She's small and petite. But she was a beguiling beauty. Those were the first things I thought of when I first saw Kristen Stewart in the Twilight auditions in December 2007. She was the one that motivated me to audition in the first place. We didn't know each other, though; I just had a huge crush on her since Into The Wild.

That didn't help in times like this. Sometimes she's too small and she's too helpless. I want to help her badly but over-possessive Summit Entertainment wouldn't allow us to touch at all in public. It wasn't fair. What if we were in a mass of rabid paparazzi and she needed help from a much stronger person? Shouldn't I at least offer my help? I am her boyfriend after all.

It wouldn't really be necessary to let us sign a contract just so that we won't go public until after New Moon. I can't help thinking to myself, who are we fooling? We're probably—no, I'm certain—the worst kept secret in Hollywood.

All I could think about in moments like these were, 'At least let me hold her hand for a second.' But no, of course I couldn't, even if I wanted to so badly.

Early this week, we had a little chat with Summit Entertainment's executives about whatnot…

Flashback

"Pattinson, Stewart," the man said, pounding his fists on the table. Kristen flinched, I saw from the corner of my eye. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"In our defense," I started but he cut me off.

"No excuses! We had a policy! And that's the only thing you have to follow! And you choose to disobey? Ugh. Incompetent prima donnas…" he said. He turned around and shook his head in disgust before he turned back around suddenly with an infuriated look on his face. "What the hell were you thinking?"

I honestly didn't know what was the big deal about Kristen and I having dinner together. I honestly didn't. It was stupid of them to make a big deal out of it. It's pointless, to say the least, because she and I won't stop going out together even if they had the contract burning in our furnace.

"It was a total invasion of privacy. They weren't even supposed to see us in that dinner! So don't go all smart ass on us because you don't know anything," Kristen said through her teeth. Yet another reason why she is every inch of the girl I was dreaming of; she was strong and firm and she wasn't a damsel-in-distress all the time, being thrown around like a rag doll. It's hard to find real girls in Hollywood and she just happened to be the realest one of all.

"Oh, Stewart, I know everything. You think the company doesn't know what your travel plans are after New Moon's released? You think we don't know where you're off to during the Christmas break? You think we don't know your rendezvous to follow Rob to France for Bel Ami? Oh, Ms. Stewart, we know every detail," he said with a mischievous grin.

"Then why don't you just lay off our back for a second? If you know everything then why the hell do you still need answers from us? We're sick and tired of your B.S. that we keep up with everyday and I don't give a crap if you stupid studio goes down with your job!" Kristen spat. She stood up and glared at the man. She seemed to be winning.

It wasn't for a while that I noticed that I looked like such a girl right then. I stood up as well and put a hand on Kristen's shoulder. "Drop it, Kristen. He's not worth it," I whispered in her ear. I felt her shudder for a while before sitting back down. "Anyways, what do you want us here for exactly?" I asked the representative.

The man straightened out his suit and looked at both of us back and forth. "Thank you, Mr. Pattinson, for keeping your…woman… in sanity," he said to me. I wanted to stand up right there and throw a punch but for somebody who prevented a very huge blow-up between Kristen and Summit, I wouldn't. "As I was saying, may you please provide us with reasonable and mature answers regarding your little dinner date? Mr. Pattinson, would you mind doing so for Ms. Stewart? Seems like she doesn't know how to contain her temper," he said, mocking Kristen.

I stood up this time and jabbed a finger at his chest. I knew that was going to bruise. "Look, I may not be the one who fired back at you a while ago in place of Kristen but I could sure throw a punch. Don't talk about her that way," I said, getting all up in his face.

"Calm down, Mr. Pattinson," he said as he pushed me back down on my seat. "Your explanations would be very much appreciated at this time."

I glanced at Kristen, who had a smug smile, much to my surprise. "I don't know what to say, really, except maybe that those paparazzi are seriously invading our personal lives in the least courteous fashion. We didn't intend anybody to know that we were out together… which I was clearly mistaken for. I didn't know that the… radars… of the fans would be so intense. We didn't really know what to expect. We apologize to the studio for the… careless… behavior we had last night," I said. I was trying to be diplomatic but I still felt my head fizzing out a wheeze of angry white-hot flames.

The representative thought for a moment in silence. He plopped back down on his chair. I took Kristen's hand into mine; letting it dangle between the two chairs we were seated in. The man's eyes zeroed in on them for a moment but pried them off as soon as we noticed his gaze. He finally sighed.

"Fine," he muttered. "You can go. I don't want any of this happening again. You understand?" I nodded.

I stood up, taking Kristen with me. She gave the man a parting glare and rolled her eyes at him. It's like a telepathic wave passed through us… I could almost hear her shouting the words: BUZZ OFF to the man. I looked back at her and gave her a reassuring smile, then gave her hand a squeeze.

"Kristen," I said under my breath. She looked back at me and nodded. I waited for her to cool down for a while then led her out the door. I wretched the door out of the way, ready to go my familiar green Porsche and drive off to OUR home, but the man stopped us before we exited the Summit HQ.

"Pattinson, Stewart," he called. I hated it when they called us by our last names. We have actual names, after all. And they weren't Pattinson or Stewart. "What did I just say?" I sighed angrily and let go of Kristen's hand. "Okay, you can go." He waved us off.

Oh, surprise, surprise, paparazzi were outside. We were practically forced to rub our shoulders together because of the bereft space that the paparazzi gave us. I hated them. I hated them and I would trade my career just to get them off my back.

I slid into the driver seat and Kristen went to the passenger's. Oh, I could hear the rumors now. Tomorrow's headline on OK would probably be: ROB PATTINSON AND KRISTEN STEWART LEAVE STUDIO MEETING TOGETHER blah, blah, blah. They didn't understand. It's just another rag mag.

