Title: Breakaway
Author: Casandra
Disclaimer: Don’t own em, which sucks for me. But for Mark Schwann and Co who do, it’s the farthest thing from suckage
Rating: PG-13, no smut from me.
Warning: If the thought of two consenting woman having feelings of a romantic and touchy feely sort bugs you, well grow up and learn some tolerance.
Distribution: You can find my work at Femslash Dot Net, No Other Way and Realm of the Shadow. If you’re interested in it, please drop me a line before taking it anywhere.
Feedback: Love it, could live on it, even if I do need to go on a diet.
Pairing: Brooke/Peyton
Spoilers: Pretty much anything is fair game, but particularly the season 2 finale and the entire Brooke/Lucas/Peyton triangle drama.
Summary: Brooke finds Peyton’s journal in a surprising place, the secrets locked inside are even more surprising. Set post Season 2.
Author's Note: There’s a severe lack of Brooke/Peyton fic out there for some reason that’s completely unfathomable to me. Lack of fic, makes one want to write apparently. So here’s my attempt, hopefully it’s not half bad. Thanks to Nikki, Rachel, Heather and Gaby for being inspirations in the B/P fic world. This is going to be swapping out from different point of views, the first installment starting with Brooke. I find I can get inside the characters head a bit better by writing in first person.
I sat slumped in one of the hard plastic chairs that lined the windows of the semi deserted terminal of the New Brunswick airport. I really am not a fan of flying, something completely illogical about a couple hundred tons of steel soaring high above the clouds at thirty thousand feet. Just makes me nervous. Peyton teased me about my anxiety when we had to fly down to Texas for cheer camp two summers ago. I could crisscross the country a dozen times on a jumbo jet and still be scared to step on the plane each and every time. And this stupid delay is not helping at all, it’s just giving me time to sit and worry that much longer. I already gave the gate attendant a piece of my irritated mind, so aside from actually storming up to the air traffic control tower and demanding that they somehow clear up the rain clouds, there really isn’t a whole lot I can do but sit here. And to make matters worse, I’m already starting to miss Tree Hill, and I haven’t even left yet.
“Brooke!”
I whip my head around to the unmistakable voice of my best friend. She’s rushing towards me, weaving her way around the few people milling about the walkways past the metal detectors. How she got passed those grumpy security guards I have no idea. I stand up to meet her halfway, finally taking notice of the duffel bag slung over her shoulder.
“So you want to come with?” I’m half joking, although we had discussed her coming out to California with me for a few weeks, just to have a break from all the drama that seems to surround Tree Hill like a vacuumed sealed bag.
She shakes her head, tossing her blonde curls around her shoulder before sending me one of those amazing half smiles of hers. And not for the first time lately I’m left wondering why I’ve noticed how gorgeous her grin is.
“Don’t I wish.” There’s something in her voice as she says that, something that wasn’t there a few hours ago when we said goodbye for the summer. I try to take a closer look, but she’s guarding herself, she’s already thrown up the wall that makes itself so well known when she’s trying to avoid opening up to me.
“So you’re here why then?” I laugh a little to try and lighten the rapidly declining mood, even though all I want is to know why Peyton seems so distant.
She reaches forward, the strap of the duffel bag sliding off her shoulder in the process, dropping lightly to the tiled floor of the terminal.
“You forgot your last bag. I dropped by Lucas’ house after I gave Deb the keys to Tric, I thought I might be able to see you off after all.” She drops unceremoniously into one of the plastic chairs, obviously a little out of breath from her apparent rush here. “I went home after all I found was Lucas sitting on his bed pouting.” She gives me a curious look, I’m sure wondering what happened between Broody and me after she left. Before I have a chance to explain anything, she raises her hand to halt me. “I can just imagine, really Brooke.”
I cock an eyebrow at that. “You think so?”
She grins back at me knowingly. “Let me guess, you love him, he still loves you, but it’s too little, too late and you left anyway, crushing his fragile heart and ego. And you probably cried the entire cab ride here too, didn’t you?”
I blink a few times, once again stunned at just how well Peyton knows me. After all this time you’d think I’d be used to her being able to pretty much read me like a book, but it still surprises me. I only hope I can claim to know her just as well. My fish out of water impersonation apparently is good enough to send her into a giggle fit, something that brooding, pouty P Sawyer doesn’t do often enough. I can’t help be feel a small sense of accomplishment in getting her to lighten up, as inadvertent as it was.
She calms down long enough to finish the story that somehow got interrupted mid point. “Anyway, I got home and I found this sitting outside my closet. It’s your overnight bag that you keep at my place, I thought you might need it for the summer.” I can hear the sadness creeping back into her tone. And once again I’m reminded that we’re going to be separated for over three months.
“Now boarding, flight 210 direct service to Los Angeles International, now calling first class ticket holders and economy rows 1 through 8, please report to Gate 23.”
I roll my eyes a bit, of course after waiting all this time for the damn rain to clear, they finally start boarding when I really don’t want them to. Peyton stands up and ushers me towards the growing line of California bound Carolinians. I once again cock my eyebrow at her.
“Oh come on Brooke, I was with you when you opened up the arrangements from your parents. Besides, there’s no way you’d step on a plane with anything other than a first class ticket.”
I stick my tongue out at her, laughing a bit. Peyton takes the shoulder strap of the bag and slips it around my neck, releasing it slowly so that I don’t sag under the relatively light weight of it. I look towards the rapidly receding line of people in front of me, suddenly feeling panicked, as if this will be the last time I’ll see Peyton. It’s an irrational thought, I realize that as soon as the feeling sinks in, but I can’t seem to push it away. I pull her into a crushing hug, tucking my head onto her shoulder, not wanting to let go for anything, especially not for a summer with my parents.
Peyton laughs a little, but I can hear her trying to stifle the tears hiding right under the surface. “Come on Brooke, I thought we already did this.”
I just hold on tighter. “We did, so what?”
I can feel her tighten her arms around me too. “I know.” She barely whispers, her warm breath softly tickling my ear.
“Don’t forget, no turning off the web cam. I wanna be able to see you whenever I want.” I tease, still not releasing the hug, even though I can hear the businessman behind me starting to huff in annoyance.
“Kinky bitch.” Peyton finally pulls away, smirking at me devilishly. I can’t believe how much I’m going to miss her.
“Miss, your ticket please.” The stewardess looks less than pleased with me, but I honestly could care less. I reach into the back pocket of my low riders and haphazardly pull the crumpled boarding pass out and thrust it towards the increasingly annoyed woman.
I turn back towards Peyton who’s watching me with obvious amusement, completely used to my little temper tantrums after being my best friend for ten years. I reach up and instead of pulling her back into a hug like I’m sure she expected, I gently lean in and place a kiss on her porcelain cheek. She turns a bit towards me though in the process, and I end up brushing her lips for a split second instead. I certainly didn’t expect the jolt of………..something, when our lips touched, however briefly it was.
“Miss?”
Oh that lady is going to get a Jimmy Choo up her ass if she tries to herd me one more time. Pulling away I look into Peyton’s eyes, wondering if she felt anything at all like I did. From the dazed expression flitting across her hazel orbs I imagine she did. But I can’t think about that right now, not with three months apart looming over us. I’m sure whatever that was will go away in no time.
“I love you P Sawyer.” I smile, winking at her as I turn and proceed down the jet way, flashing a dirty look at the pushy American Airlines lady as I pass her.
-------------------
I must have looked like a complete idiot, standing there rooted to the same spot long after Brooke’s plane had taken off into the darkening night sky. I wasn’t so out of it that the curious looks and baffled stares went unnoticed, which is probably more of a curse than a blessing. I could have always pleaded some type of temporary loss of consciousness or something, that would at least explain the fantasy like goodbye I just shared with my best friend. Or well not ‘just’, more like an hour ago.
Shit! A whole hour!?
I shake the daydream induced cobwebs away and bolt for the nearest exit, praying that my car is still where I left it.
Double parked in front of the terminal.
Thankfully it is, although the big ticket hanging off the left windshield wiper is sure to be anything but cheap. I jump in, without opening the door, something I don’t think I’ve ever done before, even though I’ve had the convertible since I turned sixteen. I can’t imagine why I did it either, considering that Brooke just left for more than three months. Never mind the little visit from the nut job I got right before heading out to the airport. But I don’t want to think about Ellie or whatever her real name is right now. I don’t want anything to bring my mood down.
Curiously enough, I have a slightly euphoric feeling rising up in me. And I refuse to pay any attention whatsoever to the inadvertent kiss Brooke and I shared. Because it has absolutely nothing to do with my current state of mind.
None whatsoever.
Nope.
Speeding down the coast headed back towards Tree Hill I realize I’m coming up on Wrightsville Beach. Instead of continuing on to home I pull into the parking lot, expecting it to be empty. I’m not sure if I’m really that surprised to see Luke’s car parked right next to the dunes. I debate for a moment whether I want to stay, really not wanting to let his sure to be sour mood bring down my unusually good one. I finally let my conscience get the best of me and shut off my engine, quietly getting out and traipsing down the beach towards his lone silhouette near the water’s edge.
As I approach him those deep brown eyes reach up to meet my own, radiating his pain outward across the beach. I realize that he feels Brooke’s absence maybe just as much as I do. I try not to let that little devil that sometimes takes up residence on my shoulder whisper in my ear that my parting with Brooke was infinitely better than his.
I smile half heartedly as I take a seat in the cooling sand next to him, fixing my gaze out at the crashing waves on the shoreline. “Looks like it’s just you and me this summer.”
Luke turns towards me, returning a sad smile, before pulling me in for a hug. I’m a bit hesitant at first, not used to such close contact with him after all these months we’ve seemingly been avoiding one on one interaction with each other. I guess it was a safeguard on my part, no sense in tempting fate that I’d let myself lose my head once again and betray the person that means the most to me for a second time. Not that I’m really attracted to Lucas anymore, but no sense in taking chances I figured.
I’m shocked to feel my shoulder becoming damp, the realization that Lucas is crying hitting me like one of the waves breaking on the surf. Sure, I haven’t known him all that long, but I’ve never seen him cry.
Pout, sure. Brood, all the time.
But never have I known him to break down the way he seems to be doing in my arms. It’s really disconcerting. And if I’m being completely honest with myself, a tad on the creepy side too.
God, he really must love her.
A shiver creeps down my spine and for a moment I wonder if the May breeze is really that cool. The thought of Brooke and Lucas together can’t be that unnerving to me. I mean, why would it be? I’m not in denial about my feelings for Luke. He’s a good guy and I do still care about him, but the teenage angst filled make out days of ours are long gone, and I really don’t have a desire to ever have a repeat. I’m completely sure of that.
I’ve lost track of how long we’ve been sitting here together, in fact I’m not even sure Lucas is still awake. So much for not schlepping anything else this summer. I better not have to drag his heavy ass back to his car to sleep it off.
“This is even worse for you.” I guess that answers the is he or isn’t he conscious question.
“What makes you say that?” I mean he’s the one supposedly in love with Brooke after all.
Lucas sits up a bit from his prone position in the sand, resting on his elbows and giving me that all knowing half smirk that I’ve grown to loathe. “Come on Peyt--”
“Don’t call me Peyt.” I interrupt him, already having a bad feeling where this might be going.
He gives me a condescending look before continuing. “Stop trying to bullshit me Peyton, I was there, I remember what it was like.”
I give him a blank stare, still refusing to acknowledge the path this conversation is suddenly turning down.
Seeing that I’m not about to give him anything to work with, Luke exhales a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his virtually nonexistent hair. “You do realize it yourself don’t you? I mean you’re not still in denial after all this time, right?”
Denial about what? I’m really not. At least I don’t think so.
Apparently seeing the perplexed look I’m sure is washing itself over my face, Lucas lets out a humorless laugh, shaking his head and sitting completely up, crossing his legs Indian style and facing me now. “Apparently you are. Deeply in denial.” He looks out towards the black ocean, searching for what I have no idea.
Suddenly I find myself extremely curious as to what he thinks he’s so clued in on that I’m not. It is MY life after all, not his. “Just what is it that you think I’m in denial about?”
It takes him forever to pull his gaze away from the darkness of the water. But when he finally does, meeting my increasingly impatient stare, I’m a bit frightened by what I see. He’s as earnest as I’ve ever seen him and yet he looks almost angry at me.
“You’re scared of your mind, that’s why you can’t admit it, even to yourself.”
“Of what?!” Yes please Mr. Wannabe Psych Major, enlighten the clueless blonde here.
“The fact we’re both in love with the same woman.”
--------------------------
I honestly have no idea why my parents insisted that I come stay with them for the entire summer, considering they’re not even here! What’s the point of being three thousand miles from everything I consider home for a mother and father who can’t even pick their own daughter up from the airport. Never mind even be home when I get here. This is certainly shaping up to be one crappy summer already.
I pick up one of my lighter suitcases from the foyer floor and start to half carry half drag it up the two flights of stairs to where I assume the bedrooms to be. After a few near tumbles back down to the tiled entranceway I manage to find my room, thanks to the note from my mother taped to the closed door.
Brooke,
Your father and I are so sorry we missed your homecoming. One of his important clients invited us to an overnight golf invitational in Santa Barbara. I’m sure you understand. We’re both looking forward to having you here with us from now on, we’ve missed you terribly. I’ve had Candy (our new maid, you’ll love her!) place fresh linens on your bed, so you should be all set. The refrigerator is stocked as well, so make yourself some dinner. We’ll be back on Sunday night.
Love,
Mom and Dad
I’m not so sure I like the sound of her ‘from now on’ bit in there. This is nothing more than a temporary situation. If they think I’m going to stay here past August then my parents have another thing coming. There’s no way I’m missing out on senior year with Peyton back in Tree Hill. I’d take a cue from Nathan’s playbook and become emancipated before that would happen.
The thought of Peyton reminds me that I’m still carrying my duffel bag on my shoulder, and even though it’s rather light, the lugging of all my suitcases is starting to really wear on me. It’s only 11pm and I’m already zonked. Of course if I wasn’t as tired as I am it would have dawned on me that it’s really 2am my time. Something tells me I’m going to be waking up Peyton in the middle of the night for a while until I get the hang of the time difference.
I throw the duffel on the bed, unzipping it to root around for a clean set of pj’s, feeling far too exhausted to make even an attempt at unpacking tonight. My hand comes into contact with something hard and unfamiliar instead. I wrap my fingers around what feels to be a leather bound book of some kind, pulling it clear of the bag and bringing it under my nightstand lamp for a better look.
‘The Scattered Tangents of Peyton Sawyer’
Peyton has a journal? How did I not know that? And how in the world did it end up in my overnight bag of all places. I run my fingers over the stenciled inscription, a bemused smile forming over my lips. That’s my best friend, overdramatic as always. I’m extremely tempted to call Peyton and ask how I managed to drag her journal three thousand miles across the country. But that inner devil of mine, the one that seemed to have gone into hibernation lately, is making a sudden reappearance. The temptation to open up the leather encased window into Peyton’s soul is awfully strong.
I’m debating about it, which is even enough to make me feel guilty. And yet ironically enough, the guilt isn’t convincing me to not open it. Ethically speaking I really should just put it back in my bag where I found it, bury it under everything and return it to Peyton when I get back to Tree Hill. That’s what the new Brooke would do. Miss Class President would take the high road.
The old Brooke, well she would dive right in. Reading the journal, hoping to find something in the vein of one of those trashy $5.95 romance novels you find in the magazine aisle of the supermarket.
Apparently right now I’m a convoluted mix of the two, because I can’t decide one way or the other. I really don’t want to invade Peyton’s privacy, the little that she usually does have from me. But on the flip side of the coin, there’s always been a small little part of her heart that I’ve never seen. It’s the place that’s closed off even from me. I honestly don’t know if she’s shown anyone that part of her. And I have to admit, it does hurt sometimes. She’s my best friend, the one person I count on the most in my life. She knows me inside and out, I’ve never hidden anything from her. And yet there’s a piece of her I haven’t been able to touch. And there’s something telling me that if I open her journal I’ll finally be able to understand why.
My fingertips are dancing along the tops of the pages, as if I’m hoping I can somehow feel what’s inside without having to open it.
Apparently I’m not supposed to though, at least not right this minute. Or so says my cell phone, the shrill ring making itself known from where I tossed it onto my bed. I manage to grab it before the obnoxious ring tone fades out. I really need to download something else other than Peyton’s little idea of a joke. Thinking we could relive our adolescence by having matching Spice Girls ring tones in honor of the concert we went to in Charlotte when we were 10.
Shaking my head fondly at the massive dorks we made of ourselves that night, I quickly glance at the caller ID. Speak of the devil. Apparently my best friend is clairvoyant, at least when it comes to me doing something decidedly naughty.
“Gone less than six hours and you already can’t live without me.” I sass in greeting.
“Brooke, I thought you had ID on your cell. It’s me, not Lucas.” Ohh, sarcasm in full throttle, I wonder who she spent her night with. Actually it really doesn’t take a genius to figure it out after that little remark.
“And it’s apparent his mood rubbed off on you.”
Peyton sighs in defeat. “I can never win with you, can I?”
Actually, she’s usually the one with the sharper wit, I’m always having to concede defeat with a pointedly stuck out tongue in her general direction. I’m wondering if I should be worried about her now. “You know how I love being on top P. Sawyer.”
Now that got a laugh out of her. Although I can feel that something’s not quite right. It’s not really anything in her tone of voice. It’s more like intuition. Which is very odd considering I’m all the way across the country from her.
“Actually I’ve never had that particular pleasure Brooke.”
Well now! It seems a three thousand mile separation is enough to embolden my dear bestest friend. Apparently I’m the one rubbing off, not Lucas. I’m so proud! And if I’m being completely honest with myself, slightly turned on too. Flirty Peyton is apparently a force to be reckoned with.
“Care to change that little oversight then?”
I really don’t know what’s wrong with me. Sure, flirting comes as natural to me as taking in a lungful of oxygen. But while Peyton and I have teased each other, we’ve never been overtly sexual about it. Of course I have gotten a bit territorial every once in a while. I wonder if it’s ever bothered her. Probably not, I’m pretty sure she assumes I’m just kidding. Which I usually am, to a degree at least. But I found myself facing a massive case of green eyed monster syndrome when she was hanging around with Anna. I knew no good would come of it, seeing DYKE plastered across her locker was enough to convince me I had been right the entire time. But I suppose I need to take some responsibility for that fiasco myself. Felix somehow realized I wasn’t just putting on my intense dislike of Anna for no reason. I still can’t figure out how he knew, because other than my relationship with Peyton, he was entirely off the mark with all the other facets of my life.
As I’m pondering that disturbing tidbit I’m reminded of my innocuous little comment, Peyton’s silence starting to worry me. I think I can literally hear her trying to form a comeback.
“And if I said I did?”
That was the last thing I expected though. “Ok, conversation heading to the gutter.”
“You started it!” Ah very mature PS.
“And since when have you ever let me get away with anything?”
“What?” I can hear the indignation in her voice, it’s adorable! “Are you serious, I always cave to you!”
I scoff at that. “Right, when exactly has this ‘always’ occurred, because I certainly don’t remember it.”
“Let’s see, maybe the time we were on Hatteras Island with your father’s boat and you just conveniently decided that liquoring him up was the only way to check out the bonfire on Avon Beach.” Ok, she may have me there. But that’s only one time. “God, the sight of your father upchucking all his internal organs is something that I still have nightmares about!”
“Oh come on, now you’re just being overdramatic. It wasn’t that bad.” It wasn’t ALL his insides really, just maybe an intestine or so. Fine, so maybe it was pretty bad. But I was smart enough to not watch, I don’t know why in the world she did.
