Nick's point of view

"NICK!!!" screamed Kevin, and his voice echoed throughout the bus.
I snickered and pretended not to hear him.
"You are so dead!" he yelled coming out of the bathroom, his hair bright red.
"Trying a new look Kev?" I asked in my best innocent voice.
"Carter," he growled.
"How do you know I did this?" I asked, still keeping the innocent thing going.
"Who else would've?" exclaimed Kevin.
I laughed. I had put red hair color into Kevin's hair gel, which I knew he used like every day. "Chill, it washes out in one shampoo," I told him shrugging.
"We have an interview in fifteen minutes!" he continued yelling.
At that moment AJ, Howie, and Brian came to the front of the bus.
"What's the yell-" began Brian, but then saw Kevin's hair.
"Hey, are you trying to copy me?" asked AJ, playfully pouting.
"The blonde put hair color into my hair gel!" exclaimed Kevin, pointing at me.
The rest of the Backstreet Boys tried hard not to laugh, and didn't succeed. Soon, the bus was alive with their laughter.
"It's not funny!" yelled Kevin in frustration.
"Sure…Kev," Howie managed to say before bursting into yet another laughing fit.
"Ah!" Kevin let out one last yell and went back to the bathroom to try and fix his hair.
By that time, I was laughing so hard I couldn't care less what he did.
"Good one Frack," said Brian, still cracking up.
"Thank you, thank you," I said, taking a bow.
"You realize that he's gonna kill you in your sleep right?" asked AJ, finally calming down.
I shrugged. "He can't, you guys need a cute blond one," I told him grinning.
Howie glanced back at the bathroom, from which Kevin's muttering could be heard. "Somehow, I don't think Kevin cares too much about that right now," he said with a short laugh.
"Oh well, at least I got him," I said smiling.
"Guys!" our bus driver hollered. "We stop in two minutes, get ready to run!"
We all laughed and looked out the window. Surely enough, there were already about three hundred fans gathered outside. They were all screaming and most were holding up signs with our names on them.
"Kev, come on, we're almost at the interview place!" called out Howie.
Kevin came out of the bathroom grumbling, his hair no longer a bright shade of red. Now it was more of a dark red coloring.
He glared at me and went to his bunk to get a hat. He quickly put it on and glared at me again.
"What?" I said innocently.
"Kev, come on, drop it. You should be used to Nicky's pranks by now. I mean, it's been almost nine years," said AJ slapping Kevin on the shoulder softly.
"Yeah, it's not that big of a deal. Your hair will be back to its regular shade tomorrow," I told him, and earned yet another glare.
We then felt the bus stop moving.
"Okay guys, everybody out!" yelled the bus driver as the doors opened and the screams of the fans drifted into our ears.
AJ went first, side by side with his bodyguard. The rest of us followed, also with bodyguards in tow.
"Nick, marry me!"
"Brian, I love you!"
"Kevin, you are so hot!"
"AJ, can I get a picture?"
"Howie, can I have your autograph?"
The screaming went on and on as we were rushed through the crowd of fans and into the building where our interview was to be held.
"Well, that was fun," commented AJ collapsing on the couch.
"Isn't it always?" said Brian dryly and sat down next to AJ.
I went over to the table on which I saw our pictures were scattered. "Hey guys, I think we're supposed to autograph these," I said to my band mates.
"How many are there?" asked Howie coming up next to me.
I looked at the five makeshift piles. "Um, about fifty for each of us I guess," I said shrugging.
Yep, my hand was definitely gonna be tired after this.
"Fifty? Are they insane by any chance?" exclaimed Kevin.
"Maybe, I certainly think so anyway," commented Brian and grabbed a handful of pictures. "But we don't exactly have a choice here so start signing," he told all of us.
I sighed and grabbed a pen and the pictures with my face on them. Sitting down on a nearby chair, I quickly began putting my signature on each one.
About twenty minutes later, we were ushered into a different room where the actual interview was supposed to take place. I looked around and saw that there were about twenty reporters in the room. We took our seats and prepared ourselves for yet another round of, "What's your favorite color?" and "How did you guys get together?"

