DISCLAIMER: Popular Characters are not mine. They belong to whomever.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This fic is inspired by the scene in "Fire in the Hole," where Brooke gives Sam advice about George, and then they watch a pornographic movie together. That is about all you need to know. Oh, and in this story, Brooke is still dating Josh, which deviates from canon. Sorry about that.
THANKS: Thirty-seven thousand thanks to JuneBug, for her amazing Beta-ing skills.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
Things Left Unsaid
By Green Quarter
It was late. Brooke had been expecting Sam ever since about five o'clock, when detention should have long been over. She had heard the phone ring earlier, and Jane answering it, suspecting it was probably Sam, but she had made no attempt to find out from Jane where Sam was. Knowledge of Sam's whereabouts would come in due time. This kind of purgatory she was in felt right somehow. At around ten, she turned out the light and got in bed, and now was simply waiting.
Sam could be anywhere, but in her heart, Brooke knew where she was. She was with George. As she should be. In her impromptu speech at the assembly Brooke had finally admitted to herself, and by extension the whole school, that she had made a terrible mistake, and there was nothing to be done but live with it. Not a mistake in breaking up with Josh; that would have happened with or without Sam as a catalyst. No, her mistake was in deliberately severing the connection she had forged with Sam, in retrospect the deepest, most intimate bond she had ever shared with another person, and it was gone. She could still be having some semblance of a relationship with Sam if she hadn't put a stop to it in some misguided attempt at being honorable. Honor was for chumps. Even the scraps left over by George would have been better than nothing.
Sam was kind. She had been so supportive, so indignant on Brooke's behalf that afternoon, and to think she had gotten two weeks detention over it. Perhaps there was a way to salvage something out of the tangle in which they found themselves ensnarled. Brooke was certainly willing to build some new kind of friendship with Sam, and Sam's energetic defense of her character this afternoon showed that such an overture might not be unwelcome. She simply had to have Sam in her life in some capacity, but the formal non-friendship of the previous week would not cut it. Maybe they could go back to being the kind of friends they were before they had watched that damned porno movie, Brooke thought hopefully. It would be hard to not include that sexual component, now that they had traveled a little way down that road, but it could be done. At least they hadn't gone all the way, Brooke reassured herself, but as she pondered that fact, she didn't know whether it was a good thing or not.
She heard a sound on the stairs and felt herself tense. She listened as footsteps made their way down the hall towards her door, there was a pause, and then the footsteps retreated and she heard Sam's door open and close. Brooke expelled a breath she hadn't known she was holding. Sam was home. Brooke was seized by indecision. She wanted to see Sam badly, but maybe she should wait until morning. It was late; Sam was probably tired. God only knew what she had been doing all this time. She sat up in bed and listened, maybe Sam would boot up her computer and stay up awhile, then Brooke could reasonably interrupt her. Dammit! She couldn't hear anything! Why was it that she could usually hear the scratch of a pencil on paper through the walls but now nothing?
Footsteps again. Back out into the hallway and into the bathroom. Water running, teeth brushing, face washing, the standard nightly routine. Sam was going to bed. Brooke waited, still trying to make up her mind. Finally, after about ten minutes of uncertainty, she made her move. Quietly entering Sam's room without knocking, she stood by the door, her eyes quickly readjusting to the darkness. She saw Sam lying on her back, the bed sheet and blanket pulled up to her chin, eyes shut. As she approached, Sam sighed and turned to the side, lifting up the covers with one arm and wordlessly inviting her into the bed. Brooke instantly slithered into the bed and felt Sam's arms wrap around her, and the warmth of her body and of the blankets in which she and Sam were now enfolded.
Brooke rested her head on Sam's chest and listened to the sound that had become her favorite, the steady, reassuring thump of Sam's heart, now beating at a slightly elevated rate. She could feel it as if she were holding it in her hand. "Thank you," she breathed. What she was thanking Sam for she didn't quite know, maybe it was for her help that afternoon, or for letting her into her bed, or allowing her to listen to her heart. Gratitude came pouring out of her, and she tightened her hold on Sam, clutching at her waist with one hand.
"I thought you were asleep, you're light was off," Sam whispered.
"No, I was waiting for you," Brooke replied. This was better than she could've hoped. Here she was with Sam, in her bed, like they had crossed over some bridge to understanding without having to say anything. Needing to be still closer, she stretched her thigh across Sam's legs. Exhaling in contentment, it was not outside the realm of possibility that Brooke would never leave this very spot ever again. Soon she felt Sam's lips press against her hair, over and over, urgent kisses all over her head.
