Brooke wandered the bustling streets of New York city, clutching at her polystyrene cup filled with cold coffee she'd bought off a vendor twenty minutes ago and hadn't taken even one timid sip from.

The streets were packed with people of all cultures, ethnicities, genders and sexualities. The city known for accepting anyone and being unsurprised by everything. The complete polar opposite of where she'd come from.

In her small home town of tree hill she'd always been a bit of an odd ball amongst the conformers whose only ambition was to get married out of high school and pop out 2.5 kids, and live in there pretty little houses with their white picket fences and the obligatory Labrador dog. But not Brooke Davis, she wanted more than that. She thought she wanted New York and that New York would want her.

She'd once wanted to conform to the tree hill dream. Go to college, meet a nice rich guy, settle down in his big house and be the perfect wife. But then Lucas showed her that she could be more than that. She used to think it was a shame he didn't want to be more with her. Not anymore, now he was just her friend. One of her best friends.

She wished he were here now so he could quote off all the amazing things about her and boost her confidence. Or maybe that Nathan, his brother, were here, so he could call her on her stupidity and snap her out of her funk. She needed one, or maybe both, right here with her now.

Because she'd never felt more lonely and out of place in her life.

She watched as the first splat of rain dropped into her coffee cup and seeked solace in the nearest open store. A place that reminded her of one of the people she'd just been thinking of and it instantly warmed her heart.

It was a grungy, smelly old bookstore where you could just see the dust particles circulating the air and lining the covers of old classics that were stacked on bookshelves in no order. It was small and cosy and most likely over looked.

Lucas would love it, she thought, and a smile tugged at her painted lips.

Her fingertips brushed over the spines of hardbacks, wiping away dust and revealing the gold letterings declaring the titles.

"We don't do harlequin romance." A gruff voice declared.

Brooke turned in the direction of the interruption, her smile widening at the handsome young man who was reading intently from a classic, his feet propped up on the countertop.

"Oh sweetie, don't you worry, I get plenty. I don't need to resort to smutty novels to get my kicks."

He quirked an eyebrow but didn't look up to meet her gaze. "You always reveal that you're a slut to random strangers." He asked, turning the page of his novel.

Brooke smirked, walking over to his desk, throwing her handbag on the countertop right by his feet. "Only to the obnoxious ones." She retorted.

The right hand corner of his lip quirked up briefly as he folded over the corner of his page and closed his book.

He met her dark eyes with his own and swung his feet off the counter. "What do you want?" He asked gruffly.

It was her turn to raise an eyebrow now. "You treat all your customers with this special brand of customer service?"

"Only the imbecilic one's." He pushed himself and the char away from the counter and unfolded himself, standing to his feet.

"oookay." She drew out following him as he walked through a narrow aisle that felt suffocated with books. "I don't actually know what that means, so I'm just gonna pretend it's a compliment."

He barked a laugh at her response, disappearing into through a door that clearly displayed 'staff only.' Orders like that didn't usually perturb Brooke Davis. But then males didn't usually perturb Brooke Davis here, so she was staying well away.

She was fighting with herself between leaving or staying when he reappeared, clutching a book in his hand which he proceeded to hand over to her.

She accepted reading the title. "The dictionary?" She read out confused.

"Good, now I know you can read." He commented with dry humour. "Look up the irony in your statement." He instructed, making his way back over to his counter desk with a bemused Brooke following behind a confused daze.

"Alright, you've lost me." She confessed.

"Imbecilic." He stated. "Look it up." He nodded towards the book in her hands and then picked up his own to continue reading.

"Yes sir." She deadpanned, flicking through the pages of the heavy copy before finding the word she was looking for, reading the definition out loud.

"Contemptibly stupid, silly, or inappropriate. Synonyms idiotic, stupid, asinine." She considered the context in which he'd used it and then her response, then fixed him with a stare, slamming the heavy book down.

Her Brooke Davis glare was lost on him as he had delved back into the fantasy world of fiction, unwilling to return to the real one where a pissed off brunette was sparing for a fight.

She was interrupted from throwing out obscenities when a six strong group of people, ranging from old to young filed in through the door.

"Jess." One of the more middle aged members of the group greeted in the direction of the boy who lifted up a hand with a barely there wave.

One member disappeared into the 'Staff Only' room whilst the others milled around self consciously casting her the odd look when the middle aged man returned with a stack of chairs.

He caught Brooke out of the corner of his eye as he unstacked the chairs and put them in a circle in the only available space in the room, sending her a warm smile. "You here to join group therapy?" He asked.

She turned properly to examine the faces of the people as they took up a chair each thouroughly miffed.

'Group therapy?' she though, 'in a book store?'

"No she's not." 'Jess' answered for her, right in her ear. Brooke turned her head slightly to see he was mere inches from her face. "She's just leaving." He made his way around her and flipped the 'open' sign to 'closed' then opened the door wide as an invitation for her to leave.

"No I'm not." She contradicted, throwing herself down on the nearest available chair. "I'm here for group therapy."

Jess groaned with a roll of his eyes as he made his way back over to the counter. "Suit yourself." He mumbled as he passed by her.

"Oh I will." She said with a false cheer.

"Why don't you tell us about yourself…." The leader cut in, looking in her direction.

"Brooke." She supplied.

"Brooke." He repeated.

"Okay." She chirped. "I'm Brooke Davis. I'm popular, I'm pretty, talented, flexible." She listed off with a wink, counting each positive point off on her fingers. "Great hair, people generally love me." She finished off with a bright smile.

"Alright." The group leader spoke after several minutes of silence, people usually struggled to introduce themselves and he'd never once before been subject to a rattled off list of good points unless the client were pressed to.

"I see modesty's not on that list." Jess muttered from behind her.

"Why be modest when you can be honest." Brooke sing songed.

"A motto from the mind of Brooke Davis?" She twisted her body around to look at him as he insulted her

"Abigail Davis, actually." She sniped with a sniff, turning back to face the group.

"Mother?"

"Nana." She responded with a bite.

"Oh so narcissism runs in your family? He observed with a thoughtful expression.

"Yes." She returned brightly, accepting of the truth.

There was nothing he could say to that.

-

Um, review? Eh, you know you want to. Even if its to insult me.