New story! It's kind of cliché, but hopefully I can add a little more to it. Also, Emi is pronounced Emmy. Please enjoy and definitely leave a review.

Chapter 1: Moving Day


"Damn it, Parker, open the door!" I kicked the door and swore loudly when my big toe started throbbing in pain. I shifted the heavy box in my arms and groaned. What could he possibly fit into one cardboard box? Apparently everything.

"Chill out, I'm setting down some boxes." He said from the other side. I heard him rustling around, but I knew better.

"Bullshit you are." I growled, glaring at the peep-hole. I knew he was just standing there, staring through the peep-hole and laughing at me. Parker liked to aggravate me, because he said I made humorous faces when I was angry. "Come on, Parker. Please. This box is heavy." I looked pleadingly at the door.

He sighed loudly. "Fine, but you're completely ruining the purpose of the peep-hole." See, I knew it. He and I had been friends since we were in elementary school. I knew him better than he knew himself, and vice versa. We had grown up together, and as such, we were inseparable. People like to insist we're sole mates. Parker just says that we're the same person with different genitalia. I don't know what to say, so I usually don't say anything. He opened the door and grinned down at me.

"Not funny." I said, shoving the box into his chest. He held the box easily in one toned, tattooed arm.

"Your face was priceless." His grin broadened and his grey eyes twinkled when I scowled and brushed passed him. "Aw, Emi, you know you love me." He shut the door and followed me into the apartment.

"Yeah, yeah." I grumbled, sitting on a stack of boxes in the kitchen. I rested my head in my hands and sighed softly. I was in a bad mood. Truth was, I was homesick. Already. I liked to think that being eighteen meant I was mature enough not to be homesick after only nine hours, but apparently that wasn't the case. I had lived in the same house from the day I was born until this morning. Now I was living in an apartment by myself in a town I was unfamiliar with. Granted, Parker was in a neighboring apartment, but I was still alone in a big city. Why the hell did I come here again?

Parker set his box on the floor next to me and sat on it. "What's up?"

"Nothing." I pressed my eyes into my palms. I had a tendency to overreact, so it was no surprise to either of us that I was about to have a panic attack brought on by homesickness.

"Are you – "

"It sucks here." I blurted out. I raised my eyes to meet his grey ones. I had never admitted this out loud, but Parker's eyes were gorgeous. I loved staring into them more than anything in the world. They're the color of a stormy sky just before rainfall, and they're outlined with thick, dark lashes, of which I was envious. His eyes were so expressive, I felt like I could have a full conversation with him simply by gazing into them. With us, there was no need for words.

"You're homesick." He said matter-of-factly.

"No, I'm not." I argued pathetically. I didn't want to sound stupid by missing home already. I looked back at the ground and sighed. I was being ridiculous.

"Yes, you are." He reached his arm out and tugged gently on my long, black pigtail. "It's cool, Emi. I am too."

I glanced up quickly. "Really?"

"Well, no, not really," he said honestly, "but come on. You're moving away to college. Of course you're homesick."

"I'm being ridiculous." I shook my head and stood up. "I should probably go to my place and unpack more. I've got at least another four hours before I can even think about sleep." My mind drifted to the boxes that we had stacked in my apartment earlier during the day, and I almost groaned. I hated the idea of unpacking my stuff into an apartment I didn't even want to live in.

"I can help if you want." He offered, standing with me. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders. "God knows you'll need help lifting the boxes."

I shoved him away. "Hey, I was holding that damn box forever." I think I was holding it for about thirty seconds before Parker had shut the door in my face just so he could look at me through the peep-hole.

"You're weak. Admit it."

"Only if you admit that you used to cry when Mufasa died in The Lion King."

"You're still on about that?" He asked incredulously. "I didn't cry. I had something in my eye."

I grinned. "Ok, sure, I'm just going to go start unpacking."

"You don't believe me." He said. "I can't believe you think I would cry during a Disney movie."

"I watched you. You cried." I grinned. "Every single time." It was true, even if he would never admit it. He thought he was a bad boy with his tattoos and piercings, but I knew better. He cares more than most ever would. He had helped through a lot of bad times.

"Ok, you know what," he said, shuffling me towards the door, "I'm officially kicking you out." He opened the door and pushed me gently into the hall.

I turned and stuck out my tongue. "Loser."

"Whore." He countered.



"Douche bag."


"Good night, Parker."