"Brooke please I don't I can't "
Raising her head to look into Sam's face, Brooke was fearful of the agitated sound of her words. But even in the darkness she could see Sam's eyes flashing with desperation in that moment before she crushed her lips against Brooke's, exposing her raw need. They were drawn to each other with the inevitability of the most basic law of attraction, like magnet to metal.
Brooke moved her body so that she was lying on top of Sam, relaxing against her, breast to breast and thigh to thigh. Her forearms lay on either side of Sam's head, her hands tangling in Sam's dark hair and gently cradling her skull. Now that Sam had initiated this, Brooke left her inhibition far behind. She took the lead, capturing Sam's lips and brutally forcing her tongue past Sam's teeth, but Sam was right there with her, dueling with her own tongue, matching her passion, the kiss devolving into a frenzied battle of wills, of frustration released, of permission granted.
After the first furious power of their coming together, the kiss slowly turned from turbulent to tender, their lips meeting again and again in soft, wet, languorous caresses. When they finally broke apart, somehow Brooke found that she was now lying on her side and Sam was facing her. She pressed her cheek against Sam's and pulled her towards her, overwhelmed by the torrent of emotion raging through her. She felt Sam throw her pajama-clad leg over her hip, bringing them even closer. Sam was whispering between kisses placed near her ear and down her neck, "We're okay, we're okay." Brooke realized that there were tears on her cheeks and that was probably why Sam was trying to reassure her, but she didn't know why she was crying. All she wanted was to stay this way, completely wrapped up in Sam.
They lay like that for a long while, locked together, as close as two people can humanly be. Brooke removed one hand from Sam's neck to place it over her left breast, on top of the ribbed cotton of Sam's tank top, anxious to feel the beating of Sam's heart. She wanted to put her hand under Sam's shirt but resisted the impulse.
Brooke nodded against Sam's shoulder.
"We have to talk."
"Okay." Brooke braced herself. She had no idea what was coming.
"Do you know where I was tonight?"
Brooke hesitated, then thought she should just meet her fate head on. "Somewhere with George?"
"Yes. With George. Do you know what I did tonight?"
Oh god, if she says she lost her virginity I don't know what I'll do, Brooke thought. "No."
"I broke up with him." Sam said flatly.
Brooke drew away from Sam and gazed at her face as best she could in the darkness. "You did?"
"Yeah," she confirmed wearily.
"Are you all right?" Brooke was instantly concerned.
"I'll live to tell about it," came Sam's clipped reply.
"Is he all right?"
"I don't know, he didn't take it very well. He didn't understand why I was doing it."
"Why did you do it?"
"Because I heard some very wise words today, and they gave me hope," Sam said simply. She was silent for a moment before continuing. "I know we have a lot to talk about, a lot of things need to be said, and I thought I was ready to do this, but I'm not, really. Right now I just want to be with you. Just quietly be."
"Okay." Taking in Sam's revelation, Brooke felt like an armoire had just been lifted off of her, and she stifled an inappropriate urge to laugh hysterically. There was a distinct possibility that this was very good news for her. She paused, not wanting to seem insensitive, then couldn't help herself. "Do you think we can quietly be with your shirt off?"
Sam chuckled. "I think that can be arranged, as long as reciprocity is enforced."
"Done." Brooke helped Sam out of her tank top and then whipped her own t-shirt off. They settled back down, and Brooke resumed her earlier position with her head resting against Sam's chest. Sam held Brooke in a loose embrace.
"I'm sorry, Sam, I know that couldn't have been easy. Oh wait, does quietly being preclude us from talking? Sorry."
"No, we can talk. It wasn't easy. It was very, very hard. You ought to know."
"Yeah," Brooke acknowledged, but she didn't want to talk about it.
They were quiet for a while.
"Why were you crying?"
Brooke contemplated the question. "I don't know. Maybe because I was happy? Relieved that you were home? Glad that we were together? I'm not sure. I was feeling a lot of emotion just then."
"Oh." Sam thought about that. "I made you feel all that emotion?"
"Yes. You always do, it has just manifested itself in different ways over the course of our knowing each other." She had only just realized this truth as she was saying it.
Brooke needed to say something important, even if it violated the spirit of quietly being. She moved so that she was looking into Sam's face, which she could somehow see more clearly, though it was still dark. Maybe the moon had risen or something. "Look, Sam, I made a big mistake that night at the movies. I don't want to discontinue whatever this is that we have together. I thought I was doing the right thing for you and George."
"Yes. I heard what you said today, you know, after I got the hook. I was listening from the wings."
"You were?" Brooke was bashful, but happy Sam had heard what she had said.
"And I had some time to think during detention this afternoon. I figured it all out," Sam smiled. "'Cause I'm smart."
"You are," Brooke agreed, returning her smile.
