Belle French was dragged out of the pleasant haze of her dreams the day after her encounter with Mr. Gold by the sound of her phone's alarm ringing from above her dresser. Ignoring his harsh sounds, he attempted to bury himself further into the warm mountain of sheets and pillows that was his bed, but it was no use, and so groaning in frustration he crawled out of bed. With his blue eyes barely open, he fumbled for his phone, promptly turning off the obnoxious beep and then slipping it into the pocket of his plaid pajamas. The first thing she realized after walking into the bathroom and splashing ice water on her face and waking up was that it was Sunday. She moaned. She had forgotten to turn off the alarm again and as a result was wide awake at seven in the morning, the only day she had no class for no reason. it could have been called a kitchen, but in all honesty it was more of a 4x4 square with a fridge, an oven and a sink to make a cup of tea. As he waited for the water to boil, he reluctantly looked around his tiny one-bedroom apartment. It was all seven hundred and fifty square feet, sparsely furnished with the cheapest effects he could find on Craigslist, and entirely on the wrong side of town. It was cramped and sad, but it was all he could afford. She had grown up in a provincial town a few miles from Sydney, Australia. Her father had been the mayor and she had lived in a castle house. He spent most of his days taking orders from his father's public relations firm. She's been told what to wear, what to say, where to go, who to talk to, who to ignore, when to smile... middle of paper... him and in the most unnerving way - the way you're drawn to fire during a harsh winter, knowing that if you got too close you would get burned, and yet you came even closer to feel the heat and watch as the flames licked and flickered against the fireplace Unfortunately, neither curiosity nor attraction to the sense of danger he gave off explained the way his heart was pounding and his hands were sweating. No man had ever had that effect on her, not even men she'd been in "serious" relationships with, so why a man she'd just met made her feel that way was completely beyond her. . she was simply nicer and warmer than what she had prepared for, but she knew it was something more. She looked at the clock on the wall in front of her: 7:30. Suddenly next Saturday he couldn't get there fast enough.