Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with the NBA, NBC, One Tree Hill, Page Six or Access Hollywood.
Author's Note: Italics demotes a flashback.
Brooke adjusted her large black sunglasses as she boarded the plane. She knew it was a little weird to wear sunglasses on a plane, but she didn't want the other passengers to see her red, puffy eyes. New York had always been her favorite place in the world, and now she was leaving it.
What had attracted her to it when she applied to New York University was the hustle-bustle of all the people. She loved the fact that you could get lost among the crowds.
Now she felt that she stood out too much. Thanks to Page Six, everyone in New York knew how naïve Brooke had been about Chris' womanizing. Even the people who worked at Starbucks felt the need to comment on the way Brooke handled things and the things she asked for in the divorce settlement. Daphne, the girl who made the caramel mochaittos, insisted Brooke should ask for the house in Beverley Hills.
Brooke opted to buy her own in Malibu instead.
When Access Hollywood first offered her a job as an entertainment reporter, it seemed completely wrong. After all, she thought she was happily married to Chris. Being his wife seemed completely fulfilling. Besides, the job was in Los Angeles and Brooke lived in New York.
Three weeks later, they called again. They desperately wanted her, they insisted. Suddenly, the timing felt right. Manhattan was starting to suffocate her, and relocating to the west coast seemed like a perfect option. Only now, when the plane was on the runway and the doors had closed, she was regretting the decision.
She wondered what the hell she was thinking. Sure, she needed a fresh start. But why couldn't she do that with a new apartment and her old friends?
Brooke didn't know anyone in Los Angeles except the producer she'd interviewed with. Okay, she'd been there before and everything, but with Chris. All of those friends had been Chris' friends too though. She didn't know anyone here that didn't associate her with her former husband. Oh god, what had she gotten into?
Brooke opened her Coach leather tote and took out the bottle of Ambien. She needed to just fall asleep, and forget about all this. She pulled a satin eyeshade over her eyes and pulled the cashmere blanket around her legs.
Brooke frowned at the huge suitcases that filled the floor of her dorm room. Only her jeans and some of her miniskirts had fit in the teeny closet, and she was pretty sure she had to share it anyway. She swung her feet off the corner of the bed. Before she'd left, Rosa had outfitted the bed with Brooke's favorite Ralph Lauren sheets and beaded pillows. It was the only part of the sparse room that felt like home. She glanced at the other twin bed, and hoped her future roommate wouldn't mind that it was currently covered with Brooke's collection of Juicy Couture.
Taking one last glance around the crowded room, Brooke decided she had to get out of there before she barfed. She hopped over the suitcases and walked across the street.
As she approached Dorm 209, she paused apprehensively. Opening the door a tinge, she called out, "Knock, knock?"
A familiar blonde head looked up from where he was neatly folding t-shirts and placing them in a wooden drawer. His face broke into a grin as she skipped into the room.
"Hey sexy."
"Hey Brooke."
She glanced around the room. "Oh my god, your room is so much bigger than mine!"
He laughed. "It's probably just that you have more shit."
She rolled her eyes, as his face came into focus. "Lucas! It's not shit, it's clothes."
"Same thing."
"What do you expect me to wear in New York other than clothes? What, you want me to go to class naked?"
He grinned, in the way only a horny teenager could, "When you put it that way…"
"Luke!!" She shrieked as he silenced her with one of his mind shattering kisses.
Brooke was shaken awake by a concerned looking stewardess. "Are you all right, sugar?
Brooke forced a smile, even as her mind was racing with memories, good and bad. "Uh, yeah, I'm okay."
The lady didn't seem so convinced. "Well, okay. Do you need anything?"
"A Red Bull with Vodka would be fantastic, thank you."
A few hours later, Brooke walked out of the airport and into the fresh LAX air. Er, not so fresh. She wrinkled her nose unappreciatively. The musty smell hinted of gasoline and definitely did not remind her of any of her favorite perfumes. Brooke looked toward all the backed up cars. She could hear drivers honking nearby and off into the distance. Maybe California wouldn't be as different as she thought.