“How would you know, you were halfway to shore while I was trying to keep him from falling overboard!” Well I guess that explains why she remembers it so vividly. Eww, gross. My poor Peyton.
“Well I saw a cute guy, what’d you want me to do?”
“Apparently let your father drown.”
“Cute PS, real cute. So that’s one. One does not preclude ‘always’.”
“Trust me Brooke, we go through my whole list and the sun will be rising on your side of the country before we’re done.”
“So we’re keeping score now, is that it?” I really wish I could see her face, she gets all red in the ears when I tease her, it’s beyond cute. And with that thought I can’t help but wonder why I’ve never realized how often I find myself thinking that particular way about Peyton. Huh, that’s an interesting little thought.
Peyton plays innocent. “What, you mean you haven’t been?”
Oh, she’s gonna get it for that one. “Nope, I know you’re my bitch, so what’s the point?”
That one got a genuine laugh out of her. “Is that right?”
“Yep, and you wouldn’t be laughing if you didn’t already know it was true.”
Somewhere along the line though, all crude analogies aside, Peyton has become ‘mine’ somehow. It explains the intense jealousy I felt when she was spending her time with someone other than me, even though I was entirely preoccupied with Felix. All teasing aside, this conversation is starting to become just a little too real for me. I’m not sure I want to deal with all of these new thoughts right now. Maybe I can just blame it on the jet lag, but something tells me that this is more of the possibly life changing variety.
“Ok, so what were we talking about again?”
Oh, just the fact I might be having a sexual identity epiphany. Nothing much really. I can’t exactly tell her that though. “Who knows, you’re the one that called me, remember?”
“Oh right.” There’s an awkward pause, the light mood suddenly evaporating.
“Not that I’m complaining mind you, but was there a specific reason I had to hear ‘Wannabe’ after a six hour plane ride next to some hairy guy who must have been eating at one of Emeril’s restaurants right before he stepped on the plane.”
Peyton chuckles. “Well at least you knew he wasn’t a vampire.”
“Someone’s been watching Buffy reruns again.” I tease, but I can tell she’s avoiding answering my question. I’m reminded of my sense that something was wrong with her before we got into our little Flirt Fiesta. “So really Peyton, what’s up? I get the feeling you needed to talk.”
“What makes you think that?” I can literally feel the nervous energy coming through the phone line.
“Peyton.”
She sighs a bit. “I really shouldn’t have called you about it, I mean you’re already dealing with enough of your own crap right now, what with moving to the other side of the country and all. You don’t need this right now.”
She’s rambling. Peyton never rambles. This is bad. “Peyton, come on, would you just tell me.”
“I should let you go, I mean you’re probably exhausted from the plane ride. And I bet you didn’t even shower yet to get the garlic boy smell off---”
“Peyton!” Yep, this has to be really bad.
“My mother showed up on my doorstep tonight.”
“What?!” Ok, that can’t be possible.
I was with Peyton when her mother died. I held her hand during the funeral, I rode my bike to the grocery store three different times because she had run out of tissues, she was crying so much. I sat there next to her on the couch in her grandmother’s den during the wake, watching as one by one people I had never seen before paid their respects and gave her and Papa Peyton their condolences. I remember Mr. Farrell, our elementary school principal coming up to us at the end of juniors cheerleading practice. All the other girls had been picked up, but Peyton’s mom was running late, so I stayed outside on the bench with her to wait. I heard him tell her that there had been an accident, I can still remember the feeling of her shoulders shaking under my arm wrapped around them as she tried to understand what he was telling her. Her mother is gone, it’s been one of Peyton’s defining characteristics as she’s gotten older. That day changed her life forever.
Peyton lets out a shaky breath. “Yeah, I kinda had less of a shocked reaction and more of a slamming the door in her face one.”
“Wait, you saw her?!”
“Not her, not my Mom. Someone else.”
My parents really have THE worst timing. I can hear it in her voice, the last place I should be is away from her right now. “Ok, I’m completely lost. What’s going on Peyton?”
“You remember the article that was being written about Tric?”
I smile a bit, unseen to her of course. The article wasn’t being written about Tric, it was about her. A seventeen year old club promoter who landed one of the biggest alternative acts in the country right now. I was so proud of her, even if I did hate the fact that the reporter had the same annoying sense of timing that my parents apparently have.
But that’s besides the point right now. “Yeah, what does that have to do with any of this?”
“That woman doing the story, she showed up at my door tonight, claiming to be my mother. She said that her real name is Elizabeth.”
“Wait, like your middle name?”
“One in the same, she told me that’s where it comes from.”
Oh God, I really need to be in Tree Hill right now. Poor Peyton. “So what did you do?”
“What was I supposed to do? Believe her?” No, but something in my gut is telling me that this isn’t so cut and dry. And from what I’m hearing in Peyton’s voice, she’s not so convinced of this woman’s fallacy either.
“But you do don’t you, at least in some way.”
There’s a long silence, and just as I’m beginning to wonder if I’ve upset her I hear a morose soft laugh. “I think we’ve been together too long, it’s disturbing how well you know me.”
“I’d like to think it’s more comforting than disturbing really.” I say lightheartedly, trying to raise the mood up a bit.
“It is. Thanks Brooke.” She sighs again, and with a glance at my watch I can understand why. It’s just after midnight here so she must be exhausted. Especially after the day she apparently had. And for the hundredth time just today I find myself cursing my parents and their incessant need to have me out here with them.
“Why don’t you get some sleep girlie, I’ll give you a call in the morning to check up on you.”
“Brooke, it IS morning.”
I roll my eyes. “Go to bed Peyton!”
“Oh you know I love it when you get all bossy.”
Well apparently she’s feeling better, we’ve slid right back into the gutter. And wow, I think I can feel my cheeks warming a bit. That little brat made me blush! “Goodnight Peyton.”
“What, no comeback?” She chuckles a bit in apparent victory.
“No, jetlag gives me a get out of jail free card for the night.”
“Fine, but now I can’t say I never win anymore.” There’s a bit of hesitancy in her voice before she continues. “Thanks Brooke, for everything.”
The sincerity in her voice gives me goose bumps. “Anything Peyton, you know that.” Now it’s my turn to hesitate. “I love you, that means I’m always gonna be here for you.”
“I know, and I love you for it.”
We say our goodbyes with me promising to call her in the afternoon to give her the rundown of sunny SoCal so far. Of course that’s not the real reason, but I think it makes both of us worry a little less if we act as if the situation isn’t really happening, at least for the sake of a good night’s sleep.
After a nice hot shower I slip into a pair of silk boxer shorts and an old tank top I used to wear for cheerleading practice. As I reach up to turn the lamp on my nightstand off I’m reminded of Peyton’s journal, sitting neatly on the wooden surface beside me. I had completely forgotten about it, the conversation having spun in an entirely different direction. I couldn’t exactly bring up a potential invasion of her privacy while she was all upset about her Faux!Ma. Running my fingertips along the worn leather I decide that it’s best to forget about it for the time being. After all, I have three months out here to waste.
----------
I swear, I must be in some alternate reality or something. This day has just been completely insane, in almost all the bad kind of ways. I glance down at my cell phone lying haphazardly where I threw it at the foot of my bed. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the conversation I just had with Brooke. I actually hadn’t intended on dropping my new load of stress onto her while she’s so far away. But she just knows me too damn well. I’m sure she could hear it in my voice. The same way I know something was up with her too. I got the distinct feeling that I was interrupting something. And an even bigger feeling that it wasn’t something of the good variety. She was about to do something old Brooke-like, I could just tell. Which has my curiosity more than peaked.
I know it wasn’t something with a guy, because she’s never been *that* fast of a mover, let alone this new remarkably virtuous side she’s been showing these last few months. Besides the fact that she’s completely hung up on Lucas.
The thought of our favorite Scott brother reminds me of the incredibly awkward conversation I’ve been trying desperately to ignore actually even happened.
**Flashback**
“You’re scared out of your mind, that’s why you can’t admit it, even to yourself.”
“Of what?!”
“The fact we’re both in love with the same woman.”
I scoffed at him, desperately trying to hide the blush that I could feel rapidly rising in my cheeks. “You don’t know what in the world you’re talking about Luke.”
“Don’t I?” Oh how I hate that all knowing tone he loves to use when he’s so damn sure he’s right about something.
I could feel my temper starting to flare, really not wanting to talk about this right now, especially after how Brooke and I left things. Besides the fact he’s the last person on the world I should be talking about this with. Not that there’s really anything to talk about anyway.
“Listen, I don’t care what you THINK you know, but you’re the last person that could possibly understand my relationship with Brooke.” I hate sounding so bitchy, but he’s hitting way too close here.
“Actually Peyton, besides the two of you, I’m probably the most qualified here. What did Brooke call it, the Bermuda Triangle of Drama?” He calmly replies, the daggers I’m shooting him not seeming to phase him in the least.
“Wait, how did you know that?” I remember where we were when she said that, and Lucas was nowhere in the vicinity.
“Can we focus here? Not the point. The point is that I know just what you two mean to each other. If you remember, you repeatedly chose her over me, even when I was pushing non-stop just because I wanted you so much.” He lowers his head a bit for the first time since he began his little lecture, and I swear I can see the beginnings of a blush creeping up his cheeks.
“Yeah, and I STILL hurt her.” I can feel the guilt clawing it’s way back up to the surface again. Brooke may have forgiven me, but I doubt I’ll ever grant myself that same gift.
“We’re human Peyton, no matter how good our intentions are, it’s inevitable that someone gets hurt when it comes to being in love.” I can feel his hand gently kneading my shoulder, and it’s oddly comforting for a moment.
The moment doesn’t last long though, I’m annoyed all over again at his arrogance. “What makes you think I was ever in love with you?”
Again with that all knowing smirk, my mood has taken a complete nosedive into the sand I’m sitting on. “I never said that. You’re in love, you have been for a long while now. Just not with me.” I’m about to open my mouth to spit back a protest, but he beats me to it. “And not with Jake either.” That’s enough to make me snap my mouth shut.
Luke props himself up on his knees so that he’s facing me, making me give him my undivided attention, as unwilling as I am to do so. “You’ve got to stop this. You’re always miserable, and it doesn’t have to be that way. Just let yourself be happy, let yourself feel what you’re so scared of feeling. And everything else will fall into place.”
I’m silent for a long time, the moist salty taste over my top lip the only indication that I even heard what he said. I know that he’s right, I do. But I’m not ready to admit it. If I let myself feel everything he’s encouraging me to, I’ll never be able to shut it off again. And my friendship with Brooke will be blown to bits, and this is not something that we can recover from, I know that deep in my soul. I get it wrong, and we’re all done, no more do-overs or second chances, I lose her forever.
Lucas reaches up and wipes away a silver tear tracking it’s way down my cheekbone. “Peyton, trust me, tell her. It will make everything so much better.”
I can’t deal with this now. I need to come to terms with all of this, and I can’t do that with Lucas looking at me so earnestly. If I take his advice, I run the chance of breaking both of our hearts. And with that thought I realize that Brooke really holds all our fates in her hands. And she probably has no clue.
“You can’t know that Luke.” I stand up, briefly wiping off the knees of my jeans, and head back up the beach to the parking lot, leaving Lucas sitting there gazing after me.
**End Flashback**
So I’m trying to figure out where that leaves me. I honestly don’t have a clue. I’m really trying to suppress the feeling of resentfulness that is rising up in me towards Lucas. He couldn’t just let it alone, could he? Then again, I’m the idiot who, against my better judgment, stopped at the beach to begin with. So I guess I only have myself to blame. Maybe if I pretend it never happened, all of this will go away. Brooke’s in California for the foreseeable future, and as much as I miss her already, the time apart might give me some perspective. Or maybe these feelings will go away entirely.
Gah, I need some sleep, everything will be clearer in the morning, that’s usually how it works, right? And maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll wake up and this whole day will have all been a dream. I won’t have some nut job impersonating my mother.
And I won’t be in love with my best friend.
~~~~~~~~
Less than 24 hours here and I’m already counting the minutes until I get back on the plane for Tree Hill. Sure, it’s beyond gorgeous out here, the sun is shining, the view from my parents beach house is something I would have killed for a year ago. And the eye candy that seems to populate the sandy shore down below our deck, at any one time, is enough to send my entire cheerleading squad into a massive squeal attack.
And here I am, wanting to go home already. There really must be something wrong with me. I’m getting to the point where I’m missing the old me a bit. This new, rather boring side to my personality is starting to give me some pause.
I raise my sunglasses to rest on my head, leaning down to feel in my shore bag for the already familiar leather stenciling. I’m sitting in what most normal people would consider paradise, relaxing on a nice cozy beach, and all I can think about is Peyton’s journal.
“I’ve been debating for ten minutes whether I should come over or not, but you look upset, so my conscious got the best of me.”
I look up, shielding my eyes from the brilliant California sunshine, to find someone I wondered if I’d ever see again. None other than Jake Jagielski.
“Jake!” I jump up out of my chair, wrapping my arms around his strong neck for a hug. “What are you doing here?”
He pulls away from the embrace and gestures for me to retake my seat, as he parks himself down on the towel beside me. I take a moment to get a good look at him, his hair longer now, shaggier like when he first left Tree Hill. I’m also beginning to see what Peyton was so attracted to. With his shirt off he’s a downright fox. Nice toned pecs, and biceps to match, with a nice even tan all over. I pause in my perusal at that, realizing that he must have been out here a decent amount of time to get a bronzing that deep. He certainly didn’t get it in prison.
“So what brings you to LA?” I noticed he avoided my earlier question about his reasons for being here.
I’ll let it slide, for the moment at least. “My parents moved out here and insisted I join them.”
He looks surprised, and slightly worried too. Wonder what that’s about?
“Wow! So you left Tree Hill? For good?”
I shake my head. “Not if I can help it. I want to finish up my senior year back home, then we’ll see where I land for college.” I’ve actually given it quite a lot of thought. My grades, surprisingly enough, are decent, and the fact that I’m student body president looks fantastic on college applications. Before all of the crap rained down on my life in regards to my parents and their lackluster job of managing finances I was determined to get out of Tree Hill. Some place like New York, maybe even London or Paris.
Peyton and I had talked about both of us going off to Paris, renting a great little apartment overlooking the Arc de Triomphe or the Eiffel Tower, the lights from the city creating a brilliant glow over our terrace. We could sit out there at night, sipping a great bottle of red wine, enjoying the atmosphere of the famed City of Lights, and catching each other up on the day we each had. Hers at the Sorbonne, finally having her chance to study art the way she’s always wanted to. And me still trying to figure out what my major should be at the American University of Paris. We would be having the time of our lives, and we’d be together, that was the most important thing.
Somewhere along the way though we lost sight of that. I went boy crazy and we just seemed to stop talking about it. I wonder if Peyton even remembers the great plans we had? I know she still wants to go to art school, but the question remains, where? With her dad taking jobs closer to home instead of halfway around the world, she might not want to go too far away from Tree Hill. Me, I’m still looking forward to that Parisian experience, but not by myself.
I realize I’ve gotten lost in my thoughts, Jake’s curious expression giving me a heads up to that little fact. “So just how did you land in LA of all places? Is Nikki here?” Because he better not just be living it up as a beach bum when my best friend wasted buckets of tears on him.
He looks uncomfortable, and makes a quick glance towards the shore. I can’t help but follow his line of sight, wondering why he won’t meet my gaze. I don’t have to wonder long though, because as I squint to see more clearly I’m given an unfortunately perfect view of his daughter. In the arms of her mother.
I can feel the anger start building in the pit of my stomach, lathering up to the surface to really give it to him. But before I get the chance he makes an attempt at explaining.
“Brooke, I know how it looks, trust me, I do.” Apparently the rage I’m feeling is showing itself quite well. He continues so I can’t have a chance to rip him a new one. “I found them out here last week, and I tried to get Jenny away from her, but she had the cops ready to drag me off to jail again. So I figured the best chance I have of ever getting my daughter back is to play nice with Nikki. At least for now.”
I roll my eyes in annoyance. “So you’re playing the Stepford husband in the hopes that Nikki’s psycho quotient will just disappear?” The idea that he’s with her, like in the biblical sense, is just churning the pit of anger in my stomach all the more.
He at least has the decency to look ashamed. “What do you want me to do Brooke? She has my daughter. If I ever want her back I have to play Nikki’s game.”
I can’t help but hit him where I know it will hurt. “And what about Peyton.” Bull’s-eye.
Jake looks around for a moment in a mild state of panic. “She’s not here with you is she?”
There’s a part of me that wants to tell him yes, just to freak him out that much more. But I’m too mad for even that. “Why would she be?”
He stops his eyes from cris-crossing the shoreline and behind us, refocusing his attention on me. “I think the better question is, why wouldn’t she be. You guys didn’t have another falling out did you?”
I shake my head incredulously. “Of course not. That’s your area of expertise, not mine.” God, I don’t know why I’m jumping down his throat so much. Sure, I feel a primal urge to protect my best friend, which includes giving hell to the guy that broke her heart. But this feels like something more.
Jake smirks at me a bit, although there’s no malice in it that I can tell. “So I’ll ask again, why isn’t she here with you? I mean if you’re still as attached at the hip as when I left I never would have guessed you could go three months without each other.”
“And what is THAT supposed to mean?” I’m really not liking where this is headed. I glance down almost subconsciously to the journal not so hidden anymore and the top of my bag.
Unfortunately Jake’s gaze follows mine. “Ah, so she finally gave it to you?”
I try and play coy, but Jake is the last person that would let me get away with that. “What?”
He rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Her journal.”
“How did you know she kept a journal? I didn’t even know.” And there is no way in this world that he knew something about Peyton that I didn’t.
“I found it in her nightstand one night when I was looking for the spare pacifier that she kept for Jenny.”
I cut him off. “And you just decided to read it?”
He smirks at me again. “Didn’t you?”
I glare at him, although secretly I’m slightly proud of myself that I had enough restraint to keep it closed so far. Granted I was a couple seconds away from blowing all that out to the ocean fifty feet away from us. But I didn’t. The reason, sitting beside me, so not the point.
Before I can bite off a smartass retort, he continues. “Actually, I can tell just by the way you’re reacting that you haven’t.”
“Peyton didn’t give it to me.” I see the confusion pass across his eyes. “I found it at the bottom of my overnight bag. I don’t think she has any idea I have it.” The confusion turns into mild panic it would seem. “Why, do you know what’s in it?”
There’s a long silence, and all I can think of is that he’s either trying to come up with a decent lie, or he’s contemplating telling me the truth. I’m not sure which I’d prefer at this point. I look down at the journal again, waiting for him to make up his mind, wondering what in the world could possibly be in there that’s making him so obviously uncomfortable.
As I’m contemplating that rather unnerving thought I see his hand snake into the top of my bag and carefully pull out the leather encased book. He gently places it into my lap and stands up, replacing his sunglasses over his eyes in the process.
“Read it Brooke, from beginning to end.”
I shake my head. “Does Peyton know you’ve read it?”
He gives me a sad smile. “No. That should really tell you something about our relationship I guess. I never told her I saw it.”
I glare at him again, for what I’m feeling must be the tenth time. “Nice Jake. I’ll be sure to mention that to Peyton when I tell her I bumped into you.” I expected to see the panic return, but instead he looks eerily calm. I must be losing my touch.
“It won’t matter after you read it. You’ll finally understand. Maybe both of you will.”
Enough of this cryptic bullshit. “Understand what?!”
He turns his back to me and starts walking away, but I hear his parting words, and it sends a chill straight through my body, making the hair on my arms stand up in some kind of strange anticipation.
“Everything.”
