A new year is usually the coming of change. People like to wait for some form of landmark in time to begin new things: the start of the week, the start of the month, the start of the year. It's always "I'm going to start going to the gym next week" or "we'll start decorating next month" or "eating healthier will be my new year's resolution". I was that type of person. The never now, always later girl.

I'd never had any reason to think my mother any different aside from when it came to therapist visits (although the reason why she was so eager now blatantly stares me in the face) until now. It was slap bang in the middle of November, a Wednesday afternoon, when she broke the news I already knew. I'd decided against telling her I was in the know solely down to the fact that I'd need to explain why I was where I was at 5am that morning, who I was with, and why I hadn't told her I was a twenty minute drive away from home walking back by foot. Well, perhaps not just because of that. It'd also be a tad hypocritical to go ranting and raving about her lying to my face for months saying she was working late at the bakery when I'd basically done the same by telling her I was always with Skylar when I was with Parker, the boy she'd made me promise I wouldn't associate with again.

"Sweetheart, this is going to come as a big shock to you," She'd said as she nervously twiddled her thumbs. We'd been sitting playing Scrabble in the living room and I'd just placed down my letters to form the word lies. Whether that spurred her on or was just coincidental, I guess I'll never know. "But I've been keeping something a secret for a few months now. Something I really think you ought to know as it's become rather serious."

"How many points were those letters?" I didn't want to hear it.

"Are you listening to me?" She asked, her fingers still nervously dancing about the board.

"Pretty sure I'm winning." I stated, clueless as to whether that was true or not. I just wanted to live in my bubble of denial that extra bit longer. Scrabble was not the time to go popping it.

"Sweetheart-"

"Damn it, mum!" I exclaimed. "What? What is it?"

I didn't blame her for looking taken aback by my sudden mood swing but I knew fine well what her next words would be and they were the ones I didn't want spoken aloud. The ones I wasn't even letting the spooked and agitated Parker finish letting out. He'd get half way through suggesting it and I'd leave or talk over him until he stopped.

"I've been seeing someone, sweetheart," She paused to gauge my reaction and seemed to take my blank expression as encouragement. " I don't want you to get upset. Don't think that I'm over dad. I won't ever be over your father, but the fact is he's gone. I have to stop waiting for him to come back. You too, because he won't. I know that now. He disappeared without a trace and without telling us why. Even if he did come home I don't think I could ever forgive him for abandoning us like that. It's been eight years. I- it's time for me to move on with my life. I'm not going to stay looking this youthful forever you know." She added with a weak laugh.

"Mum, I know he's not coming back. I've always known that. I don't mind that you're seeing someone, either. You deserve to be happy," I said, meaning every word. What I didn't like was who she was moving on with. Yet there was a chance, a sliver of a chance that it wasn't who I thought it was. Perhaps the guy I'd seen with her had just told a really hilarious joke after a completely platonic, friendly meet-up with my mother and I'd just jumped to conclusions. Possibly. Hopefully. I took a deep breath. "So what's his name?"

That's when my bubble had popped. The moment her face twisted after the relieved smile she'd sent me into that fake, plasticated look. The false face of trying to remain calm when something completely chaotic was about to break out. It spoke volumes. It spoke the words I didn't want to hear before they even escaped her lips. But they did anyway. "It's, ah- it's actually your- um, your therapist. Doctor Greene? Well, Ian. Ian Greene..."

"Excellent," Was what I think I replied with, before calmly leaving the room. By that I mean tipping over the Scrabble board in my hurried exit and sending all of the lettered plastic tiles flying. I didn't dare look at the words they formed. With my luck they'd tell my fortune across the flooring. Your life is over, they'd spell.

Or worse - papa Greene.

Now, in the midst of December, an entire month since the news had been aired and I'd spent around thirty days of icing my mother out whilst she tread on thin ice around me, the impossible had happened. Even after my clear discomfort with the situation, even though we still weren't on talking terms, even though I'd refused to attend any therapist sessions since her telling me the news, it was happening.