"Night, Emi." He replied softly. I stood rooted on spot and stared at him. He wasn't shutting the door. He raised his pierced brow when I didn't move. "I'm waiting for you to get in your room before I shut my door."

"Oh." I said, feeling foolish. "Good night again, then." I walked across the hall and unlocked my apartment. When I pushed the door open, I was greeted by complete blackness. Fantastic.

"Night, Emi." Parker's voice carried across the hall.

I turned to smile, but he had already shut his door. I sighed and hit the light before shutting my door. I gave myself credit for being able to afford this place. I didn't exactly make the most money, but I had enough to move across the hall from Parker. That's all I could really ask for. Originally, the plan was for me to move in with Parker because he was looking for a roommate, but Mom and Dad would not allow me to live with a guy before I was married. Even if that guy was Parker, who they'd known for over ten years, it didn't matter. They were convinced that it would turn into some twenty-four-hour sex orgy. I don't know. Their logic, not mine.

Not that I would mind some "quality time" with Parker. He was, as far as I was concerned, the perfect male specimen. He was tall – probably around 6'3" – which was a full foot taller than me. His longish hair was naturally dark brown, but he insisted on dying it black. Either way, I loved it. About three years ago he went on a piercing spree and got his ears gauged, eyebrow pierced, and lower lip pierced twice on the right. I think he wanted to get his tongue pierced, but he realized that meant washing his mouth out after every meal. Considering Parker eats more-or-less continuously, he'd be washing his mouth out at least ten times a day. According to him, that wasn't his 'cup of tea.' His tattoos are his pride. He refuses to give me a definitive number – for reasons beyond my knowledge – but I think he's got about seven. Most are on his arms and back, and Christ do they make him look delicious.

And then there were his eyes. His beautiful, stormy-grey eyes that I could get lost in forever. He must have caught me gazing into his eyes hundreds of times in the past, and despite the embarrassment I feel when he notices me, I always find myself staring again. I couldn't help it. I was in love with my best friend. Pathetic, right?

I don't really think I woke up one morning screaming "I love Parker Logan," but I knew my feelings were eternally different sometime around the age of fourteen. Ever since, I've been pining over my best friend, and I've never told a soul. I've never so much as hinted at it, and at this point, I never plan to. I decided when I moved into my new apartment, I was going to start a new saga of my life. No more loving Parker. I mean, there were hundreds of other guys that might want me, and I might want them too. It's just too emotionally draining to watch someone you're so close to be just an inch too far away to realize how you feel, and instead date all the unworthy girls around you. That was the story of my life.

I stood in the middle of the living room and stared helplessly at my boxes scattered on the floor. Did I seriously own this much crap, and why when I was packing did I decide I needed it all to live? Being a first-time mover, I didn't think to label the boxes, so I had no idea where to find anything I actually needed.

Smart move, Emily, I mentally scolded. Where's the fun in knowing where shit is when you can just dig through fifty boxes for it?

I dropped to my knees and opened the first box. Underwear. The whole box was underwear. I had taken a liking to lingerie a few years ago, and as such, I had accumulated more than most women would wear in ten years. Underwear was certainly a necessity, but not mandatory for sleep.

I turned and started opening another box when I heard a crash outside my window. My eyes widened, and I immediately hurried as far from the window as my apartment walls would allow. I felt my heart clench in my chest, and it became almost impossible to breathe. To sum me up in the most basic of terms, I was a total chicken. If things go bump in the night, give me two seconds and you'll find me half way up a tree trembling. Not my proudest personality trait, but I couldn't exactly hide it.

I heard another crash, and I yelled in fear. Before I could stop myself, I was darting for the apartment door.


It was only eight o'clock. I shouldn't have kicked Emi out, because now my only option for something to do was unpack. It was too late for me to explore the town because I really didn't want to leave Emi alone in her apartment at night. I knew how anxious she got in new situations, so I could only imagine what she was doing sitting alone in her apartment at night. Probably hanging garlic and silver and crosses around her neck.

I had been so excited at the prospect of having her live with me, but that was torn right out from under us when her parents decided I was some pervert that was aching to feel up their daughter. I tried to explain to them that I had no intention of groping Emi, and even if I did want to, there would be separate bedrooms. They still insisted that it was "inappropriate" for two people to live together before marriage. I started asking whether or not guys had to have a gay union to live together, but Emi kicked my shin before I could finish. She knew me too well.

