop as whispers filled the air. Hushed undertones of wonder and awe as footsteps echoed alongside the whispers.
Secondly, I knew that sound – I had become so acutely accustomed to it whenever I walked alongside my brother. It was the sound of admiration. Dread instantly filled me as I glanced up from flaxen lashes, all eyes on the five boys who entered the room.
They all looked like they had just walked right off a catwalk and into our Introduction to American Literature seminar, protruding muscles in all the right places and held neatly together by the cotton shirts and jeans that embraced their bodies.
They were ridiculously handsome. Every single one of them.
One was tall with broad shoulders and raven locks that set off the most chocolate eyes I had ever seen. A side smirk that would undoubtedly have every single girl in the room drop their panties and pledge their allegiance within seconds broke from his lips and I could swear I heard a collective sigh from the girls sitting in front of me as he did so. You could tell just by looking at him that he was ripped beneath his shirt, thick fingers reaching out and connecting in a handshake with some members in the front row as he led the others to their seats. Behind him came two more, one just as tall and just as broad, yet his bronzed skin was in stark contrast to the rest of the group and his broad smile displayed perfectly white teeth that could easily have been successfully used in an advertisement for Invisalign. The second was slightly shorter with thicker hair that covered his forehead and eyes that radiated a kindness and softness that set him apart from the first two boys. Finally, pulling up the rear came the brother of the first, and an excited hum filled the room from every single female within it, and some males if I were completely honest with myself. Tall, lean, and ripped, he was the only one to be wearing a sweatshirt, a gentle wrist flicking the hoody off from his head and revealing the spiky, golden mane that lived beneath. He smiled and revealed the kind of cheekbones that invaded your thoughts when you were having alone time in the bath, and as cliched as it was, the boy was model material and a sporting superstar to boot. If you didn't know who he was, you were living under a rock. Or you didn't have a popular brother who told you all the wild, social antics that came with the first year of college.
I knew who he was as soon as I laid eyes on him.
Lucas fucking Scott.
Lucas was the biggest recruit to come to North Carolina, second perhaps only to my brother Clay (although I might have been biased in that regard). I had heard endless stories of him and his brother Nathan over the course of the summer break, each tale a reminder of why it was a necessity to be as completely incognito as I could be. I had been careful to dress down and hide whenever I went to one of my brother's games the previous year and he always graciously did not invite me to any after parties when the team had celebrated their win. I had been quizzed so much that I had become a walking encyclopaedia of game and player stats whether I wanted to be or not. But I hadn't minded because that was Clay's world, and it was important to him. And as he was important to me, I didn't mind hearing about that world – I just didn't want to be a part of it.
And yet here this world was, entering my English class of all places. Why the hell were these guys taking an English class anyway? Did athletes have to do that?
"Guys," a hand in front of me shot up from one of the girls in front of me, breaking my trail of thought. "Over here."
Damn it.
Nathan, the first in line, lifted his head in acknowledgement at the sound of her voice and began to traverse the stairs en-route to where the invitation had come from. Three girls sat in front of me, two quickly shoving their bags to the side as they waited for their friends. One was dressed in skinny jeans and a black sweater which plunged down to reveal her enviable figure. Her auburn hair was long and fell dead straight against her back. If she had told me she was once asked to participate in a Pantene commercial, I wouldn't have questioned it. The second girl was a clear-cut sorority-bound barbie. I knew I was stereotyping but it was as clear as day and everyone would have made the same assumption. Blonde locks cascaded over her thin shoulders and a giggle escaped her lips every few minutes. She was dressed almost identically to her redhead friend, tight jeans, and a figure-hugging pink sweater. Yes, pink. See? A total sorority barbie. The third girl was less obvious in her attempt to stand out, but she did, nonetheless. Straight, golden tresses feathered and encircled her face with a side-swept fringe dangling above her brow. She carried an edgier look than her friends, with a Ramones midriff that revealed an enviable flattened stomach, and a brown leather jacket fitted her tiny frame. All three were beautiful and it came as little surprise to me that they knew the most popular guys on campus.
I snuggled deeper into my seat and forced my eyes to focus on my paper as they approached, willing myself to become a wallflower and not draw attention. I was hoping to be ignored, but I knew what I looked like. Slim body, chocolate locks and emerald orbs that my brother liked to call piercing. I was an average height, but my legs were long, and I had somehow managed to maintain a bust that most girls envied when they saw me. I had my mother to thank for that. I had honestly thought that when my brother left high school and went to college, the allure of dating me would dissipate and I could have endured my senior year with little to no incident. Yet somehow the departure of my brother only amplified the boys' reactions to me as they remembered how I looked without the shadow of my brother to forbid their interaction, and this newfound desire meant I was hit on so much that I could have had a new date every week and the girls really started to hate me. By the time I had finished the year, I didn't have a single girlfriend to my name. I became accustomed to being alone and that was fine by me.
