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The group of friends on the other side of the street is made of people her age. She’s seventeen. A part of her is proud of herself for getting this opportunity. So young– On the other hand, being proud of herself makes her feel even sadder. She tries not to think about her parents and how they’ve abandoned her and how she feels left out… She tries not to think that this opportunity would free her from them. Would help her build a new life, away from everything she’s known.
Away from everything she’s ever known.
It scares her. She needs safety nets. Her boyfriend. Her cheer team. Her power as student president.
Her Peyton.
Lucas is a good boyfriend - the best, even. Well, perhaps except for Nathan, because Tutor Girl has fixed him in a way Brooke didn’t know that was possible.
But Lucas... He is the good guy.
Good guys don’t treat their girlfriends like the last priority on their list…, a little voice says inside her head. But it sounds a lot like her mom’s voice, and she decides to not listen to it.
She misses him.
He is kind; most times. He is sort of nonchalant; about her, specifically. He doesn’t treat her like she’s only there for sex; even though they don’t do much else together, really.
Um. He’s the Ultimate Boyfriend, ™. She should be grateful he’s there. Intending to be with her. He could be with anyone. He could be with Peyton. (Not that Peyton is into him anymore, she’s guaranteed she’s not, they’re best friends… But she and Peyton are best friends, too. And they had fooled around during summer. She tries not to think about that as well.)
She thinks of the girl in the song. She wonders if her two lovers knew each other. If they had been in love with each other, too.
She thinks that this opportunity is the chance of a lifetime to build a new life away from everything.
She thinks of Lucas and Peyton mourning her absence.
She thinks of her friends having fun without her, just like the friend group from across the street.
They might be doing it right now, preparing for the game. Fucking Rachel as cheer captain in her place.
All of them - their lives would go on without her.
She thinks of Lucas and Peyton again - he’d just said he loved her. She felt like crying when she said it back.
She thought of Peyton’s eyes in the car, earlier that day, as they laughed. She thought of the way she was looking at her when she decided to stay, earlier that day, and she touched Peyton’s knee as she hugged her by the waist. She reached out a hand to squeeze Haley’s knee, too. But her eyes had been locked on Peyton, her forehead leaning towards her.
These movements, these gestures… It’s not like they mean anything.
Her phone vibrates inside her pocket and she flips it open after walking into the building in which the fashion show is happening. Peyton’s name is on display. Beneath it, a clearly drunk text: miss you Brookieee :-(((((
She smiles to herself, closing the cell and holding it against her chin. She feels suddenly aware of an eerie ache on the pit of her stomach, her heart skipping a beat.
Must be the building. The anxiety for the event.
She thinks of Peyton’s eyes again. She thinks of her eyes during the summer. The same look in her eyes as earlier today.
Sometimes it happens. When they act on impulse. When they’re doing something different. When they get too happy or too sad– That look is there. Devouring her. Pulling her in.
It has happened many times before that summer, too, if she’s being honest. It makes her shiver to remember it because she can’t remember a time in which it wasn’t there in Peyton’s giant eyes. At first, it was furtive. A stolen glance when she wasn’t looking, Peyton’s ears always burning if she looked back at her.
Then it was occasional.
Then it grew into a habit - a rare habit, but it was there. It was there back in seventh grade, when Peyton gave her drawings of their hands and of her eyes and of her dimple and of their days on the beach. It was there, expectantly. It was there as they shared their first kiss, to prepare to kiss boys, when they were fourteen. Fifteen year old Peyton was good at imitating teenage boys during those early days, because her hands were always everywhere when they kissed. After all, a lot of training was needed because High School was coming. That look was there during every school party. It was there when she started dating Lucas the first time. It was there when they became friends again - and then as they kissed and made out and had sex during that fishing trip, those eyes looking at her as Peyton touched her, those eyes looking at her as she touched Peyton back.
Then she told Brooke she wasn’t into Lucas anymore, and that it was fine if they ended up getting back together.
The look went back to being furtive. Occasional. Stolen.
Brooke is not sure she wants to acknowledge it. She’s sure she looks at Peyton the same way, that she has looked at Peyton the same way since they became friends.
Perhaps Peyton is her soulmate. She’s sure relationships with one’s soulmate are full of blurry lines.
She doesn’t want to think about it anymore, but Peyton’s text makes it hard to forget it.
She doesn’t want to build a life without Peyton.
She doesn’t want the rest of her life to start right now if Peyton’s not there.
So she has no decision to make, really.
She texts her back, Hey. Missing u too :( hope u guys have fun there!
Her phone beeps again. No F-U-N w/o u baby.
That freaking ache in the pit of her stomach again, like she’s inside a rollercoaster.
Butterflies.
She checks out of the hotel, sends an apology to the event organizers, and books the first flight she finds available. She doesn’t need to build a new life just yet. She can wait until the end of the year. She can plan it out.
So she goes meet her friends. She calls Peyton the following morning. She’s wearing sunglasses inside the lobby, and the way she scoffs at Rachel with her hands inside the pockets of her leather jacket makes Brooke want to squirm. She looks so cool , goddamn. Brooke calls her. She tells her to turn around. The way her face lights up, that same look in her eyes, how her arms wrap her waist and she twirls her around– She’s glad she’s back with her Peyton.
And her friends. And her boyfriend. Of course.
He doesn’t make you smile like she does, that voice in the back of her head whispers. She tells it to shut up.
Later that day, as they’re going back to Tree Hill, Peyton rests her head on her shoulder as she drives.
“Why did you decide to go to the game, really?”
“I’ll have time to be a grown up for the rest of my life.” Brooke replies softly, her left hand on the wheel, her right hand touching Peyton’s face lightly. “Besides, when it’s time for me to go to New York… I’d like it if you went with me.”
Peyton turns her face up to stare at her. There is that look again. Brooke taps her fingertips on the wheel, feeling her neck get warmer.
“I mean, if you want that.” She adds quickly. Peyton chuckles. She snakes a hand to Brooke’s knee and squeezes it.
“Of course.” Peyton says. Her voice seems choked. She clears her throat. “New York is clever. I mean. Culturally.”
She doesn’t say more. She doesn’t need to. Brooke understands.
“Yeah,” she mumbles, her voice choked too. Peyton smirks at her, opening her palm up for her to entwine her fingers on, which she does. She faces her quickly before looking at the road again. That same look. She takes a deep breath. “When we’re there…”
“We can be whoever we want, yeah.” Peyton nods, her grin toothy and hopeful. She takes Brooke’s hand to her lips and kisses the back of it.
And Brooke is glad the girl from the song got to be happy, whatever choice she made.
She’s glad she’s going to be happy, too.
Eventually.
Someplace friendlier.
With her Peyton.