Brooke got out of the black SUV several hours later at a studio only several miles away. She'd never been in such heavy traffic, but she found herself oddly comforted by it. After all, she had sat in backed up, honking taxis thousands of times.
She carried the garment bag and her giant tote into the studio. Brooke wasn't sure if they were going to provide her with wardrobe, but she'd brought a brand-new Dolce & Gabbana suit with her just in case. It was black with over sized gold buttons and her ancient black pumps complemented it perfectly with their gold detailing. The tote held her stuffed make-up bag, too, because no way was she using someone's dirty mascara.
Lucas Scott plopped onto his brown leather couch and grabbed the remote off of the glass coffee table. He had just finished another grueling practice with his basketball team, the Los Angeles Lakers, and he wanted nothing more than to relax with a dumb television movie and some pizza.
He flicked on the television and it turned onto NBC. Maybe a basketball game was on, he mused. He knew the Nets were playing the Heat, and if it wasn't on NBC, maybe he could catch it on ESPN.
Lucas watched several lame commercials, including one about Constipation in which chubby ladies bared their stomachs. Ech, he thought, that's disgusting. Just as he was preparing to switch channels, an oddly familiar voice bounded through his speakers.
He frowned and leaned forward, listening intently. "I'm Brooke Davis, coming to you live from our studios in Los Angeles, California." Since when was Brooke in LA? The last time he'd talked to Nathan, Brooke had been coming to dinner with them. That had only been two days ago. How much could happen in two days?
Apparently a lot, Lucas thought as he hung up his phone. Nathan explained that Brooke had announced her decision to accept the new job to them that night. Apparently she'd been debating whether to accept the offer, but only now that she was divorced did she decide to take the job and move out west. Lucas was eerily reminded of when Brooke had refused a move to California, with him.
That had been over five years ago, and Lucas had definitely learned he needed to stop thinking about what had happened five years ago. Lately, Brooke had been even harder to get out of his mind, and it felt as though she was drawing closer and closer to him. He'd learned his lesson though, and he vowed not to get caught up in her drama again. It had only caused trouble for him, he thought, as he pushed out the thoughts of how it had felt to be around her.
Author's Note: Italics demotes a flashback.
Brooke adjusted her large black sunglasses as she boarded the plane. She knew it was a little weird to wear sunglasses on a plane, but she didn't want the other passengers to see her red, puffy eyes. New York had always been her favorite place in the world, and now she was leaving it.
What had attracted her to it when she applied to New York University was the hustle-bustle of all the people. She loved the fact that you could get lost among the crowds.
Now she felt that she stood out too much. Thanks to Page Six, everyone in New York knew how naïve Brooke had been about Chris' womanizing. Even the people who worked at Starbucks felt the need to comment on the way Brooke handled things and the things she asked for in the divorce settlement. Daphne, the girl who made the caramel mochaittos, insisted Brooke should ask for the house in Beverley Hills.
Brooke opted to buy her own in Malibu instead.
When Access Hollywood first offered her a job as an entertainment reporter, it seemed completely wrong. After all, she thought she was happily married to Chris. Being his wife seemed completely fulfilling. Besides, the job was in Los Angeles and Brooke lived in New York.
Three weeks later, they called again. They desperately wanted her, they insisted. Suddenly, the timing felt right. Manhattan was starting to suffocate her, and relocating to the west coast seemed like a perfect option. Only now, when the plane was on the runway and the doors had closed, she was regretting the decision.
She wondered what the hell she was thinking. Sure, she needed a fresh start. But why couldn't she do that with a new apartment and her old friends?
Brooke didn't know anyone in Los Angeles except the producer she'd interviewed with. Okay, she'd been there before and everything, but with Chris. All of those friends had been Chris' friends too though. She didn't know anyone here that didn't associate her with her former husband. Oh god, what had she gotten into?
Brooke opened her Coach leather tote and took out the bottle of Ambien. She needed to just fall asleep, and forget about all this. She pulled a satin eyeshade over her eyes and pulled the cashmere blanket around her legs.
