Next chapter is here! Thank you for the reviews on the last one too, I really appreciate it. So please, read and enjoy!

Chapter 2 – Only Fooling Myself

"Brooke Davis?" I heard his voice, familiar even after all these years.

It was Peyton's ex-boyfriend, Lucas Scott. A guy I hardly knew at the tender age of eleven, but apparently was a bit of something now we'd all grown up. Peyton had tried to fill me in on what happened between them, but the antics of young lovers were something that now left me cold inside.

As he grew closer I could see his blonde hair through the darkness, his eyes fixed on me like he was really surveying every movement and every breath I took. His shirt rippled in the wind across his muscular frame. I guess now I could see why Peyton fell for him. But there was something in the way he looked at me, that made me feel vulnerable, as if with one look he was already breaking the walls down I'd put up around myself ... and I didn't even the know the guy well.

"Well look who it is," he said kindly, stopping a couple of metres away from me. "You probably won't remember me, but I know exactly who you are."

"I know you," I told him. "You're Lucas, Peyton's ex, right?"

"Yeah," he laughed. "Although 'Peyton's ex' isn't really what I want to go by."

"Right," I almost laughed myself. "Sorry, I'll remember that one."

"You've seen her, right? Peyton, I mean." He asked, stepping a little closer, his voice carrying in the breeze."

"Yeah," I told him. "We spent all afternoon together, caught up."

"Right," he said, sitting down. And what could I do but sit back down next to him? "What did she say?" He turned to look at me, seeming genuinely interested in what I had to say. But not in the way some guys would be, as if they thought it would lead to something else. No, he really wanted to listen.

"Not much," I gave him a completely unsatisfactory answer. "It was mainly me talking if I'm honest. I had a lot to say."

I don't know why I wasn't telling him what Peyton had said. How much she missed him, how deep down she wanted him back. That was probably what he wanted to hear. But why should I tell him, he was quite frankly a stranger to me.

"Look," he began, taking a deep breath. "Peyton used to talk about you a lot, how much she missed you. I don't know if she told you that. Sometimes she closes herself off from other people," he ran a hand through his hair, "course you already know that. I just wanted to mention that she really did miss you."

I didn't know what to say, I knew she missed me, of course she did. But I couldn't pretend part of me wasn't hurt that she stopped calling, stopped caring. "Right," I responded blankly, wanting to change the subject as I stared out across the ocean. "So what happened between you two then?"

He laughed again, and it was so infectious it couldn't help but make me smile. "It's complicated. We dated for a while, but things didn't work out."

"Oh?" I asked, faking my interest, "how come?"

The wind breezed around us, carrying our voices into the night air. I counted the stars above me as I waited for him to answer, and I wondered about my life, about how I ended up here, feeling broken and confused and talking to random guys on the beach. Part of me knew Lucas wasn't random, but part of me wanted to pretend that was all he was.

"We ... had a conflict of interests from time to time, I guess you could say. There was another guy, I don't know, it all got a bit –"

"Complicated, right," I guessed, nodding. "Isn't everyone's life?"

He looked at me then, really looked at me, like he was seeing me for the first time. "What's your story, Brooke?"

I couldn't do this anymore, not with him. It was one thing talking to Peyton, but I wasn't ready to share my story with the world, or with Lucas Scott. I stood up, making myself clear. "I don't have a story," I told him as he sat looking up at me. "I have to go, if Peyton wakes up and finds me gone ..."

Turning away from him, I took a couple of steps forward, when I heard him speak again. As I turned back around, he was facing out to the ocean. It was as if he was talking to himself, yet every word was meant for my ears.

"No man, for any considerable period can wear one face to himself and another to the multitude without finally getting bewildered as to which may be the true." He paused, standing himself and looking at me like he knew I had more than a story to tell. "Do you know who wrote that?"

I shook my head silently.

"It doesn't really matter ... what matters it that's it's true. Don't hide yourself away, Brooke. Don't pretend you're okay if you're not, because I can see right through that." He paused again, waiting for me to respond. His eyes pierced mine, calling me to say something. When I didn't, he started to walk away, leaving me with my thoughts, and a final "Goodnight, Brooke Davis."

**1 WEEK LATER**

"I don't know if I can do this, Peyton."

It was Monday, my first day back at Tree Hill High. I wasn't going to lie, I was absolutely petrified. I'd spent the past week with Peyton, just talking. A week didn't erase the past six years, but it was the start of my new chapter. Peyton had been amazing; we'd talked, cried, and laughed over the things we'd had to tell each other. As far as I was concerned, our relationship at this point had never felt stronger. She'd helped me enrol at school, and so here I was, sitting in the passenger seat of the 'comet' as we waited on the car park.

"You're going to be fine, don't you remember, you were the most popular girl in school."

"Yeah, back in middle school!" I cried, exasperated. "Everyone's going to ask questions and bug me about where I've been ... maybe I should just go back to yours for the day. I'll come tomorrow Peyton, I promise."

She shook her head fiercely, her straightened hair swishing around. "No way. If it makes you feel better we can give you a story or something, your mom got a new job in L.A and decided you were old enough to come back on your own. No-one can ask questions about that," she tapped me jokingly on the knee, "it's completely legitimate. Come on, Brooke. I promised my dad on the phone I'd get you to school today, and let's face it – you have a lot of catching up to do."

Normally, I'd go along with this plan straight away. But I couldn't help think what Lucas said last week, about wearing one face to yourself and another to the multitude. That was exactly what this plan involved, but I just wasn't ready yet. Maybe Lucas Scott could do it, but I certainly couldn't. I just had to hope that if I saw him, he wouldn't say a word.

"Right, course," I said to Peyton, putting on a smile. We stepped out of the car, and as I breathed in the unfamiliar school air, I prayed I'd be able to get through just one day.