My name is Kristen Princet. I'm 21 years old and for the first time in my life, I'm free of my nosy, over-protective parents. I can do what I want, when I want. I can eat whatever I want and I get to pay my own bills. I can find my own work and I can live my own life…

Except I never thought it would be this hard. I mean, when I dropped out of medical school, I wasn't expecting my parents to drop out of my life. They were supposed to love me, and keep me safe.

So here I am, at my best friend Samantha's apartment, eating a tube of ice cream and crying my eyes out. She's the only one I can really trust anymore.

You see, last month, this wasn't how life was. I was a student at New York Medical School and wanted to become a paediatrician. The only flaw to my dream was that my parents had picked it for me. I wasn't really up to the challenge. I hated the sciences and the only reason I was so good at them was because of my dad. He's a surgeon and intensely strict.

A few weeks ago, I realized, with the help of my boyfriend, that I should drop out of school. I want to become an artist, and that's where my passion has always been.

So I dropped out. My parents hated me, and my boyfriend broke up with me. Apparently, when he kept pushing me to "go for my passion", all he was doing was pushing me out of his life. Obviously it's really easy to break up with a girl you won't see in classes or in the halls.

He was cheating on me for months before I dropped out, and he broke up with me on a text message. I'm obviously not good enough for a phone call, let alone face-to-face. Jerk.

Anyway, I'm over that, really I am.

My heart is just broken in a million pieces and I just want to kill myself, it's all good.

Taking another scoop of ice cream, I cry further. The salty taste of my tears is bleeding into the ice cream. Convincing myself I don't really care, I eat it anyway. Who cares about the calories? Who cares about the gross salty taste on my tongue? I just need to eat something. My life is a wreck, why can't my eating habits be one too?

"Kris, I'm worried about you." Samantha tells me, as she looks down at me with her perfect look of empathy. Gosh, I hate that face… why can't I be as perfect as she is? "You need a job, or at least… you need some paint. Why not take all your emotions out on the painting instead of ingesting twice the calorie intake of your problems?"

I sigh. "Well, it's too late now, isn't it?"

"Why? What are you talking about? You're 21 years old. It's not like you're 65 and jobless."

Ignoring the last comment, I continued with "My life is over. My perfectly planned career is over, my parents hate me, and Jack broke up with me. What's a few hundred calories?"

"Too bad," She says matter-of-factly. "Because I found you a job. And I found you a source of paint."

My ears prick up at the mention of paint. "Wait… what's the job?"

She smiles in an 'I have you now' sort of way. "Oh, its nothing… your ice cream is probably much better." She turns to leave me to bathe in curiosity.

I quickly lower my hand, leaving the spoon with the ice cream. "WHAT??? What is it?" I almost scream in excitement. If Sam is like this, the job HAS to be good.

"It's at an art supply store. The pay is good, and you get a 30 discount on all items. The only hitch is that there's a really hot guy working at the counter… and it's a few blocks away."

"Wait… it's not 'Colour Me Something Sweet', is it? You know how much time I spend there!" I hope beyond anything that my excitement doesn't show as much as I think it might.

She puts her arms in the air, "well, how the heck do you think you got the job no questions asked? They love you there!"

I drop the ice cream on the floor and run over to Sam to give her a big hug. She's my hero, really she is.

She giggles with excitement for me and ends the hug. "You start tomorrow at 10am. You know where it is.Ethan will be waiting for you at the door. Don't be late, and wear something silly… you know one of the tees that you designed, it would really impress him." She giggles and turns to go into her room.

"Alright," I say to her backside. "Wish me luck, and goodnight."

Her hand reaches for the doorknob and she turns back to say a last word before she heads to bed. "Goodnight Kris, I really hope this work thing goes well for you. We need a bigger apartment so we can both be comfortable, and if we have that, you'll have to pay for some of the rent."

My heart leaps at the thought. I've never had an apartment before. Only a dorm, and that was hell. An apartment with a bathroom? A kitchen? COUNT ME IN! "Our very own apartment? That would be totally sweet. Love you, Sam, I really do. You're amazing."

She smiles sweetly and adds "And don't you forget it."

Maybe my life isn't so bad after all.

-&-

Remind me to never think that again. It's Monday morning. I'm in my favourite "I just woke up" tee that I painted myself.

Oh yeah, and I'M FREAKEN LATE FOR WORK… THERE'S NO WAY IN THE WORLD THAT I'M GOING TO MAKE IT FOR 10AM.

I know most people would find being a few minutes late "no big deal". For me, Miss Always-Punctual, I HAVE to be on time. Not only will my hair fall out, I'm pretty sure my entire life will turn upside down if I'm not always on time. To the second.

But obviously I'm not worried. I mean, I'm just running down the street like I'm being chased and my converse are getting ripped. Crap.

I turn the corner and ram into a car… crap crap crap!!!!!

The man honks and shouts; "What the fuck, lady?! I'm trying to drive to fucking work here!"

"SORRY!!!" I scream and keep running… almost there…

With the store in my sights, I calm down a bit. How would it look to be frazzled and unorganized on the first day? After all, Sam said the guy at the counter was hot. That's what I really need. I think as I sprint down the street to the cheery art supply store. A hot guy in my life.

Suddenly, my thoughts are interrupted as I bump into someone right in front of the store. We both fall and hit the ground with a thump.