Doctor Greene was moving in.

The relationship was moving faster than my grades on a runaway train and there was nothing I could do about it. I was torn between wanting to feel happiness for my mother finding someone that wasn't just the memory of my long gone dad, and wanting to shake her into sense and demand she look through his every possession to prove that he was a drug dealing psychopath who tangled Parker and his friends into dealing with threats and blackmail after they wanted to back out. That wasn't exactly dinner talk, though.

On Friday afternoon I could deny no longer that it was happening. A large white van sat in our front garden moving unfamiliar furniture onto the lawn and men in jeans and matching tatty shirts began hauling some of it into our doorway. Ian wasn't here yet, but there was enough of his stuff entering my home to remind me that he would be soon.

"Don't pull that face," Mum said with a pained expression. "I know you were never particularly fond of him so it must be hard for you to see him coming to stay with us, but you don't know him out of therapy. He's a lovely man. He won't talk to you like your therapist. I've made him promise that."

"Doesn't he have his own house?" No doubt I sounded like a child throwing a strop about my mother's potential happiness, but she didn't know him. True, I didn't either, but I knew of him and that was enough for me.

"Well- yes, but," She blushed. "I think I love him and he, me."

Sweet baby Jesus.

"'S long as you're happy." I muttered, barely audible over the racket of the furniture moving, before stalking out of the room and up the stairs. I was ringing Parker before I'd even reached my room and he answered just as I shut the door to it behind me.

"He's moving in," I said in lieu of hello. "What do I do? He's moving in and I can't do anything about it. She thinks they, like, love each other and all that jazz."

I heard him curse quietly on the other end. "Shit," He breathed. "Honey, I don't want you in that house."

"Guess that makes two of us."

"Oh god," He continued, and I could practically hear the cogs ticking in his brain as he thought of all of the awful possibilities that could occur. "I don't want you in that house when he's there. He's bad news. Really bad."

"Can I come see you? Can we hang out or something? I- I don't want to be in the house when he gets here. Parker, I really don't want to be here. I really really don't because-"

"I know," He shushed me, all calming noises and steady voice like always. "It's okay. How about I come around and park at the end of your street? I won't be long and it means you don't need to get lost looking for my house."

I obliged and he was gone, leaving me to listen to the empty dial tones. No longer were there any soothing mumblings from Parker, the boy who could either make my heart feel like it was fit to burst or bring it down to its normal rate when things went south, and I was left with the bangings and scrapes of new chairs and bookcases being brought into my home.

His new home. My old one.

"Going out," Was all I said to my mother as I slammed the front door shut behind me.

I was leaving early but I couldn't stand another moment in the place I had once felt safest with the noises echoing up the stairs acting as a constant reminder it was fast becoming the most dangerous place to be. Given the fact Parker often took speed limits as more of a suggestion than an actual law when I wasn't around, I didn't doubt that he'd be over quickly.

I sat cross-legged on the pavement on the corner of my street, fingers drumming against the curb. A rat scuttled past the drain in front of me and I reached out to make friends with him. He moved faster in the opposite direction of my outstretched offer of friendship. It probably smelled the Ian Greene on me and ran for his life. I would too if I were him.

A car horn honked twice before it slowed to a stop next to me. Parker, not even bothering to fake a smile, grimaced at me from behind the wheel as I climbed in next to him.

"You okay?" He asked.

"Positively peachy." I replied.

"Nice alliteration." He noted.

"What else would you expect from Frigid Flora?"

He started the car and we drove in silence for a little while. At least five minutes must have crawled by before he plucked up the courage to ask the question I knew had been plaguing his mind since finding out Ian was my therapist.

"Look," He said. "I've got to ask how much you told him about me."

