Chapter 1 - Bad Day

E-POV

As Edward pulled up to his new apartment he realised just what a dump he was moving into. Yes, he may be biased having lived in a mansion in downtown Chicago for most of his life, but he thought even a tramp may of turned his nose up at the at the sight of his new dwelling. It was a shit hole; the tiny front yard full of what looked like several weeks worth of trash, the roof was visibly in the later stages of decay and the smell was some what nauseating. At this point he was seriously considering crawling home to accept his father's offer of money for his housing, tail between his legs.

Mumbling quiet curses, Edward gathered himself and climbed cautiously out of the Volvo, feeling eternally grateful he had decided against bringing his Aston Martin to this side of town. Looking at the neighbourhood it would have been gone before you could say fuck-that-car-cost-me-half-of-my-college-fund.

Walking round to the trunk to unload the luggage he stepped on something small and squishy. Glancing down he saw the something that looked suspiciously like a pile of dog crap. Raising his foot in an ungainly way, leaning against the side of the car for support and probably looking like a complete idiot, he sniffed. Yep, defiantly shit. Could his day get any worse?

Pain pierced him at the thoughtless idiocy of his question. Things could always be worse.

Making it to the front door without further incident, Edward aimlessly fiddled with the strap of his tan rucksack that was slung haphazardly over one shoulder, having little trouble with it… he packed relatively light.

Swiftly ascending the stairs, taking particular care how he placed his weight as the floorboards creaked in protest, he noted the hallway wasn't half as bad as he had been expecting. Apart from the dodgy staircase everything was in pretty good shape. It was true he wouldn't of chosen that exact shade of lime green for the walls and the patterned carpet was right out of the 80's, but it was decent and best of all, clean! Maybe living here would be bearable after all.

Reaching the 2nd floor he walked along the narrow corridor searching for number 13, no pun intended. It didn't take long. Dropping his bag Edward plunged his hands into his jean pockets hoping to god that he hadn't left the newly given keys on the dresser at home. He hadn't.

Quickly slotting the slightly worn piece of metal into the lock, feeling slightly uncomfortable about loitering in the hallway, he twisted the key, but it wouldn't turn. He repeated the action several times without notable success.

'Fucking hell!' He shouted, clenching his fist to prevent from punching the door. Great after that outburst your new neighbours probably think you have anger management issues said a small irritating part of his brain. Lucky however the furious buzz that filled the rest of his mind blocked the voice usually referred to as common sense completely.

Edward was pissed off. It had taken him 9 fucking hours to get there and all he wanted to do was sleep. He was, in fact, very tempted to just break in and have done with it, he doubted anyone would notice around here.

Turning, he reached towards the nearest door, pounding his fist against it a bit too hard, then waited impatiently for someone to answer. After several seconds, the door opened little more than an inch, revealing two large chocolate brown eyes against pale white skin.

' I'm- I'm sorry, but could- I-I mean would you-um- lower your voice or at least mind your language, n- not really for my benefit but because - well the er - couple next door- they have a s- small child,' she stuttering nervously in a polite tone, blushing slightly as she stumbled though the sentence, whispering so as not to disturb.

Suddenly Edward felt like an utter asshole.

'I'm sorry,' he whispered back. 'I didn't mean to shout, it just that…. Well I've… I've had a bad day.' He admitted quietly, unconsciously raking his hand through his hair, a nervous habit that he had clearly inherited from his father.

Her face softened immediately, relaxing at his obviously apologetic tone.

'No worries,' she said biting her lip, seemingly unable to meet his gaze. Edward couldn't seem to think of anything to say to that, so he kept quiet hoping that the less he said the less of an idiot he would make of himself.

The silence stretched for a few seconds as he glared at his designer shoes, wondering why he suddenly felt like a 17 year old boy again.

'Is there anything I can do to help?'

His eyes jerked up to meet hers, to find her lips curled upward to form a shy smile.

For a moment he could do nothing more than smile back, his throat suddenly dry.

Pulling himself together, he answered. ' Um do you know if there is… um… some kind of …. um trick… to er… unlocking the door?'

Well done Edward. Now she probably thinks your completely illiterate.

She blinked, twice, as if trying to process my words, then reached forward. Her dainty form swimming in a super sized sweater, she stepped out into the hall, taking the key from my outstretched hand she only pushed the shaped metal half way in the door before turning. The lock clicked open.

'Thanks,' Edward whispered as she handed the keys back silently. ' Would you like to come in for a while?' The words were out of his mouth before he had even considered them.

Oh shit, I DID NOT just say that! Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit…

Her face fell.

Shit!

'I mean you don't have to, its alright if your too tired, to talk I mean, its really late so I need to get to my bed anyway and so do you, I mean your bed obviously…' He faded off, his ears burning, looking anywhere but at her.

Then she giggled. It was a beautiful sound, like church bells chiming and he found himself never wanting it to stop, he could have listened to it forever…

What the hell man! Where is all this crazy poetic shit coming from!

When he looked back though, she had sobered. 'I can't. I mean Jake will be home soon and… ' She looked away, ducking her head.

'Okay' Edward said quickly. Ducking into his room and whispering a short goodbye before pulling the door shut behind him.

He slid down to the floor his heart thundering, sweating like he had just run a marathon. Not even glancing around the room before lowering his face into his hands, he groaned. What the hell is happening to me? He screeched mentally in a way that was ridiculously feminine for 24 year old man, trying to steady his breathing as his lungs began to protest, thinking back to the conversation.

He assumed 'Jake' must be this girls boyfriend (wasn't that just fucking typical) , but her expression when she spoke about him wasn't what one would call affectionate, so maybe he was her brother…or roommate… or hated enemy or…or sex slave or something?

Yeah right.

Was it wishful thinking for him to hope she had wanted to spend time with him and so hadn't wanted this 'Jake' to come back? Yeah, of course it was, but just the idea had him high. That, of course, brought to the forefront the one question Edward didn't want to answer.

Why did he care?

It was too late to think about this now, he was exhausted.

So he crawled into bed and spent his first night in Seattle dreaming of the girl next door.