Lucas and I continued whatever you could call what was going on. Every night like clockwork, he came to my house at a late hour. I had started leaving my door unlocked for him to be able to walk in easily.
He would come and we would both sleep. We never spoke, it was our way of shielding ourselves from catching feelings I guess. I still didn't know why he cared so much, that he hadn't missed a single night. Did he not miss his life?
He would hold me, rub my arms and back or play with my soft brunette locks. I would trace the scars on his face and chest. My lord, he had so many. He always seemed to turn up with fresh bruises. I would hear him hiss sometimes if I traced too close to a new scar on his body.
We never spoke about how he got them, but he was an athletic guy and he played a contact sport! Varsity basketball was not courteous and cordial. The boys trained intensely and played with even more passion and fervour.
Every morning he would wake me up for school; we would get dressed and sit to eat breakfast together. He used to sometimes show up to the house with bags of groceries, so now I had a fully stocked kitchen.
I would eat whatever he would serve, sometimes it was toast, sometimes cereal or some fruits. He made waffles and pancakes on the weekends when we had more time. The whole school knew that I was a strict vegetarian. Brooke Davis was an animal lover, alright. So he mended his ways, eating what I could eat.
We always ate in silence, breakfast was always quick and hurried considering the fact that we both always chose to get out of bed at the last possible moment.
We would say goodbye before I would drive my car straight to school and he would drive to Haley's to pick her up before getting there.
We would steal glances at each other in class or in the hallways and sometimes if we felt like being bold, in the gym. Our eyes would meet and I would find myself smiling like an idiot. My brain would start sending me warning signals to control my emotions and I would quickly look away. I did not know whether my body was craving him or my brain or my heart but either way, I was afraid that somehow things would get messed up.
I don't think he could give me an honest answer either about what we were doing, where were we headed, or what did we want. It was bizarre and yet I had never slept better or felt better in my whole life.
It gave my heart peace knowing that I would not have to be a pseudo prostitute that night and that I was just going to be offered authentic comfort and sleep. I did not miss the sex or any of it. I had often shamefully called myself every horrid thing I could say for myself. I hated what I had become and how I was living my life. I hated having no control over any of it at all. I hated the dependency. Yet, I hated what I was without it even more because I had absolutely nothing.
Lucas offered me respite. I felt guilty so I never said anything and if I was being honest, I never expected him to show. It surprised me every single night when I would hear his steady footsteps on the hardwood floors.
I was convinced every single night that that would be the night he would realise he deserves better, deserves more and not turn up. And still, he always showed. I was sure that the lack of communication would get him on edge, and yet it hadn't. Whatever was going on in his head was a complete mystery to me. A Pandora's box I did not know whether to open or not.
We did have one conversation though. I had suddenly stirred in my sleep and my arms had fallen flat on the mattress instead of finding his chest. I shot out of bed frightfully. I saw a sliver of light come from the balcony. He had turned on the porch light and was outside.
I got out of bed, the cold air biting my skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps. I was just in a tank top and panties, the outfit I usually wore to bed. Grabbing the duvet with me, I slowly made my way to the balcony doors.
He was sitting on the cane swing that was placed in a corner there, just looking towards the pool, brooding.
"What's wrong, Broody?" I found myself asking without letting my brain analyse whether or not it was the right thing to do.
He snapped out of his thoughts and the sudden intrusion and smiled as he saw me.
"How are you not cold?" I asked him as I saw that he was only clad in his boxers.
I walked up to him and sat on his lap. With his help, I managed to wrap the duvet around both of us.
"Thanks, Pretty Girl," he said to me as he felt the warmth of the soft comforter.
"Hmm, pretty girl. Nobody has called me that before. Sexy girl, yes, pretty… no," I mumbled, sinking into his chest to get cosier.
"It suits you, Pretty Girl," he replied.
"Broody and Pretty Girl! If I didn't know any better, I would say we have reached the nickname phase which can only mean two things. We are best friends forever or we are dating and going steady," I laughed. I'm pretty sure I was in a sleep-induced trance and hence had no filter.
