"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Rafe leans against the doorframe. So distracted by the view of the night sky before me, I didn't even hear him come in. Surprised, I nod at him, gingerly, and he approaches me, very carefully, very cautiously, as if I may be a wild animal. He's wearing an innocuous Tommy Hilfiger rugby polo, his hair swept neatly in a side parting.

"I have the exact same view from my bedroom. Look, you can see all the way to the forest's edge, and sometimes, when the sky is clear, you can even see the sparkling waters of the Nile". He sweeps his hand in front of him, gesturing through the glass at the night sky. I watch as his eyes glaze over. For a single moment, he looks so wistful. But then the emotion that clouds his eyes is gone. He turns to me. "How do you feel?"

What do I say to that? I don't even know how I feel. As I try to think of a reply, I put down a pencil and reach my hand up to fiddle with my hair and I, once again, catch sight of the bandage across my palm. Right now, my hand doesn't hurt exactly, but when I stretch my palm out flat, there is a slight prickle of pain there. It took me a lot longer than usual to rule out the page and when I got too caught up in my work, letting my pencils dart across the page, my hand started to cramp as a result of the awkward way I held my writing implements.

"What happened last night?" I finally ask, meeting Rafe's eyes. I can only remember fragments of the previous night; it's like pieces of a broken puzzle. And I don't quite know what's real and what's not.

Rafe turns back to gaze out of the window. "There was a fire." I see a muscle in his jaw clench when he says the word fire. "A serial arsonist, apparently. Anonymous. But rumour has it, they left a calling card. You're lucky, you know? You could have died. Some of the floors above yours collapsed. Thankfully, nobody died. Fires like these, they're dangerous." I get the sense that Rafe has forgotten I'm there but I don't know what to say. I remain silent, catching the eye of my reflection in the glass before me. Then Rafe breathes in, a deep shuddery breath and he continues, as if there was no awkward empty pause.

"You called me. Do you remember that?" I shake my head. "You never told me your address. But it wasn't hard to find. I just followed the smoke. And then I brought you here. This is... the guest room. It's yours, now." The way that he hesitates disturbs his usual unflustered demeanour. This isn't the guest room. It's somebody else's room. That much I know. But I don't press him about it.

"What about..." I falter. What am I asking anyway? What about you Rafe? How do you feel about me living in your home? I can't say that though. And Rafe is staring at me now, waiting for me to finish my sentence. I pluck a word from obscurity. "-School?"

"Uh, you nearly died last night and you're worried about missing class?" But a smirk tugs at Rafe's lips. "Leger, you are so predictable. It's sorted. I talked to all your teachers and they were very empathetic that their darling Evangeline nearly died that you don't even have any homework. And I managed to convince them to give us the rest of the week off... and then it's a long weekend too-"

"Us?"

"Shhhhh, I get out of class too. It's a win-win situation. You miss school, I miss school. Perfect! What can I say? They were so grateful that their star student was heroically swept from the flames by a total stud." I know that Rafe will ignore my sputtered protests that I actually like university (unlike high school- that was awful) and that he did no such thing so I simply just roll my eyes at him.

In the brief interlude that follows our slight banter, I look back across the glimmering lights of the town and at the sky above it all. A patchwork of blue, peppered with stars that sparkle like diamonds. Before me is a sheath of papers, lines meticulously ruled out to mark the bass clef and treble clef. And notes, half notes, quarter notes, eight notes scattered about the page, separated by tiny markings, rests. I see Rafe's eyes catch on my music and suddenly I feel so self conscious. I don't usually show anybody my songs.

I'm still sitting cross-legged on the floor of the bedroom -my bedroom apparently now- facing towards the window with my pencils and papers scattered about beside me. Even though I already had a shower and washed my hair, I'm still wearing the gorgeous silk pyjamas I woke up in. I don't have any of my other clothes -also, in my lingering state of delirium, I haven't even explored the suite, have even checked out the wardrobe or Rafe's room. Realising this, I sigh at my missed opportunity- and I've been too scared to I call up the police, inquire about the state of the building. Is my apartment completely gone? All my possessions? My life? Everything?

Hesitantly, I flip my newly written sheet music upside down. I've always been very self-conscious about letting others see my pieces. And although I see curiosity etched across Rafe's face, he lets it go. Doesn't press to see what I've written, or beg to hear me play it. Perhaps I will show him when it's done.

The melody drifts into my head again and I tap my fingers lightly against the floor, working how the fingering, and then the music in my head stops abruptly when I look up at Rafe.

The silence grows heavy around us and I turn back to him. Study his features. His eyes flicker to mine. He's still standing and I feel a bit awkward looking up to him from the ground so I stand. I'd been sitting down for so long that I am slightly unsteady on my feet and Rafe reaches out a hand to steady me. I wobble for a second, pressing my hand against his chest while he grips my arm. "Woah." I say, slightly breathlessly. We're so close to each other now and I look back up into his eyes. Up close, I can see the gold flecks in them. "Rafe..."

"Yes, Angel?"

"I... I'm homeless." Woah. Way to ruin a moment, Evie. But now that I've started, I can't stop. The words pour out of me. "My house has burnt down, I have no clothes, barely any possessions, my parents are freaked, I am fucking terrified, my closest friend is in Switzerland or somewhere and I have no one."

