Chapitre One

Every girl dreams of living happily ever after one day. Not me…I'm stuck as a tomboy police officer here in New Jersey. It's okay…at least I have him. He is my hero, my reason of living…my everything. Well…almost my everything. He can play the role of anybody. He can be your fantasy super hero with the ultimate super powers. He can play the role of a teenager crackpot. The most important role he plays for me…is my boyfriend.I've been pretty content my whole life but ever since I took the job as a policewoman, I never noticed I was so lonely; until I took a job for the FBI as a contestant in the Miss Teen USA pageant.

Well, later on I went out on an adventure to find out who the bad guy was for this stupid pageant. It turns out that the culprit behind everything was this old hag who just so happens to be the hostess for the pageant. Before I found out, I was a clueless 19 year old American girl walking around with what seemed like a gazillion inch high heels and a map of goodness knows where that was supposed to take me to the pageant until I suddenly I bumped into this great guy (I didn't think he was so great the first time I met him).

I think he was a little more than five feet tall at the time. He had great tan skin and did something with his hair occasionally. I don't usually go for guys so fast and guys who can't seem to leave their hair alone, but with this guy was a special case. At first, I thought he was a special mental case but I guess all that changed…

"Hey! Watch where you're going, you twig!" a man from behind said.

"Uh…I-I'm sorry, I was just looking for—"I stuttered. He was so gorgeous, I almost tripped over my heels.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. That's what they all say," he turned around with a guitar strapped around his back.

I was flabbergasted. He was gorgeous but rude! "Excuse me? I was just trying to apologize. Oh, and thanks for calling me twig," I said. I didn't think I passed for even a broomstick.

He just kept walking.

"Hey! Don't ignore me!" I ran after him.

"Look, you almost broke my guitar and I got a cut from my pick," he turned and shuffled off again.

I continued to follow him, "Your guitar is in a case and you shouldn't have been holding a pick in your hand if you're not playing your guitar, buster."

"Don't lecture me, bimbo," he said without looking at me.

"What did you call me?" I said.

"You heard me," he turned to a corner and went through a door. As soon as I got to the door, he shut it.

I kept staring at the door then I yelled, "Look! I was just trying to get directions to this stupid place, okay? Do you think you can help me out a little?"

No response.

"I said I was sorry!"

Still no answer.

"Guys are so freaking stubborn!" I hit the door and stalked off. I shook my hand violently because the door hurt!

I walked a few feet before he opened the door and yelled, "Hey!"

I turned and did the kind of pose that said what do you want?

"I can help you. I know New York like the back of my hand," he said with a smile.

"Really?" I smiled back.

"Really," he gestured for me to walk toward him, "C'mere. Let me take a look at that map and write directions on where to go."

I gave him the map. He scribbled a bunch of lines on the streets until finally he circled a place and handed the map back to me, "Good luck."

"Thanks," I smiled at him even more. I felt like a fool but I just couldn't help it.

"You're welcome," he said. He also smiled. I was entranced in his smile.

"I'm Gracie," I handed out my hand for him to shake.

"Eric," he didn't shake it. He just clapped it.

I smiled at the fact that he told me his name which is really weird because I don't usually do anything so stupid like that, "Well, I'll be going now." I began to walk off a few feet, "Oh, and thanks again."

He chuckled and said, "Bye."

"Bye!" I walked off.

I happily walked off into the city metropolis. I followed the map. It was really easy to follow. That was the thing. It was too easy. I was in front of a flashy looking building. I read the top of the building. It had an electric light that flashed, "Pussy Kitten" with a provocative looking image of a woman under the word.

"Oh my gosh. That perverted little freak!" I mumbled angrily. I walked back to what I assumed is his house.

As soon as I got there, I knocked on the door as hard as I could and I yelled as loud as I could.

"You! You perverted freakazoid! Come out here you coward! How dare you humiliate me like that?"

It started to rain, "Let me in! It's raining!"

It rained even harder until it got to the point where it started hailing.

"Hey!" I yelled as loud as I could, "Please, let me in! It's hailing!"

I waited ten minutes sitting down under his little staircase. I got up and yelled over the clinking of the hail, "Umm…whatever your name is…I'll just leave you alone now since you're being such a freaking idiot," I turned to go sulk in the rain and hail but as I turned to go, I saw him standing there smiling as though he'd won the lottery.

I stared at him spitefully but at the same time tearfully happy.

"That idiot's name is Eric and…uh…sorry about you being stood up by me," he smiled his hypnotizing smile again, "You enjoy my little trick? It was one that I made up to get rid of annoying little girls."

I just continued to stare at him then I cried and ran into his chest. It felt a lot safer and warmer than standing the rain. Except for the hail hitting my head, I felt no pain but what he did to me. I don't know why, I just kept crying in his chest. He gently shook me off.

"Calm down, it wasn't that harsh," he said.

I just kept sniffling.

"All right," he started fiddling with his keys and unlocked the door to his house, "C'mon in."

I walked in. On the outside it looked like every other normal apartment out on the streets but it looked like a dream house on the inside. Everything was furnished and celebrity-like.

"What are you, the president or something?" I awed at his many antiques. There were katanas, paintings, sculptures, and stuff I didn't even think existed.

"No," he said with his back turned, "I'm a musician."

