Author's Note: Ok, so this idea sort of sprang on me. It's AU, I mean, it has the same characters with sort of the same personalities, but their backgrounds are definitely diferent. I don't really know how or why I came up with this, but I did and I felt compelled to put it out there. To those of you who read The New Girl, don't worry, I'm still writing that one, but I'm gonna try to write this one too. We'll see how it goes. Please review! I need to know what you all think before I decide if I'm going to continue this or not! Thanks so much in advance! :)

Chapter One

Brooke Davis took a deep breath as she walked the streets of Paris. The air smelled musty, but not unpleasant. The aroma almost soothed her. It reminded her of where she was, and what she was doing there. The circumstances weren't ideal, but she was aware that they were necessary. Musty, but not unpleasant.

When she arrived at her home, she dropped her keys on the cabinet just inside the front door, slipping off her shoes to slide them underneath. She picked up the solitary piece of mail that was waiting for her and headed upstairs. She needed a long, hot bath.

As the water for her bath ran, Brooke undressed in front of the mirror and sighed, analyzing her newfound voluptuous curves. Her breasts were swollen to the size of small melons, C verging on D cup, a huge difference from her normally B cup sized breasts. Her skin was flawless at least. Even Brooke Davis had the occasional zit, but she hadn't seen one in ages. She smiled at that thought. No zits was definitely a perk.

Brooke turned to see where the water was in the bath tub and squeaked a little, realizing it was about to overflow. She hurried to it as fast as she could and bent, turning off the water and pulling the plug to drain it just a little bit, letting enough water out so that when she sank into the tub a few moments later, the water just narrowly escaped running over the sides.

She had to admit, this tub had been one of the reasons she had bought this house. With it's clawed feet and porcelain, it reminded her of the type of tub one of the heroines of those old black and white movies might bathe in. It made her feel glamorous. As if she were someone important. Well, some people would argue that she was important. She was the founder and president of Clothes Over Bros, one of the best known affordable clothing lines in the US and Europe to date.

Brooke smiled as she leaned her head back against the tub and began to relax, thinking of her clothing line. She prided herself on the term the press had coined for it. "Affordable luxurious clothing for women of all walks of life." Brooke wanted every woman in the world to be able to wear her clothes, not just the rich ones and she had managed to pull that off magnificently. Celebrities asked for it and soccer mom's bought it. She designed for Jennifer Lopez and Jane Homemaker. She loved being that person.

But she also loved her privacy so while she was President, CEO, and Founder of Clothes Over Bros, she was not the face of Clothes Over Bros and had she known she would be in the predicament that currently faced her when she started the company, she would have definitely kissed the person who thought of that idea.

No, the person who walked around the world pretending to be lead designer for Clothes Over Bros, the one who walked the red carpets and attended the movie premieres, she received death threats, marriage proposals, letters from fans and foes alike. She had no privacy, being photographed wherever she went from the grocery store to Beijing. Brooke didn't envy that woman at all. All the fame, all the glory, and none of the privacy. Brooke preferred privacy over fame and glory any day.

She sighed as she thought of her best friend Peyton Sawyer, the face of Clothes Over Bros. Poor Peyton, Brooke thought and then immediately retracted. No, Peyton wanted this life. Peyton asked for this life. Peyton was made for this life.

Peyton Sawyer and Brooke Davis had been born one day apart in a tiny town just off the coast of North Carolina called Tree Hill.

Peyton Elizabeth Sawyer was born to Larry and Anna Sawyer, a middle-class couple struggling from day to day to make ends meet. Larry was a tug boat captain and would often leave mother and daughter alone for months at a time going out to sea. Anna, a part time nurse, had to often hire a baby-sitter, leaving her young daughter with no parents to really raise her. No parents to teach her right from wrong. No parents to show her what real love truly was although it wasn't that they didn't love her, but in order to provide for her, they couldn't be there to show her they loved her.

Brooke was born to Mark and Victoria Davis, an extremely wealthy power couple who hadn't really wanted kids, but figured they should to carry on the family name and such. They had expected a boy to be named Mark Anthony Davis Jr. Instead, they had gotten Brooke Penelope Davis, a daughter who they neither wanted nor pretended to care about. She had grown up rich, beautiful and talented. Everything she touched seemed to turn golden. She dated the captain of the basketball team and they won a state championship. She became captain of the cheerleading squad and they won nationals. She wore an outfit and it was on the cover of Elle Magazine the very next week. She was the IT girl of Tree Hill, North Carolina and yet, she was truly and utterly alone. That was, until she met Peyton Sawyer.

She wasn't sure how she had never seen Peyton before that day. It wasn't like they hadn't attended the same pre-school, elementary school and junior high, but until the first Friday of their junior year of high school, Brooke didn't know Peyton existed.

It was probably more common than they realized. Two kids, growing up in the same small town but traveling in two completely different circles never meet. As a child, Brooke attended tea parties and arranged play dates. Peyton watched TV while her baby-sitter talked on the phone. Brooke performed in school talent shows. Peyton drew pictures in art class. Brooke became a cheerleader. Peyton had a webcam.

So on that fateful Friday of their junior year of high school when high school cheerleader Brooke Davis pulled out of her parking spot and narrowly avoided hitting Peyton Sawyer who was walking home from school, Brooke had no clue that Peyton would become her best friend let alone the face of Clothes Over Bros.

Even though Peyton insisted she was fine and that Brooke hadn't hurt her, Brooke insisted to give Peyton a ride home, or to the hospital, wherever she needed to go. Peyton argued and argued that she didn't need it but when Brooke set her mind to something, it was hard to change it so she accepted the ride home and was surprised to find both parents home when she got there.