"I genuinely didn't say much to him about us. He doesn't know we've... Done more than hand holding. I didn't mention anything to do with you taking drugs or me staying over at yours or anything that would make him think you weren't interested in the whole bad ass vibes."

His face was still grim as he shook his head. "He knows I've gone soft. Doesn't matter if he caught word of me hosting that party, he knows I'm interested in you and that I'm losing my edge."

"I don't understand," I confessed. "How? What does that really have to do with him moving into my house?"

"I've made some theories..." Parker trailed off and my stomach churned. "Ian needs to know his- dealers, shall we say, are one hundred percent on his side. He gets antsy if he thinks we're losing interest. Disinterest in his mind is on par with being disloyal. We aren't as committed to him if we don't want to deal and so backing out or telling someone about what we're up to is more likely if we're losing interest.

"The guy's been monitoring you during your therapy. He's taking note of what you're up to, how you're progressing. Ian clearly knows I'm helping. I'm showing interest in something else, sticking by your side like I haven't done with anyone else before, and in his eyes that might look as if I've switched sides. Lost focus. Maybe he's-" He hesitated as he came to a stop for a red traffic light.

I fidgeted nervously with my seat belt. "He's what?"

"Maybe he's upped the monitoring. You know, put his charm on your mum so he can watch us more closely. I mean, who normally moves in so quickly? If your mum's smitten with him then it wouldn't take much persuasion on his part for her to let him move in."

"So what you're saying is that he's infiltrated my home to- to spy on our relationship?" Things just kept getting worse.

He gave me a sympathetic look as he started the car again. "That's exactly what I'm saying."

When we got to Parker's house it was the same old sort of awkward. We bumped into his mum who always seemed to be there just in time for my visits. She gave me that odd look like she was surprised I was back again (though possibly the least judgmental one yet), Parker glared, and then we proceeded rather uncomfortably up the stairs to his room.

"Your mum really doesn't like me." I stated as I jumped onto his bed and took it over entirely. He was forced to drag out the few pillows he owned from underneath me and use them to make the floor more comfortable, unable to squeeze in beside my star fish position.

"No, she just thinks I'm using you for sex." He said bluntly.

I laughed. "Delightful. Are you planning on having your wicked way with me, then?"

He tried to suppress a grin. "Don't tempt me."

"What? Don't you find me attractive?" I began to wriggle about the mattress in what I hoped was the movement of a caterpillar. How the wiggly green creature could bunch up its body before elongating and repeating the process was what I attempted to mimic. I probably just looked like I was mashing my face into his duvet whilst having some kind of mad spasm on my lower half. Distracted, I stopped and said, "Your bed sheets smell very nice."

Parker hopped on the bed next to me, softly pushing the extended limbs in his way back toward me to make more room, and wrapped an arm around my waist. He tugged me closer until our noses were practically bumping together.

"Oh, Flora Montgomery," He sighed my name, just because he liked to say it. "Flora Montgomery."

"Your sheets do smell good, though," I sniffed at the blanket I'd bunched in my hand like a drug addict might snort their good stuff. "I must ask what detergent you use. Tide? Persil? Maybe Ariel. It's all aftershavey and minty and zesty."

He chuckled. "I haven't washed this in weeks. It's filthy. It'll just be me."

I stopped mid-sniff. "I don't know whether to be impressed or disgusted. I think the former. You smell super nice, comrade."

He grabbed my wrist and rolled us over so that his body lay parallel to mine - on top of me. Solid. Warm. Like a constant reminder he was there. In retrospect it sounded like a provocative position we were in, but it wasn't really like that. Not much.

"This is okay, right?" He double checked, relaxing when I nodded. His forehead leant against mine and I wondered if he could feel the rapid beat of my heart from our chests that were flush with one another. I ran my fingers through his hair, still to this day surprised at how soft it was even though he had gel in it to make it swoop up at the front in that oh-so-attractive way.

