All In a Pair of Blue Eyes

Belle French was dragged out of the pleasant haze of her dreams the day after her meeting with Mr. Gold by the sound of her phone’s alarm blaring from on top of her dresser. Ignoring its harsh sounds, she attempted to bury herself further into the warm mountain of sheets and pillows that was her bed, but it was to no avail, and so groaning in frustration she crawled out of bed. Blue eyes barely opened, she fumbled for her phone, promptly turning off the obnoxious beeping and then slipping it into the pocket of her plaid pjs.

The first thing that she realized after having walked into the bathroom and splashed some ice cold water on her face to wake herself up was that it was Sunday. She groaned. She had forgotten to turn off her alarm again and as a result she was now wide awake at seven in the morning on the one day she didn’t have class for absolutely no reason.

She let out a little sigh as she trudged into what she supposed could be called a kitchen, but in all honesty was more of a 4 by 4 square with a fridge, an oven, and a sink, to make herself a cup of tea. As she waited for the water to boil she looked begrudgingly around at her tiny one bedroom flat. It was all of seven hundred and fifty square feet, sparsely furnished with the cheapest effects she could find on craigslist, and entirely on the wrong side of town. It was cramped and sad but it was all she could afford.

She had grown up in a provincial little town a few miles outside of Sydney, Australia. Her father had been the mayor and she had lived in a castle of a home. She spent the greater part of her days being ordered around by her father's PR company. She was told what to wear, and what to say, where to go, who to speak to, whom to ignore, when to smile...

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...him and in the most unnerving kind of way - the way that one is drawn to the fire during a harsh winter, knowing that if one got too close they would get burned, and yet shuffling closer still to feel the warmth and to watch as the flames licked and flickered against the fireplace.

Unfortunately, neither curiosity nor being drawn to the sense of danger exuded explained the way her heart raced and her palms sweat. No man had ever had that effect on her, not even men she had been in a 'serious' relationship with, so why a man she had just met made her feel that way was completely beyond her.

And so she brushed it off as him just being more handsome and cordial than what she had prepared for, yet she knew it was something more than that.

She looked up at the clock on the wall across from her - 7:30am.

Suddenly next Saturday couldn't come fast enough.