"I didn't want to assume that it was me you were talking about, but between me and Josh, I didn't think you had time for anyone else, and since you had just broken up with Josh " Sam 's expression was half proud, half embarrassed. "Thank you for trying to do what you thought was best," she continued sincerely. "Not many people would forfeit their own desires for someone else, if that is what you desire," she added, a bit uncertainly.
"It is, you are. You are what I desire," Brooke stated quickly. "That sounds funny. You are who I want," she clarified, for the slow people in the back. "I want you."
"Good," Sam grinned. "Because I want you too."
They were quiet, each digesting their mutual declaration. Then,
"Well, do you think we should do something about it?" Brooke said slyly.
"Whatever do you mean?" Sam asked, clearly amused.
"You know, commemorate this momentous occasion?"
"What, the day we both broke up with our boyfriends?" Sam asked teasingly.
"We are both single now," Brooke pointed out.
"Like that ever stopped us before!" Sam retorted.
"Honestly, Sam, can you think of a better time?"
Sam cocked her head to the side, thinking. "Actually, no," she conceded. "I can think of no better time."
"You are smart!"
"In a minute I'll be clapping my flippers and barking like a seal," Sam said, giggling.
"Yeah!" Brooke agreed, then frowned. "Wait, I don't get it."
"Seals are smart!"
"Okay, whatever you say," Brooke would agree to anything at this point.
"Are you just humoring me?" Sam asked suspiciously.
"No, I simply defer to your presumably vast repository of arcane trivia regarding the brain magnitude of North American Sea Mammals. Are seals mammals?"
"Beats me. Come here."
Brooke readily abandoned the topic of semi-aquatic creatures and gave herself up to this girl, this amazing girl who made her so happy. They kissed, and it was like that kiss was a lake, deep and clear and they swam into it, forgetting all of their uncertainty and insecurity and doubt. Although there was still a lot to say to each other, somehow they both knew that things were going to be all right. When they surfaced from their embrace they felt washed clean and renewed, something had changed.
"Wow. There was something different about that," Sam said when she regained her breath.
"Yeah," Brooke agreed. "That was, like, on a whole new level." Their heads were close together on the pillow, and Brooke sighed in satisfaction. She heard Sam sigh as well, but it didn't sound as contented. Automatically Brooke feared the worst, but didn't know what that could be. "What's wrong?"
Another sigh, this time definitely not contented, but sounding more frustrated. "I want to totally be in the moment with you, Brooke, and I am. There's nowhere I'd rather be but here, and no one I'd rather be with than you, but what happened with George is still very fresh in my mind and I can't help thinking about him," Sam confessed.
Brooke didn't have the same problem; she knew that she had done the right thing with Josh. She felt bad that he was hurting, but in the long run they would both be happier. She didn't know what specific problem Sam was having but wanted to help if she could. "Do you still have feelings for him?" she asked tentatively, hoping the answer was negative.
"The feeling that remains is one of overwhelming guilt," Sam said hollowly. "I haven't had any romantic feelings or attraction towards him since, well, if I'm honest, since the night we watched your dad's movie."
Brooke tried to tamp down the strong desire to get up and do ten cartwheels at Sam's disclosure. "At the risk of exposing my self-interest, I still think it was better to end it now if you weren't feeling anything for him. Look how long I let this go on with Josh before I had the sense to stop it."
"Yeah, I know, you're right," Sam agreed solemnly.
"Look, maybe I should go. You may not be able to handle this right now; I'm being totally selfish. You need some time to adjust, or something," Brooke sat up.
"No! It's been seven," Sam looked at the clock, "no, eight days since we've been together like this. Please don't go."
"Are you sure?" Brooke was already lying back down, not entirely surprised by the intensity of the relief she felt.
"So it's back to plan 'quietly be?'"
They lay together in Sam's bed, not speaking. Brooke's face was inches from Sam's, and yet she couldn't see her. The room had gotten very dark again, and she cursed the cloudy night sky. "I can't see you."
"Don't you remember what I look like?" Sam joked, and reached over to turn on the lamp on the bedside table.
"No wait," Brooke stopped Sam. "I know something better." She quickly got up and went to Sam's door.
"Look at yourself," Sam said, the smile evident in her voice.
Brooke looked at her semi-clothed state, topless and an old pair of sweats cut off above the knee. "They're asleep, and I'll only be gone for a minute." She was back in forty seconds.
"What's all that?" Sam asked, sitting up from her prone position.
Brooke dumped an armful of candles on the bed. "Mood lighting."
Sam picked up two burgundy-colored tapers. "Did you get these from the dining room?"
"Yeah, they'll only notice they're missing when they have their next dinner party, which won't be for, like, five years. We'll have plenty of time to replace them."
