I was at Taylor's hotel again, for the third time that week. This time we were sitting in the den of their penthouse, him working on a piece of music at the piano, me reading a James Joyce novel that had been lying on the coffee table. A Portrait of the Artist As a Young Man. I wasn't really reading too much though. Watching Taylor at the piano had almost completely engrossed my attention. The way his hair fell in his face, and how he pushed it behind his ears only to have it fall in his face again. The way he held a pencil in his hands, gently, as though it were a human being, being careful to not break it. I wondered what it would be like to have him hold me in his arms. I mean, really hold me.

Taylor suddenly sighed loudly and put his pencil down. He rubbed his temples with his fingers, obviously frustrated about the song he was working on. I put the book down and walked over to him, placing my hands on his shoulders.

"Not going too well?" I asked, rubbing his shoulders.

"Not at all. Everything I've tried to write so far has been complete rubbish. I think I have writer's block," Taylor said, irritated. He closed his eyes contentedly as I massaged his shoulders and back. Then he reached around and grabbed my hands, startling me. He turned to face me, standing up. His blue eyes searched my hazel ones for minutes. Suddenly, he spoke. "I love you, Rayne." My stomach hit the floor.

"Excuse me?" I said, surprised by his words. "You've only known me for almost a week. How can you love me?"

"I love you," he said again. Those words meant the world to me right then. I cupped his chin in my hands and kissed him. Passionately kissed him, as he kissed me back. He wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me to him. Then he just held me for a few minutes, breathing softly. "I don't know why I feel like this. I mean, you're absolutely right, we do barely know each other. But in the past seven days I've known you, I feel as if I've known you forever. And somehow, that makes sense. And that's enough for me."

"I love you, too," I finally said. He stepped back, looking at me. "Nobody has ever really looked at me the way you do. Not even my parents. And I don't think anyone's ever really bothered to tell me they love me before. Except maybe Ana, but she's my best friend. But not even my parents care as much about me as you do. I like that. I like the way you make me feel. You make me feel . . . as though I'm actually worth something. You make me actually believe in myself, and that I might actually be pretty. And that amazes me. And I don't want to lose that. Ever." I hugged him again. "Things like that are what make me love you all the more." I smiled, tears filling my eyes. I looked down at my feet, starting to cry.

"I'm gonna miss you so much when I have to leave next week," Taylor whispered, as I cried softly. "But we're not going to think about that right now. We have five days left, and I intend on spending every single one of them with you. Plus, we have prom in two days. And you know that's going to rock." I nodded, smiling a little. He put his finger under my chin and lifted it up, so he could look into my eyes. "It's going to be okay. We'll figure something out. I promise. We will be together."

"I know . . . it's just hard," I said quietly. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, like a little kid.

"Rayne, you know this was meant to be. Us meeting the way we did, and then running into each other again at the mall . . . all of it . . . this is meant to be. We're meant to be," Taylor said. "Don't question it. Just trust it. Okay?"

"Okay," I said, sniffling. Taylor gave me a little peck on the lips. Then he just stared at me. "What?" I started to blush.

"Nothing. I was just thinking to myself about how beautiful you are. And how I know I'm never gonna feel this way about another person, because I know you're the one for me," Taylor replied. He brushed a strand of hair out of my face. Then he put his arms around me and held me to him. I wanted to stay that way forever.