A/N: I haven't written fan fiction in a really long time, so I'm incredibly rusty. Constructive criticism would be appreciated, and reviews in general would be nice. Also, the story is set in 2004, so certain things may not be accurate, seeing as I was still a child during that time period.

My Heart Aches for You

Chapter 1

"Amber, this is Jon." Her mother gestured to a tall, slightly muscular man standing next to her. "Jon, this is my daughter."

She raised an eyebrow, looking him up and down. There was a clear absence of deep-set wrinkles, gray hair – basically any indicators of being someone of a particular age. It was either he took great care of his skin, or he was incredibly young. "How old is he?" she asked, making sure her annoyance was heard in her tone of voice.

"He's eighteen years old," she mumbled, almost if she was ashamed. "Look, I know it seems—"

"I'm seventeen. I'm going to be eighteen in two months. There's an obvious issue here, mom." Maybe it was a bit disrespectful, but she was tired of dealing with the type of men her mother chose. She figured it was a matter of time before she brought home someone around her age, but it was such a hard pill to swallow. Listening to her mother try to justify it would've probably made it harder for her to accept.

Her mother was almost forty, yet the men she dated got progressively younger. Although she couldn't relate, she had a vague idea of why she did it; to feel young again. She was at that age where you desperately want to cling on to any glimmer of your youth. However, she just couldn't accept this; Jon was only a year older than her. It felt odd to think that someone who could've grown up with her had they been in the same environment was who her mother wanted her to accept as a possible father figure.

What she thought was clearly irrelevant, though. The relationship was doomed to fail anyway, so she just decided to wait it out and try to make the best of the situation like she usually did.

Subconsciously, she figured that part of the reason she was so unaccepting of any man her mother brought home was that she couldn't accept that she'd be with someone other than her father, and she hated what the man she married afterwards did. However, she also knew her mother had appalling taste in men. They were either emotionally or physically abusive, immature, or some other thing she couldn't quite put her finger on, but they gave her a bad feeling.

The last one, for example, lied about almost everything, right down to his name. She knew something was off about his alleged backstory, but she couldn't prove it. So, as usual, she kept her distance and waited for things to eventually reveal themselves. A while later, her mother found out that his name wasn't Joseph Graham, and he didn't inherit a whole heap of money from his father who died in a plane crash one day and a car accident the next. He was Daniel Burkley, and he lost his job as a sales associate a few months before he met her mother. His father was undeniably dead, though; just not in the circumstances that they originally thought.

Maybe she was a bit cynical, but she didn't want to see her mother sad. The way she went about it came off a bit rude, but there was no other way to get her point across. Plus, she knew she had good intentions, and that was all that mattered in the end.

"Amber, please relax," her mother pleaded while Jon took a seat on the couch. She noticed that her mother's boyfriend—Jim? Whatever his name was, he wasn't making eye contact with her. Great; she would've loved for it to stay that way. "I know it's hard for you to accept, but—"

"I don't need an explanation. I promise you I won't interfere with… whatever this is. As long as you're happy, I won't be in your way, and I won't lecture you about it." The goal was to get out of the situation faster by just going along with what her mother wanted, but she had a gut feeling that it wasn't good enough.

Her mother's body language became a bit more relaxed, which was good, but she still wasn't too happy about the situation. "I'm sure you're not gonna like this…" her mother began, and usually when sentences began like that, she was most certainly right. "Jon's going to be staying with us for a while."

Amber tensed up as she took a glance at his duffel bag that she somehow overlooked before. It was too much too soon; she literally just met him. But it wasn't her relationship, plus she had to let everything play out naturally for her mother to learn. Taking a deep breath, she squeezed her eyes shut in attempt to close her eyes. "I'm fine with that," she said through gritted teeth. "I'm going back to my room now."

"No, hold on." Amber turned back to look at her mother. "I have to go to work soon, so when I'm gone, I need you to make Jon feel at home. Promise me you won't do anything to him." She looked at Jon, who was just absentmindedly bobbing his head, then back her mother who she could see was pleading with her eyes.

"Fine," she finally agreed. "I'm not cooking for him, though," she enunciated. Her mother stood up and hugged her before leaving the room, grateful that she agreed.