Shocked and confused, I look up. The guy who I rammed into dusts himself off and looks a little more than slightly embarrassed.

"I'm soooooo sorry," The guy who I've never seen before says, Giving me a hand to take.

Taking it, I feel my cheeks burn. This guy is hot. "No, really, it's ok… partly my fault I guess." I stutter. "I was just late for work, it's my first day and I really can't be late." Taking a glance at my watch, my eyes pop. Crap, I'm ten minutes late. On my first day.

For most people, ten minutes is nothing. A penny in the bucket, right? Well, for me… its not. I'm a freak when it comes to punctuality. It's my only pet-peeve. Don't be late. Don't be late.

My stomach sinks. Now my new boss is going to think I'm always late.

The hot guy standing next to me only smiles nervously. "I guess we're in the same boat then. I'm Ethan." He says, handing me a hand to shake.

I do so and something clicks in my brain to something Sam said last night. Ethan will be waiting for you at the door. Oh. My. Gosh. This is my boss? He's late too? I smile back at him. What. A. Relief.

"I'm Kristen, you can call me Kris." We shake hands and I add. "I guess I work for you now."

Ethan jumps back in shock. "I was never late, right? You never saw me late." He stutters as he jimmies the lock on the door.

I smile in relief "What are you talking about, we were early this morning." I tell him, winking.

Because of the effort it takes to open a store door, I'm pretty sure that he didn't notice my wink. However, I see a smirk form as he opens the door of the small shop.

I love this place. I love this place. KRISTEN PRINCET LOVES THIS PLACE. I actually feel like dancing around the dimly lit artist supply store and singing. But, there's a hot guy standing next to me, so I keep my composure.

"Well," He says with a sigh that tells me how much he equally loves this place, "I better show you around."

"Oh, that's no problem." I tell him happily, "I know this place better than I know my 2 pairs of converse. I'm one of the regulars here."

"oh," he says, a little disappointment in the tone. "How come I've never seen you before then?"

"I'm not sure." I shrug. "I'm not usually here on weekdays. You see, I dropped out of medical school a few weeks ago. Medical school students don't exactly have too much time for painting. Or shopping. But, every holiday and Sunday morning, you could find me here, at Colour Me Something Sweet. I love this place."

He smiled. "That's probably why. I don't work weekends or holidays. We leave those days for the new guy…" He turns and smirks at me. "Or, in this case, the new girl."

Great. There goes thanksgiving dinner.

-&-

My time at the cash was uneventful. I had about 3 customers, and only one of them bought something more than a paintbrush.

Ivy was the one who bought $400 worth of supplies. I liked her.

Not only did she thank me, she introduced herself and we had a nice long chat about the bad turn modern art was taking. She told me about her visit to London and the horrible totally grey piece of "art" that was the main attraction. I agreed that a grey wall wasn't what I would call art.

After that, I spent the rest of the day thinking about Ethan. His bright blue eyes and dark skin. I wondered what ethnic group he belonged to. He didn't seem egotistical enough to be Italian. However, I wouldn't be surprised if he was half Greek and half something else. (Greeks usually don't have breath taking blue eyes.)

I went to lunch at around noon, scarfing down anything I could find at home before hastily returning to the counter.

Now, it is 4:30pm, (I just checked my watch), and the day is almost over. It's a Monday, so we close at 5. I cross my fingers that I wouldn't be fired in the last half hour of my first day on the job, before returning to my magazine.

A man turns up at the counter holding a few cheap items. I put down my magazine and smile at him with a big toothy thank-goodness-it's-a-few-minutes-till-closing smile. I stare at his face which looks a little familiar…

Oh. No. It can't be. There's no way.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" He asks. Apparently he was starting to recognize me.

"Uh, yeah." I say. "I was the girl who ran in front of your car this morning." I look down and punch in the items that the man wished to purchase. "That would be $26.34, please."

Looking up, I feel sort of guilty about this morning. "oh." He answers. "Look, I'm really sorry about swearing at you like that. I was kind of late." He starts to pull out his wallet. "Actually, to be frank, I was 3 hours late." He sighs, handing me one 20 and one 10 dollar bill. "This day wasn't the best for me. I got fired."

I look at his obviously depressed face. He is actually kind of cute. There was no way he could be over 24.

"So," I say, "You like art? I find it the best way to take out all my problems. If you ever need help with art ideas or supplies, you know where to find me. I'm sorry about your job, and your car." I sigh, handing him his change and his receipt. "I know how it feels to think that your life is a total and absolute disaster. Painting or sketching really helps."

He gives me a polite smile. "Thanks, I'll know where to find you." He turns to walk out of the store and stops halfway there. Putting out his hand, he says "I'm Matt." As an after-thought.

"Kristen." I answer. "You can call me Kris."

"Alright Kris, perhaps I'll see you later." He turns and walks out of the store.

Before he gets too far, I add a simple "Bye, Matt" and return to my magazine. What an odd man.


AUTHOR'S NOTE: chapter one... not sure it's that great, but you tell me. There might be a few mistakes, so please don't hesitate to mention them. Pretty please review!!!! I want to know what you think about it, and what should be changed. Also, even if it's an anonymous review, I'd love to hear your compliments too :D.

Do not write the following: "that was intense." If you do, your name is Megan-the-writer and you should be ashamed. (and if you write less that 5 words in your review, it's not that helpful either.)