THAT EVENING
Hope's point of view

"That'll be twenty two dollars and nineteen cents," I said glancing at the cash register.
"Here you go," said the customer, a woman in her late thirties.
I took the money and quickly gave her the change.
"Have a nice day Hope," said the woman with a warm smile.
"You too Mrs. Jameson," I replied, smiling right back. Mrs. Jameson was a regular at the grocery store where I worked.
I glanced at my watch and saw that I only had twenty minutes left of my shift. I sighed and looked around the store. There weren't many customers left since it was already ten forty and the store closed at exactly eleven.
At that moment, a guy approached my register. He was good-looking, maybe even a little too good-looking; like the sort of guys you see on TV and wonder how it was possible that they looked so gorgeous.
He handed me a six-pack of Pepsi and two bags of chips.
"Hi," he said looking at me.
"Hi," I mumbled without giving him a glance.
"What's your name?" he queried.
I pointed at my nametag silently.
"Hope, that's a nice name," he complemented.
"Thanks," I said quietly as I scanned the second bag of chips.
"And I'm sure you know my name," he said laughing.
I finally raised my eyes to look at him. "You shouldn't be so sure of yourself," I told him.
He looked shocked. "You don't know who I am?"
I glared at him. Who did he think he was? "Why should I? What makes you so special that I should know you?" I retorted.
"I don't meet too many people who don't know me," he said, running his hand through his blond hair and looking at me with his piercing blue eyes.
Typical blonde-haired, blue-eyed, all-American guy; thinks he's God's gift to women, I thought. "Then you live in a small world," I said out loud. "That'll be five ninety-two," I added, looking at the cash register.
He handed me a ten-dollar bill and I gave him his change.
"See ya around," he said and turned around to leave.
"Don't hold your breath," I muttered.
Fifteen minutes later I quietly hummed to myself as I cleaned up the store.
"It doesn't matter who I am. It doesn't matter who you are. All that matters is that we're here and we're together right now," I sang. I then locked the front door of the store and turned on the security system.
I walked down the streets of Tampa Bay and wondered what it would be like to not have a worry in the world. How it would feel not to think about money or having enough food to eat.
I glanced at the house I was passing by. It was my favorite one. All around the house was a fence with a gate in the middle that was always kept locked. Beyond the fence was an enormous, well-manicured lawn, which surrounded the circular driveway. There was a car parked in the driveway and some of the lights on the first floor were on. The house itself had three floors and was painted an off-white color. There were two balconies on the third floor and two-story windows took up nearly half the house on the first and second floors. The windows all had shades drawn over them so it was impossible to tell what the house was like inside. Although I knew that it must be as magnificent inside as it was outside, if not more so. I had no idea who lived there but I was sure that those people didn't have to worry about whether or not they were able to make the rent this month.
I sighed and continued on my journey home. Since there was no bus nearby, I made the forty-minute walk every day and I didn't mind it at all.
I didn't want to go home because it was a place where I no longer felt safe. Then again, I really couldn't remember a time when I did feel safe in that house.
I knew that as soon as I'd get home, I'd have to give my father half of my paycheck and he would go and blow it on alcohol. Afterwards, if I were lucky enough to get to my room without him striking me, I would lie down on my bed and cry myself to sleep, as I did every night.
I walked into the apartment and carefully eased the door shut behind me. I held my breath as I listened for any sounds that would indicate my father was awake.
"Hope!" came my father's voice from the bedroom. A second later, he stumbled out of the room and came towards me. I automatically took a few steps back. I could smell the liquor on his breath even before he reached me.
"Did you get paid?" he slurred.
I nodded and gave him the money from the check I cashed earlier.
I watched my father count the money and then stuff half of it into his pocket. He handed the remainder to me.
"Why're you so quiet?" he asked me.
"I…just have nothing important to say," I replied, choosing my words carefully.
My father's eyes flashed with anger. "Oh really? You don't think I'm important enough to know how your day went?" he bellowed and I took another step back.
"N-n-no, that's not what I said," I uttered, trying to defend myself, but I knew it was useless.
My father straightened to his full 6'3" height. "How dare you talk back to me?" he screamed and I tried to get away, but it was too late.
The first blow landed hard on my left set of ribs, making me double over in pain. Two more blows followed; one to my stomach and the other to my right wrist.
"AH!" I cried out as I felt and heard something in my wrist snap.
"SHUT UP!" my father yelled and knocked me down to the floor.
I blacked out.

