You're My Complicaton

A Gossip Girl spin off about two troubled teens that become good friends who live in Manhattan. Wesley Parker is very rich and lives in a world of Champagne, penthouses, wild parties, and scandal where Leigh Brighton in a middle-classed family and doesn’t know the first thing about being socially active because of a traumatic betrayal of her childhood best friend.Both being interested in photography, they meet in a park, and they soon find out that they have more in common than photography and they are both having trouble with social lives and their families. Read to see how they conquer their dilemmas together…


1. The Usual

Leigh's POV

It is Saturday. I jolt out of my bed and slip on some jeans, an ivory colored blouse, and matching ivory flats. I sprint into my bathroom brush my teeth and hair, then pining my long brown hair with blonde highlights into a half up-half down style. I put on a little concealer and powder, trying to shorten my usual makeup routine, even thigh I don’t wear much makeup anyway. I quickly make up my bed and grab my camera bag, roller blades, and my messenger bag.

I grab my lunch that I made the night before out of the fridge. I put it into my messenger bag and head towards the door. I usually stay out till lunch, so I make one just in case I want to eat in New York City.

“Mom, I’m leaving!” I yell as I sprint down the stairs.

“Where are you going?” She asks

“Where go I usually go on Saturdays!” I reply irritated.

“And where is that?” She shouts

She doesn’t pay enough attention to me to know where I go every Saturday morning. “Goodbye! I am leaving now.” I say heading towards the door.

“Leigh, answer me!” She murmurs running toward me.

“What? Why should I answer you? You don’t even remember where I go every Saturday. You should know! But you know what, since you don’t know I’ll let you figure it out.” I scolded before I ran out the door

She doesn’t care. She never cares.

I walk down the sidewalk of our townhouse, among others, with my arms folded. She should know I tell myself. I have been having breakfast at Tiffany’s since ninth grade. After I found out I had a passion for photography, I started to bring my camera along just in case I find a nice scenery that I want to take a picture of.

I stop at my favorite cafe and pick up a muffin and coffee. I walk to the nearest subway station and aboard as quickly as possible. The traffic gets pretty bad if I don’t get out early that’s why I’m in such a rush.


After about 30 minutes, I arrive in New York City. It isn’t a long walk from the subway station to the Tiffany’s on Fifth Avenue, so I walk instead of catching a taxi.

When I arrive, I look in to the store through the widows, seeing what’s different or new jewelry that has come in. By the time I got here, my muffin was gone, so I am left sipping on my coffee. Sometimes I come here when Im feeling just like Holly, a nobody that doesn’t deserve to be named or when I need inspiration. Today, I came for inspiration. I usually don’t stay here long, just long enough to think about what ever I came here for.

“How about Central Park for photographs?” I think

I finish my last swallow of coffee and toss the container into the trash can as I head towards Central Park.


I look around for somewhere to get a good shot. I take off my flats, slide them in my messenger bag, not pushing them all the way in, and slide on my roller blades and skate around for the perfect spot.

“What about here?” I ask myself. The scenery is some trees directly under the skyline of the city, a perfect place for a good photo. But something makes the whole shot wrong. The lighting is too dim. I guess it is where the sun is located this time of morning.

Then I see it. The spot I was looking for. There are trees just like the other spot but this one is different somehow. The lighting is just right, the skyline is just peaking above the trees, just like the other spot. But what’s different other then the lighting? Its weird because I feel like I could get lost in it, going back in time to see all that has happened here over the years.

I take my camera out and aim it so it captures just enough light. I zoom and angle till I get it in just the right spot. Then I heard a voice.

“Nice shot.” A low voice says.

I turn around, irritated by someone interrupting me when I finally get the right angle. He is a tall young man, about my age, with pale skin and dark hair that is neat, yet messy. He wears a Ralph Lauren sweater with jeans and black leather shoes. He’s got to be rich.

“Can I help you?” I say with an attitude

“I was complementing your photo shot. Are you into photography?” He says

“Are you?” I reply with a question

“I asked you first, but I will answer anyway. I guess you could say that I am, at least I like looking at it, I never actually thought about doing it myself.”

“Mmm…Interesting. Now if you don’t mind, I would like t get back to something more interesting than you.” I snap

“No need to be rude. What have I done to you?” He murmurs

“You simply opened your mouth. That’s all that is needed to ruin my day.” I reply with a fake smile

“Fine, I will leave you alone if you tell me your name. My name is Wesley by the way.”

“Answer something for me first, why would a rich boy like you want to talk to me? Get to the point, what do you want?”

“I want nothing. I just thought you had a good shot for a photo and was intrigued to talk to you. And how do you know that I’m rich?” He explains

“Ok, my name is Leigh. And its kind of obvious judging by what your wearing. Now can you do the honor of leaving, please?”

“Sure, that was the deal, right?” He says nicely

“Right, have a good day.” I say as he walks away.

I roll my eyes. I aim my camera back where it was before the interruption he caused and take a few snaps shots. I didn’t mean to be mean to him because he actually seemed nice, but after what happened in 7th grade, I can never be friendly again. No, no. Don’t think about it. Its in the past where it should stay. I pick up my camera case and put my camera back in it.

I look in my messenger bag for my wallet and pull it out. I have seventy-five dollars. I have a little extra cash from Dad since my grades have been pretty good lately.

“Some French macaroons sound good. I think there is a Ladurée close by somewhere.” I say to myself

I take out my phone and search for the nearest Ladurée. It is only about a four minute walk from here. And I bet I could make it there faster if I skated there. I put my camera bag on my shoulder and skate my way out through the park.

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