~~~~~~~~~~~
I’m tempted to call Brooke again, just to see if she’s gotten herself into any trouble yet. And then my subconscious reminds me of the new, less naughty version of my best friend. But she still is Brooke Davis, personality makeover or not. Her priorities might have changed, but she still has that devious little devil lurking on her shoulder on occasion. Which is actually one of the reasons I love her, she’s not afraid to say or do what the rest of us would never have the guts to.
I really shouldn’t bother making up excuses though. The simple truth is that I miss her. My hand is halfway to my cell phone before I hesitate, my arm hanging limply off the side of my bed towards my nightstand.
Do I really want to do this?
She’s going to be gone for at least three months, I remind myself for what must be the dozenth time in the last twelve hours. She’s probably on the beach soaking up the sun, the last thing she’d want is for me bug her. I mentally slap myself for that thought as soon as it enters my mind though, because I know the last thing Brooke would think is that I’m bugging her. After all, she’s the one who waltzes into my bedroom completely unannounced at any given time of the day.
My hand is still hanging in the air, waiting for my brain to finally make up it’s overcomplicated mind. Instead of grabbing my cell, I open the drawer below it, reaching inside for my familiar leather bound journal. It’s something that I’ve taken comfort in over the years. As much as I love Brooke, and I trust her implicitly, there are just some things that I can’t share, even with her. But I can write them all down in my journal, knowing that my mind won’t be plagued by silencing the thoughts and I don’t need to worry about someone else twisting them around by interpretation.
Instead of wrapping my fingers around the leather binding, my knuckles hit against the bottom of the wooden drawer. I sit up, suddenly panicked, wondering why it’s not where I left it. My nightstand is empty, save for a few charcoal pencils and a spare piece of sketch paper.
Where the hell is it? It stays in my drawer unconditionally, I never move it someplace else, for fear of my father or even Brooke finding it. But they both never cross that boundary into my nightstand, and I’ve been grateful for that. I don’t like the idea of hiding something from them, but I’m certainly not ready to share the years worth of drabbles that I’ve built up in it. Maybe a decade from now I can hand it to Brooke and let her finally know ALL of me, but not now, not when she can still break my heart if she doesn’t like or even understand what she finds out.
----------
I can’t take this anymore. My curiosity has always had a habit of getting the best of me, and this time is no different. As I open Peyton’s journal to the inscription page I realize that I’m breaking the number one rule in the best friends code of ethics. What I’m about to do is probably even worse than Peyton making out with Lucas behind my back. I’m not just breaking her trust, I’m invading the little privacy our relationship has allowed her. She’s as open with me as she lets herself be with anyone, but if I read this, I’ll be stripping that barrier away. And she has every right to have it.
I gaze out at the crashing waves along the surf line, the tumultuous ocean mirroring my mood right now. I’m genuinely torn, and I immediately feel guilty for even opening her journal, no matter that I’ve yet to read a single word written inside.
Would Peyton really be that mad at me?
I mean really, those who live in glass houses, really shouldn’t be tossing stones right at the windows now should they. I glance down at the worn pages, their off-white hue beckoning me to indulge my darker side and just find out once and for all what it is that REALLY makes Peyton Sawyer tick.
There’s a piece of loose leaf notebook paper folded up before the first page, my name scrawled on it’s outer side in quick and unfamiliar handwriting. The fact that it’s addressed to me makes me feel a little less guilty for opening up the journal, but it only eggs my curiosity on all the more.
With a nervous and shaky hand, I reach in and unfold the paper.
Brooke,
I realize I’m probably going to win the Worst Boyfriend of the Millennium for this, but I just couldn’t let you two go on the way things have been. Especially now that I’m gone. Peyton needs you. She knows it, and you know it. Now all you both have to do is admit it to each other. I’m hoping this will give you a little kick in the ass.
Read it Brooke.
I know you want to, but you’re stopping yourself. Loyalty is something you cherish above anything else, and I don’t think you’re more loyal to anyone than you are to Peyton.
But read it.
Let her scream and yell at you for it, but in the end, when all the dust settles, you’ll realize you made the right choice. You two will be on the path that I know was meant for you. That is if you’re both over being unreasonably stubborn about all of this.
I’ve known. I’ve known from the minute I saw the two of you at cheerleading practice that first day of varsity training. And once you read her journal Brooke, you’ll know too. I’m counting on you to take the lead here, because you know how Peyton is. She’ll get scared and try to push you away.
Don’t let her. Grab onto her tight and never let go.
And if you screw this up, I might just have to come back to Tree Hill and force you two to figure it out. And trust me, we don’t want that. Knowing our luck, Nikki will follow right along. Scary!
Take care of yourself, and most importantly, Peyton.
Jake
P.S: I can’t believe cool-not-a-care-in-the-world Brooke Davis actually magic marker’s her name inside her duffel bags. You really made it too easy for me. Besides, one look inside and I knew it was yours, Peyton’s not that big on lace, but I bet you already knew that.
Apparently good old reliable Jake could be just as sneaky as the rest of us. I re-read over his words again, the meaning of it all bubbling up in me like a shaken soda can ready to burst it’s top. I’m excited, not just a little confused, but more than anything, totally scared out of my mind. Can he really mean what I can’t help but think he does. The thought of Peyton, and of Peyton and me together, throws my mind into a trip down fairly recent memory lane.
“What do ya got there?”
“ What?”
“You know what. The Brooke Davis leopard bra. Dude, that thing’s like a welcome mat. I heard you were naked in his car. ”
The teasing tone in Peyton’s voice had given way to the slight hitch of hurt that she tries to hide quite a bit. One that no one else would have noticed, and at the time I cared not to bother thinking too much about. If anything I assumed she was indeed interested in Lucas even though she spent any chance she got denying it.
“Let me ask you something. Why are you being so persistent with this one? You normally would have moved on by now.”
“Why? Are you jealous?”
I knew she was, but if Jake is right, she was jealous of Lucas and not because of him. The butterflies in my stomach that had been maintaining a fairly innocuous flight pattern have now decided to veer off course a bit it seems. Another memory comes to the forefront with that exciting and somewhat unsettling last thought
“Hey, can I catch a ride with you to Nathan’s party later?”
“I didn’t think you were going. I figured you’d be hiding out in Lucas’ back seat again.”
“Jealous.”
“No.”
I teased her about it all the time, I just never even once stopped to think about the alternative. Why I overlooked that I have no idea. As much as I was, and still for the most part am, rather boy crazy, Peyton has always been the most important person in my life. It never occurred to me until so much later on what that seems to imply. No wonder Peyton used to get so bothered by my gentle ribbing though. She used to immediately start to brood, an indication to me, at least at the time, that she was positively perfect for Lucas. Not that it was going to stop me from having him as one of my conquests though, I never expected to really develop genuine feelings for the guy. In retrospect, it was probably just as much my fault as Peyton’s that we all got swept into the big dark love triangle abyss.
“Wanna know what I think? I think Nathan likes tutor girl. But I think tutor girl likes Lucas. And I know I like Lucas. And I don’t know who the hell you like anymore. This is all turning into one big love… rectangle plus one, whatever that is. ”
How little I really knew the truth of that, even back then. It just seems to get more and more complicated. And yet I can’t stop thinking about how many signs I seemingly missed. And not just in Peyton’s behavior. Without consciously doing it, I think I must have been outwardly showing my affection for her more than I realized.
“Peyton!”
“Oh boy……”
“This is my best friend in the whole wide world, don’t you think she’s pretty?”
That whole night is still pretty fuzzy, but I can remember throwing myself into Peyton’s arms, not having a care in the world, just wanting to be as close to her as possible. I looked up into her eyes, concerned but trying to feign slight irritation when I know she’s really just amused by my constantly ridiculous behavior, and it just struck me how incredibly beautiful she was. Sure, I knew that she was pretty, we had a running joke for years that we could both get any guy we wanted, but I never really stopped to just LOOK at her. And when I did, god was I blown away. They say that a really attractive person can look far less so once you get to know them and they turn out to be the biggest ass. But if you know someone, and they’re a beautiful person on the inside, you can look at them and see a goddess, no matter if they’re hideous looking to the outside world. They’d be the most perfect thing to you. That night I realized how true that was. Of course that’s not saying that Peyton is hideous to everyone else, quite the opposite. But I finally understood what that saying meant.
And as soon as I started to discover that I might not just have feelings that fit strictly into the best friend-like arena I turned into Princess Bitch-a-Lot.
Prime example was when I got it into my more than slightly inebriated head to make her finally deal with her obvious feelings for Lucas, at least what I thought at the time were completely blatant. Besides daring Theresa to go and goose our poor basketball coach, I made such an ass out of Peyton.
“Brooke, come on.”
“I dare you to show us how you really feel. Kiss Lucas.”
I had it coming, I really did. But I didn’t expect it to hurt as much as it did to watch her take his face in her hands and pull him to her as if the entire varsity squad hadn’t been watching with rapt attention. I could only watch for a moment before the jealousy in the pit of my stomach made me tear my eyes away from them.
Even after all the drama happened with the three of us, who cheated on who, which betrayal was worse, that spark between us never went out. It was even apparent to other people, maybe that’s what the problem’s been, we’ve been too blind to see it. Hindsight really is a bitch. Speaking of bitches, I can’t believe even Nikki saw it. Granted she was probably just trying to be a smartass, but she just had to use what we already had given her as firepower.
“You know, I’ve really missed this whole girlfriend thing.”
“Of course you have.”
“Well as a babysitter, apparently you suck.”
“Nikki, what are you doing?!”
“Protecting my baby. While you two barbies were getting ready to make out, anyone could have taken her.”
I remember the moment before she snatched Jenny out of her stroller. I really think there was a second there where I might have just leaned in and snatched a quick sip from my best friend’s lips. I’m actually kind of thankful now that Nikki showed up. I’m sure at that point in time we both would have completely freaked out and it just would have led to incredible awkwardness. Especially since we were treading on eggshells to begin with.
I can’t take this. I need to read that journal. But I know I can’t do it without Peyton’s permission, it’s a line I’m just not willing to cross. Now with everything that’s on the line right now.
----------
I grab my beach bag, stuffing the towel under me into it haphazardly while hanging on tight to the leather book in my hands. Why I didn’t bring my cell phone out here with me I have no clue, but it’s probably for the best, I wouldn’t be able to hear very well anyway with the waves lapping against the shore.
Tossing everything onto the nearest chair I grab my phone off the kitchen counter and speed dial the familiar number. I’m not sure what I’m going to say to Peyton exactly, but I need to talk to her about this. I’m desperate to find out what’s in that journal, but not without her knowing I at least have it.
“And here I thought I’d be bugging you.” Peyton picks up on the third ring, not giving me nearly enough time to figure out how I’m going to ask her if I can essentially invade her privacy.
“Doing what exactly? I’m bored already.” Not really, but I think I probably would be if I hadn’t been thrown into an emotional tailspin by her ex boyfriend. Which brings me to a big crux in the whole thing. If I really do bring this up, I’ll also have to tell I ran into Jake here. I don’t want her thinking I just stole it from her. But then she’ll start asking me all kinds of questions about him. And I’d rather not be the bearer of her bad news.
“Ok, what’s wrong?”
“I’m really beginning to worry about that. You’re starting to know what I’m thinking before I even do.” It’s not worrisome, comforting actually, but not when I’m trying to stall.
“Brooke.”
“Ok, well I guess I’m just gonna have to come right out and say it.” I take a deep breath, trying to quickly figure out the best way to tell her.
“Oh this doesn’t sound good.” I can hear the worry creeping into her voice.
“Lets just say it’s not the easiest situation we’ve ever found ourselves in Missy Blonde Girl.” I try to ease up the rapidly declining mood, with little success.
“Ok now I know it’s bad, if you’re referring to it as a ‘situation’.”
To tear the band-aid off quickly about Jake, or slide that into the conversation a little later on, that is the real question.
“How come you never told me you kept a journal?”
“So that’s where it got to!” Oh great, she already knows it’s missing.
“Bottom of my overnight bag to be precise actually.”
“When did you find that?” At this point she just seems curious, although I can sense some nervousness in her voice. Which just makes me wonder all the more what’s written inside of it.
“Last night, right before you called me.”
“Wait. What? If you just found it out there, how did it get in your bag to begin with?” I’m sensing a little skepticism from my best friend, which I suppose is understandable.
“Jake.”
“Jake?”
“Jake.”
I can totally picture the look on her face, curiosity creeping around but mostly just entirely overwhelmed. It brings a small smile to face, which only makes me want to be back in Tree Hill again.
She breathes out a long sigh. “Ok, I think you better start from the beginning, because this is making all kinds of sense that’s not.”
I echo her sigh, taking in a deep lungful of air to explain the entire ‘situation’ to her. “I found the journal in my bag last night, the one that you rushed to the airport to give me.”
Which in and of itself is very odd. I could have gone the whole summer without it, nothing that incredibly important in there. At least that’s what I thought. Who would have known all of this drama could come from that one little choice Peyton made in bringing it to me at the terminal.
“It was in THAT bag?” Was that the sound of Peyton’s hand connecting with her forehead?
“That bag. Anyway, I had just opened it to look for something I could wear to bed since I didn’t feel like unpacking everything. Instead of silk boxers I found leather when I reached in. And then that’s when you called.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me last night?” If Peyton’s tone is any indication there is some REALLY good stuff in that thing.
“Well between our apparently newly developed flirt marathons and the fact you’re mother might be back from the dead, it kinda slipped to the back of my mind.” Well that was a tad bit more harsh than I would have liked.
She’s quiet for a moment, before she starts softly muttering, I think more to herself than to me. “I didn’t put it in there, I know I didn’t.”
I stop her before she starts going over every minute detail of the last how many days, wondering how it got into my luggage. “No you didn’t, Jake did.”
“How do you know that?” I could lie, I really could. The note is proof enough of his involvement. But I really don’t want to, she needs to know where Jake is and what he’s doing. As horrible as it may be for her to hear it, maybe she can finally have some closure.
“There was a note inside, addressed to me.” Before she can jump down my throat for even opening it, I tell her the rest. “And Jake told me himself.”
Peyton lets out a small gasp of surprise. “You saw him?”
I nod my head, quickly realizing that she can’t actually see me. “Of all the places in this country, we both ended up on the same beach this morning.”
“How is he?” Peyton quietly asks.
“He’s with Jenny.” I know that’s what Peyton was most worried about, him never seeing his daughter again. But I don’t want her to get her hopes up, so I continue quickly. “Nikki’s out here, and they’re together. And Peyton, I know what you’re thinking, but I doubt it’s like that. He just needs to do this to make sure that he can be with Jenny. Nikki just unfortunately comes with the package.” I honestly don’t know what I can say to sugarcoat it for her. Maybe there isn’t anything TO say.
“He’s not coming back, is he?” She sounds sort of resolved, like she had been expecting this, which is somewhat surprising to me.
“I don’t think so sweetie. I’m sorry Peyton.” I wish so much I could be there to just hold her right now. It’s bringing tears to my eyes, the desire is that strong to comfort her.
There’s silence for a while, I can hear her sniffling a bit but that’s all. I give her as much time as she needs.
“So he took off to California, hooked up with psycho-bitch, but before that he stole my journal, the most private thing I have, stowed it away to give to you, and wrote you a note. Let me guess, to read it?” Hurt Peyton has given way to angry Peyton. Oh boy.
“Pretty much.”
“Did you?” I knew what she was asking, and I can’t say I’m surprised she’d think I did.
“No, I didn’t.” She breathes a small sigh of relief, and I’m thankful that she at least takes me at my word. “That’s actually what I was calling you about.”
“You want to read it, don’t you?”
“Only if you give me the ok. I won’t go any farther than the first page, where I found the note, if you don’t want me to.”
Silence again. I’m beginning to hate it. “What did the note say?”
I wasn’t expecting that. I’m faced with another to lie or not to lie decision again. I’m starting to hate that too. “He told me to read it.”
She laughs a little, but I can tell how hollow it really is. “I kinda figured that one out Brooke. But I’m pretty sure it said something else. Especially if HE read it before giving it to you.”
I take that in for a moment, really comprehending what it means. She knows what she wrote in there. Jake’s not completely blowing smoke, which means that she’s feeling this too. And from the sound of it, has been for a long while. I was skeptical about just what was in there from Jake’s little note. Guys can interpret things entirely different from how they’re meant to sometimes, and I think I had convinced myself that it wasn’t as serious as he was insisting it was. But if I’m understanding Peyton right, then I was completely off.
I find myself being flooded with a sense of total clarity and peace, without having a read a word in Peyton’s dramatic handwriting. “What should it have said?”
“Brooke, please, don’t play games with me, it’s already been a stressful summer and we’re only two days into it.” I can hear the weariness in her voice. She really needs to get away from Tree Hill, it’s turning my poor Peyton into just a shell of her normal self.
“Come out here.” I blurt it out, although it’s not like we hadn’t discussed her visiting me in SoCal. But I’m pretty sure she didn’t think I’d be asking her this soon.
“What?”
“You heard me. Pack a couple bags, get on a plane and come out here.” I’m getting excited just at the thought that Peyton could be standing right next to me twenty four hours from now.
“I think I’m getting whiplash.” Peyton mutters, and I have to laugh at the thought of the exasperated look I know must be on her face.
“I’m serious P.S. I want you to book a flight right now. Go online and do it.”
“Why?” How can she ask that?
“What do you mean, ‘why’. I suddenly need a reason to see you?”
“When you’re on the other side of the country, yes, you do.” There’s still that level of nervousness, making her voice waver slightly.
I sigh, deciding that I’m just going to put everything on the table. I’ve always been the more emotionally available of the two of us, and I’m resigned to making the first move here. It’s not that much of a leap of faith though, because I know Peyton. And without even reading the journal, I know that this is the right step for us. I can feel it right down into my soul.
“I want you here with me Peyton.” I don’t think she was expecting me to be that blunt.
“You really haven’t read it?” Her voice is barely audible, I have to strain to hear her. I can feel how scared she is, I can hear it in the timbre of her voice. But it just convinces me more that this is the right choice.
“You know I didn’t. But I don’t think I even have to.” I look down, tracing my fingers over the inscription she’s written into the face of the journal, who knows how many years ago now.
“And you want me to come out there?” The fear is more than evident this time.
I smile, my typical Peyton, ever the skeptic. “More than anything. Please Peyton.” I hope I don’t sound like I’m begging, although I’m willing to go there if it gets her on that plane.
“You’re sure?” She sounds exactly like the ten year old that asked me to stay with her that first night after her mother had died. She was hesitant and scared and I simply nodded my head and climbed into her oversized bed next to her. She cried herself to sleep that night, my hand rubbing circles on her back, desperately trying to assuage her pain in any way that I could. I don’t think it helped much that night, but I’ve spent my life since then doing my best to be there for her, whenever she needed me.
All of that has led us to here.
“I’m positive. I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life Peyton. Trust me.”
The silence has returned and I’m holding my breath, hoping on everything that she’s willing to take the leap with me.
“I’ll look for a flight tonight then.” I let out a huge relieved sigh, the smile splitting my cheeks must look incredibly goofy, I can only imagine.
“Great! Let me know when you’re coming in and I’ll meet you at the airport.” I’m sure she can hear the excitement just dripping off my tongue.
“Ok.” She’s still hesitant, I can tell. Getting her out here is only the first part of the battle. But I’m more than up for the challenge.
“Get cracking then P Sawyer. Expedia, Orbitz, Travelocity, whatever it takes, just get your cute butt out here by tomorrow.”
She lets out a nervous little giggle. Just as we’re about to hang up she shocks the hell out of me.
“Read it Brooke.”