A COUPLE OF HOURS LATER

I came to, still lying on the floor. My father was nowhere in sight and the apartment was as silent as a tomb.
I slowly sat up and looked at the clock on the wall. It showed almost two in the morning.
That wasn't the first time my father had rendered me unconscious, but it was the longest I had ever stayed knocked out.
I held up my wrist to examine it. I couldn't move it and it was swollen to twice its normal size. I sighed. I couldn't take care of it by myself; I had to go to the emergency room.
I put on my jacket and slipped out of the door quietly, not wanting to wake up my father.
The walk to the hospital was only a half an hour long, good thing I lived so close to it, right?
I walked inside and saw that it was fairly quiet; there was no one in the waiting room.
"Hi, may I help you?" asked the receptionist.
"I think I broke my wrist," I told her, wincing in pain.
"Well, I need you to fill out this form, can you do that?" asked the woman in a kind tone.
I shook my head. "I injured my right wrist," I explained.
The woman gave me a sympathetic smile. "How about you tell me the information and I'll fill it out for you?" she suggested. "And then we'll get a doctor to take a look at your wrist."
I nodded, grateful for the woman's kindness.
The form was filled out quickly and the woman ushered me into an examining room and said the doctor would be there any minute. I thanked her, took off my jacket, and set it down next to me.
"Hello Hope," said a doctor coming into the room. He was in his early thirties with light brown hair and blue eyes. His tone and smile were easy-going and friendly as he sat down on a chair next to the examining table I was on. "I'm Doctor Kent, what brings you here today?" he asked.
"I hurt my wrist," I told him, holding up my wrist and wincing in pain.
"Wow, you did quite a number on it I see," said Dr. Kent, a frown crossing over his features as he carefully examined my wrist. "Let's go get an x-ray and we'll take it from there," he instructed and gestured for me to follow him.
After the x-ray was done, Dr. Kent put it over a light and studied it.
"Well, your wrist is broken," he concluded. "You will need to wear a cast for about four weeks," he added.
I nodded in understanding. That was the first time my father had broken a bone.
"I will be back momentarily, I need to prepare your cast," said the doctor with a smile and exited the room.
I took a deep breath and my face contorted in pain as the burning in my ribs began once more. I knew that I probably should have told the doctor about my ribs, but I didn't want him to ask questions.

Nick's point of view

I squinted to see through my windshield. The rain was really coming down hard.
I was about ten minutes way from my house when I saw her walking on the side of the road. I recognized her immediately as the cashier from the grocery store. I then noticed that she had a cast peeking out from under her jacket on her right arm. She didn't have an umbrella and she was getting soaked.
I slowed my car and rolled down my passenger side window.
"Hey!" I called out. She kept walking. "Hope!" I yelled her name; she stopped walking and turned to look at the car.
"Who are you?" I heard her say uncertainly.
"I'm the guy from the grocery store, remember me?" I reminded.
Hope nodded. "What do you want?" she asked, some hostility creeping into her voice.
"To give you a lift home, you're soaked," I told her.
"It's only a twenty five minute walk from here," she said shaking her head.
I sighed. "That's a long walk, let me take you to my house where you can dry off, and then I'll drive you home," I offered.
Hope thought it over for a few seconds. "Okay," she agreed. And then looked hesitantly at my Durango.
"What?" I asked confused.
"I don't want to get your car wet," she said timidly.
I laughed. "Get in," I said waving at her with my arm.
She hesitated for another second and then finally opened the side door and got in.

Hope's point of view

I wrapped my arms around myself and enjoyed the warmth of his car. It was then that I realized I didn't even know his name.
"What's your name?" I asked turning to look at him.
"I'm Nick," he said and held out his right hand to me. I shook it; it was warm. "You're freezing!" he exclaimed.
I laughed a little. "Well, the rain tends to be cold, go figure," I commented.
Nick reached out with his right hand and turned on the heater. Warm air began to flow towards me.
"Thanks," I said quietly.
"You're welcome," he said, his tone matching mine.
"What are you doing driving around at three thirty in the morning anyway?" I asked him.
"I'm just getting home," he said shrugging.
"From where?"
"A second interview."
"You had a job interview?"
"No, I was being interviewed, me and my friends actually."
"Why would someone want to interview a regular guy like you?" I asked in surprise.
Nick turned to look at me. "You really have no idea who I am, do you?" he asked in shock.
I shook my head. I couldn't understand why that concept was so hard for him to grasp.
"I'm Nick Carter, ring any bells?"
"No, should it?"
"Have you ever heard of the Backstreet Boys?"
"Nope, who are they?"
"They're a music group, I'm one of its five members," explained Nick.
"Oh, are you guys famous?" I asked, finally understanding.
"Yeah, I guess," he said, and I could tell he was being modest. Nick then turned and pulled up to a gate. "Be right back," he said and stepped out of the car. I looked into the window and realized where we were. In front of me stood the house that I had admired so many times while walking by it. Nick lived in my favorite house to look at. It was then that I realized how successful him and his group really were.
Nick got back into the car as the gate slowly opened. He drove through it and up to the house.
"Stay," he ordered and grabbed something from the backseat. He got out of the car and came around to my side.
Nick opened my door and I saw that he was holding an umbrella.
"Thanks," I said smiling.
"Wouldn't want you to get any more soaked than you already are," he commented grinning. That boy had a great smile, the kind you see on TV.
We quickly made our way to the house. Nick unlocked the door and I stepped inside. I gasped; the house was absolutely gorgeous.
In front of me was a wide carpeted staircase that led to the upper floors. The off-white walls were covered with pictures of Nick and, I assumed, his family. I looked to the right and saw a large living room. The walls were a beige color and the furniture was black leather. There was an entertainment center near one wall, which contained a lot of equipment, most of which I couldn't even identify. The walls contained framed cd's, a few in each frame. I had no idea why Nick had those framed, but I figured he had his reasons.
I stepped more inside the house and stood uncomfortably in the middle of the parlor.
"You can come in you know," said Nick behind me, making me jump slightly.
"I don't want to get your house wet," I told him, turning around.
Nick smirked. "Hope, my house is always a mess, trust me, you won't do any more damage to it by adding a few drops of water that will dry by morning anyway," he said and led me into the living room. "Sit," he said and gestured towards the couch. I gingerly sat down on the edge. Nick laughed again. "I'll be right back," he said and ran upstairs.
I looked to my left and saw a huge kitchen on the other side of the parlor. All of the cabinets were a metallic silvery color and there was an island in the middle. The walls were white and there was a white kitchen table off to the side. I laughed as I saw the mess on said table. Various cartons from fast food places covered it. I looked at the stove and saw that it was meticulously clean; I guessed Nick didn't cook much.
"Here ya go," said Nick coming back into the living room.
I looked at what he was holding. "What's this?" I asked him.
"It's a pair of pants and a sweatshirt," he replied. "You're going to give yourself pneumonia if you don't take a shower and change out of your cold, wet clothes," he added.
"Nick, it's okay-" I began but he cut me off.
"Hope," he said sternly. "I don't want you to get sick, seriously," he said, his voice softer.
I nodded. "Fine," I said taking the clothes from his hands.
"There's a bathroom upstairs, second door on your left," he told me.
"Okay, I'll be back in fifteen minutes." I got up and headed for the staircase.
"Take your time," said Nick with a smile.
I smiled back at him and went upstairs in search of the bathroom.

