A/N Hey all this my first story. Thanks for reading and please leave constructive reviews. I am still fleshing out my characters so, hopefully in the next few chapters youll get more of a back story etc. I have always heard that you should write what you know and I have met some pretty unique people in my life so far. I want to add those experiences into the narrative. I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own any chracters

There are two types of men the world, I mused as I walked random guy number I don't know what out of my apartment. With some guys, after sex you just want to revel in the sensation and sleep on those dirty sex sheets until the faint scent of their cologne fades. Then there are those that you have to change and burn your sheets as soon as they leave and scrub yourself with disinfectant. Yea I just had one of those walk out of my front door. These types of encounters make me want to reevaluate the decisions I made in my life.

Like my love for my marijuana and wanting to get it for free. It's like that saying, 'why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free', but the problem is that when I get the milk (weed) and enjoy it with the cow or friend with weed who can be a times very sketch. 90% percent of the time become very aware of my body become extremely touchy feely and end up closing the deal. Gag. It's a vicious cycle that I need to end and the best way to do it is to find myself a moderately attractive boyfriend who is as much of a pothead as I am. Preferably he should be at least 6ft tall, loves to cuddle, listens to jazz and lives with in a 20 min subway ride from me. Easier said than done. I have been to trying to figure out the logistics of this mission since moved back to Brooklyn from my college digs.

I am not that unfortunate looking. My ass is has a nice bubble shape, I am perky B cup with a slightly round tummy but hey you cant have it all. Okay I am as pale as a ghost and on the short side but overall I think I am solid B+. Finding a quality man should not be this stressful.

I decided to pack another bowl when my cell rings, and of course it's my annoying friend whose life is on track. Which means a good job in her chosen field. Blech. I feel like a minor failure just watching my phone ring. I lit the bowl while she goes to voicemail. Its 2am on a Wednesday night if it's important she'll call back. I turn on some music hoping The Brazilian Girls will inspire me. I always try to support local Brooklyn bands even if the lead singer is an import from Italy, but of course the first song has to be about pussy and marijuana. Really. Can't the universe tell that I just want to hear songs sung in French that I can barely understand?

As I smoke my bowl I get a text, I am praying it's from someone I want to talk, please don't let this be Jessica. If it is I am changing my number. The universe must have heard that because it's Rosalie. I wonder what she wants at 2:15am on a Wednesday.

Rosalie Hale: yo are you up? I need to ask you something.

Bella Swan: yes turtledove… what can I do for you

Rosalie Hale: can you do me a favor? Pretty please

Bella Swan:?

Rosalie Hale: Please can you pick something's for me in midtown tomorrow? I'll pay for dinner at Croxleys?

Wow she is going to buy me wings at the 10cent wing bar lovely.

Bella Swan: Sure let me know when and were

Rosalie Hale: Mood at 11 they should have everything ready for you

Bella Swan: ok I'll do it but I am not going to midtown before 1pm. I refuse to be around surrounded by overzealous fashion interns and wannabe project runway finalist. Are you even sure you graduated from parsons?

Rosalie Hale: umm... Bella are you high... you never that refined with your insults unless you're high

Bella Swan: so what if I am… you love it when I am uncouth. bye, I'll get your shit and you better hope I liked what u picked out or I won't leave the store with it.. Love you

Fuck, I guess I have to spend my afternoon with fabrics, gag me. I through my long brown hair into a ponytail and take out my contacts before falling asleep to Billie Holiday singing to me about her man. I want a man I think as I go down for the count.

The next morning I walk up around 12pm, the daytime witching hour for stoners. I check my phone and of course Rose has already texted me 3 times to remind me to go to Mood. Jesus, I know I am a pothead but my short term memory is not that bad. I decide to wake and bake while I wait for my coffee to brew. Ahh there is nothing like overpriced Jamaican coffee and nice bowl of platinum Kush to wake you up. I decide to make a little effort with my outfit today. I am trying to blend in with the fashwhores who think mecca is on 7th ave, and by blend in I mean where something trendy and ostentatious but still trying to keep it Brooklyn cool. That's easy some cutoff that I fashioned from an old pair of jeans. Check. Cashmere sleeveless shirt. Check. A pair of awesome 80s diamond earrings. Check. Old washed out Toms. Check. Maybe a Dooney and Bourke wristlet, it says I like my leather goods and I am not dumb enough to spend money on Coach and my men's Prada glasses finish the look. I am ready to go. I pack a one hitter and my makeup mirror that has a little weed in it grab a brownie and I run to the subway.

The great thing about New yorks subway system is that between 12 and 3pm the trains come on time and are never full. That means no annoying people elbowing you for 2 more inches of space on a crowded subway car. It takes about 30 minutes to get from my study in the newly gentrified portion of Bed-Stuy to midtown. I decided to listen to the Beatles to keep my buzz going. I am lip-synching to yellow submarine when I get a strange feeling. I look up and don't see anything amiss and continue to zone out for the rest of my ride. You the feeling when you are being watched, yea I am getting it big time. It's starting to freak me out. I look to my left and see a pair of dark green eyes. I jump back,

"God! You are way to close", I stammer.

"Sorry, but I have to say you smell like this weed I smoked earlier today. And I was wondering if we have the same dealer", Green eyes said smiling at me.

I know I just moved back to Brooklyn after living in Buffalo for 5 years. But damn, people don't beat around the bush anymore.

"Umm… it's a possibility. You know it is a city with over 8 million people. Everyone tends to know everyone through someone else. ", I say a little slowly. This guy most be deficient mentally if he would ask me that. I take a look at him and he is pale like me. Must be a night person like me. Has the same Rasta Skullcandy headphones I have and is dressed super chill I am kind of liking his style. And he is really pretty, like I want to just look at him. This freaks me out cause I hate looking at a people.

"Yea I think we do, you got on at Utica ave with me. And he is the only guy who has it in the city" he said with a smile.

"OK creeper how can you even tell." I said calmly. If he is a little cuckoo I don't want to rattle the cage too much.

"I smelt in your hair, it goes nicely with that perfume you are wearing" he said

"Umm ok… thanks for the compliant but I think I am going to sit over there now"

" Wait, are scared of me" he said looking amused. Damn why are all the creepers cute.

"Not scared" I saw covering my tracks just cautious "but it doesn't matter because this is my stop. By creeper" I wave as run off the train. As I walk to the exit I see Mr. Creeper waving at as the train leaves the station. I sigh with relief that could have been a close call. Well not really but I am still buzzed and don't want to deal with the Subway system eccentrics.

"Shit!" I yell loudly. Of course I got off at the wrong station and now I have to walk the remaining 10 long ass city blocks to get to 37th st which is like 1 or 2 miles.