I’m speechless for a moment.
“Are you sure.” But only for a moment.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” I can almost see the good natured smirk crossing her lips.
I laugh a little, my fingers starting to tingle in anticipation where they still sit on the leather binding. “If you insist then.”
We say our goodbyes, with her promising to let me know all the details once she gets them straightened out. I’m only half paying attention though, because my eyes can’t seem to leave the countertop.
Peyton’s coming out here to be with me, and I have her blessing to read her innermost thoughts. This is shaping up to be THE summer to remember.
I rummage around in the refrigerator for something light to eat, grabbing a bottle of Fuji out of the side shelf as I close the door. Balancing a turkey sandwich on wheat in one hand, Peyton’s journal in the other, and my water under one arm, I trudge up to my bedroom. Opening the remote skylight that I found this morning, I plop myself on the bed, getting comfortable for what I can only imagine is going to be one hell of an enlightening afternoon.
--------------
June 25th 1999,
So my therapist seems to think that keeping a journal will help me channel the anger I’ve been throwing out at her. I think she just doesn’t want to have to deal with me once a week anymore and she figures she can cut back to twice a month instead. Fine with me, she’s a hack if I’ve ever seen one and the only reason I even agreed to go is so my father would stop worrying himself to death over me.
What am I even supposed to tell the woman? ‘How do you feel about your mother’s death?’ Well gee lady, how the hell do you think I feel? The most asinine question really. I guess she figures that after two years I’d stop missing her or the guilt I felt would just miraculously go away. I’ve wondered quite a few times now just where she got her psychiatric degree. Then again, maybe my father just didn’t do his homework and she’s the hack I’ve believed her to be.
Something tells me though that she wouldn’t appreciate me using her wonderful little idea to rail about her possibly fraudulent license. I guess two paragraphs of it is proof positive that maybe I do have some anger issues to exorcise.
Brooke is always telling me I’m too broody, and I know she’s right. But I don’t know how to be any other way. Even before Mom died I wasn’t the most enthusiastic person. It’s a wonder Brooke and I even became friends. That’s the one thing in my life these last few years that’s been a total constant for me though. Even in the midst of my cursing of everything in my world, I was still thankful for Brooke. I don’t think there’s been a day that’s gone by since then that she hasn’t managed to find me, wherever I may have been. The cemetery, the Cape Fear Bridge looking down into the deceptively tranquil water below, the intersection where my mother ran her last red light. No matter where I was, Brooke had some kind of homing signal on me, because she would always show up, not saying a word and just scoop me up in a hug, rubbing my back in comfort.
And I can’t imagine what those days would have been like without her there. I really think Brooke saved my life. And she’s still at it. Every school day she’s plopped at the foot of my bed at 7am sharp, making sure I’m not tempted to play hooky. We walk to school, her arm firmly ensconced in the crook of my own. Sometimes I wonder when she has tome for herself, all the babysitting she does.
I’ve talked with Dr. Farrell about my friendship with Brooke. She thinks it good that I have one constant thing in my life, especially with my Dad away so much on jobs. And I think that’s the only thing that I’ve agreed with her about.
In any case, I guess I’ll give this writing thing a try. Who knows, it might just end up being cathartic, we’ll see.
Peyton
I remember that psychiatrist of hers, she absolutely hated her. I was always after Peyton to try and be open-minded about therapy, but she just was not in the right frame of mind I guess. Which is an oxymoron in itself.
I’m glad she appreciated my constant hovering though. I think there were times when she wanted to throttle me for being so over-protective, but I just couldn’t help myself.
With a rueful smile on my face I flip the page to the next entry.
July 1st 1999,
Happy Birthday to me!
Huh, maybe some of Brooke’s cheeriness is rubbing off. Who knew. I guess with the amount of time we spend together, it was bound to happen one of these days. Although I’m really hoping my moodiness doesn’t manage to latch itself onto her in return. Brooke is one of the most positive people I’ve ever known. She finds that tiny little ray of sunshine in what everyone else sees as the storm of the century. I think she’s the only thing in my life that I can always count on to cheer me up on even the hardest of my days.
Today was one of them.
My birthday has been something I dread ever since the accident. As a kid I spent weeks anticipating it, but now, it’s just another day. Brooke assures me that it’s because I’m just getting older each year, and that’s why it loses it’s luster. But as much as I know she means well, it’s more than that. I don’t think anyone wants to spend their birthdays without their parents and loved ones. And for the last two years I look over the dining room table as I’m blowing out my candles and I’m painfully aware that I’ll always be missing one person who should have been there for much longer than what she was.
This year was better than I expected it to be though.
Brooke came over this morning bright and early, which for a weekend, should have really annoyed me. But seeing her come bouncing into my bedroom completely unannounced, with that gleam in her eye that I’ve come to recognize as an assured sign that she’s about to get us in potential trouble, I couldn’t help but smile. She had the entire day planned out, around my father’s special birthday dinner that he’s been cooking me these last two years now. She drug me off to the mall first, heading straight to the record store, bypassing all the designer boutiques on the way, shocking what little sleepiness that was left in me. Five new CD’s later, of which she actually stood there with me reading over the tracks, something she’s never done, we ended up at the food court sharing an oversized Pina Colada from Orange Julius.
I worry about that, Brooke already seems to love the cocktails, alcoholic or not. I can just picture her as a sorority girl, hanging at the keg parties every weekend. And it’s not a visual I enjoy. But I’m not about to get on her case for something that’s not even a problem right now. I can worry about it once we get to high school.
After our smoothie recharge she pulled me towards the multiplex. I fully expected to be sitting through two hours of some kind of mindless comedy or a romantic sob fest. So I was well prepared for either Mike Myers with disturbingly bad teeth, or Julia Roberts pretending she doesn’t love a guy who’s fool enough to fall for her. Brooke shocked the hell out of me though when she bought two matinee tickets to the latest Sean Connery movie, Entrapment. I’m not ashamed to admit that I have a bit of a crush on him. Sure, he’s old enough to be my grandfather, but there’s something so sexy about that accent. Brooke teases me incessantly about it, with a few well placed ‘eww’s’ and ‘gross’s’. So with a large bag of popcorn sitting between us, we settled down for a two hour adventure.
Ironically enough, I came away from the theatre with less of a Sean crush and an odd appreciation for Catherine Zeta Jones. It was a weird feeling really, but I didn’t worry too much about it once Brooke started going on and on about how great her makeup was. I figured that my best friend is starting to rub off even more than I was aware of. I’m beginning to think it’s really not a bad thing, I could certainly do with lightening up a bit.
On our way back home we managed to pass by the cemetery my mother is buried in. I’ve avoided going there since the day we laid her to rest. I’ve just never been ready to visit that place. I can’t describe the reason why, it’s just this incredible hesitance whenever I even think about standing in front of her marble headstone, looking down at the earth below my feet, knowing that she’s down there, turning to dust and bone. The thought that all there is left of her is that, it just makes my veins run cold. As we passed by the outer gates, Brooke grabbed my hand between both of hers and pulled me to a stop. I tried to avoid her gaze, because I knew what she wanted, what she was asking me. She was content to just stand there, holding my hand, until I finally pulled my head up to look at her. All I saw was her comforting half smile and concerned chocolate eyes. It took me another minute, but I finally decided that it was time. I took a step towards the path that leads through the memorial park, when I felt Brooke start to release her grip on my hand. I turned back around and tightened the hold between us, giving her a hesitant smile and then continued on into the cemetery.
I honestly don’t know how long we stayed there, I just know that I was grateful Brooke was there with me. Because I think it might have taken me another two years if she hadn’t gently encouraged me to get over my reservations and finally visit my mom.
Once we got home Brooke gave me a big hug and assured me that if I needed anything, to call her right away. I thanked her for taking such good care of me and she just gave me that little smirk she does and told me that it’s a hard job, but if she didn’t do it, who would. My best friend, always the smartass. But I know she was just teasing.
I think I’m starting to finally make some progress. I’m dealing, thanks to Brooke. I hope she knows just how important she is to me and how much I really do need her.
Peyton
I lay the journal down bedside me on the mattress while I reach over to the nightstand for a handful of tissues. I’m gonna smack Peyton for making me cry on the one day I’m not wearing waterproof mascara.
I remember getting up that morning, determined to make her forget for a few hours that it was another birthday without her mother. I never was really sure how it went over with Peyton though. I was used to her humoring me and my nutty whims, with a playful roll of her eyes. So I was always worried that my little plan for that day was just another thing that she went along with because that was just the way our relationship worked. I’m thankful now that wasn’t the case.
And hmm, I never knew that PS was digging on Catherine Zeta Jones. That explains why she was so grossed out when she married Michael Douglas. Gonna have to remember to tease her for THAT too now.
I flip the page again, surprised to see the date of the next entry.
July 14th, 2002
I guess I slacked off of a bit on the journal entries. I made a great effort though, a grand total of two! Dr. Farrell would be so proud. That is if I hadn’t stopped seeing her at the end of that summer. My father wasn’t all that happy about it, but I guess he didn’t want to force me into anything I didn’t want to be doing. When I told Brooke she just rolled her eyes at me and started laughing. Apparently she figured I’d only last a few weeks, not the whole summer. I guess even her encouragement wasn’t enough for me to keep going.
But the doc was a quack, I’m convinced of that. She proved it to me during our last session. I realized I had mentioned Brooke a few times during our sessions, but I figured that was completely normal, she’s a huge part of my life, why wouldn’t I talk about her here and there.
Halfway through our last session I brought up how Brooke and I had a slumber party, my poor father being trapped in the house with two chocolate hyped teenagers. It was the night before we had to go back to school and we both wanted to make the most of what could have been a dreadfully depressing evening. Somehow we got around to talking about boys, which really wasn’t all that surprising, but Brooke was after me about the fact that I had yet to have a real boyfriend, or even a real kiss.
Brooke being Brooke thought that was unacceptable. No best friend of hers could be so inexperienced in the ways of manipulating the male species. An hour later, my lips were swollen for the first time in my life and I had a half dozen techniques in my playbook on how to love em and leave em, all thanks to Brooke Davis and her repertoire of charm.
I remember the look on Dr. Farrell’s face. There was this little disturbing smile gracing her lips and I couldn’t figure out what in the world she could find so amusing about my best friend teaching me how to kiss. I asked her as much and she sat up in her expensive leather chair and proceeded to give me a mini version of the Spanish inquisition, all about my relationship with Brooke. I remember glancing over at the clock on her desk repeatedly, praying for the little buzzer to go off, signaling it was the end of our session. It didn’t happen before she came out with what sounded like the most ridiculous idea in the world to me.
She point blank asked me if I was gay.
I didn’t even give her the chance to explain why she asked me such an obviously insane question, I immediately jumped down her throat, using quite a few expletives in the process, accusing her of jumping to far too many conclusions. And she sat there with that same creepy serene smile, just letting me go, railing on her for a good ten minutes, until the little alarm finally went off. As I grabbed my backpack, fully prepared to storm out of her office, determined never to return, she called out to me and uttered two small one syllable words. Words that now make so much sense and at the time seemed like the stupidest advice in the world.
Tell her.
I spent three years wondering what in the world she meant. And why she had made such a huge leap from something as innocent as Brooke teaching me to French kiss to my entire sexual identity in question. It baffled me to no end, and I even told Brooke about it. She rolled her eyes like she always did when I told her about my therapy sessions, threw her arm around my shoulders and led me off to the mall to check out the guys hanging around the food court. Our normal after school ritual. And it never really got spoken of again. I didn’t even bother contemplating that the doc could be anywhere in the vicinity of right. I was little more than twelve years old, I barely knew what gay meant.
I get it now though, and I’m scared to death of it. Because I think she might have been more on than I ever wanted to think about.
Peyton
That long! I re-read the last paragraph a good five times, baffling at how long Peyton’s been keeping this to herself. Three years now, and I had no clue. How is that even possible?
I do remember that shrink of hers. When she came over to my house after her last therapy session, she was completely red in the face, and I could feel the anger rolling off of her, it was that acute. I didn’t understand why she was so mad, I mean yeah, the psychobabbler had jumped to some pretty out there conclusions. But Peyton was ready to boil over.
I didn’t think anything of teaching her how to stick her tongue down a guy’s throat. Gay wasn’t even in my vocabulary at that point. I didn’t even bat an eye as I had grabbed her face in my palms and pressed our lips together. It seemed completely natural to me. I guess that makes more sense now, but at the time, no thought was even given to it. I just assumed it was entirely normal. Hell, it probably IS normal. I’m sure most best friends don’t end up falling in love after practicing kissing techniques.
Whoa. In love?
I am. I really am. What a euphoric feeling this is. I can feel the sense of tranquility and peace invade my entire being. It’s such an amazing sensation, and I’m surprised by the lack of fear or nervousness that comes with it. I’m fully prepared for this, for the very first time in my life I’m not going to run in the other direction of it.
I lay back against my overstuffed pillows, for all the world feeling like I’m floating on little mini clouds. Taking a quick sip from my bottle of water on the nightstand, desperately trying not to choke on it in my prone position, I thumb to the next journal entry.
August 20th 2002,
Brooke and I just got back from three weeks in the Poconos for cheerleading camp. This is the second summer in a row now that I’ve gotten roped into it. Our requirement for cheering on the varsity squad as freshman she told me. The first time was a grueling two week program in Texas that felt more like boot camp than a nice summer retreat. I was hoping this would just be a nice couple of weeks up north to get away from the stresses of impending high school drama. I should have known better.
I’ve actually been trying to keep my distance from Brooke the last few months. Being around her has gotten increasingly difficult as I’ve started coming to the realizations that I’m more than attracted to her. I’m constantly walking on eggshells, scared to death that I’m going to slip up somehow and just plant one on her, or babble out some heartfelt confession. I’m not sure which is worse to be honest, I just know that Brooke would be less than receptive to either one.
I had been quietly relieved that Brooke and I hadn’t pulled the same lodging assignments for Pine Forest. I was pretty sure that three weeks of practically living with Brooke 24/7 would have made me a completely frustrated mess. Brooke however was not taking the news so well. She tried repeatedly to have us reassigned to each other, to my secret relief, it never worked. Which made her that much more irritated by the entire thing.
We saw each other a good ten hours out of the day as it was, doing squad drills, pyramid training and routine planning. I was trying desperately not to let my eyes wander when I hoisted Brooke onto my shoulders for the pyramid finale.
One thing that I did come away realizing though was that I didn’t spend the entire three weeks checking out the other two hundred or so teenage girls that we were surrounded by. Which made me feel moderately relieved and at the same time, even more worried. I’m pretty sure now that I’m not in the gay column, which of course, nothing wrong with that, but it makes me a little less confused in the grand scheme of things. But the bad side of that coin is that I also came to understand that Brooke seems to be the end all be all for me. And considering how nonexistent my chances with her are, it kind of leaves me in a really depressing place.
And just my luck, we ended up spending the last week of the camp sharing a bed. Brooke has this habit of always trying to be the alpha female. I’m not entirely sure she’s aware of it, but it either earns her a horde of bowing loyalists, or a handful of extremely ruffled egos by the few girls who share her same attitude. The second we were introduced to the Bear Creek High squad I knew there was going to be trouble.
Claire Young was pretty much an entirely bitchy version of Brooke. Used to getting her own way, wanting everyone to follow her lead and not challenge her authority. And the most heinous bitch I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting.
So naturally her and Brooke were going to lock horns. And then we found out they were cabin mates. I think I literally heard the feline growling when they locked eyes across the room. I half expected to see Brooke the next morning at breakfast with scratches up and down her arms. I have complete faith in her abilities to charm and ultimately dominate a group of impressionable young girls, but she was lacking one thing that Claire had in spades. Brooke, as spoiled and materialistic as she can sometimes be, she’s not nasty. She’s got the most amazing heart, it’s just buried underneath all the money her parents throw at her. And I’m one of the lucky few who gets to see it on a regular basis.
But I’m digressing.
Two weeks into our lovely little retreat to northern Pennsylvania Claire and Brooke finally got into it. The knock down drag out that I expected to happen the first couple of days. My cabin was three over from Brooke’s, so it made it pretty handy for her to slip in after lights out. We’re both night owls, so the ten pm bed time was not something either of us were too fond of. So most nights she’d sneak into my cabin, and we’d crawl under the blankets, turn the flashlights on she had insisted on packing, and paged through one of the gazillion magazines that we managed to smuggle in. Since I was rooming with Theresa we weren’t worried about being ratted out. It was starting to become a perpetual slumber party.
Until Claire caught on and told our counselor. The next morning we both were sat down and given a stern lecture on discipline being the most important factor in cheerleading, and how were we ever going to lead our squad if we couldn’t even go to bed when we were told. It was really one of the most boring conversations of my life, especially considering that I spend most of my time on my own with dad off on jobs in the Atlantic. I’m not used to have any kind of curfew, bed time, or rules in general, besides the normal morality ones of course. Counselor Bonnie was so red in the face I was shocked she didn’t just pop a vein in her forehead.
Fast forward to that night. I snuggled down in bed, desperately needing a good night’s sleep after the exhausting day I’d had. A couple hours later I was woken up by the lights going on around me and the distinct sound of Brooke ripping a certain blonde cheerleader a new one. By the time I rolled myself out of bed and cleared the sleep from my eyes, half the camp was standing outside of Brooke and Claire’s bunk, watching in rapt attention as they matched each other, insult for insult.
In my half asleep haze, I can’t be entirely sure what all was said, most of it was just jumbled shouts at each other. But when I saw Brooke step toward Claire with a distinct look of bloody murder in her eyes, I knew it was time I try and diffuse the situation. Pushing my way through the onlookers, idly wondering where the camp counselors were now, I made my way behind Brooke. And I got my own dose of Claire’ vitriol for my trouble. Here I was essentially saving her from Brooke’s full fury, and I just managed to get myself drug into the whole mess.
“Well well, looks like I was right Brookie.”
I knew that was just going to enrage my best friend more, she hates when people cutesy her name, it pisses her off like nothing else. By that time I had put my hand on her shoulder, trying to subtly encourage her to back off. Subtle wasn’t working though, and just as I was about to grab her around the waist and physically drag her out of the cabin, our wayward counselor finally decided to make an appearance. After she finally realized that there was no way Brooke and Claire could spend another week together breathing the same oxygen, she took Brooke’s suggestion to stay with me in my bunk for the duration of the camp.
Sure, I didn’t want them killing each other, but that last week was pure and utter torture for me. Brooke’s a cuddler. And normally that’s not such a bad thing, or even noticeable. Because my bed at home is a nice large queen size. Plenty of room for the both of us where we barely touch during the night. But the bed at cheer camp was the smallest twin I’ve ever seen in my life. So for six straight nights, Brooke would curl up next to me, her chin propped on my shoulder, her hand placed somewhere different on my person every night. And I watched the sun rise six consecutive days. The bags under my eyes deserve their own zip code, they’re that massive. But there was no way I was risking sleep, only to have one of my more vivid dreams of late and end up molesting my best friend.
And I don’t think Brooke has any clue. So much for staying away from her. That last week was a perfect lesson in being careful what one wishes for. During my weeks of avoidance before the camp, my naughtier thoughts had danced around the exact same scenario, with a few more than friendly details added in.
I have no idea what I’m going to do about this. I can’t be around her without wanting to touch her. But the keeping my distance plan is doomed to fail. We’re best friends. And I need to keep it that way. My feelings and attraction are inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. So I’m determined to get over whatever this is and make sure things go back to normal as quickly as they can.
Brooke can never know.
