Back at home, Mom is doing some gardening, her hair scraped back with a bandanna. Dad is in the study, having a tediously long video chat with his agent. I retreat to my room, letting myself fall back onto my bed, sighing blissfully.

“Have a good time?”

I jump into a sitting position, startled by the sudden voice. Rhys is leaning against the far wall casually, his arms folded, his legs crossed at the ankles.

I calm my racing heart, “How did you...” My gaze falls upon the open window, “Oh.”

“Yeah. So? Did you have a good time?” He asks, coming to sit beside me.

I look at him, narrowing my eyes suspiciously, “How did you know I was at Avril's house?”

“Do you think after what happened last night I'm going to let you run around LA unprotected?” Rhys scoffs at me, leaning back and looking at me with a cocked eyebrow.

I look at him, my head tilted, “Unprotected? I'm not a kid.”

“No. You're not.” Rhys agrees, “You're a seventeen year old girl. A seventeen year old girl who had a gun pointed at her forehead and so I am here at your service solely to protect you.”

I roll my eyes at him and push his chest down so he falls back against the bed. I lean over him, my hair falling around us like a private curtain, “So you wanted to protect me.”

“Of course I did.” Rhys shrugs casually, reaching up to twiddle a lock of my hair around his fingers.

“Say I was to... I don't know, accidentally make us fall off the bed. What would you do?”

“I'd make sure I was the one who hit the floor so there's no chance of you getting hurt.”

“Really?” I raise my eyebrows at him.

Rhys nods, as if it's obvious.

A mischievous smile lights up my face and I grab Rhys's collar, rolling over on the bed until I feel the world tilting like it does when you fall off your bed accidentally-on-purpose. The world tilts again – more abruptly – and then we've landed on the floor. But Rhys is under me, when he should have been on top of me. I frown at him, confused. He just grins.

Shrugging, I smile back, “Guess I'm just going to have to take advantage of our situation.” I lean down to lock our lips together, both of my hands resting on his chest, my knees settled on the floor, taking my weight so he doesn't have to. Rhys winds his long arms around my waist, his gentle hands playing with the hem of my top. My hands roam downwards and slide themselves under his top, exploring the vast contours of his long and lean body, travelling across the ridges of his chest and starting the process all over again. Trapped by the tightness of his shirt, I'm not satisfied. Ripping my hands out, I abruptly begin to unbutton his shirt, huge fistfuls of material in both of my fists. I push the two flapping sides of his shirt away, using the new space I have well. Rhys pushes me, spinning us so he's on top of me. His hands grip my face, holding it steady, his long fingers cool against my flushed face. He kisses my jawbone, my cheek, my forehead, my nose, my eyelids  before rolling off me and beginning to button up his shirt in the most relaxed way you ever did see.

I sigh, grumbling.

Rhys looks at my expression and chuckles, “What's wrong with you?”

“You know what.” I say, folding my arms, still laying on the floor.

“Did I break away too soon?” Rhys pouts at me mockingly.

I nod grudgingly. He grins and pulls me up into a sitting position.

“I don't want you to get carried away.” Rhys states, smiling gently.

I haul myself on to the bed. “I don't think it's me we have to be worried about.”

I smirk, watching Rhys' expression as he catches on.

“We don't have to be worried about me, either. I'm careful.” He states.

“You can never be too careful.” I remind him, raising an eyebrow in his direction.

“Too right you can't.” Rhys says, sighing, his expression sobered.

I rub my chin and look at him out of the corner of my eye, until, finally he turns to me, exasperated.

“What?” He asks impatiently.

“It seems as though someone is being serious. No one is allowed to be serious in my bedroom.” I chastise him softly.

“And why is that?” Rhys asks, running a hand through my hair, playing along with me even though he isn't really in the mood to.

“Because when you become serious, you forget the good things you have in your life.”

“I've never forgotten that I have you in my life.” Rhys reels off, blinking. My heart swells with affection and I feel a blush paint itself on my cheeks as I realise he genuinely means that. Rhys smiles and runs a cool finger down my cheek, “Have I ever told you how utterly gorgeous you look when you blush?”