Lucas just chuckled as he started playing with my hair which immediately got my eyelids heavy. This was a trick we both had recently learnt about my body. Several nights, despite Lucas being here, my anxiety and fears were so poignant that I was convinced he would leave. Or I feared that I would wake up in the middle of the night to find him gone without a trace. My forehead was creased and sweaty as I just lay in bed, staring at the ceiling taking short breaths. Lucas made it a point to fall asleep only after he was certain I had. I tried to trick him into thinking I was asleep several times, but he was yet to fall for my pretence. I tried a bunch of things and one worked like magic. As soon as he would play with my hair, tug it and rub his fingers through my scalp, tracing his nails across, my eyelids would grow heavy and I would be out like a light in minutes. He liked to know my weakness and did it all the time now. I, however, didnt mind.
"What were you doing here anyway?" I asked, tilting my head to look at his face.
"I don't know. I just woke up thirsty, so I had a glass of water and then I just felt my feet taking me here. I often just come out and watch at night. It feels like I am the only one alive as the rest of the world sleeps. It makes me not feel like it is me against the world anymore. Tree Hill feels more beautiful this way and I get to take it all in," he said not looking at me even though my eyes were glued to his.
I nodded my head in response.
"Also, I was just thinking about my mom. I spoke to her today afternoon. It's just, uh, intense," he confessed.
"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked him earnestly, pulling my torso up on his lap.
"No, not today. Today she is fine and doing well. I am today. Today, the sky doesn't weep. It just blows as it keeps moving on," he said, pulling me back down to be comfortable on his chest.
"You should consider being a writer if basketball doesn't work out," I suggested.
"I do love literature. It's like we all have these big feelings that every single one of us is trying so desperately to hide. And then one writer decided to put his thoughts and feelings on paper. Suddenly, the world realises that they are not so alone after all. The feelings they had, well, everyone feels the same. The other person is as scared or lonely as I am and we're all in it together," he continued his tirade of thoughts.
"You're a good guy, Luke," I commented.
"You're not so bad yourself, Cheery," he said.
"Want to go in, before we fall asleep here and freeze to death?" He asked me, trying to get me to my feet.
I wrapped my arms around him, my eyes already closing from feeling droopy.
"Nooo! Too cold!" I whined. "Can't put my toes on the cold wood,"
He chuckled before manoeuvring the two of us such that he was carrying me bridal style back to our room. He made sure I was comfortable and covered before getting into bed himself.
When morning came the next day, we went back to our old motions, as if the previous night had not existed. It was almost convincing to believe that I had made up the entire thing in my head, that it was a mere dream, a figment of fantasies. I never questioned him about it and he didn't bring it up either. We just continued our awkward song and dance around each other, waiting for the other to make a move that would change the entire game.
Then there it was, Lucas made a move that changed everything.
Like clockwork, he showed up at my house, but things were different this time. His eyes were dark and deep, not the baby blue orbs I was so accustomed to seeing.
He didn't come to the room, get out of his clothes and get in bed with me like he usually did.
Instead, he walked up to me, pulled my torso up and locked his lips on mine. He kissed me deep and hard. It was fast and sloppy and he almost made it feel as if he was being pulled by strong currents and it was only our latched lips that were saving him.
I was shocked and surprised at the unexpected attack. I considered pushing him away, but it felt so good, my brain was turning to jello.
He nipped and bit at my lips, our tongues battled for control, and his tongue won. Soon, breathing became difficult but we did not stop.
His hands trailed my body as mine went through his dirty blonde hair. Soon, his hands rested on the hem of my tank top. He stopped kissing me and pulled away for a moment. He looked in my eyes, asking for consent. I nodded my head before planting my lips back on his. I raised my arms up as he pulled my top up and tossed it to the floor, coming in direct contact with my firm breasts. His lips immediately left mine, latching onto my right boob, his left hand gripping my left one. He sucked on my nipples and then on the skin around them, leaving a deep purple mark. His hands then went up and down my sides, going back again to my breasts moments later. I repeated his action by bringing my hands from his hair to pull his shirt out too.