Peyton
I giggle a bit as I read over the last few paragraphs again. I’ve always been a snuggler, ever since I was tiny. I couldn’t go to sleep without having my arm or hand wrapped around something. Usually it was my Care Bear or the spare pillow I insisted on having. As I’ve gotten older, it’s more often than not, a person. And my favorite snuggle bunny has always been Peyton. Usually when I sleep over at her house, I just use her extra pillows or the bedspread itself. But that bunk was so damn tiny at Pine Forest that she was the only thing to grasp onto.
And I actually liked it that way. Peyton has always been the only person in my life that’s made me feel truly safe. Not just emotionally, but physically as well. Her arms are the safest place in the world to me, and especially after my little catfight with Claire, that was just what I needed. I don’t think I’ve ever slept as soundly as I did that week I spent in bed with her. I actually remember how stiff she seemed the first few days, which baffled me to no end. We had slept in the same bed together probably a thousand times before that, and she’s never been anything but completely comfortable with me. I wasn’t sure what changed. But I selfishly didn’t really care, as long as we were together.
Just as I’m contemplating all the ways I can make those sleepless nights up to my poor Peyton, the sounds of the Spice Girls once again sound through my bedroom.
I reach over and pick it up, but before I have a chance to even say hello, Peyton nervously cuts me off.
“If you listened to me I’m surprised you even answered your phone.”
I scrunch up my eyebrows, unseen of course to a slightly anxious sounding P Sawyer. “Why would you think that?”
“How far along are you anyway?” She dodges my question.
“Cheer camp. But never mind that, when’s your flight?” I have a bad feeling where this is going and I’m determined to nip it in the bud.
“You’re serious?” I can hear the disbelief in her voice.
“Not most times, no. But right now, never more so. What’s going on PS, did you change your mind?” I hesitantly ask her, wondering if something has suddenly changed without my knowing it.
“Here I was calling to ask you the same thing.” She lets out a little sardonic laugh.
I roll my eyes, having way too much of this particular brand of angst already. “Stop being so melodramatic girlfriend, just let me know when I get to pick you up.”
There’s silence on the line for a good minute, and then finally Peyton sighs. “It’s flight number 410 into LAX at 11:30.”
I pout unseen to my best friend, glancing over at the clock noticing that it’s only around 1pm now. “That long? You couldn’t get an earlier flight?”
She scoffs at that, apparently not sharing my impatience. “Right, do you have the $1500 bucks it would have cost for a last minute cross country flight?” Before I get a chance to respond, with a resounding duh, she cuts me off again. “That was rhetorical Brooke, don’t even go there. Besides the fact that’s like ten hours. I barely even have the time to pack here.”
“Well you don’t really have to bother, we can just go shopping with Daddy’s Amex.” I can hear the protest forming all the way on the other side of the country. “And before you even start, I’ll have you know he’s feeling extremely guilty lately. I’m using it to my full advantage, so we’ll be sitting pretty this summer.”
There’s dead silence. I’m wondering what in the world I could have said to produce that type of reaction. It’s not like Peyton isn’t aware of my penchant for spending my parents money.
“This summer? As in the ENTIRE summer? Brooke, how long should I be packing for?”
I smile, picturing the little crease between her eyebrows. “You really think once I get you out here I’m going to let you go back?”
“What?!” The surprise in her voice is evident, even though I think the fact I was openly flirting with her went right over P. Sawyer’s head.
“Your dad won’t mind will he? Isn’t he on that job down off of Baja anyway?” I’m trying to remember where Peyton told me her father was spending the summer, I’m pretty sure it was in Mexico somewhere.
“Sure, he won’t mind that you kidnapped me off to the OC for the entire summer.” Hmm, classic Peyton snark.
“Well we can always go down and visit him. Mexico is right next door.” I’m starting to sense a little hesitancy on her part. Can’t be having that.
“You’re up to something, I can just tell.” I don’t why I’m still surprised when she calls me on things.
I decide being honest is the best way to go at this point. “I am. But aren’t you curious to find out what?”
“Scared to death actually.”
“Cute Peyton.” Cause really, smartass Peyton is one of the most adorable things ever. “So finish up your packing and make sure things at your house are taken care of.”
Peyton cuts me off yet again. “Taken care of? God, you’ve really thought this out. Why does that not surprise me.” I think she’s mumbling to herself more than anything now.
“OK bestest friend, you get your cute butt moving and I’ll see you at 11:30.” As much as I love hearing her voice, I think she’s using the phone call as a stall tactic, and there will be none of that.
“Brooke-----”
This time I cut her off. “Peyton, stop thinking so much about it. What’s your gut telling you?” I pray that it’s not screaming at her to stay far far away from the airport.
I can tell she’s trying to decide if she wants to tell me the truth or not. Peyton has these little tells, especially when she tries to pull one over on me. And the hitch in her breathing is one of the big ones. She lets out one final sigh. “I miss you.” Before I can echo the sentiment, she continues. “Which is ridiculous really. You’ve been gone less than twenty four hours and I already miss you like crazy. And my stomach is all in knots because I KNOW that I’d be the biggest idiot in the world if I didn’t just do what you’re asking and fly out there. But I’m scared Brooke.”
My heart breaks as her voice cracks. I know she’s scared, hell I am too. But this is so worth it, I can feel it so strongly. I just have to get her to see that too. “I know PS, I am too. But this is right, I know it. And when you finally get here, I’ll prove it to you.” Images of candles and rose petals and satin sheets invade my head. And I’m surprised by how comfortable I am with it. It just strengthens my resolve more so.
I’m shaken out of my more than friendly thoughts by Peyton’s voice echoing over the line. “I guess I’ll be seeing you tonight then.”
I smile, an honest to God ear to ear smile, in relief. “I can’t wait. Be safe Peyton, love you.” And before she can start dissecting that, I press end on my cell, disconnecting us.
As I place my phone back on the nightstand I glance down at her journal, lying open to the page I left off at. I’m tempted to keep reading straight through until it’s time to go pick her up at the airport, but there’s a germ of an idea creeping around in my noggin that just won’t seem to go away. I’m not entirely sure it’s the most appropriate thing to do considering how much is really still up in the air with me and Peyton, but I can’t seem to help myself.
Grabbing my cell back off the nightstand I head downstairs to the kitchen where I noticed the phone directory sitting on a shelf underneath the counter. An hour and a few ruffled florists and caterers later I headed back upstairs with another bottle of Fuji to dive back into the next journal entry.
April 11th, 2003
The last few months have been insanity, that’s my excuse for not writing in here more. The strangest thing happened today. Brooke had set her sights on the new star of the varsity basketball team this past winter. But he barely paid any attention to her. I really had no idea what could be wrong with him. I figured the odds were even on blind or gay. I’m firmly on the side of blind now though after the disturbing cheerleading practice I just got home from.
Mr. Basketball asked me out.
Me, not my best friend. That was enough confirmation for me. I can’t imagine why he would want me and not Brooke. I mean I’m not completely without any exterior aesthetically pleasing qualities, but compared to a goddess like her I’m nothing special.
His name is Nathan Scott. He’s arrogant, smug, self involved, and I have to admit, pretty cute. All dark hair and bright eyes. Charming in the way that he’s completely aware of it and uses it to his full advantage. He’s got trouble written all over him.
And yet I agreed to go on a date with him. I’m not sure what I’ve been smoking, but I think I need to get off of it. As we were talking after varsity practice, I could feel Brooke’s eyes on my back, watching intently. After he confidently asked me if I wanted to check out the latest Chow Yun something or other kung fu movie. Completely stunned I nodded my head yes, paralyzed as he leaned down and kissed me on the cheek, before heading out of the gym.
I was still standing there like a complete idiot when I felt Brooke sidle up beside me. I didn’t have to even look at her to know that she was less than pleased with the situation. I couldn’t be sure what she was more upset about. That he chose me over her, or that she was viewing my acceptance as a betrayal to her. Before I even turned around to face her fully I was working on the apology. But the look she wore stopped me cold. It was half amused and half annoyed, and for the life of me I couldn’t read her at all in that moment.
She shocked the hell out of me by reaching her fist out in the space between us, uttering what apparently has become our new mantra. Hoes over Bros. By the tap of our fists together, we agreed to never let any guy, no matter how cute or sexy, come between our friendship. I just hope we can stand by it.
I hoped we could have too. I’m honestly not sure which one of us really broke our pact. I knew she liked Lucas, I teased her about it, and yet I still went after him with both barrels. I guess maybe it really was my fault.
I remember how jealous I was that day when I saw Nathan saunter over to Peyton. I think my entire field of vision hazed over to a nice bright shade of green. The funny thing was, while I thought Nathan was cute, still do actually, I wasn’t so interested in him that I should have had such an abrasive reaction to them going out on a date. He had been a conquest I had hoped to attain, but nothing more really.
In fact, I really should have been happy for my best friend. She had been rather mopey most of the school year, sticking to staying home on the weekends, drawing her freaky little drawings, and leaving me on my own to party with the rest of the cheerleading squad. I was starting to miss her, and not just her physical presence either. I remember feeling like she was slipping farther and farther away from me and my world and into her own dark, closed off self imposed solitude.
And then once she started dating Nathan she seemed to snap out of it. Peyton’s never been bubbly and happy go lucky, it’s one of the reasons we get along so well, we balance each other out. But once she was someone’s girlfriend, she slowly started hanging out with us more, went to parties, at least gave the semblance of looking like she was having some fun. And while I enjoyed having my best friend back, I was more than annoyed that it took Nathan Scott to pull her out of the funk. I had tried every trick in my fairly large book to get her to cheer up, and nothing worked at all. In fact at times it seemed as though my mere presence made it even worse.
I get it now though. At least I think I do. And I’m beginning to wonder how much of an idiot I must have been to not see all the signs that were there for so long.
I glance at my watch, wondering how much more time I have to kill before I can talk about all of this with Peyton. Nine more hours to go. Plenty of time for a few more entries. I skim over the next few pages, not wanting to read in Peyton’s disturbingly descriptive detail the intricacies of her more intimate moments with Nathan. I heard about it first hand from her the morning after any way.
As I’m skipping through the paragraphs, a couple of sentences catch my eye, piquing my curiosity and making me go back to the beginning of the entry to read more in detail.
August 20th, 2003
A year ago I made an entry in here complaining about how my best friend was driving me nuts. Now I’d give anything for those days back. To be snuggled up against in a bed too small for even one of us. Her fingers unconsciously trailing up and down my ribcage, testing my limits in pleasurable torture.
Now all I can think about is what a mistake I’ve made.
Last night I lost my virginity. And while normally it’s a huge milestone for a young woman, the minute it was over with, and Nathan curled up on the other side of the bed, presenting his back to me, I knew I had given it to the wrong person.
All the magazines tell you that it should be special. It should be with someone you love and trust unconditionally. Someone who knows you inside and out and loves you just the same. It’s something special and one of a kind that shouldn’t be jumped into cavalierly. Your partner should be The One, the person you want to remember for the rest of your life, even if they aren’t the one you end up with.
Nathan Scott is not that person.
Brooke Davis is.
But I’m not delusional enough to think that it would have ever happened with her. I would have ended up dying an eighty year old virgin if I had waited for a moment that was never going to come. Which is probably why I gave in to Nathan so readily. My mind was a jumble of all kinds of thoughts, most of them in the vein of downright depressing, and in that moment, I just wanted to feel something, anything else. And I thought that what Nathan was offering me was as good as I could get at the time.
Besides, he’s Mr. Basketball. Most popular guy in school, loved by the entire student body. Why wouldn’t I want to lose myself to a guy like that, right?
Because he’s just not Brooke. But then, no one else will be.
Peyton
God! She never said a word, not one. Sure, I didn’t expect her to come right out and tell me something like that. But she outright lied to me. Peyton told me that it was everything she expected and then some. That Nathan was a fantastic lover and how glad she was that they had taken that step. I hadn’t even questioned her. In fact, I really didn’t want to hear any of the details, which was so odd for me. But then again, she never seemed to think anything of my lack of interest in her details.
She wanted it to be me? I just…………..I don’t even know what to think about that. It’s such an incredible gift to give, and she wanted to give it to me. That’s probably the sweetest thing I’ve ever known. I have to figure out a way to thank her for the sentiment, and to come up with a plan to make it up to her. What I have in motion for Peyton’s arrival tonight will help, but it’s not anywhere in the vicinity of being enough. How does one go about making up for something like that though?
~~~~~~~~~
I honestly have no clue what I’m doing. I mean, I literally must be going out of my mind to be even considering this. But that hasn’t stopped me from feverishly packing a couple of suitcases, emptying out most of my drawers in the process. According to Brooke I shouldn’t even be packing anything.
Yeah, as much as I love the girl, it’s a rare day when I actually listen to her when it comes to spur of the moment, must be out of your mind, ideas. And it’s bad enough that she’s talked me into flying across the country on a few hours notice. No way am I not taking anything with me.
Never mind that I hate flying. It’s my least favorite form of transportation. When we were down in Texas for cheer camp a few years ago, Brooke literally had to hold onto my hand the entire flight. It’s something that’s been an almost ritual for us over the years. Every time I’ve been on an airplane, Brooke has been sitting next to me.
The first time I ever flew was back when we were twelve. My father was apparently getting desperate trying to cheer me up after my mother passed away. I guess he figured two years was a long enough mourning period. So he sprung for a week in Disney World. He was shocked when I steadfastly refused to go unless he let Brooke come with us. By that time she had become my living and breathing security blanket. I really should have worried about how dependant and attached I was to her, but I guess at twelve and in the throes of an amazing amount of grief, I didn’t care. In retrospect it was on the selfish side, but Brooke never seemed to mind. If anything, she hovered even when I didn’t ask her to stay with me. Her presence was comforting, the only thing that really could give me that feeling back then. So why would I have wanted that to go away.
Dad got it. At least I think he did. And after all, the trip was to try and get me out of the dumps, and Brooke was the only person in the world that was capable of getting me to cheer up at all those days. So after some begging and lots of pouting, he let Brooke tag along with us. It was no surprise that her parents didn’t care one way or the other, and they even gave her quite a chunk full of change to pay her own way for everything.
So there we were, waiting at the New Brunswick airport, sitting in the crowded terminal with all the other theme park bound families. I had been trying to keep my gaze down at the magazine in my lap, but every once in a while I would glance up and take in the vision of the kids, just like me, their mothers double checking through their backpacks to make sure they hadn’t forgotten anything.
It made me miss my mom even more, knowing that she had never gotten to see me experience Mickey and Co. It had been something we had talked about as a family for years. But dad could never seem to get his vacations in tandem with my mother‘s, so we ended up having to backburner the trip. And then, there I was, finally taking it, but without her. It was a very bitter pill to swallow. And I couldn’t help but feel slightly resentful of my father for that. Rationally I knew it wasn’t his fault, but the twelve year old grieving child mourning her mother wasn’t really using her more rational side back then.
I remember, as I sat stewing about my father’s devotion to his job and resenting the families I was surrounded by, I felt a warm hand slide into my own that had been sitting limply in my lap. I glanced down, though I already knew who it belonged to. When I looked up at her she had a sympathetic half smile greeting me. She squeezed my hand once more, increasing the hold she had on it, and then went back to reading her Teen People, never releasing her grasp on me. And for the thousandth time I thanked God that she was my best friend.
Once we had gotten on the plane, because of the way the trip had been booked, and Brooke getting a ticket a few days after my father had bought ours, we ended up having boarding passes for seats about ten rows apart. My dad, not wanting Brooke to have to sit by herself on a crowded plane, took her seat and let us sit together. She immediately called dibs on the window seat, knowing that I was scared to death of the thought of flying to begin with, that the last thing I should be doing was staring out of the window. I didn’t argue, although the lady sitting to my left on the aisle looked less than sociable, so I just made sure to lean as far into Brooke as I could. Garnering a few smirks from my best friend, but I didn’t really care, nor was I honestly paying that much attention.
I was doing fine, keeping the panic bubbling discretely under the surface, my knuckles turning a nice pale color as they gripped the armrest. Until we started speeding up for take-off. Taxi-ing the runway was cake compared to that. As we climbed into the air, at what felt to me like a freaking 90 degree angle, I gave up all pretense of calm and switched my grip from the arms of my seat to Brooke’s wrist. I started panicking. More than panic really, hyperventilating, sweat beading on my forehead, voicing all sorts of horrific visions of the plane plummeting back to the ground, in graphic detail, and loudly. For the fifteen minutes or so that it took for the plane to reach it’s desired altitude and finally level off, I was a bundle of raw nerves, with Brooke rubbing my arm up and down, listening to me prattle on and on about how we were going to die. By the time she finally managed to calm me down I had left deep fingerprints into the underside of her wrist and the lady next to me had unbuckled herself and moved to one of the emergency exit seats.
And I haven’t grown any more fond of it since. Although I’m calmer now, enough so in fact that I managed to tease Brooke about her anxiety when we went to Texas a few years ago. It was mean, I know it was, but I had no idea that she was a nervous flyer. I never would have guessed considering how at ease she seemed when I was freaking out. When I called her on it she made some lame excuse about being too caught up in the prettiness of Ben Affleck in the issue of some random entertainment rag that she had been reading that she didn’t care about being thirty thousand feet up in the sky.
It wasn’t until much later that I realized that she had put her own fear and nervousness aside to try and make me feel more at ease. And I think once I figured that out I fell in love with her all over again. Of course it’s only been a rather recent development that I even feel comfortable enough with the idea that I’ve loved her, in some form or another, almost my entire life. At 18 years old, it’s a very odd situation I‘ve found myself in. Knowing something and accepting that same thing are sometimes on completely different ends of a spectrum. Thankfully, I think I might be meeting in the middle of my curve here.
With a begrudging nod to Lucas.
I really hate the fact that he could pick up on it. I’m not entirely sure why either. Maybe it’s because it makes me wonder for how long he knew. Luke never really elaborated much, and I was too much of a mess, and still subletting my nice little Egyptian riverside property to really want to ask for details. But if he was aware of my feelings for my best friend for a while, and he still pursued BOTH of us, I really don’t like the implications. I’d like to think he’s a better man than that. I love Lucas, I may not be in love with him, but I love him just the same, in my own convoluted sort of way. And the idea that he could have just overlooked something as complicated as this particular little situation , just to get some piece of either of us, is not something I want to think about.
I glance at the clock, surprised to see that my departure time is fast creeping up on me. I throw a couple more pairs of jeans into my suitcase before zipping it up and reaching for the phone at the same time. I can’t drive myself to the airport, especially since I have no idea how long I’m going to be gone. I can only imagine what kind of parking fee that would rack up. Never mind the fact I just got myself a nice expensive ticket the other night when I dropped Brooke off. Nope, a taxi is the only way to go.
Not having any idea where the phone book is, or if we even have one for that matter, I immediately 411’d, quickly trying to remember the name of the local cab company here in Tree Hill. Just as the operator was asking me for the listing, I heard a hesitant knock on my door. For just one tiny split second, I thought it might have been Brooke. But as soon as the thought entered it flew right back out of my mind. The fact that I don’t think she’s ever knocked before bouncing into my bedroom, telling me in no uncertain terms that whoever it was could not be my best friend. I didn’t even bother thinking about the three thousand mile teleportation that would have been required for her to magically appear at my doorway.
I turned around, my cordless still pressed to my ear. And came face to face with someone I’d wondered if I’d ever see again.
We stood there, staring at each other for a good minute, the operator’s nasally voice echoing over the line, repeatedly asking me for a listing before finally disconnecting me.
“I don’t know why I expected this place to be different.” Haley finally speaks up, her eyes roaming around my bedroom, as if she hasn’t seen it in years.