"Even your hair smells good. You must be an alien." I concluded, twisting some of the strands between my fingers in wonder. He shifted on the elbows he was propping himself up with on my either side and bent closer to peck me on the nose.

"Damn, you blew my cover." He stared at me affectionately before his gaze hardened. "It'd be so much easier if we stayed together. Then I'd know you were safe all of the time and wouldn't need to worry. I can't believe that nightmare is going to be in your house. Make sure Skylar visits lots. Call me more often so I know you're okay, too."

Living together. He was suggesting that he'd prefer us to live together and we hadn't even established what we were to one another yet. A warmth spread through me at the thought, a montage of possible scenarios dancing behind my eyelids: curled on the sofa watching movies late at night; barring the windows to keep out his friends whilst grooving on the mat for Just Dance every evening; chaotic breakfasts when running late for school, Parker's chocolate hair mussed from sleep.

School. We were still at high school and that's all this really was. One of those drawn out relationships that exceeded normal standards. It happened. I'd seen enough of the films, read enough of the novels. When the time came for college or university it would be one of those awkward things to cut off and tie the loose ends to. To forget about because there were new people to see and other activities to do that didn't involve the other half. Unfortunately for me I could no longer see my life without Parker butting into it at the most inappropriate of times. Reality would hit Parker sooner or later, but when it came to him breaking off our friendship/relationship/bizzare thing we had, I knew for certain my feelings wouldn't be mutual.

I nodded my agreement and he kissed my forehead. "I swear if he harms a hair on your head..."

"Don't worry," I said lightly as I ignored the lump in my throat. "I could always embrace him with open arms and call him daddy Greene for the rest of my days."

"God, no." He rolled off me and glowered at the ceiling with one arm still lazily draped over my abdomen. "For one, that sounds too kinky..."

I poked him in the cheek until he had something on his face that was near enough to a smile for my liking. "Don't be grouchy. Look how fabulous my touching capabilities are now."

He caught my hand in his and planted a sloppy kiss to my palm.

"Eugh!" I squealed, which finally made him laugh. "That's rank. Did I say your spit smelled good? No. Geez, you really got it all over my hand. What is wrong with you?" I wiped it on his shirt. "God there's so much of it. What are you on?"

"Life," He crossed his arms behind his head and shut his eyes. "I'm high on life, my dear, life."

"Cool beans. Well, I'm off to get some snacks from your kitchen."

He didn't move a muscle, offer to go for me, or make any form of reply. So I went off anyway. I was keeping my fingers crossed for a packet of crisps or a jar of hidden Nutella. Something decent. What I got instead, of course, was Mrs Heywood. Just my luck.

"Oh. Um, hello." I stared at Parker's ghostly mother, all pale and gaunt and hazel eyed like her son. The heavy, dark bags that encircled her eyes were just as prominent and sickly looking as ever. "How'd you do? Again, not fornicating with your son. I'm just here for some, ah, snacks..."

"You're very odd, you know." The blonde woman stated. She was rummaging for beer in the fridge and I didn't want to ask her to move so I could search for potential nibbles. Instead I just hovered around like a bad smell looking at anything but her.

"Thanks."

"I'm serious," She said, taking out a can and gazing at me as though trying to work out a very complicated puzzle. "You're extremely weird. I think that's why he likes you. Olivia was a bit weird, too."

"I-" My hand froze around the cupboard I'd been in the middle of yanking open. "What?"

"His sister, Oli. She was only eight when she passed away but she was a little odd as well. Bumbling like an idiot when she was nervous, saying all of the wrong things or making weird comments nobody would think of. Real clumsy, too. Think you remind him of her," She stared at me for a long while whilst I contemplated continuing my search for snacks or running back to Parker and demanding he do it instead because frankly, this was becoming stressful as hell. "You certainly remind me of her." And then she smiled. Smiled at me. A real life smile.

I felt like sticking my head out of the nearest window to double check the sky for flying pigs. Everything impossible was happening today, why should that be ruled out?