"Hey, hey, Evie, shhh." I think that's the first time he's actually called me Evie. He squeezes my arm reassuringly, tucks a stray tendril of hair behind my ear, soothingly. "Babe, breathe. You can stay here, we can go shopping or I'll get some stuff ordered in. Just wear something from the wardrobe in the meantime. I'll talk to your parents, alright? Have you called them?" I nod and he nods back. "Good. What about Noah?" How does he even know Noah's name? Rafe is quite a keen observer. I shake my head. "Call him, okay, or FaceTime or something. I just need to go make a few phone calls myself and I'll be right back. You guessed the wifi password, surely?" He winks at that as he walks out of the room, but he pauses in the doorway, the mischief that was etched on his face a few seconds earlier, gone. Suddenly, he is serious. Almost solemn even.

"And, uh, Evangeline?" I look up from the screen on my laptop. "You don't have no one. You have me."

*

I'd forgotten how much I'd missed Noah. As soon as I click dial, the light on front camera of my laptop blinks on and a small rectangle appears in a top corner of my screen, filled with an image of my anxious face, waiting for Noah to to reply. Suddenly, I start to have second doubts. Who even knows what time zone he's in. Perhaps I should send him a message first? I go to cancel my video call but it is too late.

"Evie?" His normally well groomed hair is sticking up a bit and his eyes squint at the bright light of the screen which casts a luminescent glow across his face.

"Hey Noah." I say trying to smile.

"Evie?" He says, frowning slightly. "What's going on?" Noah sits up in his bed, leaning against some pillows. "Don't get me wrong, it's so good to see you, but I was kinda having a nice dream. I was at Dolce & Gabbana -in some kind of alternate universal where it wasn't 'cancelled'- and I met the most gorgeous-"

Unable to help myself as the tears begin to stream down my face, I cut him off.

"Noah... I- my house... there was a fire" Suddenly he sits up straight, eyes suddenly alert, brows raised.

"Oh god! Eva! Are you alright?!"

"Yes, I'm fine" I say automatically before I hesitate, comprehending what I just said, and in that brief pause, a sob escapes me. "No! I'm not alright! Oh Noah!"

I proceed to explain my unfortunate circumstances to my best friend. When I get to the part about (temporarily) living with Rafe, Noah can't help the sly grin that slides across his face but reassessing the constant stream of tears that flow down my face causes him to withdraw his cocky remark (probably something like 'my ship is sailing!') and instead nod sympathetically.

"Oh my god, babe!" Noah exclaims repeatedly. What else is there to say anyway? And yet, somehow, I feel better after talking to Noah. His voice is so reassuring, familiar. And, after talking to him, I feel the same way I felt after talking to my parents. Calm. Kind of almost accepting of my situation. Not at peace, exactly, but more understanding that there was nothing I could do to prevent the fire.

When even Noah runs out of words, we end the call. And for a few minutes, I sit in silence, just staring out through the large picture window, at Astoria.

Then, I stand. And walk across the room, into the walk in wardrobe.

It's where Rafe finds me, ten minutes later. He knocks on the door politely, even though it is ajar, and when I don't answer, I hear a hitch of panic in his voice and he pushes the door wide open, calling out my name. I just feel so bewildered. The wardrobe is meticulous. Obviously, Rafe has a girl stay here pretty often. And, whoever she is, she has expensive taste.

But aside from the gorgeous designer finery hangs dozens of articles of more tactical clothes. Heavy, goosedown puffer jackets, army fatigues, combat boots. And artefacts, too. There are little relics, a jade pendant, gold Mayan coins, small engraved bowls.

I can't help but wonder who the girl is. So much of her personality seems engraved in the room and I honestly wish I could meet her. See the kind of girl Rafe truly loves. I don't think it's anybody from school. None of his casual hook ups. Maybe they have a long distance relationship? I don't know.

And although Rafe told me to get changed into whatever, I can't wear her clothes. It doesn't feel right. And I tell Rafe so. He opens his mouth and sweeps his hand about the room. But then pauses. Reconsiders his words, and nods.

"I can't imagine she'd be happy to know that somebody else is wearing her clothes." He lets out a dry laugh. "Or that somebody is sleeping in her bed, for that matter." When he says that, I flush a little; there are only two bedrooms in this suite and I'm not sharing with him. "Come on, Angel. Just for dinner. We'll go shopping later. Tomorrow, if you want."

He scans the row of dresses and formal wear and selects for me, seemingly at random, a hanger over which some dark material is draped.

"This one. Don't be too long, We've got reservations in twenty minutes." He passes me the hanger and leaves.

A black, capped sleeved, notched neck jacquard dress. It's Halston and it's beautiful. And it fits. Perfectly. I swipe on some red lipstick, drag a comb through my hair and brush my eyebrows into place.

As I give myself one last glance in the full length mirror I catch my reflection's eye. Even though I just had the worst night of my life, the dark circles under my eyes are nearly nonexistent. And the girl in the mirror looks so happy and beautiful and resplendent. She's like a Halston girl straight out of an editorial, about to go to the theatre with her husband. She isn't the kind of girl who suffers with who she is. Tormented by the ghosts of her past. This girl in the mirror- she is free.

This is what life with Rafe could be like.