Prologue

Sunshine is common in the Summertime.

It is expected.

It is wanted.

But every once in a while,

It rains.

It is not always expected.

It is not always wanted.

But it happens for a reason.

And sometimes,

We need rain in the summertime of our lives.

We need something unexpected.

We need something we may not want at first-

So we can realize how badly we want it when it's gone.

I've been in New York for five days and I already can't stand it. The job I've recently been hired to sucks. I thought it would be a great way to pass time, since my grandfather is never around, and being a lazy bum all day gets boring, but damn this is terrible. All I do is keep the lobbies tidy, wash dishes, clean pools, and occasionally provide room service for the pompous, arrogant, stuck up rich people that lounge in their rooms all day until they go out and party all night.

But If there's one thing I hate the most about my job, it's my boss. He's close friends with my grandfather, he knows him well since he stays at this place regular and has pretty much been hard on me from day one. If the tables were clean, the dishes weren't spotless enough. If the floors were vacuumed to perfection, the towels by the indoor pool needed to be cleaned. It's just task after task day in and day out. I work long shifts, and make pretty good pay doing so, but it gets irritating, especially when you're the youngest person working there. People tend to look down on you, and there's no doubt in my mind that they know I'm not from the city. I'm practically the elephant in the room everywhere I go, and they act as if I don't know they're talking about my "abnormally blond hair" or my skin that's "too tan to be natural".

"I think you've done enough for the day", he says before handing me my end of the week paycheck.

I sigh in relief as he walks away, and stare at the envelope as if it holds some kind of secret power. Money. Hard earned money. Four hundred and fifty, and it's all mine!

I look at the clock, and can't believe how late it is. It's almost midnight, but here I am, standing in the middle of the hallway with my mouth agape, holding onto the highest salary I've ever gotten in my seventeen years of living.

"Are you going to move, or do I have to stand here for another three minutes while you drool over your minimum wage paycheck"

I turn around and face the asshole who had the nerve to be so rude to me. That's the number one thing I hated about people from New York. Everything that left their lips had to have some kind of sarcastic or snippy tone to it.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know I was blocking-"

"Well I suggest you move because I'm getting impatient"

Being the polite person I was raised to be, I didn't let the rudeness get to me and stepped aside to let him into the exercise room. I can't argue with him anyways, it would cost be my job. It's probably the highest paying one I can get in this wasteland of a city too.

I watch his long, dark, back length hair sway subtly as he enters the gym- a dark aura glowing around him as he does so. I had never met someone who was just so...intimidating. He stood about six foot four and had the iciest glare I'd ever seen, so despite being a pretty boy, he had a "don't mess with me" edge to him.

"Asshole", I whisper faintly to myself once he shuts the door.

I walk through the hallways, taking notice of the finely painted emerald green walls and ornate paintings. Wow, this place sure is nice. If only the people were nice too.

I enter the elevator and press the button to the seventh floor, waiting anxiously as it hummed softly, passing the first two levels with a soft bell like noise. It stopped at the third floor, and a tall, pale, lean man with long black hair tied back in a ponytail walked in. Like the man I had recently encountered, he was tall too, and at this point, I'm slowly beginning to accept the fact that I'm shorter than the average man.

The ride was awkward, and it was nearly impossible for me to take my eyes off his face. I felt like I was in the elevator with a model, or some type of elitist, and I was tempted to reach out and poke him in the face just to see if it would crack. He had a perfectly constructed features, and fierce eyes that held some type of mystery in them. Most likely, he worked out once or twice a day, but also kept a high paying job. His presence made me feel slightly uncomfortable, and pinpointing why became harder with every nerve racking second that passed. It could have been the serious, stoic look he had on his face, or the fact that I was alone in the elevator with someone who made me feel extremely inferior, I couldn't quite figure out the reason I felt so distressed.

When I had finally reached my floor, I walked cautiously to my room, fumbling around in my pocket for the key. Surprisingly, when I opened the door, my grandfather was lying on the sofa completely knocked out from whatever alcohol he had over indulged in this time. By day he did "research" for the new novel he plans on writing, and by night...well...I'd rather not say. But it was good to see him, even though I despise him when he's like this. I can't really say he neglects me, there are months when all he does is spend time at our home in Malibu. We'd have meaningful conversations while we sat in the family room watching TV, or we'd go out to the city just for some fresh air or a nice breakfast. But then the time rolls around when he has to write another novel, and with the blink of an eye he's M.I.A for a few days before he comes back for one night and takes off again. At this point, I've gotten use to it.