“Shut up.” I bat his hand away, feeling the blush deepen insistently. Rhys waggles his eyebrows flirtatiously at me, making me giggle. I let my shoes drop off of my feet and swivel around, my back to him. I scoot backwards until my back is against his chest, his legs cocooning me in on either sides. My elbows rest on them and my head settles against his shoulders.

“How would you describe watching me kill the Master?” I ask on impulse.

Rhys leans his head against mine, “I would describe it as the second most beautiful thing I've ever seen.”

I tilt my head to look at him, frowning, “What's the first?”

“Your face.” He smiles.

I imitate him; peaking my eyebrows flirtatiously. Rhys lets out a soft laugh that lets me know how ridiculous I must have seemed. But, it doesn't bother me. I know he isn't laughing at me. He's laughing with me.

I string my fingers through his, “How old are you really? I mean, you're seventeen for everyone else, but how old are you?”

“I must be at least two hundred years old.” Rhys shrugs nonchalantly, “Give or take three years.”

“You're that old?!” I look at him in mock-horror.

Rhys grins, “Age is but a number.” He locks his lips upon mine momentarily before pulling back and grazing his lips against my forehead.

“How many people must you have met in two hundred years?” I ask wondrously, looking at my Memory Wall which is adorned with pictures ranging from when I was a day old, to my toddler days, to my first day at school, at high school and the latest one of me and Rhys at a crazy theme park.

Rhys hums thoughtfully and then he whispers into my ear, “Countless. I've worked for hundreds, befriended dozens, seen millions. None of them really stood out from another. They were all the same to me.”

“You know when you started our school?”

“Hhhmm?” Rhys prompts me.

“Why did you not want to know me? What I mean is, why did you try so hard to make sure I feel uncomfortable around you?”

Rhys stiffens and holds me closer to him, “I didn't want you to have the same fate as Eliza. I wanted you to lead a normal life, I didn't want to interrupt it.”

I tilt my head back to look up at it, “But I wasn't ready to leave it at that, right? I wanted my answers. I don't understand. Having you with me is the best thing that has ever happened to me. But you didn't want me to have that.”

“I wanted you to be happy, but not in a way that would have endangered you.” Rhys informs me, pausing to kiss my hair.

“Why would you endanger me?” I frown.

Rhys pulls me back against him, looking down at me, one eyebrow peaked, “Do I really need to answer that question?”

“No.” I shake my head, smiling, “You don't. I already know the answer. The answer is that you wouldn't endanger me in any way. You know that too.”

Rhys strokes my cheek with his thumb, “We'll see.” He disentangles himself from me and straightens his clothes, “Now, I have to go. I have some things to sort out so I can't be here right now. Look after yourself and don't venture out of the house alone.”

“Why not?” I ask.

“Because you're going to be unprotected for the rest of the day.” Rhys hauls me to my feet and kisses my forehead, “I'll see you later, okay?”

“Okay.” I reply hesitantly, “Bye.”

A week later....

I spread some moisturiser on my face and shrug my robe off, draping it over the back of my chair. It's Monday night and tomorrow is the day Rhys and I can finally be together.

Deja vu settles on me like a black, congealing shroud and I shiver, not wanting to think about the last time we tried to do this and how horribly it had drawn to a conclusion.

Not to mention, a totally depressing anti-climax.

I clamber into my bed, yawning. I had spent the whole day running around LA in slacks, trying to tone down my stomach, my whole body, in fact for tomorrow. After tossing and turning for two hours, I sat up, frustrated with myself.

Why does sleep never come to you when you need it the most??

I slip out of bed and glide silently down the stairs. In the kitchen, I fix myself some hot cocoa to help me relax a little. As I'm sipping it, my thoughts wander. I begin to fantasise about tomorrow. I try different beginnings, but there's always the same, passionately romantic ending.

Suddenly, my head collides against something and I realise I'm slumped on the table.

I must have fallen asleep sometime while in the middle of hopelessly fantasising about myself and Rhys.

I look at the clock. It's three thirty am.

My eyes half glued-shut with sleepiness, I lurch up the stairs and collapse into the warmth and cosiness of my own bed...