The sight I was greeted with was horrific. His back and chest were purple and brown. He was hurt all over.
"Lucas," I called out to him, my eyes brimming with unshed tears. "What happened?"
But he didn't wait to answer. His lust had almost made him animalistic. He pushed me down onto the bed and rubbed my panties. The friction of his hand and material on my centre made me arch my back as a sharp moan escaped me, my toes curling on the bed. He rubbed his left hand up and down through my panties, his right hand squeezing my boob. His force was so strong, that my panties soon ripped and he pulled them off of me, throwing the torn fabric on the floor.
His lips plunged down to my centre, working on my folds. He licked and sucked as his hands stretched up to pinch my nipples. My arms tugged at his hair as I tried to keep myself from flailing on the bed, the sensations feeling unrealistic.
I gasped as I felt his tongue enter me, the pleasure that was sweeping my body had me bursting. Almost at my climax, he stopped his actions and pulled his pants down. He was huge.
He placed himself at my entrance before entering me with one quick thrust. I felt completely full as he moved within me at a steady pace.
His lips found mine again as we tried to kiss each other between the motions of our linked bodies.
He suddenly increased his speed, going full throttle. I couldn't help but have another orgasm, riding my climax while he still went on inside me. Nobody I had ever been with had ever gone so hard inside me. I felt my thighs burn as I tried to keep up with his pace and match his thrust. I wasn't able to, the boy did have a lot of stamina. He let out grunts and huffs as he would almost pull himself out completely and push himself back in with force.
His strength left me completely flabbergasted. I felt another climax building within me while the boy kept fucking me, hard.
His hands tugged at my hair and then trailed to my breasts before adding pressure to my vagina. I let out a scream as another orgasm hit me hard.
After what felt like forever, I felt his orgasm. It took him a while to ride it out as he fell on my chest, panting hard, still deep inside of me.
I felt drops of water fall on my breasts, looking at him, I saw that he was crying.
My arms encircled him, giving him a tight hug.
"I'm so sorry. I am so sorry!" He cried out to me, his head buried deeper into my breasts as my arms wrapped around him.
"Heyy, I consented to it," I responded, holding him even tighter if that was possible.
"I didn't mean to hurt you, Brooke," he sobbed, finally pulling himself out from inside me. I missed the sensation of having him in me as I let out a whimper at the loss of feeling him in me. He rolled to his side and didn't look at me.
"Who said you did?" I asked before turning on my side to face him, wiping his tears away. We both lay in bed, looking up, trying to let the experience sink in. Nothing but silence ensued for the next hour. I was almost asleep when I heard a whisper next to me.
"He beats me. My dad, Dan has abused me my whole life. Me and my mom. He hurt us so much that my mom chose drugs. It was easier than leaving him and now she is in rehab, doing well, planning to flee! He drinks alcohol and gets angry and that is enough a reason to hit me, imagine his feelings when he realised his wife wasn't coming back. I'm not doing a favour to you by staying here, Brooke. I am being extremely selfish because I cannot go home and be there. I cannot be woken up again in the middle of the night and be dragged out of my bed and punched at where my mom cries but feels that she can't do anything about it. Or now because he is even more bitter about the fact that she is gone that he now decides to skip work and beat me. That's why I am always out at night. It's not that I am some selfless knight, I am literally here exploiting you."
He did not look at me even once. He kept his gaze locked on the ceiling.
I moved and sat on top of him and kissed him. Tears still kept leaking from his eyes as I kissed them away. Then slowly, I went to each bump, each bruise, each scar from his head, down to his hands and chest and even his thighs and I kissed each of them. Lucas cried, trying to make me stop, he yelled asking me to stop, telling me how sorry he was yet again. But I didn't listen. I continued to pay attention to every one of them. After all, scars were supposed to be kissed away, right? Nobody mentioned that they didn't mean the emotional scars too.