I sighed and ran my hands through my black hair. This was pretty lame. I didn't want to unpack, and I had absolutely nothing to do. Even if I thought of something to do, I'd have to unpack it to do it. Hell, I couldn't even sleep without unpacking something. I glanced around the apartment and frowned. Never had I been so appalled by the cube shape before, and I doubted that I would pack my things in boxes next time I moved. Maybe I could find a place that sold cardboard spheres. It might not be space efficient, but at least I could have fun with them if I was too lazy to unpack.

After staring at the floor blankly for several minutes, I decided I'd go scare Emi. Knowing her, she was sitting in her apartment trying unsuccessfully to unpack. I tried to tell her to label her boxes, but she just laughed and told me I was stupid. Now she was probably cursing herself because I was right. I slipped out of my apartment and grinned at her door, trying to imagine her reaction when she realized I was the one scaring the shit out her. She'd hate me.

Trying to be stealthy – which is hard for someone as tall as me – I hurried outside and stood under her window. I peered inside and saw her frowning at the contents of a box. She reached in and pulled out a lacey bra and matching panties. I flushed and ducked down. I did not want to see that side of Emi. If you asked, I'd be the first to tell you she was cute, but I really didn't have an interest in her underwear.

Reconsidering my original plan, I decided to just go back inside and call her if I was still bored in an hour. The chances of that: one hundred percent. I walked back into my apartment, and had just grudgingly opened the first box when I heard something slam against my front door. I glanced curiously towards the noise, and grinned when I heard Emi's panicked voice carry through the wood.

"Parker! Open the door!"

I ambled to the door and looked through the peep-hole. I could see her staring directly at me with fear etched over her whole face. She started banging on the door again and I laughed. "Calm down, Emi."

"Open! This is not the time to be admiring your stupid peep-hole!"

I did as she commanded, and she flung herself around my waist. "Did you miss me that much?" She buried her face into my t-shirt and hugged me tightly. I wrapped my arms around her tiny torso and pulled her the rest of the way into the apartment.

"There was a noise outside my window." She grumbled into my chest.

I kicked the door closed and started directing her towards the living room. "What kind of noise?" I humored her.

"I don't know. The scary kind." I rolled my eyes. Emi wasn't known for being the bravest soul to walk the Earth. As a matter-of-fact, she was a complete chicken. All I had to do was say 'boo' and she'd wet her pants. Take now for example: she was actually quivering.

"I hate those kinds of noises." I commented, trying to make her feel like she wasn't totally ridiculous. I pushed her down onto the couch and sat next to her, and she immediately curled against me and buried her head under my chin. I smiled down at her. She really did look cute when she wore her hair in pigtails. I made a mental note to tell her to do that more often, so she wouldn't complain to me about never having a boyfriend.

"I don't like it here." She murmured softly. She sounded so sad it was actually starting to make me depressed. When she was sad, I was sad. When she was happy, I was happy. The only exception was that her angry face made me happy too. What could I say? It was my weakness. Hell, all of Emi was my weakness.

She was my favorite person in the entire world because she was so real. I had met a lot of people who just couldn't stay the same. I'm not talking trivial changes – like taste in music or clothing style – I'm talking the core person. Emi has always been just that – Emily Regal. She was the same loyal, dependable, funny, eccentric person I had befriended in the second grade. The only things that had changed were her intelligence level and her body. There was a good chunk of time during the eleventh grade that I had a hard time coping with the fact that Emi had very, very womanly features, but I had long since gotten over that, and now, we were the perfect match.

"You just need to get used to it." I tried to console. "Don't jump to conclusions about it just yet. You always do that and regret it later when you start enjoying yourself."

She looked at me and scrunched up her face. "Yeah, but then I wasn't living by myself." She sighed.

"All right, would you like to make a deal?"

"Depends. What kind of deal?" She eyed me suspiciously. I had a tendency to make deals in my favor, but hey, could you blame me?

"You help me unpack, and I'll let you stay the night."

Her mouth dropped open. "That's not fair, Parker, and you know it!"

"Well, honey, life isn't fair." I winked cheekily. We both knew I wasn't going to turn her away tonight. I sure as hell didn't want her going home because that meant that I'd have to sit here by myself for hours with no entertainment but mountains of cardboard boxes.

"I'll just go home then." She pushed away from me and made like she was going to leave.

"Emi!" I whined from my spot on the couch. Little did she know, but I was not letting her walk out that front door.

"Nope," she said, nose turned up, "I'm leaving, and you can't stop me."

I shrugged. "Fine. Leave then." She walked two more steps. "Watch out for the axe murderer, though." I mumbled under my breath.

She spun around. "Don't you dare."

