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So I've started one of my two new jobs this week. Walmart. Yay. Actually, it's not half bad. Not too hard to pick up really, the people are pleasant for the most part, and the hours aren't too bad. Although next weekend I have to work 1-10 Saturday and Sunday. But ah well. The hospital job is pending because they can't decide what hours they want to fill and if my aunt has anything to say about it, which they called her for anyway. then I might end up losing it entirely. She's in a spiteful phase right now because I did something completely unforgiveable to her. I said no. The horror, I know.
Unfortunately all of this drama doesn't leave me a whole lot of time to write. And given One Tree Hill's less than stellar Brooke/Peyton content so far this season is leaving me feeling slightly unspired as well. But here's an update I finished a while ago. I was gonna hold it until I got some of the next chapter finished, but I don't know when that will be, so I'm posting it now.
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.
Unfortunately all of this drama doesn't leave me a whole lot of time to write. And given One Tree Hill's less than stellar Brooke/Peyton content so far this season is leaving me feeling slightly unspired as well. But here's an update I finished a while ago. I was gonna hold it until I got some of the next chapter finished, but I don't know when that will be, so I'm posting it now.
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.