The less I had to deal with, the better. I could do anything I set my mind to, and I didn't need another jealous girl getting in the way of that.
"Seriously?" the redhead exclaimed, breaking me from my trip down memory lane and bringing me speeding back to the present. "All four of you in one class and the coach is okay with it?"
"Rachel, can you not count or should we have asked someone else to assign seats- "
"Shut it, Taggaro," the redhead shot back, nudging her edgy blonde friend in the shoulder as if searching for some form of support. "I could have grabbed more seats if I had known it would be the four of you. Jake only told me it was him and Luke."
"I knew about Jake," her friend replied with a smile, moving her own bag so that he could take a seat next to her. "I don't keep track of everyone else the way you do, Rach."
I kept my head down but I could feel a small smile pushing its way to my lips. She was ballsy and I kind of liked her a smidge. Just a smidge.
"Hey," Nathan exclaimed, holding his hands in the air, and lifting his shoulders in a shrug. "Where he goes, I go."
I couldn't help but look up at those words. I almost immediately wished I hadn't.
I was instantly hit with Lucas Scott's baby blues and gritted my teeth as he stood to the side, gazing down at me. Sensing my disdain, his top lip curled up as if he were trying to stop a laugh from escaping them, and he raised an eyebrow in amusement. I was suddenly wholly aware of the spare seats to either side of me and that there were people openly watching to see what he was going to do. Then as quickly as they were watching him, they were following his gaze and suddenly watching me, my anonymity dissolving in that moment as the people closest to us stopped speaking. I knew he was observing me to see what I would do, and against my better judgement, I silently moved my bag from the chair to my right, dropping it to the floor with a thud. Lucas glided over the row where his friends were seated in front of us and took position in the chair my bag had vacated with a calm stealth, his brother watching on in amusement and taking the position beside him as the boy they called Taggaro fell in line beside him.
I sucked in a breath as his scent invaded my nostrils and filled my senses and I tried to calm the swirling anger inside of me at being placed in this position on day one of my new life of supposed normalcy. I didn't know him, and I knew my reaction was too strong to be normal, but in that moment though, I hated him. I knew it was irrational. Lucas had done nothing to me. He had never promised to take me to prom and then tried to force himself on me in the limo ride home. He had never organised to take me on a date and then decided to 'stay in' when he realised my brother was home from college for the holidays. He had never told me he loved me and then proceeded to sleep with my best friend once he realised she would put out faster than I ever would. No, he had done none of those things, and yet I still wanted to be as far away from him as possible. The cockiness oozed from him, and I loathed him for it. It was unfair, but it was what it was.
I hated jocks. Hated them.
It was an irrational, unfair, and completely absurd hate. But it was still enough to make me take a mental note to sit in the front row next class so as to avoid Lucas in the future. As if sensing my discomfort and inner turmoil, a small chuckle escaped his lips, and I heard his soft, low laughter. He was getting off on my reaction.
Jerk.
"Okay, settle, settle…" the professor announced, drawing my eyes to the front of the class once more. If I just focused there, I could mostly try to ignore the presence beside me and just focus on surviving this one class, then I'd never have to deal with him again. The thought calmed me, somewhat.
"First rule of my class is to acknowledge that which we do in the here and now can impact that which we haven't' done yet. The decisions we make today can affect the rest of our lives, and as such, this is your introduction to the way I run this class. Take a good look at the people around you as these are your permanent seating arrangements for Introduction to American Literature and we're starting off with a group project. Say hello to your fellow literary comrades!"
I couldn't stop the sudden groan that left my lips anymore than Lucas could stop the grin that permeated his. Voices filled the room as people turned to make their introductions and I could hear the turn of his body as he shifted in his seat and closed my eyes as his voice invaded my thoughts.
"I'm Lucas Scott." I looked up to see him smiling at me, a hand outreached and waiting. "And you are?"
"Brooke," I sighed, taking his hand in my own and giving it a quick shake. The urgency to retract it was obvious, and his smile grew even wider as my uneasiness increased. "Brooke Davis."
"Well, Brooke Davis," he cooed, leaning against his desk, and forcing himself into my view. "It's very nice to meet you."
"Is it just?" I fired back, the heads in front of us turning in surprise at the sharpness in my tone as I looked at him. Confusion filled the redhead's eyes, and the blonde raised her eyebrows in a look of surprise that quickly melted into approval. She sat back and titled her head to the side, waiting to see what the inevitable reply would be. This was clearly not the usual reaction Lucas garnered from those who came into contact with him, and she was enjoying the sight of it.
I knew I liked her a smidge. Just a smidge.