As soon as she was out of view, Amber turned on her heel to go to her room, not wanting to stay in the same room as him. "Hold on," Jon said, causing her to roll her eyes and face him. "You're supposed to make me feel at home." She knew instantly he was just trying to be an asshole.

"I lied," she stated before turning around again. As she walked towards her room, she thought about him going back to her mother with how she was treating him, which made her give in, figuring her mother's happiness was more important. "Fine," she sighed. "What do you want?"

"I don't know, I didn't think you'd agree," he said with a shrug. "Did you know your mom talks about you a lot?" he asked.

"I don't know; I didn't think you'd actually agree," he said with a shrug. "Your mom talks about you a lot. Obviously she really loves you, and I guess that's the only reason you're giving me the time of day, right?" He was dead on. There was no other reason for her to talk to him.

She sat on the couch, careful to leave some distance between them. "Why are you with my mom?" It was a genuine question. Although her mother was amazing, she didn't see why Jon would want to be with her. They seemed like two completely different people.

"She's a cool person," he answered, running a hand through his shoulder-length hair that sort of looked like it was a faded pink. "She's funny, she's nice, and also pretty. I haven't known her that long, but the fact that she's letting me stay here means she's really nice." He noticed that she was looking at him as if she didn't believe a word he said.

"How many times have you fucked my mother?" she asked bluntly. "If you have, do you use protection? And don't lie; I'm old enough to know how these things work."

He chuckled a bit, shaking his head as he looked up at the roof. "Don't you think it's weird for you to care this much about your mother's sex life?"

"I want to remain an only child, now answer the question." She folded her arms across her chest and looked him straight in the eyes. Even though the room was slightly dim, his light blue eyes still popped. And while it was attractive, it didn't make him any less of an asshole to her.

He raised his eyebrows, then turned his upper body to face her. "She doesn't want to, so no, we haven't." He then scooted closer to her, then reached out to touch her hair, only for her to pull back he head. "You know, you don't look a lot like your mom. She's a brunette, but your hair's jet black. And your eyes are almost gray. Would you say they're gray?"

Amber felt her heart beating faster as he came closer; he smelled really good. She couldn't describe it, but it made her want to keep inhaling his scent. She looked into his eyes briefly, scooting away from him when she saw that he was staring at her intently. "Yeah, I guess," she finally replied.

"Yeah? Well, your mother's are hazel. And the shape of your face is more round, and your mother's is heart shaped," he said, a questioning tone in the air. "I don't even know. It's like… Fuck, your faces are different." He reached out to touch her again, but she pulled herself back, just like she did before.

"Are you an artist?" she asked, getting up off the couch. "Why are you describing my face and trying to touch me?"

"I consider what I do an art-form, but I don't think you'd agree," he said with shrug. "I was just trying to make conversation, but whatever." He leaned back into the chair then looked away from her. "What do you do for fun?"

She thought about it for a while, realizing she didn't do anything fun. It was probably due to the fact that she only had one friend, who she didn't even really consider much of a friend, since she only thought about her when she was in school. "I watch TV, and I go for walks sometimes," she replied.

"That sounds… lame," he teased, smirking at her. "You probably don't give a shit, but I'll say it anyway so I can say that I at least tried. My life is a cycle of eating, training, and hanging out with friends," he stated, then proceeded to flex his muscles. "I'd say the training is helping me bulk up."

She looked away, realizing it was hard to speak. She didn't know what he was doing, or even how he did it, but she couldn't deal with it. "I'm gonna go to my room," she announced, turning to leave.

"Too bad; I was enjoying this," he said, stretching a bit before adjusting in his seat. "Oh, your mom said I'm sleeping in your room tonight; something about bonding or whatever. Your dad used to sleep with you when you were scared, so she thinks maybe I'd be able to recreate that." He shrugged, crossing his legs. "I don't think that's gonna work, but who am I to tell her what to do, right?"

She rolled her eyes and squeezed her fist to the point where her knuckles were white. Her mother was always trying to get her to accept her boyfriends in the most ridiculous ways, even though the almost never worked. "Fine," she finally agreed. "You're sleeping on the floor."