Chapter 3

Brooke's point of view:

She's so damn pretty!

I mean if she wasn't so pretty, maybe I would have loved her less. Except I never loved her for what she looked like, but for how she made me feel, for how I know I could make her smile like no one else could.

So really, I should probably be thanking God right about now that she is so hot. I mean she could have looked like that woman from that Drew Carey show. You know the one I'm talking about? Think bright blue eyeshadow, think big...everything really. Mary?...Mimi?...something like that. What I'm trying to say is it could have been worse.

Of course if she was fat and ugly, maybe Lucas would never have wanted her back and then she'd be all mine...

Damn the hotness that is Peyton Sawyer!

“What are you doing here, Brooke?”

Oh right, there are people on this planet other than me. Victoria tries to remind me of that on a daily basis. Well more like rubs the fact that there are other, more talented people on this earth than me in my face. Obviously I have her to thank for my wonderful sense of self worth. That's right, I watch Dr Phil, I know about things like self worth now and who to blame if you don't have any.

“What am I doing here?”

I play for time, because it's not like I can say I'm here to stop her from marrying the boy of her dreams and want her to run away with me to...to...

Crap, next time I'm having Milicent type me up a plan or something. I should know by now that running blind into things isn't the smartest way to do it. Then again, the Brooke Davis way was never the smartest way.

It's always the fun way though and that's something that this girl, no, this woman in front of me, used to love.

“Brooke...”

The way she drags out my name, the way it's said in a slightly exasperated tone that she used to use so often, almost makes me buckle at the knees. Well, it's that or the alcohol, I don't know. I'd say it's fifty/fifty at this point.

“What? A girl can't drop in and say hi?”

Oh oops, did I just make my voice go all low and throaty, maybe making that sound just a little flirty? Well I obviously didn't do that on purpose! Nope, not me. I'm all sweet and innocent like the smile on my face.

Before Peyton can say anything, not that her slightly narrowed blue eyes didn't tell me all I needed to know of her pissed off state, hands grab me by the shoulders.

Hands that shake me not so gently I might add. So not a good idea Mouth, especially if you want to keep your shoes puke free.

“Four years, Brooke! Four years and you don't call, you don't write? You could have been dead for all I knew!”

I decide that asking if he's been stuck in Siberia for the last four years, seeing as my face has been plastered on more magazine covers than I can recall in that time, might not be the smartest move here. Angry Mouth is bad enough, but Hurt Mouth is even worse. The look he gives you then is about the same as a kicked puppy would give you.

“Uhm...I was...busy?”

I cringe guiltily the minute the words are out of my mouth and I barely manage to muffle the surprised gasp as I'm rather forcefully pulled into his chest.

Oh wow, someones been working out.

“'Outh, ave u een whoking ow?”

My face is kinda jammed into the crook of his neck, his shirt collar muffling my words. Then just as fast as he pulled me to him, I'm being shoved back.

“What?”

I give him a good look up and down, noticing that the skinny boy I knew grew up nicely. He's looking tall and lean, but the soft blue eyes are still those of a small kids'. All big and trusting and innocent.

“I said, have you been working out? 'Cos let me tell you, you've turned into quite the man candy, Mouth McFadden.”

He blushes a little, like I knew he would, and then shakes his head at me. The half smile on his face tells me that even though he's obviously mad at me for my...erh...slight disappearing act, he's still glad to see me.

“And you, Brooke Davis, you're still...you.”

Then the arms that pull me to him are gentle and warm, the soft squeeze he gives my waist somehow reassuring. He still smells like hot bread and melted butter and I find myself fighting the urge to lick his neck and see if he actually tastes like it too. I'm pretty sure my little Mouth's head would explode if I did that.

And yes, if you didn't pick up on this yet, I like him too much to make his head go kaboom! I still think of Mouth as one of the best friends I ever had in Tree Hill.

“I've missed you, Brooke.”

The feeling is mutual, but as I turn my head and rest it on his shoulder, I don't know who I'm directing the words at when I speak. The young man whose shoulder my head rests on or the blond with her weary blue eyes watching me so intently.

“I missed you too. So much.”

When blue eyes drop down onto the pavement quickly I sigh, because I think she knew exactly who those words were meant for.

Then I tentatively, because the world is still reeling a bit from Peyton and my good friends Whiskey and Vodka, pull myself out of Mouth's arms. My feet move of their own accord towards a too quiet Peyton, my fingers almost setting alight when they gently tip her chin up towards me.

Touching Peyton used to bring me nothing but a sense of calm and a feeling of safety, but after that summer...

After that summer, touching Peyton would maybe always set me alight in some way. Set me alight with love and desire, with regret and sorrow. I think right now it's a little bit of all those things.

“So...are you gonna hug me or what?”