I walk over to the sofa, looking blankly at him as he sleeps. His long white hair flows over the armrest like a waterfall, nearly touching the velvety floor, and his face is still slightly pink. There's a small amount of drool pouring from out of his mouth, and to top it all off, he's not wearing pants. Gross.

I face plant onto my bed without even considering brushing my teeth or getting underneath the covers. It was one of those days where going to sleep was number one on my to do list. At least no one could get on my nerves in my dreams.

Weekends were the only days I had off, and this being my first weekend in this city, I wasn't sure of how to spend my time. You'd rarely hear someone say "I don't know what to do in Manhattan", but this place is so big and crowded that I would probably get lost just by walking two blocks away. So the only options I could think of would be watching TV all day or relaxing at the spa for a little while. Since it was only 11am, I decided the best way to start my day would be at the spa.

I aimlessly roll my way out of bed, almost failing to land feet first. When I look around, I realize the curtains were left wide open, letting a huge amount of brightness into the room. Even though I hate staying at this boring hotel, I sure love the lively view we have from the fifth floor. I can see the swarms of people moving from one place to another like hard working ants, and cars traveling on the maze like roads. It was nothing I had ever seen before, and wouldn't mind seeing every morning I wake up for the rest of my life.

A loud buzzing noise snaps me out of my trance. I pick up the phone from off the finely polished wooden table, squinting at the caller ID before letting out a disappointed sigh. Sakura.

It was too early in the morning to deal with her. If I felt like it, I'd call her back in two or three hours, but now was not the time to listen her ramble on and on about how much fun she was having back at home. It's sad to say, but I'm already extremely homesick, and just listening to her voice would make me feel even worse.

I place my phone back on the table and search in a few drawers for my swim trunks. After a long period of searching through the disorganized mess of unfolded clothes, I finally find what I need. I hope these still fit.

I slip out of yesterdays work clothes, and into my swimwear, throwing a white T-shirt on so I wouldn't feel awkward walking through the hallway. Maybe I should buy a few bowls of cup noodles afterwards. Yeah...that sounds pretty nice.

When I reach the spa area, I couldn't feel any happier to see that it was completely empty. Even the pool had nothing but crystal clean water in it. No noisy kids, and no snobby rich adults in the jacuzzi. This is a miracle! It can't get any better than this!

I slide into the wonderful, refreshing heat of the small jacuzzi, and my eyes nearly roll to the back of my head. After working all week, nothing felt better than this. It was pure perfection, and my head fell back at the feeling of relief. All was well, until I heard the door open. I prayed that it was just an old person wanting to go for an early morning dip in the pool, but i heard the footsteps heading closer towards me. I finally open my eyes and lift my head up, only to see the man I saw in the elevator yesterday sliding into the jacuzzi, with that bone chilling stoic look stapled hard onto his face. Great. Just great.

As I suspected, he doesn't say a word to me. He places his arms up on both sides of the ledge, and the veins in his arms twitch while doing so. For someone who appeared to be so uptight, it was weird to see him actually relaxing.

"I'm used to people staring at me, but you just take it to a whole nother level. Are you really that fascinated by me?"

I feel a lump forming in my throat, and know that my face is turning red. My mouth opens once or twice, trying to find the right words to say, but nothing comes out. To my surprise, he only chuckles at me. The laugh is flawless and has a dark undertone to it, but it's a laugh none the less, so maybe he wasn't as irritated as I thought he was.

"I didn't expect you to actually try to answer the question. Maybe an apology, but you actually looked like you were about to make up some excuse"

His voice is low and patronizing. I was so mortified that I wanted to jump out as fast as I could and run away, but something told me to stand my ground, or at least say something in defense.

"I-I...You just look really familiar, that's all", I blurt out. A small, tantalizing smirk makes its way to his face, and I regret giving such a horrible response.

"Yeah, I remember seeing you in the elevator yesterday. Staring at me", he says mockingly.

The situation was suddenly becoming unbearably uncomfortable, so I decided to step out of the hot tub to dry off. Before I could get the other half of my body out of the water, he asks another question.

"Running off already? Aren't you going to at least introduce yourself to me?"