I knew I sounded like a bitch but when I turned to face him head on, I felt the shock wave of his gaze upon me. My god, he was gorgeous, and his eyes were trained directly on me. They didn't falter, all his concentration firmly upon me and causing my heart to beat at a slightly quicker pace.
"I'd like to think so." He smiled and leaned forward ever so slightly, his voice dropping so that only I could hear it. "Are you always this feisty when meeting new people?"
"Can we just choose already?"
Sliding backwards in one lithe movement, Lucas fell back into his seat and brought his right hand to his lip. His brother's question lingered in the air until the blonde turned around and shot him a pointed look.
"Sure Nate, we can choose. I choose to work with Jake, Luke, and Brooke… that's your name, right?"
I nodded my head slowly and she smiled at me. "I'm Peyton. This is Jake." She pointed to the boy sitting beside her, the one with the kind eyes and he gave a slight smile and wave as he looked at me. She followed with a round of introductions that allowed me to put names to faces. Pantene model was Rachel Gattina, sorority barbie was Bevin Mirsky, Invisalign baller was Felix Taggaro, and of course the raven-haired Adonis was Nathan Scott.
"So that leaves me, Bev, Taggaro and Nate in a group?" Rachel exclaimed, pondering the thought. "I'm not sure these groups are what I- "
"These groups work," Lucas cut in, his eyes never leaving my face and I could feel them burning into me despite my wish to not react to him at all. "Peyt and Jake can switch seats with Nate and Felix, right Nate?"
Nate smirked and chuckled himself, the sound deeper than that of his brother but nonetheless equally as annoying. He clapped his brother on the back and rose to his feet, Felix following closely behind. "Sure, bro. Whatever you say."
Peyton and Jake were up and moving too, and soon the teams were sitting exactly where Lucas wanted them to. Or was it where Peyton had wanted them to? Who knew at this stage? All I knew was that the way I had envisioned my first day of classes was slowly but surely evaporating into the thin air that floated between myself and the boy beside me. As if on cue, he leaned into his chair and took a pen in hand, his leg brushing up against mine as he turned to Peyton. "Ready when you are, Sawyer."
He left his leg against mine. I wanted to stab it with my pen.
"Okay, so let's decide on who we want to focus on for our author study," Peyton began, pulling a piece of paper out of the class package and reading down the list of names. "I really hope one of you has an interest in one of these guys… Poe, Melville, Hawthorne, Dickinson, Wharton, Fitzgerald, Ellison, Morrison…"
Fitzgerald. His name filled my heart with warmth. On the many nights I hid myself away from the world, it was his short stories that kept me going. I could have easily done an assignment on him and loved every minute of it. Alas, considering my present company I realised it would probably be best to suggest something a little less Jazzy and little more cloaked in notoriety. Poe, perhaps?
"Fitzgerald."
My assumption was enveloped by my obvious surprise. Lucas wrote the name on the paper as he said it, taking note of the look on my face as he did so. It was as if my shock supercharged his ego and he winked in my direction.
"You know Fitzgerald?"
The question was out before I could stop myself and my surprise was more than obvious. Peyton smiled as did Jake, and I suddenly felt like an outsider unaware of an inside joke. Lucas straightened in his chair and grinned, sending a strange feeling right to the pit of my stomach.
"I know Fitzgerald, Davis. Does that surprise you?"
"Yes." Again, with the speaking before the thinking. I had never been like this before and yet somehow this boy had managed to make me react this way twice in one day.
The professor announced, "Okay, once you have picked your authors exchanged numbers or emails or socials or whatever it is your kids do these days to keep in contact with one-another so that each group member is accessible to one-another. This is the group you will be completing your major project with which will include presentation at the end of the semester. No swapsies!" He held his hands in the air and wriggled his fingers in what one could only described as jazz hands. "It's worth fifty percent of your grade."
The end of the semester. We had to work together until the end of the semester. I groaned again at the thought of it.
"Here," Peyton's voice cut through my thoughts as she handed her phone to me. "Give me your digits." Beside her Jake rose to his feet, grabbing her bag as well as his own and sending a nod my way in lieu of a goodbye. I quickly dialed my number in and handed her phone back as she smiled. "See you around, yeah?"
I nodded without a word as she took off with Jake and fell in line behind the others. I was suddenly aware that it was just Lucas and I now, and I felt my heart quicken. I avoided his gaze and began to pack up my things, Lucas reaching down and grabbing his bag before rising to his feet. As he slid a solitary strap over his shoulder, he gazed down at me and smiled, that signature smirk once again sprawled across his lips and causing me to inhale quickly. My reaction was not lost on him.
"This is going to be fun," he smiled and stepped away nodding to himself as if confirming his statement. "See you soon, Brooke Davis."
I suddenly had the feeling that my college experience was about to go down in flames.