Until Our Stars Align

Chapter 1

I stared out the window of my brand new room, staring at the window right across from my own. The window shades blocked out any access of being able to see inside the room. To be honest, I had no intention of looking through that window. I just needed something to stare at.

I sighed in frustration. I didn't want to come here. Neither did my sisters. Moving to Connecticut had an effect on all three of us. The only one who seemed content was my mother. It was our second day living here. We unpacked everything just the day before. Ever since then, I've been bored. All I did was watch movies on my laptop and stay locked up in my room. I had no desire to speak to my mother.

"Riley," I heard her shout. I ignored her call.

"Riley, Mom wants you to go downstairs." My sister Taylor came into my room. Taylor was 14 years old. We had different fathers, but we grew up together. The blonde haired beauty was my youngest sister and the prettiest. She was a very determined girl and, like the rest of us, she was full of intelligence. Unfortunately, she was very stubborn and spoiled and took everything too seriously. Her dream was to be a fashion journalist since fashion was her passion and she was one of hell of a writer.

"Why?"

"Neighbors are here. They're the ones who live in that house." She pointed to the house that faced my window.

I groaned. "Alright." I slid my flip flops on and walked downstairs. When I walked downstairs, my mom was speaking to a pretty woman who looked about the same age as her. She was holding a small girl who looked exactly like her. The small girl was obviously a toddler. She had pitch black hair like her mother and her eyes were huge. None of the less, she was adorable.

My mom spotted me on the staircase and smiled. "This is my oldest daughter Riley. Riley, this is Monica, our neighbor. She lives in the house right next to ours."

I waved and smiled. "Hi, Monica."

Monica smiled and greeted me. Her daughter waved at me. "This is Penelope," Monica said, introducing me to the toddler.

I smiled. "Hi Penelope."

"Sweetie," my mom began. "Monica has a son too. He's in the kitchen with Patty. Go introduce yourself."

Grr... "Alright, I will." I walked away from them and went into the kitchen. Patty, my middle sister, was talking to a boy about my age. He looked exactly like Monica. His hair was as black and shiny as hers and his eyes were big like his sister's. He was tall. He kept making Patty laugh, which made him laugh. I noticed his remarkable smile. He was leaning on the kitchen counter.

Patricia, Patty for short, was 15 years old. Unlike Taylor, we had the same father. Patty was also pretty. She had the same brown, wavy hair I did. But she spent a large amount of time straightening it in the morning. Her eyes were hazel while mine were a dull brown. She was fun to be around when she wasn't nagging about something silly. Her passion was music, but she dreamed about being an activist and making a difference in the world. She cared so much about others and the environment. I knew she'd get where she wanted to be, too. She had a brilliant way of thinking.

"Hey guys," I randomly said. The boy looked at me and smiled. "What are you guys talking about?"

"Ivan here was just telling me about his passion for music," Patty answered. She looked at him and smiled. I knew that smile. It was the smile she used when she wanted to impress or charm someone.

"Oh, look at that. You guys must be soulmates," I said sarcastically. She glared at me.

"Whoa, no need to get all smart," Ivan said. "I'm Ivan. I'm assuming you're the older sister your mom kept praising."

Patty rolled her eyes.

"Praising?"

Ivan nodded.

"She praises all of us for some strange reason."

Ivan smirked.

"I'm Riley," I said.

"Nice to meet you," he said.

Patty groaned. "I'll see you later, Ivan." She glared at me as she walked out the kitchen.

He chuckled. "So what do you think of this place?"

"Terrible," I said without hesitation.

"You haven't even given it a chance."

"So why ask me?"

Ivan raised an eyebrow. "You make a good point. What high school are you enrolling it?"

"Middleton High School."

"Senior Class?"

I nodded. "How did I get so lucky?"

Ivan laughed. "You're an asshole."

I gasped. "I'm really not. I've just been in a bad mood lately."

"Womanly issues?"

I laughed. "No, no. I just have a bad feeling about this place."

Ivan made a face. "A bad feeling? There's nothing wrong with this neighborhood. Well, maybe Middleton High School will be hard for you to adapt to. But, other than that, I think you'll be fine."

I walked over to the fridge, took out a gallon of water, and poured myself a glass. Ivan already had a glass of water in his hand. "Why do you say that about Middleton?"

Ivan smirked. "I have my reasons. Have you met anyone yet?"

"Nope. We just moved in yesterday."

Ivan nodded. "Oh, right. Well, I can help you out if you'd like." He looked at me and grinned.

I scoffed. "Sure thing, pretty boy."

Monica and my mom walked into the kitchen. "Ivan, Tina and I will be outside. Whenever you're ready, you can just go back home.," Monica said to Ivan.

"Honey, if you need anything, we'll be outside on the porch," my mom reassured.

I nodded and waved goodbye to Monica and Penelope. When they left, Ivan put his glass into the kitchen sink and began to wash it. "You don't have to do that," I said. "You're the guest." I went up to him and tried to grab the glass. Once I had a firm grip on it, Ivan snatched the glass away from me.

"Exactly," he said. "I'm the guest. Therefore, I have to respect your home."

I raised an eyebrow and folded my arms. "Yeah, but you don't need to do that." He turned off the water once he finished and dried the glass. Then he placed the cup on the counter and looked at me with a smile. I just watched him in awe.

"I'll leave now," he said.

"Um...okay." I didn't know what else to say. I followed him to the front door.

"I'll see you around," he said. Then, he walked out. I watched him walk to his house. The wind began to blow as I stuck my head out of the door.

I sighed. Creep.