"Cara, what the hell was that outside?" dad didn't even wait for Grey to disappear before he was yelling at me too. These raised voices were causing a headache to form right at the front of my brain. All I wanted to do was curl up in bed.

"What?" I played the innocent girl card with a one shoulder shrug.

"Who is that boy, your boyfriend?" Dad demanded. Jenson was as far from my boyfriend as you could get but I was just so angry at my dad that I went with it,

"Seriously?" my whole body started to shake with the injustice of everything, "you don't see me for fifteen years and you care who I'm dating? You can't pick and choose when you want to be my dad."

I'd been so caught up in the moment that I'd completely forgotten Mitchell, Nico and Sawyer were right behind me but after my words I heard one of them suck in a gasp. Dads eyes flicked up to them.

"We'll leave you to it," I heard Mitch whisper apologetically and several pairs of feet started to shuffle away slowly.

"Don't bother," my voice cut clean and clear through the silence, "I'll go, I can see when I'm not wanted," I shot the man who wanted to call himself my dad one final loathing glare before I hissed, "trust me I'll be gone the second I can and you'll never have to see me again, just like you want."

I didn't give him time to reply before I pivoted on my heel letting my long hair fly in his face as a strutted down the corridor to my new room.

"Cara," I heard my dad try meekly but I was already slamming the door to my room behind me with a satisfying thud. As much as I hated to admit it, Grey was right about lashing out, it did help a little. Not as much as I would've liked though because I could still feel the ache in my heart as I leant against the door panting out all my bottled up rage.

I really wanted to punch something .

Instead I did what my mom always did when she was angry at some gambler who'd conned her out of a game. I sucked in a long deep breath and let it extinguish the raging fire building up inside me. Then I breathed out all the smoke from the flames. Finally, I plastered on a fake, joyous smile like I had no cares in the world, tilted my chin up confidently and straightened my back so I was standing to my full height, shoulders back, legs squared. Ready.

Now calm enough, I scanned the place that I had to live in until my eighteenth birthday in January, three whole months away.

The room was small but cosy, the same cream walls and dark wood floor as outside spread into the room. There were only four wooden pieces of furniture dotted around the place, a desk with a chair, a wardrobe and a twin bed. Above the bed was a small rectangular window with royal red curtains matching the red comforter on the bed. A couple of shelves ran along the wall above the desk and a circular mirror hung next to a door I presumed led to a bathroom. My suspicions were confirmed when I pushed the door open, behind was a cramped white tiled bathroom containing a toilet, sink and shower. I was thankful for the tiny space and necessities though, as now I wouldn't have to share a bathroom with any boys.

I surveyed the bare, lifeless room again, it was just like every hotel room I'd stayed in. Practical but simple and impersonal. I found something comforting about that though, the ambiguity of the room, like I could become anyone I wanted within the walls.

I dropped my heavy hold all and rack sack on the twin bed glad to be releasing their weight from my shoulders. Then as I'd done hundreds of times before I unpacked my life out of my two bags into the room.

I took the comforter off the bed and threw it on the floor as a makeshift rug and replaced it with moms blanket. I changed the white sheets out with my own black ones because mom had never trusted hotel sheets.

"You never know where they've been," she'd say with a suggestive waggle of her eyebrows.

Then I took out all my books; dictionaries in both French and English, an encyclopaedia, classical poems and the entire works of Shakespeare which was the main weight if my hold all. Also, the CD player that used to be moms, it was a necessity because there was nothing that couldn't be fixed by a bit of good music.

The rest of the hold all just contained clothes and a few pairs of shoes which I hung away in the wardrobe. Once that was empty I kicked it under my new bed and started on my rack sack.

It held two more books, To Kill a Mocking Bird and The Catcher in the Rye, several packs of playing cards, a folder full of CDs, the birthday card that mom gave me every year with a new message in it, a scrap book with the names of every hotel we'd stayed in since I was ten, a makeup bag, toiletries bag, well used camera and stack of photos tied up in string. All the possessions I owned. Once I'd found places for all the items I flopped back in bed, exhausted.

My eyes wondered around the room, it was still bare and impersonal but I liked that. It was like me, empty.

"Cara?" There was a knock on the door, a cautious one and I recognised the voice instantly. Mom had trained me to remember the tiniest details about people and the most obvious ones too, like the sound of someone's voice.

What the hell was he doing here, hadn't I made my feelings about him clear enough?

With a heavy sigh I went and yanked the door open. He was laid out against the doorframe casually, looking as if he didn't have a care in the world.