“Just because you changed doesn’t mean everything does.” I couldn’t keep the bite out of my tone. And I’m honestly not sure if I even wanted to. Haley hurt all of us when she left, not just Nathan. And with all the people that have abandoned me in my lifetime, I really didn’t expect her to be the next in line. I think I was more disappointed than anything.
The little devil perched precariously on my shoulder jumps up in glee when I see her flinch. I honestly don’t know what she was expecting to come back to. Hugs and kisses?
“I haven’t changed Peyton.” She says it so quietly I wonder if she’s trying to convince me or herself of it.
“No, of course you haven’t. Because the Haley James that I knew, she would run off in the middle of the night, ditching her husband and all her friends behind to chase after some egomaniacal little wannabe. And there’s no doubt that she wouldn’t even bother to try and call and see how everyone was doing.” The further along I got in my little speech, the more resentful I started feeling. And I didn’t like it.
People make mistakes, I’m a prime example of that. One word. Lucas. I really shouldn’t be as hard on her as I’m being. But there’s something just driving me on. It might be my overwhelming anxiety at what’s looming ahead once I step on that plane, but that’s really no excuse.
Haley shakes her head, looking down at the floor for a moment. “I didn’t come here to fight with you Peyton. Lucas told me you were going through some stuff and I wanted to see if I could help. It’s the least I could do.”
Lovely, Lucas is sharing my secrets now too. I’m beginning to really rethink this whole friendship angle with him. With friends like him, do I really even need enemies. That’s harsh, I know it as soon as I think it, but I’m feeling so raw that I can barely even feel bad about it.
I let out a hollow laugh, my lovely chipper mood not being tamed by Haley’s continued presence. “It really is the least. But I don’t have time even if I wanted to get into it with you. I’ve gotta get to the airport.” I turn my back to her, glancing around my bedroom trying to make sure I haven’t forgotten to pack something.
“You’re leaving?”
Turning around I smirk at her surprised face. “If you can do it, so can I.” She flinches again and I decide I’ve been enough of a bitch to her. I’m taking so many other things out on Haley, and it’s just not fair. I take a deep breath, trying to settle my nerves so that I don’t snap again. “Look, I’m sorry. I’ve just got a lot of things going on right now, and I’m kind of in a hurry. You’re timing just sucks.”
As I’m rushing around, making sure that my computer and stereo are unplugged, I can feel Haley’s gaze following me. “You’re going out to California.” It’s not a question, and it’s enough to stop me in my hurried tracks.
I play dumb. Does everyone freaking know? “What makes you say that?”
Haley smiles a little, yep, she knows. “Because that’s where Brooke is.”
I can feel the blush traveling up my cheeks, even as I spit out a rather weak denial. “So?”
Haley’s smile just grows. She doesn’t have to say a word. And I’m oddly comforted by what seems to be her easy acceptance of the idea. Feeling her eyes still locked on me I glance over at the clock on my nightstand, realizing I still haven’t called the cab company. At this rate I’m so going to miss my flight.
I must have verbalized my frustrations with some kind of grunt, because the next thing I’m aware of is Haley’s fingers wrapped around my forearm, guiding me out of my bedroom, my hands loaded down with my suitcases and my two duffels slung over her small shoulders.
“Come on, I’ll take you to the airport.”
I really don’t deserve her kindness after the nasty way I treated her when she showed up in my bedroom. So I mumble a quiet thank you as I load my luggage into her trunk. As I’m strapping myself into the front seat I vaguely wonder when Haley got a car.
We pull up to the front of the terminal and as I’m getting out the butterflies in my stomach start their Olympic training all over again. Placing my luggage onto the little cart the attendant was kind enough to roll over to me, my hands start shaking almost uncontrollably. I’m honestly starting to wonder if I have the strength to go through with this.
Just as I’m contemplating jumping back into the car, Haley captures one of my shaking hands in between her own. She smiles up at me serenely, calming my nerves a bit.
“There’s absolutely nothing to worry about Peyton. Trust me.”
“How can you be so sure?” Really, how can she just know that, especially after being gone so long.
She lets go of me, giving me a little push towards the spinning glass doors leading to the ticket counter. “I just do. And you will too. Now go get your skinny ass onto that plane. Brooke’s waiting for you.”
I nod my head blankly, watching as she pulls away from the curb. I’m beginning to wonder when all of my friends turned into Yoda, this whole wise sage stuff they’ve been spewing really starting to get weird.
Thirty minutes later I’m sitting in my seat, the window of course, my luck just not coming through the last few hours. I glance outside to the tarmac, seeing the line of planes in front of us waiting to take off. Looks like I’m in for a long wait. Probably not the best thing considering I can feel the panic starting to build already. The longer we sit here the more time I have to start freaking out.
The plane starts to move again, almost like a lineup at a fast food drive through. At that exact moment my hip starts vibrating. I discretely shift myself to face out the window, flipping it open and bringing it to my ear, not even bothering to check the caller ID.
“You ass better be sitting in some horribly upholstered uncomfortable plane seat.” Hearing Brooke’s voice immediately puts me at ease, even as I’m watching the plane moving further down the runway.
“And if it’s not?” I tease her.
“Well I’ve been sitting here reading your journal all day, so I’m too wiped out to think of a witty comeback. But I don’t need to because I can hear the jet engines.” I take a big mental gulp at her mention of my journal again. I can only imagine how far she’s gotten since the last time we talked.
“So did you finish it?” I ask hesitantly
“I skipped over some of the more Lucas and Nathan centric entries, cause, well yuck. But yeah, I got to the last one.” I can just picture her nose scrunching up when she mentioned some of the more detail oriented times I vented in those pages. I don’t blame her for jumping past those.
“And I shouldn’t be trying to find an escape hatch on the plane somewhere?” I can’t help but still feel hesitant.
Brooke scoffs at that. “Would you stop it already. I’m telling you P Sawyer, you make me reassure you one more time and the only thing you’ll be getting when you land is a big spanking.”
I laugh to cover the desire that particular thought inspired in me. Visions of Brooke in a tight red leather body suit, cat o nine tail in hand causing my whole body to feel like molten lava has replaced the blood in my veins. I’m surprisingly not upset by the idea though, which is comforting. I think I might just be ready for this step into the unknown with my best friend.
Before I can even think of a witty retort, Brooke cuts me off. “And don’t even think about calling me kinky, it’s redundant. Besides, you know I’m not kidding.” She teases me, although I know that she really isn’t joking. I’ve been on the receiving end of a butt smack or two of hers. Girl has got quite the palm on her.
“Miss, you need to turn that off now, we’re ready for takeoff.” The flight attendant kindly interrupts us. I couldn’t be mad at her, because she very well could have just gotten all pissy with me, I know better not to use a cell on the plane anyway.
I smile at her, nodding my head in acknowledgement. “Listen Brooke, I gotta go, we’re about to takeoff.”
“Ok blondie, be safe, I’ll see you soon.”
“Yep, soon.” I sigh into the phone, an equal mix of anticipation and fear coloring my voice. After pressing end I return the phone to my back pocket, before getting a nice firm grip on my armrest. As the engines crank up and we build speed down the runway, I’m reminded again of that first trip with Brooke. I feel a content smile spread itself across my face, and for the first time today, I’m filled with a total sense of peace. Nothing is going to be the same between me and Brooke. But I’m really starting to be ok with that. And it’s an amazing feeling.
--------------------
By the time I reach the last page of Peyton’s journal, the sun is long set under the horizon. The massive house is completely still and quiet, the sounds from the beach goers long faded into the night. And my hands are trembling as I flip the last sheet of paper over, still nervous of what I’ll find, even after all of the previous entries that have kept me completely absorbed all day long.
February 14th, 2005
Well apparently I finally know what it’s like to spend Valentine’s Day alone.
I’ve read all those articles in the dozen teen magazines that litter the grocery checkout line. And I’ve always rolled my eyes at the girls moaning about how they don’t have a boyfriend to take them out, buy them expensive dinners, give them tacky jewelry. And then of course being wooed by all of that crap, they ever so romantically lose their virginity to these amazing guys, only to get dumped the next day. Not something that really appealed to me.
Besides, Brooke and I had a pact that we would always spend February 14th together, even playing hooky if it fell on a school day. We’d go load up on junk food, the one time that Brooke would actually indulge herself in any and all things bound to add a few pounds to her trim frame. We’d pop American Movie Classics on and sit there ensconced in the big oversized comforter on my bed, snuggled together, handfuls of junk food making their way haphazardly down our throats, watching as Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman shared a tearful farewell onscreen.
Which of course always made me launch into a big cynical tirade that Brooke would patiently let me ramble on and on about year in and year out. Why Casablanca is considered the most romantic movie in American cinema history still baffles me to this day. Ilsa left Rick for another man after all. How is that the height of romance? I just don’t get it. I suppose that there was a point about sacrificing someone you love for their own good. But I wanted a happy ending damn it! Why is it all of those classic movies have star crossed lovers as their protagonists? Casablanca, West Side Story, Gone With the Wind. None of those couples end up together. And I get that real life doesn’t work that way, things are messy, and more often than not, love isn’t always the end all, be all. But aren’t movies supposed to be a form of escapism? What’s the point of watching a love story when it just ends up like everyone else’s in real life?
I always end my little tirade the same way. Shaking my head and grabbing the remote control, disgusted by how fickle people’s emotions are, choosing instead to see if MTV was running any sappy love song fueled marathons. Brooke would just smile a bit at me, pat me on the head in a lovingly exasperated tap and then snuggle back down on the bed with me to waste away the rest of the night.
It was comforting, that was what Valentine’s Day became to me. Being with someone who was the most important person in my life. Not doing anything special, just sharing that time with each other.
But this year Brooke has a boyfriend. Felix. She’s been with handfuls of guys since we hit high school, but she’s never really had a steady boyfriend before. And I didn’t even think at the time how that small little detail would change things so much.
Brooke came bounding up to my locker first thing this morning, cheeks flushed pink with the bitter cold weather Tree Hill’s been plagued with this winter. She was gushing about Felix’s elaborate plans for their date tonight. From the first few words in, I realized that our pact, one we’d kept religiously for the last eight years, was broken. And from the way she was going on, I don’t think she even gave it a moment’s thought. I zoned out somewhere around the mention of their spending the long weekend on Hilton Head Island in some cozy little beachside cabana.
It’s an image I want desperately to scrub away from my, unfortunately overactive, imagination. I made up some lame excuse and escaped from Brooke as quickly as my legs would carry me. I studiously avoided her all day long, even when she almost managed to corner me after our eighth period American History class. I quickly glanced at her in my rush to get away, flinching at the look of hurt that flashed in her chocolate eyes.
And as I sit here writing this, that look keeps popping into my mind, like a bright neon sign outside some rundown motel, making sure that the occupants don’t forget that they’re probably there doing something they shouldn’t be. I know it was a shitty thing to do, and I’d never intentionally hurt Brooke. But every time I looked at her I kept getting that image of her cuddling up to Felix, toasting champagne, and then moving on to more……intimate activities. It makes my stomach burn with jealousy.
It’s funny, for so long I’ve tried to push down my feelings for Brooke. I threw myself into a relationship with Nathan that was beyond doomed to start with. And then I somehow managed to make just as big of a mistake with Lucas.
No.
No that was actually much worse. Because it hurt Brooke, deeply. And even now I would give anything to go back and change things. Even if it meant I would have been pining for someone I could never have while she had the guy I could have used as a distraction. It was an assured mess from the get go, a bomb ready to implode in on all of us at any given moment. I guess we’re just lucky that it didn’t burn us all completely when it finally blew up.
So I guess I just need to accept the way things are. I can’t risk losing Brooke again, because she’s still my best friend, I think she always will be. And it will have to be enough. It reminds me of Casablanca again. The strength it took for Rick to let Ilsa go, I need to find that same strength somewhere.
I’m just not sure where to look………..
Peyton
God, I should have just been honest with her that day. I desperately wanted her to remind me of our annual V-day plans, there was never a part of me that had forgotten. But I thought it would look downright odd if I ditched my boyfriend to spend the most romantic day of the year with my best friend instead. Felix was already incredibly jealous of Peyton on a regular basis, but I honestly didn’t care. In retrospect I should have worried more about it, he could have just as easily done something to Peyton herself instead of just her locker.
But that day, standing there at her locker, my mouth just ran away with me. I think there was a part of me, even then, that was testing her. Seeing if she would remember our pact. Maybe even to see if she would be jealous. I should have known that Peyton would just internalize everything and not say a word.
I never did go down to Hilton Head with Felix. I faked some kind of massive flu bug that sprung up on me in eighth period to get out of his elaborate plans to get laid. I spent the night holed up in my bedroom with a pint of Ben and Jerry’s watching Casablanca. Without Peyton. I never did tell her that I bailed on my boyfriend. That following Monday she had met me in the parking lot, fake smile firmly slammed into place, wondering just how many kinky things I had gotten up to over the long weekend. I just gave her an enigmatic smile, shrugged my shoulders, and headed into the building.
And she didn’t push. I know why now.
We need to stop playing these games with each other. It’s breaking both our hearts. Thankfully it seems that tonight might finally be a step in the right direction for once.
Sitting up I glance at the bedside clock, quickly calculating in my head how much time I have before Peyton arrives in LA. I’m not sure if the plans I’ve made go over board a bit. It’s not like we’ve been in a relationship forever and it’s some kind of anniversary. I might scare her all the way back to Tree Hill if I come on too strong. It amazes me that I’m this unsure and nervous. I’ve been the queen of dating since I hit high school, I’ve probably been on a hundred dates, kissed dozens of boys, and not once have I experienced butterflies like I am now. It’s a surprisingly refreshing feeling actually. In some ways it makes all of this that much more worth it.
And Peyton is worth it, worth anything really. So I decide that it’s a risk I’m willing to take. If she freaks out, then maybe we’re not really for this step just yet. And if she doesn’t, well, then she’ll know how far I’m going to go to make sure she knows just how I feel.
-----------------------
The plane ride was unfortunately, uneventful. Six hours of total peace and quiet. Which meant I had nothing to do but sit in the tiny cramped coach seat and worry. The closer I got to LA the more freaked out I became. I have faith in Brooke, I do. It’s me that I’m worried about. I’m bad at relationships, my track record proves that. I don’t want to close myself off. And this ‘thing’, whatever it is with Brooke, is something I really don’t want to screw up.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please put your seats in their upright position and secure your trays. We’re ready to make our final descent into Los Angeles International.” The overly cheery flight attendant’s voice rang throughout the cabin. The plane bounced a bit, fighting through the smog filled turbulence of the California sky.
Oh I really hate flying.
Ten minutes and two near panic attacks later, we’re safely taxiing towards the gate. With one final shudder, the plane comes to a complete stop and the seatbelt lights shut off. The captain’s voice echoes over the intercom this time. “On behalf of Delta Airlines we’d like to thank for flying with us. The local time is 10:48 pm, and it’s a balmy 78 degrees. Welcome to Los Angeles folks.” And as soon as he finishes the mass exodus begins. At the rate these people are moving I’ll be lucky to get into the terminal by midnight. Though this does give me time to figure out how I’m going to greet Brooke.
One of our usual ‘best friend’ hugs? That seems so……….casual now, considering everything that’s happened between us in the last twenty four hours. A kiss is far too pushy though. Especially without talking to Brooke about everything first. I don’t want to jump the gun before I’m sure it’s even been loaded yet.
Twenty minutes later and I’m walking down the jet way, backpack slung over one shoulder, my little roller luggage dragging behind me. Everyone around me is in a frantic rush to get into the terminal, pushing roughly past me. In the space of five minutes I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve had to readjust the shoulder strap of my bag. I’m apparently getting my first taste of why they call LA LaLa Land.
Maybe I’m getting myself all worked up for no reason. Six hours doing nothing but thinking about this moment, worrying about it. And Brooke might not even be here. Of course I know that’s utter bullshit, but it’s really the only thing keeping me from running back towards the plane and begging them to take me back to Tree Hill.
“Well if it isn’t Little Miss Slowpoke.” I snap my gaze up from the badly carpeted jet way at the sound of Brooke’s teasing voice. Her familiar playful smirk is firmly in place.
I try and come up with an excuse for my dawdling, already knowing that she’ll see right through me. “I was practically sitting in the tail Brooke. You know that has a tendency to happen when one books their flight four hours before it’s supposed to take off.”
She rolls her eyes good-naturedly, totally seeing through my lie. “Whatever Peyton. The white knuckles kinda give you away.” If I hadn’t actually looked down at the hand with a death grip on the shoulder strap of my bag, I might have been a bit more believable. Then again, this IS Brooke. I swear the girl has a direct channel into my brain frequency or something. I really should find it un-nerving. Just like the all knowing smirk that hasn’t fallen from Brooke’s face since I stepped into the terminal. She’s enjoying my discomfort, it’s obvious. Which ironically enough actually puts me at ease. Maybe that was her plan. She CAN be a sneaky bitch when she wants to be.
“Well are you gonna hug me or just stand there making fun?” I smirk at her in return, satisfied when I see her cocky expression falter for a moment. After a few seconds of hesitancy, she walks into my open arms, molding her body to mine without even consciously doing it I think. I bury my nose in her thick chestnut hair, inhaling the sweet scent of cherries and vanilla. The familiarity of it all relaxes me completely. The world around us seems to slow from the frantic LA pace, which is a welcome relief.
Brooke giggles a bit, going to pull away. But I’m not having it, at least not yet. Which only serves to make her laugh even more. That throaty, adorably playful laugh that is just SO Brooke. “Ok, from slowpoke to sappy in less than five minutes. Where’s my Peyton and where have you stashed her?” The nervous butterflies still occupying my stomach give a little twitch when she calls me ‘hers’. It’s not like it’s that rare of a thing. But she’s right, I’m getting all sappy.
Lovely.
I refuse to be one of those dopey ’so-in-love-and-the-stupid-expression-on-my-face-totally-gives-me-away’ people. Haley is like that. And I love the girl dearly, but I REALLY don’t want to resemble what she constantly looked like when she was first dating Nathan.
Wait, does that mean I’ve already jumped ahead to actually dating Brooke?
I try to come up with yet another excuse for my clinginess, but I can’t even manage a stutter before Brooke cuts me off with a gentle fingertip to my lips.
Oh there are those lovely butterflies again. This is getting ridiculous.
“Peyton, I get it.” She leans in closer to me, bringing my palm down to rest above her left breast. “Trust me, I totally get it.” I can feel her heart beating a heavy cadence against my hand. I guess she DOES get it. Butterflies or a pounding heartbeat, pretty much the same really.
She pulls my hand away from it’s incredibly comfortable resting place to lead me away from the now deserted gate. I have no idea how long we must have been standing there. Kinda reminds me of U2. Stuck in a moment and all that. I shake my head to toss the thought away before I end up humming the song all the way to the car.
It’s unreal how huge this airport is. The New Brunswick one is smaller than even one of the terminals here. My hand must have been going a little slack along with my jaw because I can feel Brooke tighten her grip on me. “Come on PS, we’re almost there.” Where ‘there’ is I can only imagine. How many parking garages must this place need?
Apparently that’s not going to be an issue though, if the tuxedoed older man holding the huge neon poster board with ‘Sawyer-Davis’, written in big bold lettering, is any indication. “Brooke, what did you do?”
“Oh come on Peyton, did you really expect anything less?” She teases, one eyebrow raising playfully. What did I expect? Really, not a limo. I’ve known her all these years, it feels like my whole life really. And she can still completely surprise me. “Besides, I haven’t exactly gotten the chance to rent a car yet. I’ve been a little pre-occupied.” She winks and then continues. “I figured we could go pick one out tomorrow.”