"What?" I smiled innocently. "You mean don't talk about the axe murderer that was just let out of prison and searching for a new victim to cut in tiny little pieces?"

She groaned and pressed her face into her hands. "Fine. I'll unpack your stupid boxes."

Three hours later, we had unpacked everything needed to sleep, shower, and cook. And by "we," I mean Emi unpacked, and I sat diligently on the floor and watched her every move. When she was taking my bed sheets out of their box, a lacey, see-through bra fell onto the floor. I had absolutely no idea who it belonged to – because I sure as hell hadn't slept with anyone in a long time – but I still tried to snatch it up before Emi saw it. No dice. She had stepped on it and looked down to see what was under her foot. She had stiffened and stared at it for several moments before I cracked a joke about me being a cross dresser. She laughed quietly and started unpacking again. Emi never seemed very thrilled about stuff like that, but then again, I wasn't thrilled when I saw her underwear either. She finally called it quits around midnight when I grabbed onto her ankles and refused to let her move anywhere without agreeing to stop unpacking.

I was already in the bedroom, staring down at the bed. I hadn't realized until that moment that I only had a twin mattress, but she and I had slept in the same bed together before, so I didn't think it'd pose a problem.

"Can you make the bed?" She asked, having returned from her apartment with pajamas.

"I'm not mentally challenged." I said indignantly. "I think I'll be able to manage." I wasn't even aware that there was a wrong way to put sheets on a mattress. Shows how much I know in the ways of bed-making.

She shrugged. "Just making sure. I'll be right back." She disappeared into the bathroom.

I sighed and made the bed as quickly as I could. I wanted to prove that I was capable of completing a stupidly-simple task. I snorted to myself. Like I wouldn't be able to make the damn bed. Who did she think she was talking to? I bet I had some latent talent in bed-making that was just aching to be discovered. When I finished, I stripped down to my boxers and climbed in between the sheets. My head had just hit the pillow when she opened the bedroom and sauntered in.

Remember me calling Emi cute earlier? Well, that's generally the statement I stick to unless I've just seen her in a bathing suit or – in this case – her pajamas. Tiny black shorts, tiny maroon camisole. Under those conditions, I refer to her as gorgeous. Unable to control myself, I felt my lower region being to wake.

Give me a fucking break, Parker.

It's not like I wanted to bang Emi, but she was a part of the more attractive half of her gender – whether she saw it or not – and it was only natural that my body would respond accordingly. As her best friend, I was entitled to that opinion. Firstly, my favorite things about her were her piercings. She had five in each ear, and one in the center of her lower lip. It definitely made her cool in my book. She always kept her black hair long enough to cover her chest. I stole her bra once in high school, to put in the freezer, of course, and found out she was a C-cup. She had a pretty pale complexion, but it worked for her. Her eyes were a very light, ice blue, and I secretly wanted the girl I ended up with to have Emi's eyes. One of my high school buddies told me she was "smoking" (their word, not mine), and I found it hard to both agree and disagree. I generally stuck to cute, but tonight was not a generality. Tonight she looked good.

Emi climbed into the bed with me and snuggled against my body. It was only a matter of time before she realized what she had done to me. Sure enough, after only five seconds, she started to giggle.

"Don't laugh." I grumbled, feeling my face heat up. I didn't like not having control over my body, and I especially didn't like that it was reacting that way to Emi.

"I can't help it." She said being giggles. "I think it's cute."

I sucked in air, horrified. "Don't you dare call Oscar cute."


"Well, it has to have a name. I figured Oscar was appropriate."

She shook her head. "You are so weird." She sighed. "Just think non-sexual thoughts."

"I'll think whatever I want to think. This is my bed, and therefore, my territory."

"Whatever. Good night, Parker." She shivered.

Wrapping my arm around her waist, I pulled her closer to my body. I had no idea why she was shivering. Her body was so warm. I nuzzled against her hair and inhaled. She always smelled so good.

"Night, Emi."

A/N: Another story! Now I know this story is pretty cliché, but I hope you enjoyed the first chapter nonetheless. I know a lot of people don't like to leave reviews, but considering this is the first chapter, please leave some kind of feedback. Anonymous reviews accepted, so step right up and let me know if I should continue or take a flying leap off a bridge!

I hope you enjoyed Emi's (Emily) and Parker's characters. I think they're cool enough. Obviously you'll learn more about them, their situation, their life, their possible future in later chapters.

Again: REVIEW. It's reviews that make me want to update 