"I can explain to your parents if you need me to." Brooke said when they pulled up in front of Peyton's dilapidated house, "That way they know who to bill if you have to go to the doctor or something."

"So you assume I can't even afford medical insurance?" Peyton raised her eyebrow at Brooke as if she were offended.

"Oh, no, I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry, I just… I mean, if you needed money to cover anything. Um…" Brooke sputtered and stopped talking realizing she sounded horrible, "I'm sorry. I'm just used to my parents sort of fixing everything with money and I know it sounds horrible so I'll shut up and yeah… I'm really sorry."

"It's fine. No big deal." Peyton sighed, opening the door of the sky blue Beetle, "Thanks for the ride."

"Wait…" Brooke called out to the other girl, "I don't even know your name. Are you new to school?"

Peyton looked at Brooke like she was crazy and rolled her eyes.

"No, I'm not new to school. You, Brooke Davis and me, Peyton Sawyer, have attended every single grade together since Pre-K. I'm just not on your social radar I guess." Peyton laughed sarcastically, "Seriously, thanks for the ride but I gotta go."

Brooke was too stunned to say a word as Peyton walked away, through the gate blocking her yard, up the steps and into the house which Brooke was staring at. After a few minutes, when she realized that Peyton had disappeared and she felt like the biggest jackass in all eternity, Brooke huffed, turned off the car and strode to the front door. There had to be something she could do to make it up to this girl.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Brooke tapped incessantly on the front door until Peyton finally answered it, frowning as she tried to hide the scene inside from Brooke but she was too slow to close the door. Brooke had already seen and heard Peyton's father screaming at Peyton's mother.

"What?" Peyton snapped when the door was closed behind her and she and Brooke were standing on the front porch, "Haven't you embarrassed me enough today?"

"Peyton, I'm sorry. I just wanted to make it up to you. I don't mean to sound like such a snobby bitch. I really don't. I just really didn't realize that we had gone to school together at all and I… I don't know. Are your parents fighting?"

"That's not really any of your business Brooke. You don't even know me!" Peyton exclaimed, "Please, go back to normal and leave me alone!"

"No Peyton!" Brooke called out to Peyton before the blonde could disappear inside her house again.

Peyton turned to Brooke and crossed her arms over her chest, tapping her foot impatiently, waiting for Brooke to say what she needed to say.

"It's just, maybe we have more in common than we realize." Brooke said quietly, "My parents fight like that too. All the time really, at least when they're in town anyway."

"Why do I care?" Peyton retorted, her arms still crossed.

"You don't I guess. I mean, you don't have any reason too it's just, sometimes I wonder if I'm the only one who has to deal with that. The screaming and the fighting and sometimes the hitting…" Brooke frowned, looking down at her designer shoes, "It might be nice to have someone to talk to that knows what it's like."

"My dad would never hit my mom." Peyton said simply, one arm falling to her side while the other stayed crossed, "But yeah… it might be nice to talk to someone."

"You um… you wanna get out of here? We could go get something to eat and just talk or something." Brooke offered, "My treat since I almost ran you over."

Peyton looked like she was contemplating it, staring at Brooke, trying to figure her out. What most people in Tree Hill didn't realize though was that Brooke Davis was not at all what she seemed.

"Yeah ok." Peyton nodded, taking a quick glance back at her house and shrugging before following Brooke back to the sky blue Beetle, "I doubt they realized I came home yet anyway."

"Don't you hate that?" Brooke exclaimed as they got into the car, "It's like Hello! I'm your daughter! Notice me please!"

"Exactly!" Peyton exclaimed back and the two began to chatter as Brooke pulled away from the house.

From that day forth they had been best friends. There wasn't a secret they didn't tell each other. When Peyton's parents finally divorced, Larry moved out and became even more engrossed in his work. Anna became withdrawn and so finally, when she graduated high school, she escaped, following Brooke to New York where Brooke began to sketch and eventually began her own clothing line.

Now here they were, three years from the day they had graduated high school. Peyton was the celebrity now leaving Brooke to be the one who faded into the background. Oh how the tides had changed.

Brooke's thoughts were interrupted by an incessant foot kicking her in her lung. She sighed, placing her hand over her ever growing pregnant belly.

"Ok, ok. We'll get out of the bath and go eat. Chill out."

Brooke struggled for a minute but eventually hefted herself out of the bathtub, grabbing a towel and drying off before wrapping herself in her luxurious bath robe and heading to her kitchen, searching the refrigerator for something edible, eventually settling on a turkey sandwich.

"Better?" Brooke asked her baby, again setting her hand on top of her stomach, "Food is good right?"

She received a triumphant kick right under her hand and felt validated in talking to her unborn child. Maybe her little boy or girl really could hear her in there.

She ate the sandwich, washing it down with a glass of water and then heading to her bedroom where she planned to bury herself in the covers and refuse to come out for days. Not that she needed to. The fall line was officially done.

The garments had been sent off for the final touches to be added, little stitches here and there. They would then be sent back to her for approval and then sent to Peyton, in New York, who would study them, getting to know them as if they were her own designs. Because when the runway show concluded, it would be Peyton thanking everyone for attending. It would be Peyton doing the interviews and attending the parties. It would be Peyton who would have to explain the influence of Paris and old world charm. Brooke would be relaxing in Paris, her baby would be a few weeks old at that point, and Brooke would have her hands full with a whole new project. Parenting.

"Now…" Brooke sighed, again speaking to her unborn baby, "If only your daddy could be here for it all."