A/N: Hi everybody! This is my first story here on Fanfiction, but this is definitively not the first one I've ever done. I've head this idea for a while and I kind of an idea where this is going, but the plot is very loose. So if there are any suggestions, just let me know. I'm free to all ideas! Enjoy, and any comments are appreciated!

This was it. This was suppose to be "the new start".

Or so he said…

Now why the hell would I want a new start when I worked so hard for the life I already lived. The good life I had, I might add. The life that started from nothing but a broken, tattered, lonely heart.

But I guess you follow around those who you owe your life to. The ones that seemed to make their own life less bearable, if even just a miniscule ounce, just give you a piece of mind. Just to have a building to call home and one individual to call a family. Just to make sure that the heart that seized beating for a period of time could heal correctly.

I guess I can't complain, at least not too much anyway…

It's just, I've never been the adaptable type. Although my life has been filled to the brim with adaptations. To my surroundings, those around me, and my life in general.

This house was too big. It felt empty. Well at the current moment I guess it was. We hadn't finished unpacking yet. The walls still deathly white, some bulkier furniture was scattered in various rooms, and brown lifeless boxes were stacked up to the ceiling. I had never moved before, so putting things in boxes wasn't my forte. They looked as though they were about to burst at the seems that were ripped and torn from the move.

The move of two time zones. New York to Minnesota. It feels like, no wait, it is a completely different world. No familiar faces but one, a house that I couldn't stand, and town much smaller that my last and only place I have ever known.

I guess I could offer this town a better chance than it's been given. I've been in this God-forsaken-place for a week already. One long, boring, quiet week and I've yet to leave the house. The house I growing to loathe more and more by the hour.

One whole week of nothing…

"Shit!" I couldn't help but mutter under my breath. I extended my legs to the chair opposite from where I sat at the kitchen table. I used my own legs to propel my chair back from the table. I reached across the table to snatch a couple of napkins.

I tend to do mindless things. Especially while thinking of other things. The bowl of cereal that I decided was absolutely fine for dinner. I was twirling the spoon around the bowl. I was effortlessly trying to sort the Fruit Loops by color in the bowl. Not really paying attention to the outside world, I dropped the spoon. Milk splashed and made my sweatpants look like they were designed to have white speckles covering them.

I dabbed my pants with the napkins, not really caring all too much. Dropping the crumbled napkins on the table, I turned to the clock. The only thing that was on the wall. Five o'seven. Where is he?

Almost instantly the door creaked open and presented a person to me.

Nick.

His pitch black hair stuck to his forehead from the sweat drenching his head and it framed his young face. Not being a day over twenty-eight, he always has lots of energy. He stumbled while trying to take his dress shoes off. They matched his black suit that was wrinkled and disheveled. His tie was expertly loosened and hung lower around his neck. With a job like his, fancy clothes are an everyday thing.

"Hey. How was your day?" he asked apprehensively. I merely shrugged. It was far from thrilling.

"Still giving me the silent treatment, huh?" he smirked down at me. He set down his briefcase on the table. The expensive one that I had bought him our first Christmas together as sort of a "thank you gift". He immediately transferred all his work papers and such to it, exclaiming that it was the best gift ever.

I opened my mouth to warn him that the table had somehow grown white spots, but was too late, he had already set it down. It was sure thing the leather would stick. But I honestly didn't care, he was receiving the silent treatment for a reason.

He towered over my shoulder and narrowed his ice blue eyes at the small bowl in front of me. He turned his head to me, "Cereal? For dinner?" I merely shook my head, earning me a sigh in response. He lifted back up to standing position.

I could hear the familiar noise of the fridge opening from behind me. I chose to ignore.

"So let me guess, you stayed in the house all day by yourself?" I quickly turned around in the chair to glare at him. But he had his back to me and was rummaging in a smaller box on the counter. Guessing from the unopened carton of orange juice on the counter, he was searching for a cup. He was let out disgruntled noise as he seemed to be aimlessly searching through the box.

Getting antsy watching him myself, I stood and quickly walked over to him. I nudged next to him and he retracted his hand. I pushed myself between the counter and his body as I stuck my hand in the box. I peered over the edge and quickly found the newspaper shaped like a cone. I ripped the newsprint off and handed him his favorite cup. It was plastic and had a colorful elephant on the side, donning red, white, and blue. It was definitely a representation of the conservative views he let shine through in the court room.

"Thanks." he smiled as he took the cup that I held out to him. I just shrugged again. I loosely crossed my arms in front of my torso and leaned on the counter next to him and let out a sigh.

"Nice pout." he said with that charming smile of his. One more reason he was so successful during even the most grueling of trials. One smile and anyone would believe anything he said.

I watched as he pulled the tab off of the juice cartoon and began to pour it carefully. Hating to create messes, he held the cup in an almost vice-like grip.

I didn't even attempt to respond to his try at humor. "If you didn't go anywhere today, did you at least try and unpack stuff. I mean jeesh, you could at least help me a little bit here!" He turned his back to me to put the carton back in the fridge.