Brooke set up the candles on the night tables that flanked Sam's bed, everything from fancy fat aromatherapy candles and utilitarian emergency power outage candles to her favorite Spongebob candle that she swore she would never light. She had gotten the candle from her Secret Santa at school the previous year, tickled by the unexpectedly appropriate gift. Hardly anyone knew of her unfathomable devotion to the absorbent and yellow and porous one.
"You're going to burn Spongebob?" Sam asked incredulously.
TV-watching habits being hard to hide from someone you live with, Sam had knowledge of her embarrassing crush on an animated sea sponge.
"The things we sacrifice for love," Brooke replied unthinkingly, then looked quickly at Sam, glad that the darkness would hide the plum color she knew her face had just become. Sam struck a match and began to light the candles, a wide grin on her face.
"Did you ever find out who your Secret Santa was last year?" Sam asked casually.
"No, I didn't even try. I like the mystery that goes along with it," Brooke lit Spongebob and murmured, "Sorry, little guy." Then realization dawned. "Why? Was it you?" She looked at Sam, who nodded with the same huge smile on her face.
"Radiohead tickets and a Spongebob candle? You," Brooke took Sam's face in her hands and kissed her quickly, "are so," and then kissed her again, "thoughtful." Sam received one more kiss, this one stretching out for some minutes before they separated, pulling slightly away so that they could gaze at each other.
"I'll buy you another one," Sam said.
Brooke looked blank. "Another one?"
"Yeah," Sam prompted. "Another Spongebob candle."
"Oh. Okay," Brooke said bemusedly. Her mind had completely shifted focus. She had stopped thinking of Spongebob some time ago, and had been preoccupied with congratulating herself for the cleverness of candlepower. Sam had never looked more beautiful than she did right now, lying back among a bunch of pillows surrounded by a warm amber glow, smiling faintly at Brooke.
"I just have to " Brooke never finished her thought as she leaned into Sam, ravaging her lips and demonstrating what it was she just had to do.
"Here we go," Sam said breathlessly. Her hands were roaming all over Brooke's body, one moment tracing the vertebrae along her spine, the next gripping her shoulders as Brooke concentrated on the sweet-smelling skin of Sam's neck, laying a multitude of tiny kisses there.
Brooke kept moving downward, faced with the dilemma of which breast would first be the object of her attention. After a moment's deliberation she chose the right, and wasted no time closing her mouth around the hardened bud. Tracing the areola with her tongue, she coaxed it into a stiffer, longer point, and was gratified to feel a shudder go through Sam. She brought her hand up to cup the other breast, stroking the puckered nipple with her thumb. Then she switched, taking the left in her mouth and cupping the right in her hand. The guttural moans that came from Sam told her she was doing something right.
As much as Brooke was enjoying pushing Sam to greater heights of desire, and could have remained right where she was, concentrating on Sam's breasts and making her moan ever louder, she had an intense need to go further, and hoped Sam would trust her enough to follow. She had referred to it obliquely before, but didn't know if Sam had really caught her meaning. Brooke wanted tonight to be the night.
Continuing to devote her mouth and tongue and lips to the worship of Sam's breasts, Brooke's hand stealthily moved down the soft, smooth expanse of Sam's belly and slipped underneath the elastic waistband of her cotton pajama bottoms. Maybe it was laundry day again, because Sam was not wearing panties, Brooke was thrilled to discover. Moving her hand through Sam's soft curls, Brooke tried to gauge Sam's reaction to her bold advance, and let her hand rest delicately against the most private part of Sam's body.
Sam sat bolt upright and clapped her hand over Brooke's, while simultaneously trying to rid herself of her pajama bottoms with frantic, jerky movements. Pulling her hand from Sam's pants, which earned a whine of disapproval from Sam, Brooke quickly divested Sam of the impeding bottoms, and added her own sweat shorts to the pile on the floor next to the bed. Sam was still sitting up, watching her return to the bed with an intent look in her eyes. Brooke pulled her toward her, spreading Sam's legs wide and throwing them over her thighs as she sat close to Sam, her own legs creating a circle within which Sam sat. She drew Sam in her arms and kissed her, caressing her back and feeling her shoulder blades flex under her fingertips. "Do you want to do this?" she murmured in Sam's ear.
Immediately Brooke felt Sam nod. "Yes, more than anything," Sam breathed.
"Yes," Sam pulled back and gazed meaningfully into Brooke's eyes. "Yes. With you."
Brooke's eyes welled up with unshed tears, feeling overwhelmed once again with emotion. Sam smiled at her and cradled her face in her hands, wiping the tears that began to fall with the soft pads of her thumbs.