The older gentleman steps forward towards us, obviously recognizing Brooke. He tips his hat to her, bowing slightly. Wow, where did she find this guy? “Miss Davis.” He turns his gaze towards me, repeating his greeting. “And you must be Miss Sawyer.” Why do I feel the sudden need to curtsey or something? He turns back to Brooke for a second, winks, and then reaches forward to grab my bags. “Is this everything?” Or are we waiting on the baggage claim?”
“That better NOT be the only thing you brought Peyton!” Brooke shrieks, taking a look at the backpack still attached to my shoulder and the roller tote at my feet. I nod in the negative, already starting to break away and head to where I assume the baggage claim area is.
“No, Miss Sawyer, you and Miss Davis head on outside. The limousine is waiting at the curb and the AC is on full blast. It was quite a scorcher today. I’ll grab your bags for you.” Brooke’s hand has found it’s way to my forearm, already tugging me along again to the spinning glass doors that lead outside. She doesn’t even give me a chance to tell the man what my luggage looks like. Though, knowing Brooke, he probably has it memorized.
Five minutes later and we’re waiting at the curb, popped up against the side of the limo. “He will have an extra set of keys, right Brooke?” Sure, the Town Car may have been nice and cool on the inside. But we wouldn’t know since we’re apparently locked out.
“Would you relax Peyton.”
An awkward silence fills the moments after her slightly exasperated plea. It’s uncomfortable. And I’ve never ONCE felt that way in her presence.
“Oh for God’s sake.” I don’t know how much time has passed between us, the tension hanging over like summer storm clouds. But apparently Brooke dislikes it just as much as I do.
Before I’m even half aware of it, she’s standing directly in front of me, stepping into my body so that I have no choice but to be pressed up against the dark tinted window pane of the car. “Come here.” Her breathy whisper ghosts over my lips, the smell of her cinnamon gum filling my senses. She presses closer, her hand coming up to tangle in my unruly blonde curls. My eyes widen, understanding dawns as I realize what she’s about to do. Anticipation fills my body, sending those little tingling butterflies racing up from my stomach ,burning their way through my entire body.
The first touch of her lips to mine is agonizingly slow. Just a feather’s brush of soft skin, teasing against my own. My hands come up from where they had been limply resting at my side to cup the back of Brooke’s neck, demanding more contact. She silently assents my request, pressing even closer if that were possible, and finally slamming our lips together forcefully. I can’t help but moan a bit at the contact. I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything so amazing, so fulfilling, in my whole life.
Not with Jake.
Not with Nathan.
And surprisingly, not even with Lucas.
I don’t have much time to contemplate that thought though because the surprising sensation of Brooke’s wet tongue lapping at my upper lip is enough to send any type of thought, coherent or otherwise, flying completely out the window.
Yep, that’s definitely ME moaning.
“Mmmm, so how did you manage to convince your flight attendant you were 21?” Brooke mumbles between kisses. I had one tiny little bottle of vodka, how in the world can she taste that? And it was just to help calm my nerves. Hell, I needed something.
I decide to tease her a bit though. “Well, apparently there’s this thing called the Mile High Club. Ever hear of it?” I lean down to nibble a bit at the incredibly inviting expanse of skin that is Brooke’s neck.
“Peyton!”
I make my way up to her earlobe, pulling the tip between my lips and gently sucking for a moment before continuing. “The girl was all too willing to show me how people are initiated. The vodka was my party favor.”
Brooke barely lets me finish before she closes the small gap that had opened between us so I could see her eyes widen at my little lie. She reattaches herself to my lips, immediately seeking out my tongue with her own. Ok, not the reaction I was expecting. But hey, totally works for me! Sometimes I really do love Aggressive Brooke.
“Peyton………baby…….the only…….time…….you’ll know……….what the……..mmmmm…….Mile High Club is………will be when we fly back home.” Brooke manages to get out in between repeated nibbles to my bottom lip
“Hmm, something to look forward to then?”
“You bet your ass.” She’s moved from my lips to the side of my neck, nipping her way down from my earlobe to my clavicle. God, I wonder how long we could have been doing this if I had just said something to her years ago.
-----------
“Well it would appear you girls enjoy the heat more.” I go to jump away from Brooke at the sound of the chauffeur’s voice, but she’s apparently not ready to let go just yet.
She lazily turns her gaze to the older man, keeping a firm grip around my waist, her entire body still pressed into me. “Trust me Tom, scorching.” She shamelessly starts to trail her hand towards my ass, determined to give the poor man a show. ”You apparently left the doors locked.”
His face turns almost ashen, the smile disappearing immediately. “Oh my god Miss Davis, I’m SO sorry. I don’t know how I could have done that.” He jams his fingers into his pockets, furiously searching around for what I assume is another set of keys. Relief floods his face as he pulls out the small metallic ring, almost stumbling over himself to unlock the door and hold it open for us. “Please, my deepest apologies.”
Brooke pulls me away from where we had been pressed up against the car and guides me towards the welcome cool relief of the air conditioned interior. “Tom, would you stop. It was an accident, it happens. Besides, I’m certainly not going to be complaining any time soon.” She winks at him, her hand reaching out to playfully smack my hip as I’m climbing into the expansive back seat of the limo. As the chauffeur is disappearing out of view, I can see the beginnings of a fevered blush spread across his cheeks, Brooke’s insinuations registering with him.
She talks with him for a few more moments, hushed though, so much so that I don’t have a clue what she’s saying to him. Knowing Brooke though, she’s got something else up her sleeve. While she talks to the older man, I glance around the inside of the car. Leather upholstery of course, with a nice sized wet bar in front, underneath the divider. As Brooke finally gets in beside me and shuts the door, my gaze lands on the bouquet of red tipped yellow roses carefully arranged in a vase attached to the door opposite us. “Brooke…..” I trail off, one of those hated dopey expressions passing over my face, I can just feel it.
Brooke snuggles into me, pulling us back into the comfortable expanse of the seat. “Took you long enough to find those Goldilocks.” She pulls herself closer, draping a tanned leg over my own and looping her arm into mine, finally cradling her head into the crook of my shoulder. It’s really amazing how easily we fit together.
I look back over to the oversized bundle of roses, trying to remember what the color means. Though I doubt Brooke even gave that any thought. “Friends falling in love.” She murmurs against my throat, where she’s started to place light kisses along the underside of my jaw. She really is full of surprises tonight. She pulls away to meet my gaze, eliciting a moan from the back of my throat in disappointment. I really could get used to this affectionate side of her.
I lean in to place a quick kiss against her soft lips, pulling back before I can get sucked in again. “Who knew you were so romantic?” Really, I’ve never seen Brooke like this, she’s always the one getting wined and dined, being romanced. It’s a very surreal moment, realizing that she’s done this for me, for us.
“Apparently I have all kinds of layers.” She winks, her lips curling into a playful smile for a moment before her eyes turn serious. She trails her palm up, tucking a strand of errant blonde hair behind my ear before coming back to gently stroke my cheek with her fingertips. “I did do my research.” I raise my eyebrow at that, I don’t think she has any idea what Google even means. “Ok, so I asked the florist what I should get for my girlfriend who’s also my best friend.”
Girlfriend? Not that I’m complaining, not at all. But wow, apparently Brooke’s already made the ‘we’re dating’ leap. That releases whatever tension her kisses hadn’t chased away in my body. I tug a bit on her shirt, dragging her almost completely into my lap, so that I can reclaim those gorgeous lips of hers. A surprised squeak slips past before we’re once again tasting each other.
“Miss Davis, we’re here.” Mr. Chauffeur Guy has really bad timing. Although I hadn’t even realized we had been moving. I wonder how long I was caught up in the incredible sensations Brooke’s lips spark in me.
Brooke pulls away reluctantly, taking one last nibble at my bottom lip before extracting herself from my hold and sliding towards the door. “Come on Peyton, your surprise awaits.” Ok, I had assumed we were just going back to her parents place. I can’t even begin to wonder what she’s been plotting. Though I’m thankful for small favors when she doesn’t try to blindfold me.
Tom opens the door to the limo and I’m assaulted with the sound of peals of laughter floating past my ears. My eyes take a moment to adjust to the bright neon lights, a stark contrast from the relative darkness of the limo interior.
“The Santa Monica Pier.” Brooke explains. I’ve heard of this place, in movies and on tv mostly. It looks so much bigger in person, larger than life really. I think my jaw has gone a little slack as I glance around, taking it all in. My gaze sweeps back towards Brooke, determined to show her the delighted smile when I take notice of the massive ferris wheel occupying the entire end of the boardwalk. Brooke must see the surprised expression crossing my face, because she laces our fingers together, pulling me away from the car to head towards the giant, brightly lit wheel.
“You didn’t think I remembered, did you?” I’m afraid that my slight shock is going to upset her, but her tone is light and playful. “Trust me Peyton, I could never forget that day.”
‘That day’ was back during the summer in between seventh and eighth grade. My father was on a job off the coast of Myrtle Beach and he came back up over the weekend to pick Brooke and me up to the spend the week down there with him. It’s always been nice, knowing my father makes such an effort to include Brooke as a part of our family. I don’t think we’ve ever been on vacation without her. At least not since my mother died. I remember the entire car ride down the coast, Brooke was plotting out the whole damn trip. I hadn’t remembered her voice ever being quite that enthusiastic before. Of course she didn’t really have much of a plan.
Beach. Boy gazing. More beach. Boy gazing ON the beach.
And she wanted to eat dinner at the Hard Rock Café sometime that week too. Go figure. But that had pretty much been the extent of it. By the time we actually had gotten to my father’s company rented apartment, Brooke was almost bouncing out of her seat. I remember finding her behavior completely baffling, she was acting like she had never been to the beach, never seen the ocean.
We live on the coast.
I still to this day haven’t quite figured it out. So goes the lovable enigma that is my best friend.
“You were so terrified.” Brooke chuckles, glancing back to the towering ferris wheel she’s leading us towards.
Well yeah! I was scared to death of heights up until, well, still. And Brooke got it into her head that the best way to christen our vacation was to drag me onto the tallest possible thing on the whole damn shoreline. I literally had sunken myself down into the sand once she had told me her plans. I was determined to have no parts of it. But Brooke plopped down beside me, pouted furiously, while giving me some sob story about her parents never letting her go on the ferris wheel when she was a kid. I knew she was full of shit, even back then, I knew her better than anyone else. And things really haven’t changed all that much. I’m still as bendable to Brooke’s iron will as I was years ago.
“You knew I was before I even stepped foot into the chair!” She was determined to make me ride the blasted thing. So after laying on the patented Brooke Davis pout for a good ten minutes, I hesitantly got on, what looked to me, like a giant wheel of death. To her credit she never once let go of my hand.
“Well I never expected it to get stuck!” Brooke blushes faintly, the carnival lights reflecting off the water and back onto her face making her already beautiful skin glow ethereally.
No, I’m sure she didn’t expect that. Otherwise I doubt she would have gone to such lengths to sucker me into getting on board in the first place. Brooke smirks a little as we finally merge our way into the fairly long line. “But aren’t you glad it did now?”
“Who knew the lengths you’d go to get me to shut up.” It’s my turn to smirk now.
“Not shut you up P Sawyer. Calm you down. Two very different things.” She smiles devilishly, pulling our interlocked hands to rest draped over her shoulder.
“You really thought that was the best way to calm me down.” I ask her incredulously.
“Well it did shut you up.” She’s moved to stand behind me, her lips dangerously close to my ear.
“I thought that wasn’t the point?” I fire back, completely enjoying the playful, affectionate side of her.
“I didn’t hear you complaining.”
“It was kinda hard to get much out past your tongue shoved down my throat.” She’s right, I really didn’t mind her methods of relaxation. But at the time I certainly wasn’t going to mention how it enjoyable it really had been. Not to my incredibly boy crazy best friend. We were thirteen. SO not the best age to lay something like THAT out there.
“You were scared. I wanted to comfort you.” Brooke’s tone doesn’t even try to hide the sarcasm dripping in every syllable.
No shit I was scared. Two minutes into the ride that had taken a half hour to just get on in the first place, it suddenly stopped. With our chair at the very peak. The waiting had done nothing to calm my nerves, so when we were jerked forward in our seats so abruptly, I might have slightly panicked.
*Flashback*
“Peyton, would you please chill out! They’re probably just letting someone off.” Brooke tried to not let the irritation she was starting to feel towards her best friend’s antics bleed through to her voice. She loved Peyton dearly, but sometimes she could be SUCH a baby.
“Brooke, it does NOT take THIS long to get off this damn death wheel!” Peyton was far beyond the point of panic, hysteria was starting to set in.
“Sweetie, please just try to relax, it’s fine. I’m sure we’ll be moving soon.” Brooke tried to reassure her friend, starting to wonder herself now just what the hold up was.
“Oh my god!” Peyton all but jumped into Brooke’s lap as the ocean breeze picked up, sending the small two seater chair they were sitting in, swaying along with it.
“Peyton please!”
“Don’t you dare tell me to calm down again! We’re going to plummet to our………” The blonde’s ramble was cut off by the press of Brooke’s surprisingly gentle kiss. She sat in stunned silence, not even aware if she was reciprocating. She WAS aware however of the sensation of a moist tongue sliding it’s way into her mouth, swallowing up whatever babble fit she’d been in the middle of.
They continued, delicate kisses shared between them, for uncounted moments. Until the sound of a throat clearing brought them out of their panic induced haze “Sorry girls, one of the gears got stuck. We had to get our mechanic out here to grease her down.” The operator smiled sheepishly, opening up the gate to let them out. They blushed furiously, making sure to not touch each other as they walked along the boardwalk. The awkward silence settled over them almost immediately.
Finally Peyton couldn’t stand it any longer. “Ok, what the hell was that Brooke?”
The brunette plastered on her best flirtatious smile. “That guy was pretty cute.”
Peyton wanted to press her, wanted to shake her until she got the real truth from her. But she knew she’d only get some runaround half answer. So she dropped it, not wanting to provoke a fight and push Brooke away when they were supposed to be having the time of their lives.
*End Flashback*
“And we never did talk about it. You realize that?” It’s been something that stayed with me all these years. I wondered if she ever knew she was my first kiss.
“I didn’t want to talk about something I didn’t even understand myself.” Brooke whispers into my neck, the feeling of her breath ghosting over my skin making my entire body tingle. “That’s why I brought you here. Because I get it now. That was the beginning, that was our beginning. And it wasn’t until I read your journal that I understood that.”
I turn around in her arms, confusion wrinkling my forehead. “I don’t remember writing about Myrtle Beach in that.”
She kisses me on the cheek, smiling indulgently. “You didn’t. I go back and I wonder why I did it. You and I both know I didn’t have to do THAT.” Brooke’s smile turns flirtatious again before just as quickly her look sobers. “The thing is though, I wanted to. I remember just looking at you and wanting to kiss you. It was the most natural feeling. Still is.” She leans in, capturing my bottom lips with both of hers. A delicate kiss, nothing like the heat that had been racing between us earlier at the airport. But incredibly sweet, Swiss truffles bathed in strawberries kind of sweet. “Of course after I did it I was scared to death.”
I nod my head in understanding. “Hence the shutdown.”
Brooke blushes a little, a small sheepish smile curling her lips. “You know me better than anyone Peyton. I’ve always been sure you understood. And by the way, I love you for not pushing me about it.”
“You said it Brooke, I knew you were freaking out.” I tease a bit, sticking my tongue out in her direction.
“So, did I rock your world baby?” She snuggles into me as wait in the slowly moving line. Her lips teasing a trail up my jaw line. I can feel the stares of some of the people around us, but I’m too preoccupied with the sensation of Brooke’s touch to care in the least bit.
“Then or now? Cause right now you’re doing a pretty damn good job.” I’m fighting so hard to suppress the moan building in my throat.
It’s like she’s trying to rip the increasingly lust filled exhalation from my lips. Because after she pulls away for a brief moment to giggle at my frustration, she returns to my neck. This time flattening her tongue against the already over-sensitized skin, dragging a trail of liquid fire from my collarbone to the base of my earlobe. I can feel my eyes starting to roll into the back of my head, ecstasy beginning to take full control of all my basic motor functions.
“Pretty damn memorable first kiss I’d say.” Brooke sounds infinitely proud of herself. The protest forming on my lips at the sudden lack of contact between us is swallowed up as the surprise of her comment sinks in.
OK, how the hell did she know?
Brooke must see the stupefied expression flitting across my face, because she rolls her eyes good naturedly before explaining. “Come on Peyton. I’m your best friend. I would have known if there had been someone else before me.”
It’s my turn to blush. I’m so busted.
“Aww, isn’t that cute!” Brooke is enjoying this far too much. She comes around from behind me, reaching up to soothe my enflamed cheeks. “Peyton, of course I knew. And I was honored. I only wish you had been my first too.” That’s really not helping to chase the blush away. Brooke creeps in closer, pulling our bodies as tight together as our standing position will allow. “I wish you had been my first everything.” She must have read that part of my journal. I can feel the heat racing up through my chest to stain my cheeks a dark crimson now. Brooke’s sentiment, it’s just………wow. Of course if I HAD been her first kiss, we would have been six.
“How many?” We’ve finally arrived at the front of the line. Brooke shoots the operator her classic ‘duh’ look. We’re standing here, wrapped around one another, and he has to ask how many?
Brooke’s mouth opens to bite out some sarcastic retort, but I pull her along towards the waiting chair, taking pity on the poor, not incredibly swift, operator. “Just let it go sweetie.”
The fight drains out of her, letting me drag her down into the seat and snuggling us together as close as we can in the cramped compartment. It’s for my calm as much as anything really. I still hate heights.
As we reach the peak of the ride, coming to a stop to let other riders on, Brooke tucks her head into my shoulder, nuzzling against my neck. “Why did we wait so long Peyton?” Her voice sounds sadly wistful.
I chuckle a little to try and lift the rapidly declining mood suddenly hanging over us. “We’re only eighteen Brooke.” My tone is light, but I understand how she’s feeling. I keep thinking, if only I had said something. Even a year ago. All that time that we can never get back.
“But Peyton, this feels………perfect.” I think I can actually hear her pouting.
I lean down to nuzzle my nose into the mane of chestnut silky hair splayed across my shoulder. “It does. So that just means we have to figure out a way to make up for lost time.” And if anyone can do that, it’s certainly Brooke Davis. She was born with the dominant seduction gene.
------------------------------
I’ve run out of ideas. I mean, I’ve completely slammed up against a concrete wall. Peyton seems to have been impressed with the ferris wheel idea, but that’s like, the extent of my plotting. So we’re wandering along the boardwalk, sharing a cone of sticky cotton candy, and I’m completely clueless as to what comes next. I know what I want to do. But something tells me dragging Peyton off to the car and speeding home to hit the silk sheets I made sure to put on my bed before I left isn’t the best way to start this relationship.
“Stop.” Peyton’s gentle voice drifts across the narrow space between us.
“What?” I glance over at her, perplexed.
“Just stop. Whatever it is that you’re worrying about, don’t.” I pull her hand, yanking her the short distance to the side of the pier to look out over the murky dark water. The waves are pretty tumultuous tonight, they kind of mirror the mess that’s going on inside of my head at the moment.
Peyton releases our joined hands, instead reaching to wrap the length of her arms around my waist, cuddling into me from behind. I interlock our fingers together at my belt buckle, leaning back into the embrace. “I don’t know what to do Peyton.”
She laughs softly, her breath ghosting over my earlobe, sending a shiver of pleasure down my spine. “It’s not something we need to plan out Brooke. Besides, I thought you were the more experienced one.” She meant it as a joke, to tease. But that’s where my whole issue is.
