Are We All We Are
Prologue, part I: "Boys Like You"
"There is only one basic human right, the right to do as you damn well please. And with it comes the only basic human duty, the duty to take the consequences." ―P. J. O'Rourke
Manhattan, New York City, NY • July 2009
Standing in line at the Starbucks on West 57th Street, Brooke Davis was anxious to give her order and head out. Normally, Brooke wouldn't be in such a hurry at this hour on a Sunday morning, or ordering her own mocha double latte for that matter, but today was significant. Today, Brooke was to present the sketches for her new 2010 Spring Collection to representatives from Vanity Fair magazine, who was interested in showcasing the up-and-coming young designer in their next issue.
With her coffee now in hand and with another hour until the Vanity Fair meeting, Brooke had decided to try and calm her nerves by strolling through Central Park. Reminding her of Tree Hill, Brooke could always escape from the hectic world of Manhattan just by walking through the park, with nothing but the trees towering above her. On this particular day, she had decided she wished to see one of her favorite spots in the park: the Bethesda Terrace. True, the terrace was a good twenty-minute walk from her apartment at Columbus Circle, but with its sweeping passages and the soothing sound of the fountain, Brooke considered it sanctuary.
When she finally reached the terrace, Brooke noticed there were several tourists strolling around and taking photos of themselves in front of Bethesda Fountain. Wishing to find a quiet place away from all of the people, and so that the trip wasn't a total waste of time, Brooke decided to venture toward the Bow Bridge. Halfway to the bridge, however, Brooke glanced at her iPhone to check the time, just to be sure she would have enough time to walk to Central Park West to hail a cab. While looking at her phone, however, one of the park's many, many joggers plowed straight into Brooke as they came across the bend in the path; Brooke, whose white top was now covered with the remainder of her latte, screamed in shock.
"What the hell?! Are you being serious right now?!" Brooke exclaimed, not at the jogger but at no one in particular.
"Uh, I'm really sorry about that. Besides your top… thing… is anything else ruined?" the jogger asked.
"Hmph. This 'top thing' is called a blouse, and it's ck Calvin Klein, for your information. And I don't think so; as far as I can tell it spilled over my chest and not anywhere else."
"I can see that."
With that sly remark, Brooke raised an eyebrow as she began to take notice of the jogger… the very handsome, blond, and shirtless jogger. Glancing into those gorgeous blue eyes of his, then looking over his sweaty, toned chest and stomach, and then back to his eyes, Brooke couldn't help but begin to feel light-headed and flirtatious. Embarrassed at how she had yelled at him, Brooke tried to start over.
"I'm sorry; it's just been an extremely hectic week already, then to add to that I have my perfectly good Starbucks spilled over my new Calvin Klein blouse… today. Today, of all days. Ugh! Can my life get any worse?! Heh… I'm doing it again. I'm Brooke, by the way. Brooke Davis; overly-stressed, twenty-year-old woman who makes clothes for a living."
"Haha. You're fine. I'm Ryan… Atwood; college student and aspiring architect. I'm visiting New York to tour the university's campus."
"Oh. Which one?"
"NYU. I'm currently going to Berkeley, but I've been wanting to transfer somewhere closer to Providence so I can see my brother more often. Are you sure you're alright? I did run into you pretty hard."
"I'm fine. Nothing a change of clothes can't fix. But I really need to get going if I'm going to make it to work on time."
"Come on, let me at least buy you a new coffee. With extra foam, too; if you even like foam, that is."
"You're cute, Ryan. But I'm not buying this whole good-looking, bad boy/nice guy act you've got going on. First it's coffee, then it's a romantic first date, then it's a night over at my place and you're gone forever. And you should know, I don't sleep with anyone on the first date, so try your charm on someone else, okay? Now, if you'll excuse me, I really have to get going."
"You think you've got me right down to a T, don't you?"
"No, I know I do; I've dated guys like you before, and nothing ever comes out of experiences with guys like you except pregnancy scares, no phone calls, and, if I'm really lucky, good sex."
"Let me prove to you that I'm different than those other guys, the ones with the pregnancy scares and the no phone calls, I mean. I'd like to think I can be grouped in with that last category, unless there's an 'amazing sex' category."
Looking at Brooke, Ryan could tell she was at least amused by him, which was definitely a good sign.
"Come on, let me buy you a new coffee. Or, if you really are rushed for time, let me take you out to lunch tomorrow. My treat."
Staring at Ryan Atwood in a very cynical manner, Brooke couldn't help but believe this guy and all his charms. She didn't know what it was, but something about this boy peaked her interest and made her feel comfortable. Maybe it was his smile, or perhaps the way he was looking at her. Who knows, but whatever it was, it worked.
"Fine. Meet me at Teleon on West 56th Street for lunch tomorrow. One o'clock. And if you stiff me, I'll come and find you and strangle you until your eyes pop out of your head."
"No need for that. Teleon, West 66th Street, one o'clock."
"West 56th Street."
"Right. So I'll see you tomorrow. Until then."
With that, Ryan smiled and jokingly half-bowed in front of her. On the verge of laughing at Ryan's small performance, Brooke simply smiled and began walking toward Central Park West to get a taxi.
Half an hour later…
After having changed her blouse, Brooke made her way to Clothes Over Bro's for the meeting with Vanity Fair. When the young fashion designer walked into the meeting room, she noticed she was four minutes late and proceeded to gather her presentation for the magazine. Taking out her sketchbook, she felt something cold and moist, only to realize it was her sketchbook. As she frantically flipped through the book to see if her sketches had survived the wrath of the mocha, Victoria Davis walked into the room.
"Brooke, what on earth are you doing? Those aren't your sketches, are they?"
Taking the sketches from Brooke, Victoria looked them over and realized the designs for the spring line had been ruined. Whispering to Brooke, "I can't believe you could be so stupid and irresponsible! You know how much the new line and the launch of the magazine is counting on this Vanity Fair piece!"
Now addressing the representatives from Vanity Fair, Victoria attempted to salvage the situation.
"It seems as though our designer has mistakenly brought the wrong sketchbook to the meeting. Would it be alright if we showed you a small preview of our fall collection, instead? I know that's not what we had talked about over the phone, but…"
"Oh, that would be perfectly fine. We have been dying to see what C/B and the talented Brooke Davis have in store for next season."
"Perfect. Well, if you'll excuse me for a moment, I will be right back with some samples from the fall line."
Turning to leave the conference room, Victoria Davis glared right at Brooke, who had seen that evil glare enough times before to know that there would be another huge argument and screaming match before the day was over. How could I have been so careless? Victoria's right, though, and if she finds out about Ryan, it'll only make things worse. God. Remember when she thought Lucas was proposing to me? Yeah, I don't think I want to go through something like that again…
With her mother out of the room, Brooke proceeded to answer the questions from the writers at Vanity Fair.