"I love you Sam. I really, really do." Brooke whispered thickly.
"You don't know how happy it makes me to hear you say that," Sam quietly replied. She kissed Brooke's tears away, pressing her lips to her cheeks over and over again.
Their lips met softly, barely touching in a gentle, hopeful expression of their fragile new love. Then, by some kind of mutual empathy, they deepened the kiss, increasing the urgency as they were inescapably caught up in their passion for each other. Brooke tried to pull Sam still closer, hands grasping at Sam's waist, and Sam's forearms were resting lightly on Brooke's shoulders. Brooke reached down and placed her hand where it had been before, and felt Sam's hold on her tighten. Letting her instincts take over, Brooke caressed Sam as she herself would want to be caressed, hoping that it would please her. She watched as Sam closed her eyes and bit her lip in an expression of pure bliss, and her breathing became ragged.
With one arm curled around Sam's back, the fingers of Brooke's other hand gently explored, and Brooke looked into Sam's face and used her reactions as a barometer, taking careful note of what resulted in a moan, or a sigh, or a sharp intake of breath. Sam's body seemed to become boneless, and she slumped against Brooke, resting her head on her shoulder. Brooke lightly lay Sam back and then followed, closing the angle between their bodies and the bed. Positioning herself between Sam's legs, Brooke was momentarily torn between wanting to discover all of Sam's secrets and witnessing the effect she was having on her, but the lure of the unknown was too great and she bent her head, peering in the dim light, all the while maintaining contact with her fingers.
"I think I need about twenty more candles to see you properly," Brooke commented, "guess I'll just have to go by sense of touch."
"Oh my god, Brooke, you're doing just fi-INE!" Sam yelped as Brooke chose that moment to use her sense of taste as well.
Brooke looked up and grinned at her, licking her lips. "Like that?" Watching Sam nod wordlessly, she said, "Me too."
Any more sounds for the next little while were of the inarticulate variety, as Sam was too lost in a haze of sensation to form actual words, and Brooke was using her mouth for other, more pleasurable pursuits. Soon Brooke felt Sam's thigh muscles tensing and relaxing rhythmically, and her pelvis grinding into her, and she held on as best she could, using her lips and tongue and fingers to make Sam's first time a memorable one. When her orgasm came, Sam unknowingly grabbed fistfuls of Brooke's hair while her back arched, pressing herself as far into Brooke as she could. When the shockwaves had subsided somewhat she sat up slightly and pulled Brooke up, but Brooke didn't need the encouragement and was already crawling up Sam's body, and languorously stretched out so that she covered Sam like a blanket. When she lay against Sam's chest, their breasts smushing together nicely, Brooke could feel Sam's heart pounding so hard she thought her own heart would change its rhythm to beat in time with it.
When Brooke kissed her, Sam could taste herself. It was the most erotic thing she had ever experienced in her young life, and for the first time she was overcome with emotions she had no name for. The absolutely essential thing was for her to try and make Brooke feel as much as she had made Sam feel. Even though she thought her reserves of strength had just been thoroughly depleted, Sam flipped Brooke onto her back in a move that surprised them both.
"Where'd you learn that?" Brooke asked, astonished and a bit breathless, smiling up at her from among the pillows.
Sam shrugged, grinning, "Don't know. Must be innate."
She decided to employ the same formula Brooke used, since it had worked so well when she herself was the test case. After a quick kiss, Sam moved down Brooke's body to dedicate herself to Brooke's sadly neglected breasts. She could've just stared at them all night; they were so beautiful. Not too small, not too big, just the right size to hold in her hand or taste with her mouth. She cupped both breasts in her hands, rolling the already rigid tips between her thumb and fingers as a prelude to tasting. Thinking once that the exact shade of pink of Brooke's nipples must have a sweet, confectionary flavor like bubblegum or strawberries, Sam was pleased to remember the taste that was uniquely Brooke from the last time she had done this. Better than strawberries, she thought, as she bent her head to suck and grazed her teeth across the taut peak, gratified to hear Brooke's gasp of delight.
She had only been at her pleasurable task for a few moments before she felt Brooke pushing on her shoulders, muttering, "Down, down, down."
Ever obliging, Sam scooched lower on the bed and regarded the pinnacle of experience and sensation, somewhat daunted by the thought of measuring up to Brooke's fabulous feat. Shoving performance anxiety to the back of her mind, Sam parted Brooke's thighs a bit wider and settled down between them, making an inspection of this familiar but altogether new terrain. Hoping that the night in the movie theater was not a fluke, Sam reached out with her fingers and began to touch Brooke, amazed at the wetness there. She didn't think it would take very long for Brooke to reach her climax, which was confirmed when Brooke started moaning and talking nonsense, Sam understanding every third word or so.