I rolled up the windows and put up the roof. I had to urge to run them over with my wheels but I didn't want another picture of me taken, this time, for the police's most wanted list.

I backed out of the tiny space and drove off as fast I could to OUR home.

And that's what brought me here, sitting on a restaurant's balcony, in a very secluded community in Vancouver with my girlfriend. We were smoking a cigarette when we heard a familiar, gut-twisting snap. I groaned.

"Ugh," Kristen muttered. "Can we get some privacy?" she said loud enough for the paps to hear.

She stood up and paused at the balcony, propping herself up on the railings. She would look like she would kill herself; ready to throw her off the edge, but instead she flipped the paparazzi off. I stifled a chuckle from where I was seated when she sat back down.

"That was… very bold of you, love," I commented, taking a drag from the cigarette.

"I know. I'm sick and tired of them," she said, shaking her head.

We were both finished eating and it was probably two in the morning. I guess it's a good time to leave. "Do you want to go?" I asked her. I threw the cigarette on the floor and put it out with the sole of my shoe.

"Oh. Of course." She pressed the end of hers on the hardwood floor of the balcony and stood up. I got up, too and stalked off to the door.

She looked haggard and exhausted. It was a hard day for both of us. David Slade was having trouble with the machinery and he had to make us stop every few takes to fix something with the cameras and such. And when the cameras were fully functional, we had to do stunts. David insisted that Kristen make the most of her double but Kristen, being the stubborn, perfect girl that she is, she would contradict and try to prove her daring side. I would let the double take my spot wholeheartedly any day but I didn't want to look bad in front of her.

The maitre d said his goodbyes, like he always did to the customers. We were regulars here. We were always here with our friends, Ashley, Kellan, Jackson, Peter, Elizabeth, Taylor, David and Nikki. But only Kristen and I went here alone together.

Once we got outside, oh, shocker, the paparazzi are in full attack. I would have probably stormed out of the paparazzo's way if it weren't for Kristen's small and petite body demanding for protection.

We stood at the restaurant entrance for about a good five minutes before a burly man, much taller than I am, went next to us and led us to the crowd. I didn't dare move, keeping Kristen behind my body the whole time.

The man told me, "Mr. Pattinson, you can go now." I didn't want to move. If I did, they'd have a clear shot of Kristen and I would be one of the few to know that Kristen was mortified by the fact that her picture was getting taken candidly. Besides, I considered the fact that she must be drained out and tired by now. I wished I could just go Edward on her and carry her off to the car without any restrained.

"Mr. Pattinson," the man said again, motioning me to pass. I felt Kristen's body against my back, clearly dodging the paparazzo's snappy takes.

"Give us a second," I whispered back. The paparazzi just kept on taking pictures. I myself was starting to get blinded and disoriented by the flashing lights. I feel epileptic.

If you think that getting mobbed by grown men with cameras—the paparazzi, for short—would be a chaotic scene with a lot of shouting, then I guess you're wrong. It's usually quiet. Just the sound of the shutterbugs and the footsteps you take would be the only thing you'd hear.

I was surprised when I saw Kristen's form duck out of my figure and walked ahead of me. I followed after her shortly.

When she went into view, the cameras clicked even more rapidly, even more quickly and… I got even more disoriented. I was expecting them to give way to us because my car was directly behind the external bubble they had formed, us being the center. But they didn't. They made us a dead-end and we couldn't get through.

I risked a glance at Kristen. She looked like she was about to faint. She already had her eyes closed and her hands cupping over them but she still looked wobbly.

I groaned at the paparazzi that practically had the camera right under her nose, literally. I shoved the man off the sidewalk. "Watch it," I said through my teeth.

"Whoa," he said, stumbling onto the road. "Chill, man. I was just doing my job."

"I don't give a crap. Get your hands off her." If I thought that the floodgates of the shattering darkness would stop after that statement, I was very wrong. They clicked off faster. I was already starting to feel faint, too.

I took the leap and draped my arm around Kristen's shoulder and covered her face with my other arm. I put her hood up for her and I heard her say "thanks".

Those douche bags didn't even bothering making way for us even if I was already trying my hardest to get through. I thought I was doing pretty well… before I felt Kristen's weight crashing downwards.

Holy crap… She fainted. I knelt down next to her and tried to wake her up but she looked pretty much out. The insensitive men still took her picture while she lay limp on the cold cement.

I stood up for a while and shoved everybody around us before gathering her in my arms and carrying her, bride-style.

"Screw you," I told all of them. And as if they haven't caused enough damage, they still took the pictures. "Screw you!" I said louder.

Kristen didn't even move in my arms. I sighed angrily and opened the passenger door and slipped her in. I put the belt around her and whispered into her ear, "I'll take care of this."

I shut the door and faced them again. "What the hell do you think you're doing? I told you to get the hell away!" I yelled. I knew that that was loud enough that the people passing by would turn their heads and call the cops. I gave the paps my best glare. They seemed to stop.

I wanted to rip their cameras apart and disassemble them then throw them into a dumpster.

And that's somehow what I did to the guy that had his camera in Kristen's face earlier. I took his camera I basically threw it onto the road. I looked back at all of them and glared. I heard a crunching sound as a sixteen-wheeler passed by. Good riddance.

"Get a life. Leave us alone," I muttered quietly before going in the driver's seat of my Porsche.

I looked at Kristen and saw her stir in the seat. "Rob?" she managed to say incoherently.

"Shhhhh," I said, placing a finger on her lips. "It's taken care of, love. Just go back to sleep. We'll be home in a few minutes. Okay?" I reassured her. She nodded and her eyes drooped.

I knew that I was in loads of trouble, but I'll just handle the heat in the morning. Well, welcome to what I would like to call everyday of my life.