My jaw snapped open. I do nothing! I do nothing! I was just about to retort and then remembered the silent treatment. I closed my mouth quickly to stop the venomous words threatening to spill.

He let the fridge door close by itself and walked back over toward me. He smirked and let out a chuckle. I gave a death-glare to him. He just laughed louder.

"I know, I know. 'Nice try at getting me to talk!'" he tried to mimic me, but it sounded more like dying cat. I gave one nod in acknowledgement.

It was his turn to sigh. He let one last small chuckle fall from his lips and leaned back against the counter. He lifted the fairly large cup to his lips and gulped down the drink. Audibly gulped it down. I scowled at him.

I'm fairly easygoing. But I have pet peeves that cannot be overseen. Hearing people chew, drink, or smack their lips made me quake with impatience.

He saw the look I was giving him and he started to laugh again. While drinking. He coughed and sputtered orange juice all over the linoleum floor. He grabbed his throat and continued to cough and laugh. I exhaled and figured I should at least help him.

I banged his back a couple time with my palm. He let out one last gasp and then moved his hand to his stomach. He bellowed out laughter as he gently placed his cup on the counter.

I was not amused…

"Come on Sky…" he started as he reached for the dish towel by the sink and got down on his knees. "You've got to give me something here." He folded the towel in half, and then again. He gently began to clean up the juice and saliva that he managed to spit all over the place. He's lucky none of it managed to land on me.

"I mean, I'm trying here!" his demeanor instantly changed. He was no longer kidding, but seemed very serious and almost helpless in a way. I felt almost guilty. Almost.

He took one last swipe of the towel to the floor and then used his knee to push himself up. I watched as he unfolded the towel and hung it back up by the sink. He mirrored my stance and looked back at me.

"I'm trying to make this house nice for you, you know. I'm trying to get you out of your shell. You haven't even left the house since we've been here!" he flung his hand in the air with exasperation.

He always used his hands to talk. It was a habit that I've picked up quickly from being around him. Nick has lots of emotions. Especially passion, a trait you need to be a lawyer. But he uses it for every aspect of life. He never lets anything go.

"I don't know what more I can do! You're a teenager, go live your life! I know it was always hard to make friends for you, but no one knows you here! They only have to know what you want them to. Go out, make friends, meet a boy! You're beautiful, the guys here will be crawling after you!" his demeanor softened a little and a smirk found its way to his face.

I was always self conscience. I couldn't help it. I never quite found myself that pretty. People continuously told me how gorgeous I was, but it was hard to believe. I never knew why I couldn't see what others saw, but I guess you can call it extreme modesty.

"I know your dying to meet Prince Charming! He'll come sweep you off your feet and make you all swoon!" he laughed at his joke and I finally cracked a smile. "There it is." He leaned forward, the smirk still planted on his face, and moved a strand of hair from in front of my eye. The chocolate brown lock refused to stay in place and flew back to where it was originally. I tried to blow it away from my face, but it was persistent.

Nick let a small exhale, almost a chuckle, and pushed it behind my ear. It joined the other semi curly, wavy locks. He pushed his back against the counter and recrossed his lanky arms. "I know it's hard, and I know it's not fair…" Great this lecture again.

I rolled my head in a circle. My neck acting a pivot point as I closed my eyes in annoyance. This is the eighteenth time I've heard this speech. This week.

"But," he sharpen his voice, which was a sign that I better "buck-up" and listen. I returned my head to face him and opened my eyelids. "I love you. It think this is a good thing for you. I wish you would embrace this opportunity. Sky, this is a new start for you." I scoffed at his choice of words.

"I know. I deserve to be hated. I've made your life just so horrible and unbearable!" he over exaggerated trying to prove his point. I successfully ignored his attempt at trying to wire me up.

He sighed in defeat. "Fine. If you don't want to do anything, don't. I'm done trying. But don't act like it's the end of the world." He stared right into my eyes. I hate when he does that. I usually crack, but honestly I'm not done being furious with the situation life has thrown at me.

He wore an expression that looked like he was thinking ridiculously hard. "Yah know," he started. I rolled my eyes at him. "I talked this wonderful lady next door. She was very sweet and welcoming. She invited us to dinner tomorrow night at her house. She said she had a son your age, and I thought 'Well isn't this just perfect!' But here's the catch…"

I raised my eyebrow in interest. A face I made often without realizing I did it. It annoyed Nick to no end. He gets aggravated that he doesn't have the muscles in his face to raise a single eyebrow. "Stop that!" he snapped lightly. I gave a confused look, but then let my eyebrows go back to the median.

"Anyway," he started "I have to work tomorrow." Per usual. "But I told her the lovely, polite, sixteen year old girl that lives with me is a joy to be around." His voice said it all. He was definitely sucking-up to me. My only response was to narrow my eyes at his attempt.

One last exhale was let out before he seemed to almost be begging. "You're going to meet the neighbors and you're going next door tomorrow night for dinner" he finally relented.

Before I had a second to breath, let alone think, I practically shrieked, "I'm what!?"

"Ah, like music to my ears!"