Brooke frowned at the huge suitcases that filled the floor of her dorm room. Only her jeans and some of her miniskirts had fit in the teeny closet, and she was pretty sure she had to share it anyway. She swung her feet off the corner of the bed. Before she'd left, Rosa had outfitted the bed with Brooke's favorite Ralph Lauren sheets and beaded pillows. It was the only part of the sparse room that felt like home. She glanced at the other twin bed, and hoped her future roommate wouldn't mind that it was currently covered with Brooke's collection of Juicy Couture.
Taking one last glance around the crowded room, Brooke decided she had to get out of there before she barfed. She hopped over the suitcases and walked across the street.
As she approached Dorm 209, she paused apprehensively. Opening the door a tinge, she called out, "Knock, knock?"
A familiar blonde head looked up from where he was neatly folding t-shirts and placing them in a wooden drawer. His face broke into a grin as she skipped into the room.
"Hey sexy."
"Hey Brooke."
She glanced around the room. "Oh my god, your room is so much bigger than mine!"
He laughed. "It's probably just that you have more shit."
She rolled her eyes, as his face came into focus. "Lucas! It's not shit, it's clothes."
"Same thing."
"What do you expect me to wear in New York other than clothes? What, you want me to go to class naked?"
He grinned, in the way only a horny teenager could, "When you put it that way…"
"Luke!!" She shrieked as he silenced her with one of his mind shattering kisses.
Brooke was shaken awake by a concerned looking stewardess. "Are you all right, sugar?
Brooke forced a smile, even as her mind was racing with memories, good and bad. "Uh, yeah, I'm okay."
The lady didn't seem so convinced. "Well, okay. Do you need anything?"
"A Red Bull with Vodka would be fantastic, thank you."
A few hours later, Brooke walked out of the airport and into the fresh LAX air. Er, not so fresh. She wrinkled her nose unappreciatively. The musty smell hinted of gasoline and definitely did not remind her of any of her favorite perfumes. Brooke looked toward all the backed up cars. She could hear drivers honking nearby and off into the distance. Maybe California wouldn't be as different as she thought.
Brooke got out of the black SUV several hours later at a studio only several miles away. She'd never been in such heavy traffic, but she found herself oddly comforted by it. After all, she had sat in backed up, honking taxis thousands of times.
She carried the garment bag and her giant tote into the studio. Brooke wasn't sure if they were going to provide her with wardrobe, but she'd brought a brand-new Dolce & Gabbana suit with her just in case. It was black with over sized gold buttons and her ancient black pumps complemented it perfectly with their gold detailing. The tote held her stuffed make-up bag, too, because no way was she using someone's dirty mascara.
Lucas Scott plopped onto his brown leather couch and grabbed the remote off of the glass coffee table. He had just finished another grueling practice with his basketball team, the Los Angeles Lakers, and he wanted nothing more than to relax with a dumb television movie and some pizza.
He flicked on the television and it turned onto NBC. Maybe a basketball game was on, he mused. He knew the Nets were playing the Heat, and if it wasn't on NBC, maybe he could catch it on ESPN.
Lucas watched several lame commercials, including one about Constipation in which chubby ladies bared their stomachs. Ech, he thought, that's disgusting. Just as he was preparing to switch channels, an oddly familiar voice bounded through his speakers.
He frowned and leaned forward, listening intently. "I'm Brooke Davis, coming to you live from our studios in Los Angeles, California." Since when was Brooke in LA? The last time he'd talked to Nathan, Brooke had been coming to dinner with them. That had only been two days ago. How much could happen in two days?
Apparently a lot, Lucas thought as he hung up his phone. Nathan explained that Brooke had announced her decision to accept the new job to them that night. Apparently she'd been debating whether to accept the offer, but only now that she was divorced did she decide to take the job and move out west. Lucas was eerily reminded of when Brooke had refused a move to California, with him.
That had been over five years ago, and Lucas had definitely learned he needed to stop thinking about what had happened five years ago. Lately, Brooke had been even harder to get out of his mind, and it felt as though she was drawing closer and closer to him. He'd learned his lesson though, and he vowed not to get caught up in her drama again. It had only caused trouble for him, he thought, as he pushed out the thoughts of how it had felt to be around her.