Her fingers continued their exploration, and Sam thought she was doing admirably, judging from the undulation of Brooke's hips, until Brooke suddenly became coherent.
"Oh, Sam Sam, let lips do what hands do."
Sam stopped for a moment and looked up at Brooke, wondering where she had heard that before, but Brooke was lost, and was not even realizing what she was saying. Then Sam figured it out and smiled, thinking that Brooke was just about the cutest thing on the planet. She followed Shakespeare's advice and replaced her hands with her lips, then had the brain wave of adding her hands back as well and was pleased to hear Brooke elicit an extended groan of satisfaction. All of a sudden, Brooke became completely rigid under her hands and mouth and let out a shout that Sam was sure would wake the parentals. She felt Brooke's inner muscles contract around her fingers, but Sam didn't stop until Brooke went limp beneath her, and felt her hands grasp her shoulder weakly, wanting her to join her further up the bed.
They cuddled together, Sam brushing stray blonde hairs away from Brooke's face, watching her slowly come back to herself. When she saw that Brooke had returned to the land of the living, she finally said out loud what she had only admitted to herself on the unprinted page of a document that existed only as a series of one's and zero's.
Brooke looked at Sam, had indeed been looking at Sam the whole time, but now really focused her attention on her, gazing into her eyes.
"I love you," Sam said simply. "I've loved you for a long time, and I will love you for a long time."
Brooke smiled tremulously and hugged Sam to her. "Thank you," she whispered, really thankful that the night had turned out as it had. It could have gone so many different ways.
They lay together, just feeling inordinately pleased with themselves, that they were finally able to break through all the misunderstanding and fear and come through the other side rewarded by love.
After a little while Brooke observed, "Bixson doesn't know what he's talking about. It's obvious that you are issue-free when it comes to sex."
"Thank you," Sam felt vindicated. "You're so much more intelligent than he is. Speaking of intelligent, I must have the smartest girlfriend in the world. One who can quote Shakespeare while she's otherwise occupied with having an orgasm."
Brooke felt a little thrill at Sam's using the word girlfriend, but was utterly confused "What are you talking about?" she asked, a tiny frown marring her up until just recently placid and sated expression.
"You don't remember saying 'let lips do what hands do?'" Sam asked. "From 'Romeo & Juliet?'"
"I said that?" Brooke answered with disbelief. "We're reading it in English, but I honestly have no memory of saying it, Sam."
"Yeah, we're reading it too. Awfully appropriate, though," Sam quipped.
"How embarrassing. I'm such a geek." Brooke reddened.
"No way. It's cool!" Sam insisted. "I'm into literary chicks."
"Well I guess it's okay then," Brooke was still chagrined, and kissed Sam thoroughly, hoping for a change of subject.
But when they separated Sam said, "It sure is, now give me my sin again."
So. You are sleeping. You're lying on your stomach, with your face turned towards me, and your hair is in wild disarray all over the pillow. It goes without saying that you look beautiful, but I'll say it anyway. You're beautiful.
I've blown out the candles, but I can still see you by the not-so-romantic glare of my laptop screen. You are really down for the count. Sleeping the sleep of the righteous and the just, or maybe simply the emotionally exhausted. I know I am, but sleep eludes.
It seems absurd that I'm trying to use this keyboard, this completely unsuitable tool, to try and describe how I'm feeling right now. It's like using a boulder to make an ice sculpture, a blunt object for fine, delicate work. It'll try to define it. How about guardedly optimistic with overtones of deliriously happy? But that's not quite it either. You made everything so perfect, and made me feel so cherished, it's totally beyond what I've imagined. And I can genuinely say that I know what all the fuss is about now. I'm so happy it was you.
This is the last time I will be adding to this document. Its purpose doesn't exist anymore, and it probably was one of the things that led to so much miscommunication and confusion between us. In fact, I'm going to delete this file as soon as I'm done writing this down. Or maybe you might want to read it, I don't know. I don't even know why I'm writing it; maybe it's just me being an anal completist. Did I ever tell you that I'm an anal completist?
The huge mistake I made with you, Brooke, is that I would write all the things I felt about you in this document instead of telling you. Here we have been, as close as two people can possibly be for the last month or so (at least at certain times of the day), and we never spoke of what was happening to us. That's incredible to me. Were we scared? It would seem so. But how were you ever to know what was going through my mind if I never told you? Stupid.
It all seemed so reasonable at the time, and I was led by my fear and insecurity, which I think was probably the case with you too. But in my defense, how likely was it that the head cheerleader and most popular girl in school would have the hots for me, socially undesirable and the same gender to boot? Right now I can't believe my luck.
