When I wake up, I panic slightly. I'm in an unfamiliar place. Lay on a huge king-sized bed in a modernly decorated room with high ceilings, a chandelier hanging down above me. I recall the events of last night in my head and settle down again. But that still doesn't explain why I'm lay in what seems to be Robert's bedroom, in what I'm guessing is Robert's bed, in what I know are Robert's clothes. There's one thing that links all these up and he's not here. Where the hell is Robert?

I get up out of the bed, lifting my body from the memory foam mattress. With a stretch and a yawn, I start making my way down the hard, wood stairway. When I get to the bottom, the first place I look is where we were last night, which is where I find him. Sprawled out on the couch, sleeping like a baby. He must have changed me out of my dress and tucked me in before coming down here to sleep. I kneel down beside his face and stroke his hair softly. He looks so peaceful. I get up and go into the kitchen and start up his coffee machine. After making us both a dark coffee, I walk back into the living room and lean down to plant a kiss just beneath his ear. I see his eyelids flicker as he awakes.

"Welcome to the land of the living, Downey."

"Good morning my dear, did you sleep alright?" he asks in a husky morning voice.

"Yeah, your bed's real comfy!"

"Yep, only problem is it's half empty." He says it like it's a statement, but shrugs it off so there's no more to say.

"Here, I made us some coffee."

"Ah, so I guess you found your way around the kitchen."

"I guess I did."

We both drink up and sit on the couch, watching the morning news. It's silent, but not awkward, until my phone rings. I look at the caller ID which brings up my Dad. That's weird, it's always Mom that calls me.

"Dad?"

"Freya, come home. NOW." He sounds pissed. Real pissed.

"Dad, what's wrong? Is it Grampy?"

"No. Grampy is fine. Just get home. I want you home in ten minutes. No longer."

"But Dad _"

He's already hung up. Oh God, what did I do? Robert is already giving me a 'what's happened' look. I jump out of the seat, dragging his arm up with me.

"Dang it Freya, slow down." His hand still bearing half a cup of warm coffee.

"We have to go. My Dad's gonna kill me."

"What? Why?"

"I don't know. All I know is we gotta get home. Now."

"Okay okay, let me grab my keys." He paces off into another room and comes back in with his bed head still in tact. We throw ourselves into his car and speed to my Grandparents' place. When we're on the drive, I unfasten my seatbelt and prepare myself to dart for the front door when he places a hand on my leg.

"Thanks for staying over," he says with a soft smile. "Text me when you're done." He looks over at the house and gestures towards it.

"I will," I say. I lean over and kiss him, quickly but meaningfully. I wave goodbye and slip through the front door. The house is silent, which is kind of scary. I walk into the kitchen, and my Dad stands, leaning on the counter facing away from me. His facial expression, a mystery to yet discover.

"Dad?"

"Freya. Where the hell have you been?" he screams.

"I stayed at a friends, why?" I hate lying. It leaves a sour taste in my mouth.

"Well then you better have a damn good explanation for this."

He throws a newspaper at me. On the front page is a collage of pictures with me and Robert together. Eating in the restaurant, at the movie premiere, getting into the car, walking into his house holding hands. A bunch of photos. The heading is what gets me most:

DOWNEY HAS NEW GIRL?

The A-list movie star, Robert Downey Jr age 38, has been seen on multiple occasions with a brand new woman at his arm. The young lady has been identified by a anonymous witness as Freya Connor, 16. Is Downey toying with young women, or is this the start of something new?

I raise a hand to my mouth in shock. I can't believe this. 'Multiple occasions'? It's a few times!

"Dad, I_"

"You what, Freya? Are you going to tell me that's not you on the front page of the newspaper? Because it sure as hell looks like you."

"It's not what it looks like. We're not_"

"Not what, f*cking eachother? I damn sure hope not. I'll kill the paedophilic bastard," he spits.

"No! Nothing has happened Dad! We're just good friends! That's all, I swear!" I snap back.

"Yeah, whatever. Go on. Get outta my sight. Maybe you can tell me all about it when we're on the flight back home in three days."

"What? We're going back? Why?!"

"I'm not having creepy old guys - which, may I add, are old enough to be your father - going around and taking advantage of you. We're going home and that's final."

"This is home," I mumble.

"Just leave. We'll talk later."

I don't say anything. I just leave the room. I only have my phone on me, none of my belongings from last night. Damn. They're all still at Robert's house. I run up the stairs to my room and slam the door behind me. I take out my cell, and begin to text Robert. I give up texting, there's too much to describe; I just call him instead.

"Hello my darling."

"Rob, I'm leaving."

"What? When? Why?"

"Read the newspaper, Rob. We're plastered all over the front page and my Dad just went ape shit at me. He's dragging me back to London."

"When?"

"Friday."

"No, you can't leave, I only just got to know you. I don't want you to go."

"I know Rob, I don't wanna leave either."

"Come back to my place and we can talk."

"Rob, the paparazzi..."

"I'll barricade the damn windows if I have to. I'll come meet you. Can you get out?"

"I don't know. My Dad's probably got the house on lockdown."

"Shall I come speak to him?"

"No, Rob, he'll kill you."

"I don't care. I'm on my way."

"Rob_"

The line's dead. He's coming. Surely this can only end one way, and that's badly. Very badly.