I turn around in her arms, making sure she sees the seriousness in my eyes. “Peyton, that’s the problem. I don’t want to be *that* Brooke with you. This is different. We’re different.” I don’t know how to make her understand, because a part of me doesn’t even get it myself. Sex has always been a means to an end for me. A carnal, basic human need that I hate having to do myself. ‘Brooking’ can be fun, I learned that in my early teens. But when boys will do anything to have a piece of you, the power in it is all that much more intoxicating. But over the years, the satisfaction of a boy used, a jock brought down a peg, it wore off. Sex without love is something that I’m done with, I want it to be a part of my past. And Peyton is my future.
“Baby, would you please stop.” Peyton presses in closer to me, backing us up against the wooden railing of the pier. The way she calls me baby is more of a thrill than most of those boys combined. “*That* Brooke is also the one who came over to my house everyday for two months after my mother died, just to make sure I wasn’t sitting holed up, depressed in my room. *That* Brooke is who made me freeze my ass off in that freaking snow fort when we were in sixth grade. *That* Brooke is the one that got grounded for a month for stealing your dad’s credit card. Just so you could take me to the Spice Girls concert for my 10th birthday.” Peyton pulls me into a soft kiss, cupping my face in her palm once we separate. “You’re the Brooke I fell in love with. I don’t want you to change, because everything you’ve done, it’s all part of who you are now. And I want *that* Brooke exactly the way she is.”
She said it. She actually said it. It’s one thing to read it, to get an inkling from words written over the course of a few years. But she laid it all out there now. Wow. I pull away the tiniest bit, lowering my head to look back out at the ocean. It’s not like I don’t love her back, so I have no idea why I can’t seem to form any kind of response.
Peyton brushes up beside me, our elbows resting together. I can feel the chill that’s suddenly between us down to the last bone in my body. “Too soon?” She asks quietly, the hurt lacing her voice not hidden very well.
I wince, knowing I caused that. Shaking my head in the negative, I move closer to slip my arm through hers, resting against her shoulder. “No, it’s not that.”
Peyton rests her head atop mine, the blonde of her curls dancing together with my own chestnut locks. Light and dark. That seems to describe us perfectly. My own dark and colorful past, with the relative innocence of hers. I’ve never said I love you to someone. Not when I’ve meant it. And for someone who never holds their punches, I can’t seem to form the words. For the first time in my life, I’m speechless. And the longer I stay silent, the more I’m hurting the one person in the world I would never want to.
“Then what is it?” She probably knows full well. But Peyton’s like that. She has to make you own up to your hang-ups. Because she knows that if she makes it easy for you, you’ll still have your issues, you’ll just manage to skirt around them for one more day. It’s something I love and hate about her all at the same time.
But this is something I shouldn’t be scared of, it’s the last thing in the world I should be worrying about. The cliff is high, and the drop is endless. But it’s Peyton. I don’t have to worry about falling into some bottomless chasm. She’d never let me even get near the edge. She holds this power over me, and yet, I think we share that. It makes us the perfect balance for one another. And I really need to start trusting that. Since it’s always been there, from the very beginning.
“Come on.” I grab her hand, pulling her along back towards the waiting limo. I’ve made up my mind to just listen to my heart for once. Not my hormones, not my sometimes lacking instinct. Just my heart.
“What….?”
I don’t bother to try and answer her, just continue weaving us though the thinning crowd on the pier. Once we break free from the masses, I pull her closer, grabbing her around the waist, comforted by the weight of her arm slung around my shoulder in reciprocation.
We’re quiet the entire ride back to my parents’ beach house, Peyton snuggled down into my arms, her head pressed tightly into the crook of my neck. The warmth of her body is intoxicating, making me wish Tom would just risk the damn speeding ticket to get us home faster.
Twenty minutes later and repeated self reminders to not let my hands wander, and Tom is opening up the back door, tipping his hat in that old fashioned way, pulling an amused smile from my lips. “Here we go ladies.”
Peyton stirs, tightening her hold on me for a moment before extricating our entangled limbs to get out of the car. “Thanks Tom. For everything.” I wink, handing a spare set of keys to him along with a hundred dollar bill. His eyes widen when he feels the metal folded in with the money. Ok, so I can be a little devious. I figured it wouldn’t hurt getting Peyton all sweaty and agitated. Score one for plan Brooke. Poor Tom though, he really got upset thinking he had locked the keys in the car. Oh well, the big ass tip should help.
The shock slowly turns to a mischievous smile. “Good night girls.” He nods once more before climbing back into the drivers seat.
“Wait till you see this place Peyton!” I unlock the front door, swinging it open so that the entire foyer comes into view.
Peyton laughs, her voice husky with sleep. Or at least I THINK that’s what it is. “Give me the grand tour tomorrow Brooke.” She starts heading towards the stairs, grabbing her duffel bag in the process. “Where am I sleeping?”
Does she really think I’m going to make her stay in a guest room? I lace our fingers together for the umpteenth time tonight, ushering her towards my bedroom. “With me of course.” My cheeks redden when I realize how that came out. But Peyton doesn’t seem to notice, she just squeezes my hand in reassurance, following along behind me down the long, carpeted hallway.
-----------------
After getting dressed for bed, separately to my secret disappointment, we crawled in on opposite sides, laying flat on our backs. Now half an hour later and I’m no closer to falling asleep. And I can tell Peyton is still awake, her breathing hasn’t evened out and I can literally feel her muscles tensing beside me, afraid to move. I realize after the incident on the pier, I need to make a first move now. Peyton slammed the ball into my court and I just stood there like an idiot.
“Peyton?” I glance over at her moonlit shadow
“Yeah?” She turns her head towards me, the light pouring in from the window reflecting off her hazel eyes.
“Can I hold you?” I whisper, reaching over to sweep away a stray curl cascading over her forehead.
A smile twitches at her lips before she scoots in closer, pillowing her head against my chest and draping a long tanned forearm around my stomach. I tuck my hand around her shoulders, trailing my fingertips up and down her upper arm, exposed by the tiny white wife beater she wore to bed. I can feel her skin prickle under my touch, goosebumps spreading along the length of her elbow down to her wrist. I can’t suppress the amused chuckle from billowing up from my chest. I lean in, pressing a kiss to her forehead, tightening my hold on her in the process.
“You’re comfy.” Peyton mumbles into my shirt. The feel of her lips moving against the thin fabric of my t-shirt is all kinds of distracting.
“Glad you think so.” Her fingers have started to tease across my stomach, dipping under the hem of my shirt every once in a while to ghost across the tense muscles underneath.
“Mmmhmm” Ok, she knows exactly what she’s doing. She can’t NOT know.
“Peyton?”
“Mmm?” Again with the mumbling.
“You keep doing that and things are going to get far less comfy.” I playfully warn her.
“Or even more so.” She teases, all traces of sleep gone from her voice now.
I pull away a bit, not sure if I’m understanding her right. The lust cloud taking up a good portion of the gray matter between my ears had to have misinterpreted her. Right?
“Peyton, do you really think this is the best idea?” I manage to squeak out, her hand traveling farther northward making any kind of non-naughty thought pretty much impossible at this point.
She stops her wayward hand for a moment, the heat from her touch searing through my body. “Brooke, what are you so worried about?” A devilish smile crosses her face, accentuated by the moonlight pouring in through the window. “Besides, it’s not like we’ve never done this before.” She lowers herself down to my neck, kissing a trail of fire along my jaw line. The protest forming on my lips almost dies from the incredible sensations her tongue is sending racing through my veins.
Almost.
“WE actually haven’t done THIS.” My hands grope around in the darkness, trying to still her increasingly desperate touch. “And I don’t think we should. Not yet.” The groan my denial produces reverberates up through her chest, coming out as nothing more than a growl of disappointment.
“Brooke………..why?” My my. Peyton sounds so very much like a horny teenager just denied by his first girlfriend. Heh, I guess technically that IS true.
I reach up, trying to soothe away the disappointment with a gentle kiss to pouting lips. “Every time I’ve rushed into something, it’s ended badly.”
Peyton’s frown doesn’t disappear. “What makes you think we’ll end at all?”
My surprise has to be written plainly across my face. Who knew Peyton could be such a romantic? I try to think practical though. “We’re 18.”
She flinches and I’m immediately contrite. I’m not trying to doom us before we even get off the ground. Just the opposite actually. I obviously have a horrible way of proving it though. “So what’s the point of waiting if you think we’ll never last anyway?” She doesn’t even try to disguise the anger lacing every syllable.
“That’s not what I meant…….” I trail off as she starts to shift away from me, throwing the covers off and moving to get dressed.
“I think that’s exactly what you meant.” As she’s grasping around for her jeans I quickly move up behind her crouched form, wrapping myself around her lithe body, clutching tightly to her waist.
“I love you.” I breath into her ear, not more than a whisper, relieved when I feel Peyton relax into my embrace.
“But why then?” She wraps her own arms around mine still interlocked at her stomach, leaning back into me.
“That’s exactly why. I love you Peyton, and I’ve never loved anyone, not like this. Not like you. Sex is always what happens first. I don’t want us to be that way. I want it to be a natural progression, not the first step.” I kiss her neck, right below a delicate earlobe, accentuating my point. “We do have all the time in the world after all.”
“I must already be totally whipped. Either that or I’ve known you too long, because all of that actually made sense to me.” Peyton laughs gently, turning her head towards me so I can nuzzle my nose into her blonde locks.
“Are you sure? Because I don’t want you to think it’s because I don’t want to.” My hands start to stray from their position on her waist, trailing up along her sides, my fingertips just ghosting over heated flesh.
Peyton’s breath hitches, but she doesn’t stop me. “Oh I get it. Trust me. I’m just wondering where all this newfound self control of yours is coming from.”
I honestly don’t have any clue myself. Though it IS getting harder to not just yank her shirt right over head. Great, now I sound like the horny sex crazed teenager. The feel of Peyton’s soft skin underneath my fingers is doing all kinds of terrible things to my willpower. Maybe she’s right, waiting isn’t really the best idea. “Whoa there handsy!” Peyton grabs my wandering hands as they find purchase on the hem of her t-shirt. “You said you wanted to wait, so that’s we’re gonna do.”
“But Peyton………” Great, now I’m whining too. I guess I completely underestimated the power she has over me. Either that or I have multiple personalities. MatureResponsible!Brooke and WantsToJumpHerBestFriend’sBones! Brooke. Though the feel of Peyton’s skin seems to be doing exactly the same thing to both of them. What was I thinking when I stopped her?
Peyton moves to lay us back down, turning her back to me and wrapping my arms around her stomach, locking our digits together. “Just hold me tonight. Besides, we can‘t exactly have sex after we just talked about it for twenty minutes.” P Sawyer does have a point. She chuckles a bit before settling back into me, burrowing her head into the crook between my arm and shoulder. We lay there like that for a good long while, snuggled together, the sexual tension still easily felt between us. I can feel her fingertips playing with the small ring on my right index finger. “I’m surprised you still wear this.”
I pull my hand away a bit, just to seek out the matching silver band on her own finger. “You still do too.”
Peyton once again interlaces our fingers together, bringing our joined hands up to rest against her chest. “Does that surprise you?”
I smirk, unseen to her. “Well you seem shocked I still wear mine.”
She snuggles in tighter against me. “Maybe just a little. I bought them five years ago Brooke.”
“So?” I’m failing to see her point.
“You’ve gone through how many guys since then? I just figured one of them would eventually ask you about it and you’d take it off.” She can’t hide the hint of bitterness seeping into her tone at the thought of so many years wasted.
“Lets see. Jason, Brian, Eric, Alex, Andrew. And Lucas.”
“I really didn’t need you to run off everyone you’ve dated in the last five years Brooke.” Peyton groans into the skin of my upper arm.
I chuckle a bit. “No, those are the ones who’ve asked about it.” Those were some interesting conversations, especially the one with Lucas. I think at the time of it he had actually still been hung up on Peyton. Don’t blame him, poor guy. Heh, oh well.
She’s quiet for a moment, letting that settle in. “So what did you tell them?”
“I told them that the most important woman in my life gave it to me. And that it was going to stay on that finger until the day I died.” The look on Peyton’s face is priceless. “Of course I think Lucas is probably the only one who knew I wasn’t talking about my mother.” Oh no, I think he knew exactly who’s ring it was. It makes me wonder, even now, if he had any idea what was building between Peyton and I. He had given me a very strange look, glanced over towards the picture that was sitting on my nightstand of Peyton, and then back to me, looking very much like he had just swallowed a goldfish or something equally yucky. Oh yeah, he knew.
Peyton rolls her eyes at the mention of Lucas’ name. “So that’s why he was so curious about it.” She glances down to our laced hands, her finger absently rubbing the ring on her own finger.
“He noticed yours too?” I question, already knowing the answer. That would explain the reaction he had to mine. He didn’t even have to ask really. So why did he in the first place?
“Yeah, almost right away actually. I’m pretty sure he actually DID think it was my mother’s.” She chuckles a bit, the vibrations from her chest reverberating through her back and into my own body. God, I could stay like this for the rest of my life. “He knows.”
“What?”
Peyton’s quiet for a moment, before she exhales uneasily. “He knows about us. Or at least about my feelings for you. He was kinda an ass about it, all cryptic.”
Yep, that definitely sounds like Lucas. Then it occurs to me…. “I KNEW you’d been with him that night, I could just tell.”
She snuggles deeper into my arms. “He does seem to leave a fingerprint, doesn’t he?”
I tighten my grip, feeling the hesitancy easily in her tense muscles. “His fingers just better be staying far away from now on.” I meant it to sound playful, but it ended up coming out more possessive than anything. I hope she doesn’t freak out.
When Peyton’s muscles relax a bit though, the worry starts to dissipate. “Works for me.” The silence descends on us, not suffocating, but totally comfortable. I wait to feel Peyton’s breathing even out before relaxing myself enough to drift off into Morpheus’ arms with her, content like nothing I’ve ever felt before in my life.
----------------
The first thing my mind becomes aware of is the incredibly inviting sensation of a pair of deceptively strong arms wrapped securely around my waist. It feels like neither of us moved much during the night, considering this was pretty much the position we fell asleep in. Not that I’ll be complaining any time soon. Last night was possibly the best sleep I’ve had since my mother passed away. I don’t know what made it so different from all the other times Brooke and I have slept together.
Actually, that’s not true. She’s held me on a number of occasions, but never like this, not with the sense of possession radiating through her fingertips. Another thing I find I don’t mind at all. In fact, just the opposite. For the first time in a very long while I feel like I truly belong somewhere.
It really shouldn’t surprise me that it’s with Brooke.
“I know you’re awake.” Her soft voice whispers into my ear, the heat from her breath sending a pleasant shudder through my relaxed body.
I roll over to face her, grateful that she doesn’t relinquish her hold on me. “How’d you know?”
A soft smile graces her face, just a hint of her deep dimples peeking through. “I could hear you thinking. And knowing you P Sawyer, like I do, it more than likely had to do with us.” Her smile falters a bit before she continues. “So, should I be worried?”
She looks so cute when she’s nervous. Well, she looks cute all the time, but right now, she’s positively adorable. Not giving her doubts a chance to fester, I reach up and plant a gentle kiss on her lips, trying to chase all the fears away in that small simple connection. Before either of us has a chance to get carried away, I pull back, amused to find Brooke’s eyes still closed, a dreamy expression covering her gorgeous face.
“I’d say that’s a no.” I tease her.
She growls playfully before tightening her hold around my waist and leaning forward to recapture my mouth with hers. “It better be.” I lose all track of time, it might have been minutes, maybe even an hour or more before we finally release our hold on one another. Both sets of our lips swollen and red.
I reach up to tuck a tangled strand of brunette hair behind Brooke’s ear. “You weren’t really worried were you?”
Brooke’s serene smile turns bashful as she leans into my touch. “Maybe a little.”
“Why, I would have thought the journal explained things pretty clearly.” I’m baffled at Brooke’s insecurity.
Her grip on me loosens as she rolls over onto her back to stare at the tiled ceiling. “Wanting me is one thing. But boys? After they’ve had me the allure wears off. Quick.”
I shake my head, for someone so confident, Brooke’s self esteem is apparently in the gutter. “I’m not just one of the guys you’ve dated. I’m your best friend.” I reach up to gently tip her chin in my direction. “I know you inside and out. And I love the whole package. You need to believe that baby.” And this?” I plant a quick but searing kiss on bruised lips. “It only makes me want you more.”
“Mmmm, I think I might need some more convincing.” Brooke’s eyebrow darts up in playful challenge.
“I think I can be pretty persuasive when I want to be.” My hands have roamed from her waist up along her ribcage, playing with the thin fabric of her tee-shirt.
“You know what would help your cause even more?” Brooke tries to suppress a moan, my tongue gently lapping at her pulse point is apparently a new favorite spot. Gonna have to file that one away for future reference.
“Hmm? What’s that?” I mumble out, my lips too pre-occupied with the skin of her neck to form anything more coherent.
She doesn’t respond right away, her fingernails digging harshly into the tender skin of my scalp. “Breakfast.”
“What?” That was enough to stop me in my tracks, which were slowly leading southbound towards the exposed skin of her upper chest.
Brooke is already distangling herself from my wandering hands. “Pancakes? I think I saw an IHOP somewhere around here on the drive back from the airport.”
I watch in stunned silence as she scurries around the bedroom, haphazardly grabbing a pair of jeans and yanking them on, before continuing the search for a matching top. “Brooke…..” I trail off, not having any idea what just happened.
She stops in her tracks, quickly walking back over to the bed and kneeling down in front of me. “Baby, if we don’t get out of this bedroom right now, that whole waiting thing is going to be null and void.” She leans up to sear a kiss across my lips, sending a jolt of liquid fire burning straight through my veins. “I can’t keep my hands off of you.” Her eyes, burning with lust, gaze into my own. “I want to make love to you Peyton.”
I sigh, leaning my forehead against hers, the need coursing through my own body like flood waters breaking through their levee. “Come back to bed Brooke.”
“But Peyton…..” Her resolve is weakening, I can hear it in the whispered protest that barely managed to leave her lips.
“Shhhh.” I silence her with a fingertip to delicate pink skin, pulling her to her feet and back down onto the sheets with me. Once she’s comfortably settled on top of me, her eyes shimmering in the early morning sun pouring through the window, I continue. “It’s not going to ruin us. We’re stronger than that. You have to believe that. Believe in us baby. You have to breakaway from all those bad memories. We‘re going to make a lifetime of new ones.”
After a moment of debate, she relaxes into my arms, her mouth connecting with mine once again. Our tongues meet naturally, a gentle duel, not for dominance, but just for the connection that feels so inherently intimate. Brooke pulls back after a few moments, her hand coming up to trail through my unruly golden locks. “I love you Peyton.”
I smile at that, leaning into her touch even more. “That’s all that really matters, isn’t it?” It may be a naïve notion, but after everything that Brooke and I have been through, the one thing that’s gotten us to where we are right now is the fact that we love each other. It’s morphed and evolved, but it’s always been there, it’s always been the anchor of our relationship. And nothing will ever change that, especially not this.
An ethereal smile spreads across her porcelain cheeks. “It really is just that simple, isn’t it?”
And finally I think she gets it. I nod my head in affirmation, before reaching around and pulling her back down towards me, teasing the hair at the nape of her neck in the process. “So you were saying something about pancakes?”
Brooke stops her journey towards my pulse point for the briefest of seconds to smirk at me. “Shut up Peyton.”
“Yes ma’am!” The feel of her tongue flattened against my throat as her delicate hands lift the hem of my tee-shirt up and over my breasts steals all other witty retorts from forming on my lips.
Yep, I’m SO her bitch.