I can't believe some of the things I thought and felt and wrote before. Feelings of humiliation and debasement that were only me projecting my insecurities onto my interpretations of your actions, if that makes any sense. And it all could have been avoided if I had opened my mouth and just talked to you. I'm so thankful that things have turned out the way they have.
You make me feel so much. More than any other person or thing, ever. The heart-thumping, gut-wrenching, pulse-pounding emotion that would go through me just at the sight of you once I realized how I felt kind of knocked me for a loop. It got so that I would never know what my body would do or what my mouth would say around you. Maybe that's what sent me scurrying to this document to try and process it all. It's a bit hard to take for a girl who likes to be in control like me. By the way, you may have noticed that I'm a bit of a control freak. I thought the only way I could get a handle on all of these emotions racing through me was to write them down. Now I know that's not the only way.
So I'm surrendering to it, and to you. I think I'm going to enjoy learning to be out of control, if you are the one who will teach me. I want to be the person who rides down the hill at breakneck speed through the snow with you.
I never thought that I would fall in love with a girl, but now I can't imagine my life without you in it. And not just in it as a friend or stepsister, I need so much more from you and want to give you so much more than mere friendship. I don't know how you feel about the whole gay thing, I'm finding that the label itself doesn't really matter to me, but if the world wants to brand me a lesbian because I want to be with you, then I can live with that. I'll even listen to the Indigo Girls if you want me to.
I do feel it important to mention the many things we will be facing if we get on that sled. When you said there would be obstacles hiding under the snow, waiting to throw us off course or cause a perilous collision, you were not kidding.
Your dad, my mom. It fills me with worry, how they will react to us. I don't know if you remember when we were in the basement that one time and my mom called down from upstairs and interrupted us. You may think I'm nuts, but that was the first time I actually thought of the implications of what we were doing, in regards to them. That was another freakout right there. I think I'm going to need some time to figure out how I feel about them knowing about us.
And how about our friends? I'm not too worried about my friends, they are pretty much of the live-and-let-live school of thought. But yours? You already know that I trust Nicole about as far as I can throw her, and I am severely lacking in upper body strength. I'm afraid that she will use this to destroy you, and I don't think I could stand by and watch that happen without trying to rip her heart out... or something else similarly violent and unseemly.
Then there's Josh and George. What did they ever do to deserve their fate? I'm so sorry that two goes into four once with a remainder of two, in this case. But I'm not willing to
A soft, continuous tapping could be heard somewhere to Brooke's left, she heard it before she was fully cognizant of where she was. Then everything that had happened during the night came back to her, and she opened her eyes. She had a view of Sam's bare back; she was sitting upright, cross-legged, the sheet drawn up to her waist, with her laptop balanced on her knees. And the girl was typing. In bed. In their bed that they had just shared for the first time. Typing.
Brooke sat up and rested her chin on Sam's shoulder. "What are you doing?" She tried to keep the edge out of her voice but only half-succeeded.
"Don't get upset," Sam stopped what she was doing and turned her head to place a quick kiss on Brooke's cheek. "This is the first, last, and only time I'll be doing this. In bed, I mean. I'll still have to use my laptop on occasion, you know, like when I have homework, or an article or whatever. And my handwriting has turned to shit ever since I've been using a computer, have you noticed that? Has that happened to you? I guess that's to be expected. But I'm not going to make this a habit. This is a special circumstance," Sam's babble petered to a stop, finally.
"What is it?" Brooke was becoming curious.
It's something I started when we first got involved," Sam said, and then it looked like she came to a decision. "I think you should read it."
"When I finish. It's nearly done."
"Okay." Brooke was intrigued by the prospect of reading what Sam had to say about them. She had never been privy to much of anything that Sam had written before, unless it was published in the Zapruder.
Sam looked at the screen and tried to regain her concentration. The room was quiet for a moment before the hushed tapping continued. Brooke supposed she could have read over Sam's shoulder, but she knew how annoying it was when people did that. But she definitely needed a change of view. After relighting a few of the candles on the night tables, she scooted down the bed and sat facing Sam, getting as close as she could so their knees were touching. Brooke watched her type, endeared by the expression of fierce concentration occupying her features.
Only a few minutes had elapsed when Sam slowly looked up from her laptop, her eyes dwelling on Brooke's bare breasts, which because of Brooke's good posture were positioned right above Sam's laptop monitor. Her eyes hovered there for long seconds before continuing up Brooke's body to her face, and the look of devilish amusement that she wore.
"You know how distracting you are, don't you?" Sam smirked.
"Am I distracting you?" Brooke answered innocently, stifling a laugh.