I refuse to answer, but he continues to try and spark a conversation. "I see that you're shy, so maybe I should introduce myself first. My name is Itachi, and you are?"

"Naruto", I say barely above a whisper.

"Naruto", he repeats boldly. The way my name rolls off of his tongue makes it sound like he's trying to seduce me.

"That's a very odd name for an American boy", he adds skeptically.

"Half Japanese", I say bluntly before slowly sliding back into the tub. Talking with my ass facing him was getting painfully awkward.

"Can you speak the language fluently?"

"Eh, I know enough to get by in Japan"

"Interesting", he says softly. "So what brings you here to this city?"

I sigh, unsure of how much information I should give him.

"I guess you could say I'm here on vacation", I grumble.

"You don't sound too thrilled to be here"

"Yeah, I honestly don't like it here at all"

He chuckles again, even though I'm not sure why he finds it so funny. Being here is actually miserable. "I guess it's not a happy place for everyone"

"Sure as hell isn't", I snort.

There's an odd silence after my snide remark, but it's thankfully cut short. "I do not mean to raise your suspicion when I ask you this, but how old are you?"

I sit up straighter before I reply. "Eighteen"

So, I wasn't eighteen, but I was going to be in a year. It's not like I felt guilty lying to him. I don't see why he wouldn't believe me.

"You look a lot younger than eighteen"

The words kind of hurt for some reason, even though they were the truth. Part of me wishes that I looked older. Only a few people have told me I look younger than my real age.

"Well regardless of how I look, I am eighteen years old", I snap back in defense.

He gives me a soft smile, one that actually seems genuine. "You're right on that part"

Seduction was lurking in that sentence, and I was beginning to feel as if I was telling him too much. I sank a little lower into the steaming water, trying to cover up as much of my body as possible.

"You know, I have a brother about your age"

"Is he here with you?"

"Somewhat. He's out and about. His job is quite time consuming", he says cautiously. "Do you work? I saw you wearing what appeared to be a job uniform yesterday"

"Oh, I actually work here at this hotel", I say nervously.

"But you're on vacation"

"It's complicated", I say flatly.

"I'm assuming you're here with an adult?"

I sigh, and shift around uncomfortably in the jacuzzi's strong heat. "Yes, but he's gone most of the time"

He nods his head slowly, and I wondered if I made my grandfather sound like an asshole. When you say that your legal guardian isn't around most of the time, it doesn't make them look good.

"Because he does research", I add on.

"Really? What kind?"

I hesitate, trying to avoid giving out too much about the perverted old bastard who dragged me all the way across the Country. He's a popular author too, and the last thing I wanted was for news to get around that he was here for the whole Summer.

"He writes books, and to get inspiration for them, he often travels a lot. I'd usually stay with a friend or a relative when he's gone, but for some reason, he dragged me with him. I can't understand why", I say dryly.

"What genre does he typically write?"

I stutter a bit, but I finally find the word I'm looking for. "Romance", I say confidently. "It's the only genre he writes"

I didn't have much of a choice but to downplay the truth. The last thing I wanted to tell this stranger was that my grandfather wrote porn for a living.

"He's a great writer", I say proudly.

"Is he well known?"

"There's no doubt in my mind that he is"

The man smirks at me, and for the tenth time since I'd gotten in the tub, I squirmed as if I didn't have enough room.

"What's his name? I'd be interested in reading one of his books"

My face turns red, and I struggle to come up with an excuse. "Uh...I can't give out his name. He told me not to tell anyone he's here. It's why you never really see him around"

"Understandable", he says casually.

The heat, and the very personal game of twenty questions was making me nauseous.

"I think it's time for me to get out. I'm dizzy", I say to make my escape.

"Very well then. I'm sure we'll meet again. I will be staying at this hotel for a while as well"

I pull myself out of the warm abyss, before grabbing a towel and drying myself off with it. I can feel his eyes on me, and it only makes me rush. He's not going to do anything to you. Calm down. I begin to take my time, trying not to worry about the creepy twenty-something year old watching me from the hot tub. Itachi.

As I walk out the door, I still feel his eyes on me, and by the the time I reach the hallway I pick up the pace. I needed to get as far away from him as possible.

A/N: So tell me what you think! If it gets enough follows/ Reviews I will continue, and if not, I'll be focusing on my other stories. I just really liked the idea I had for this one, so I will hopefully continue to write it. Hope you enjoyed!