Nick's Point of View 

There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home.
Home for me was never with my family. My family was never a real family. Sure I had a brother and three sisters and a Mum and Dad but I never properly fit in my family. Apparently I was the cash cow and that’s all I was good for; money. So when I moved from Tampa, Florida to New York when I was eighteen, I moved next door to the Stefanovic Family. A simple family made up of six kids, five boys and one girl. The boys were all older. Their names were Joseph, he was twenty-five, Aden who was twenty-three, Fraser who was twenty-one, Xavier who was nineteen and Phil who was seventeen. Their younger sister, Emma was incredibly beautiful. She is Phil’s twin but she’s the younger one. She was short, blonde and had the most beautiful brown eyes. The first time I saw her, I was moving things from the moving van and she was sitting outside on the front porch with a cup of tea and walk man earphones in her ear. I smiled at her and she smiled back.

After I had finished unpacking, I decided to go over and introduce myself. I was such a dork, dressed in a tour t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts.

“Hey, I’m Nick.”
“Hey, I’m Emma. Nice to meet you, have I seen you somewhere before?”
“Maybe, you’ll have to figure that out for yourself.” I smirked. “What are you listening to?”
“Just some N’Sync.”
“Oh. You a bit of a fan of JT?” I asked.
“Yeah he’s pretty fine. So where are you from Nick?”
“Tampa in Florida. I decided now I’m finally eighteen I’d move away.”
“That’s awesome. I can’t wait to move away.”
“Why would you want to leave New York? It’s the best city in the world.”
“To get away from my brothers.”
“How many brothers have you got?”
“Five. I’m a twin with one of them. But I’m the baby as well.”
“Man that sucks.”
“What about you, how many siblings have you got?”
“I have four, three younger sisters and a little brother.”
“Wow, I’ve always wanted sisters.”
“They’re not that great. Take my word for it.”

“Brothers aren’t that great either. Especially mine.”
“Overprotective?”
“Yep.”
“I’m overprotective of my sisters too. It’s a brotherly instinct.”

“An annoying one.”

A few weeks later, we had become the best of friends. It still quite hadn’t clicked who I was. I didn’t really want it too. We had had so much fun together in the past few weeks just going to movies, having coffee and just spending time with each other in Central Park. One night, we were sitting in the lounge room of my house when the home phone rang. I jumped up to get it, and so did Emma, just to stir me. She beat me to the phone and answered it.

“Hello Nick’s house, Emma speaking.”
“Oh hi, um is Nick there?”
“Yeah sure, who’s this?”
“It’s Brian Littrell, his band mate.”
“Oh um. I’ll put him on.”

She handed me the phone and said, “Um it’s your band mate Brian? I didn’t know you were in a band.”
“I’ll talk to you in a minute about it.” I sighed. The secret was out. I took the walk about phone into the study.

“Brian, what’s up man?”
“Are you busy tomorrow? We’ve booked a recording session with Max.”
“Yeah I’m free.”
“Who’s this Emma chick?”
“She’s my neighbour. I’ll explain tomorrow.”

“Alright, well I’ll pick you up at eight. See ya man.”
“Yeah see you Bri.” I sighed then hung up the phone. I went back out into the lounge room and Emma was curled up on the couch crying.

“Em, what’s wrong?”
“I thought we had told each other everything? I told you all about my family troubles and all my friend problems. Why did you have to hide the fact you’re in a band?”
“It’s just a band.”
“Yeah sure. Look Nick, I worked it out, you’re in the Backstreet Boys. Why couldn’t you just tell me?”
“Because I wanted you to like me for me. Not because I’m famous. I like you Em, as a friend for now. But I don’t want this to get between us. You understand I have to tour and other commitments.”
“So how were you going to break that to me? Just say casually every week you were going to be on the other side of the world. You know what Nick screw you. I trusted you and I don’t even want to know you anymore, famous or not. I hope you’re happy with your fame and all your fan girls.”

Emma stormed out of the house, slamming the front door behind her. I was the master of screwing things up. I really was. I sighed and turned off the TV and went into my room and opened the drawer on my bedside table and pulled out the self harm kit I had stored there.

I pulled out the fresh razor I had in there. I brought it to my wrist and cut deeper than I ever had before. I was so tired of making mistakes. At least cutting was one thing I could control. It never mattered if I cut too deep, because I could fix it. It always seems like the other mistakes I make I can never fix them and I think it was the same with Emma.

Emma’s Point of View

Of course, why didn’t I see it? He was Nick Carter of the BackStreet Boys. He didn’t seem like it though. He was so sweet and he genuinely cared about me. I hadn’t exactly had the best upbringing. As the youngest of six and with five brothers, my brothers were always the main focus. It was always Joseph and his acting, Aden and his Swimming, Fraser and his Athletics, Xavier and his Soccer and Phil and his music. I was always the odd one out, the one that never mattered. Sure my brothers were overprotective when it came to boys but other than that they never cared. I was a dancer, a ballet dancer and had been since I was about three years old. Ballet was my passion but from the time I was old enough to have a job, I had to pay for it myself, I had to buy the point shoes and the outfits, I had to pay for my lessons. Finally when I turned sixteen I got a scholarship to the School of American Ballet so I’ve been dancing there for about twelve months and its so good to have some help paying my dancing costs. I thought when I met Nick, everything changed. I liked him as more than a friend, but when he said he only liked me as a friend and when I found out who he really was, he had broken my trust and he felt like the only true friend I had ever had.

I stormed inside my house and slammed the door to my room, curled under my doona and fell asleep.