"One second," Sam said determinedly and looked back down at her keyboard. "This will only take one more second."
I'm nervous about you reading this. Everything in here was what I thought was true at the time, and some of it isn't very pretty. And then some of it is just me being the dork that I am. I never in a million years expected that you would one day read this. What is really important for you to know is that what I'm writing now is coming directly from my heart.
Basically, what it comes down to is this: I think we can do it. It probably won't be easy, and there will probably be times when we are going to want to just hide under the covers of this bed and only show our faces for new episodes of Spongebob and Chocolate Fudge Nut Brownie ice cream, but now we have each other, and that's a lot.
Because all those things that will be scary to confront: our parents, friends, the Kennedy High student body, the world If we're facing it together, then it's peanuts. It's less than peanuts. It's one peanut. It's a grain of salt sitting atop a peanut. It's a subatomic dust particle perched precariously on the grain of salt sitting atop the peanut.
I think you get the picture.
I love you Brooke.
I don't think there is a force in nature that could stop me from saying it to you now that I've said it once. I will be using those words repeatedly. Plan on getting sick of hearing it. I'm just warning you.
I love you Brooke.
There. I said it again. Did you catch that?
Now I'm thinking that there are better things for me to be doing than sitting here in bed with you at nearly five o'clock in the morning, typing on my laptop. We could be using this time to discover what other quotes from Shakespeare could come tumbling from your mouth at the most inopportune times.
Oh, and one more thing:
I love you Brooke.
Sam hit save and brought the cursor up to page one. She turned her laptop around and presented it to Brooke without a word. With her chin in her hands, Sam watched as Brooke scrolled through the text, expressions of dismay, amusement, consternation, sadness, and joy flickering over her features.
When Brooke had read all that the document contained, she sat in front of the laptop, tapping her finger slowly to her cheek, looking at Sam speculatively for a moment.
Then she began to type.
Sam. I don't think you should delete this. But I don't think that we should read it again for a long time either.
I'm glad to know what you've been thinking over this period of upheaval which has thankfully and finally resulted in our coming together tonight and now going forward, even though some of it was really hard to read. I'm sure I'll be telling you all that I felt during this time as we go along too.
I think that we share equal blame in letting the silence between us lengthen until neither of us knew which end was up, but I don't want to talk about blame, or misconceptions, or wrong assumptions. To think that only hours ago I was making bargains with myself, hoping to be able to salvage some kind of acquaintance with you, and now look where we are. I can scarcely believe it!
Maybe we should just make a vow to never keep things from each other, to always talk about everything, no matter how small and seemingly inconsequential. Let's keep this document as a reminder of the bad times, which are now behind us. That's not a bad place for them to be, don't you agree?
I think you are right about there being some rough times ahead, but they can't be as hard as the struggle we've gone through to be where we are now. So let's close this chapter, shut down this document and let it be the only thing we don't speak of, for a while at least, and concentrate on what is ahead for us. I'm flooded with energy and excitement just at the thought of all our happy times to come.
I'm not a writer, Sam, and I don't pretend to have your eloquence with words, but let me convey to you in the simplest way I know how what is in my heart.
I love you, too. I think I always will.
And, in my opinion, you didn't look like an idiot in my clothes.
Sam read what Brooke had written and looked up and smiled at her. She shut down her laptop and closed it with an air of finality. Getting up and depositing it on her desk, she noticed that the room was getting lighter with the coming of the new day. She blew out the candles before returning to bed, lying on her side facing Brooke.
She gazed at Brooke for a moment, then looked toward the window, a mischievous smile on her lips. "But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?" she recited, and couldn't hold back a giggle. "It is the east, and Brooke is the-"
"Sam! Shut up," Brooke cried, and covered Sam's mouth with her hand, an embarrassed grin covering her features. "You are never going to forget that, are you?"
Kissing Brooke's palm and then taking the offending hand in her own, Sam replied, "Not a chance. It's the cutest thing in the world. O Brooke, Brooke! Wherefore art thou Brooke?"
"Okay! I am hereby declaring a return to quietly being!" Brooke loudly tried to override what Sam was saying.
"All right," Sam said peaceably, but the dam had burst and a return to quietly being was not forthcoming. Although they were both sleep deprived in the most pleasant of ways, they found themselves talking about anything and everything through the hours of the early morning. They chattered and laughed and babbled away heedlessly, their words running over each other in their haste to tell each other everything. Bursts of stories, life philosophies, gossip, dreams, ideas and jokes spilled giddily and ceaselessly from their lips. Perhaps they were making up for all the time they had refrained from really talking to each other, or maybe they just had a lot to say on this particular morning, but it didn't look like there would ever be a problem with things left unsaid ever again.
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