"Can I help you?" I demanded not caring that my voice was harsh and sharp, he studied me for a moment as if this was the first time he was really noticing me. I trailed my eyes over him too because now I could see him when my vision wasn't clouded by fury.

Grey was even more heart stoppingly gorgeous than I'd first thought, he was so good looking it was irritating. It made me angry just to look at him. No one should be that handsome, it just wasn't fair on the rest of us lowly mortals.

He reminded me of a stone statue of a Greek god, a holy beauty carved into his features. He was muscular but not in the way Mitchell was, he had a more lean and lanky shape to his 6'2 body. He was athletic though, that much was easy to see. He wasn't as comfortable in his height as Mitch was either, he seemed to be hunching forward slightly as if to make himself smaller. But I found that I was fine with that because it meant his godly face was closer to mine. His sharp chin and hollowed out cheekbones gave his face a rugged, tired look. This was only furthered by the heavy bags under his eyes and flopping thick black hair that desperately needed a haircut. His eyes were probably the most startling feature of his face though. They sunk deep into his skin but seemed to pop out at you with his unfairly long lashes and ferocious glare.

His eyes were a bright grey, I never thought it was possible for grey to be a bright colour but he was the exception. It was as if someone had lit a fire behind his eyes that burned through, it was so strong I could almost feel the heat of the flames on my face. It was hard to meet his eyes but at the same time I couldn't look away from them. They were captivating.

"I came to say sorry," I stared at him for a moment oblivious as to what he was taking about, then I remembered, behind that gorgeous face was a dick personality. Grey didn't sound sorry in the slightest bit, he sounded like a sullen child who was forced to be nice by his parents. Which was exactly what I guessed had happened.

I looked around Grey to see Mitchell, Nico and Sawyer all gathered just outside my doorway.

"We came for the show," Nico announced with a smirk then without asking he strolled right into my room as if he owned the place. I froze unsure of what to do.

"No, we came to make sure Grey did his job," Mitchell corrected stepping forward, he looked Grey in the eye sternly, "you did shit by the way." With that Mitchell also sauntered into my room and flopped down onto my bed like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Sure you can come in," I cheered with heavy sarcasm.

"Come on Vegas, you're living in a boarding school now, people will walk into you room whenever they please," Nico informed he with a smirk. He was already making his way around my room examining all my things.

"You can tell them to stop if you want," a quiet voice in my ear reassured, I smiled thankfully at Sawyer, who's calm face instantly made me feel more comfortable.

"It's fine," I shrugged even though Mitch lying on my moms blanket was making my skin crawl. I knew to keep my feelings to myself though. Sawyer smiled at me again which sent another wave of calm over me before he too entered my room.

"So can I come in?" my gaze returned to Grey who was still loitering in my doorway like a bad smell.

I stuck an arm out to block his path, "not until you apologise properly."

Grey sucked in a long tired breath like this conversation was exhausting him, "I am truly sorry." At least he sounded more genuine this time.

"For what?" I prompted.

"For calling you a thing, and for being rude and an all round horrible person," I had to admit Grey did sound apologetic and I was pretty adept at telling when people were lying.

"And for shouting at me?" I was still annoyed at this whole situation so I wanted to drag it out a little longer.

"That too," Grey nodded with a slight eye roll at my persistence.

"Promise not to punch any more things around me, I hate violence," I added in a deathly quiet hiss. The last bit I didn't mean to let slip out, I didn't intend to give so much of myself away.

"I promise I'm not usually like that," Grey sounded more sincere and sorry than I'd heard anyone be in a long time, "I've just got some ...," he paused and ran a hand through his hair distractedly again, that seemed to be his agitated tic, "family shit going on right now."

Family shit, story of my life.

"I'll give you a second chance but you better not blow it Grey, cause this is the only one you're getting," I retracted my arm to allow him to pass.

"You're not going to regret this," he broke out into a wide grin revealing a perfect set of straight white teeth. If I found out he got those teeth without braces I was going to punch something. How the hell was someone so lucky in the genetic lottery?

"You better not make me regret this," I warned again as Grey followed the three others lead and strolled in like he'd lived there his whole life.

I surveyed the room, still lifeless and basic but much improved by the four devastatingly handsome boys in it. Mitchell was spread out on my bed looking like he was about to fall asleep, Nico was sat on the floor with his legs stretched out comfortably, Sawyer was perched at my desk flicking through my encyclopaedia and Grey was leaning his elongated body against the bathroom door watching me interestedly.

If you'd asked me this morning how I expected my day to end this wouldn't have been my answer, far from it. But something about this scene just felt right. I couldn't explain why, it just did.