Nick's point of view

I ran up to my room and changed into a pair of breakaway pants and a t-shirt. I then proceeded to the kitchen to make some hot chocolate for Hope and me, to warm us up.
As I stirred the mixture into the hot water, waiting for it to dissolve, I thought about the girl upstairs. I wondered how she got that cast on her wrist. It was just a bit strange, I saw her that evening, and there was no cast. I shrugged mentally and poured a second packet of hot chocolate mix into the other cup. I stirred it and then took both cups with me to the living room.
I placed the cups on my coffee table and turned on the TV. Trying to find something decent to watch at four in the morning was not easy. I finally settled on some movie that I already saw, but couldn't remember the name of.
Hope came downstairs five minutes later, her slender frame practically swallowed up by my clothes. I smiled; she looked cute in them nevertheless.
"What?" she asked self-consciously when she saw me smile.
"Nothing, they look better on you," I told her and smiled wider.
Hope laughed. "Whatever you say," she commented and sat down on the couch next to me. "What are you watching?" she asked looking at the TV in, what looked like, amazement.
"Just some movie," I replied shrugging. "Here, this should warm you up," I said and handed a cup to her.
"What is it?"
"Hot chocolate. Trust me, it tastes good."
Hope took the cup and sipped it. "This is good," she said smiling.
"Told ya," I said smirking and drank from my own cup. I then thought of something. I couldn't believe I hadn't asked sooner. "Are you hungry?"
Hope shook her head. "Not really," she replied.
I raised my eyebrows. "It's after four in the morning and you're not hungry? I don't believe it. I'm ordering pizza," I said reaching for the phone.
"There can't possibly be anything open at this time," she protested.
"This pizzeria is open twenty four hours a day," I told her. "What do you like on your pizza?"
Hope shrugged. "I never had pizza," she said.
I nearly dropped the phone from shock. Was this girl even from this planet? Wow. She kept surprising me every minute.
"You. Never. Had. Pizza," I stated.
She nodded.
"Um, okay," I said slowly and dialed the number. "Yeah, hi, can I get a large pepperoni pie please? Yes, Nick Carter. Uh huh. Ten minutes is fine," I spoke into the phone. I hung up and turned to look at Hope. "The pizza will-" I began and trailed off. Hope was curled up on the couch, fast asleep.
I smiled. I didn't want to wake her up so I quickly called the pizzeria and canceled my order. I then brought down a blanket from an upstairs guestroom and placed it over her. I would've carried her into that guestroom, but I didn't want to disturb her, she looked pretty content on my couch.
I then brought down a pillow and a blanket for myself, and sprawled out on the other couch. I didn't want her to wake up alone in a strange house. I was asleep five minutes later.

Hope's point of view

I woke up and stretched contentedly. That was the best sleep I ever had in my entire life. I felt warm and, most of all, safe. My eyes drifted over to the second couch where I saw Nick asleep. I smiled; he looked adorable.
I then looked at my wristwatch and panicked. It was almost eleven o'clock in the morning.
"SHIT!" I yelled loudly, inadvertently waking Nick up.
"Hope?" he said sleepily. "Is everything okay?"
"No! It's almost eleven and my shift at the store started at eight!" I exclaimed and jumped off the couch. "God, my father is going to kill me!"

prologue chapter 2