What? Him? A musician. No way. That was what I thought. No offense, he doesn't seem the type to write love songs and such, "Really? What kind of songs do you sing?"

"Oh…you know," Eric said. He had his back turned to me. He took off his shirt! I wanted to see if he had a six pack so I inched a little to the right as he put on a different shirt. Woo! That boy is hot or what?

He turned around quickly while I was still staring at his gorgeous body, "You like my six pack?" he asked jokingly as he pulled his shirt down.

"What? I wasn't looking there and you don't have one," I said.

He lifted up his shirt and I stared at it and then he put it down and I said, "See?"

He laughed his sadistic laugh, "Then where were you looking? Checkin' for a different pack, now are we?"

I didn't know what he meant but I could tell he was taunting me, "No. You stupid idiot. I was just looking at the thing behind you," Oh my gosh. I'm the stupid idiot. I didn't even know what was behind him.

"That?" he pointed at a little framed picture, "That's me and my brother."

"Really?" I walked over to where he was and looked at the picture. There were two young boys. One was on a swing and the other was pushing the boy on the swing. They were so cute.

"Ready to hear my sob story?" he said smiling.

"Sob story? You have a sob story?" I said. I blurt it out by accident. I really didn't mean to.

"Everybody has a sob story," he began, "I was twelve and he was ten. We were running down this large hill like we always do and I remember we would chase these girls in school all the time. We always caught up to them but we never did anything. I was so mean to my brother back then and I would always threaten to never play with him again if he didn't obey by my rules," he stopped and looked at me for a moment. I was listening intently.

"One day…we rolled down that large hill like we always did. Our neighbor, who was a really tall guy probably towering at six feet, walked over to us. You know the little Baudelaire story? About those little kids who were orphaned because their parents had died in an accident. Well, the same ordeal happened to me and my little brother. Only it wasn't a fire accident," he stopped and looked down for a second, "Umm…uh…"

"What? What happened?" I asked him with sympathetic eyes, "I mean, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to but if you want to, I'll listen."

He paused for a while longer then ran his fingers through his hair and started, "Well, we were moved to the nearest orphanage and uh…" another pause inflated the silence, "I didn't want to be separated from my little brother so anybody who came and wanted only one of us, I would reject completely. We would run away and they'd find us and tell us that the couple who wanted only one of us won't be able to adopt us. That went on for more than a year until we were adopted by a really nice woman. Her name was Jennifer Sachet."

"She was really nice but my brother was still unhappy even with all that she'd given us. He slowly started breaking down into tears more often at night. It wasn't like I could hear him though. They were the kind of tears that were silent and would burn through pillows. Later, he got to the point where he couldn't even stand for more than five minutes. The doctors said he wasn't resting enough. Every time my brother got up at night, I would tell him to get back in bed and go to sleep. I would argue with him to get into bed. I was so worried. One day, I woke up and I thought he was still asleep so I went downstairs and ate breakfast with Jennifer. I played video games like I always did for hours. I took a look at the clock and it was 12:23 in the afternoon. I went upstairs and my brother was still in the same position I last saw him in bed. I called out his name several times. Then I started poking him and jabbing at his stomach but he wouldn't move," he stopped and I just stared because I thought I knew what would happen.

"He had heart failures the night before passed away. He was only 12 and I was 13. I was all alone. I ran away from home several thousand times every year. Jennifer couldn't handle me anymore because I would get into gun fights and she was afraid I might hurt someone else so she sent me away. First it was boarding school. I always stole peoples' valuables and such. Second were those little boot camps. Sure, they yelled in my face like there was no tomorrow but even they couldn't handle me. Third was juvi. That was the worst place I'd ever been to. I got into even worse fights. Jennifer rarely visited me just to see if I was safe. How could I be safe if she'd been the one who sent me in that hell-hole? I did four years of community service. When I was finally released, I was eighteen."

"I had a job at this bar as a guitarist. That was when I realized my singing talent. I never ditched the place. I loved the people there. A big-time recording center wanted to sign me up for a singing career and now I'm in recording. I'm also still working at the ba—"

"That's sick!" I yelled.

"What? What happened?" he asked looking frightened.

"That Jennifer-girl just left you like that and you're not going to do anything about it?" I was standing up. I was so angry that tears started welling up in my eyes again but I didn't let them burn down my cheeks.

Eric stood up, "Well, there's nothing to do, really. Plus she'd given me a lot. If I caused any more problems for her I'd be a huge burden."

"So what? She sent you away? If I adopted a kid, I would keep that kid and look at them like the world was going to end every single day!" I said finally letting the tears make their way to my chin.

"Well, I guess that's what makes you such a good person, doesn't it?" Eric smiled.

"How can you conceal yourself behind a smile when you've been through so much?" I asked.

"Grace, I haven't been through that much. I could be dead right now if Jennifer hadn't sent me to all those places," he said.

I just looked at him, "It's Gracie.And, you know…you made a really bad first impression. Would you like a redo?"

"Sure. Wanna grab a bite?" he asked.

"I'm up for that," I smiled.

"Okay," he grabbed his coat and keys we got in the car and he said, "You're paying."

Chapitre Two

I came home more tired than I ever remembered. I don't remember what happened to me. I woke up and found myself on a soft