A/N: This O/S is written as a get well present for my one and only Biffle. I love you girl!

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Stephanie Meyer.

This Bella and Rosalie are meant to be a little odd but they have kind hearts. Hope you enjoy!

My reflection in the mirror wasn't a complete shock but it still gave me cause to turn my face sideways and check out my profile. My hair was teased into a big stiff poof on top my head and my fake eyelashes looked classically whorish. I wished that I had natural beauty like Elizabeth Taylor or Pamela Anderson. I ran my palms over the small mounds on my chest and sighed.

"Good things come in small packages," I told myself.

As my fingers found my nipples through the thin cotton bra, my stomach tightened and I shuddered. After looking around, and making sure that Rose was tending to her own reflection, I closed my eyes.

There he was, as I only saw in my dreams, lying beside me on a bed. His fingers replaced mine, tugging and pulling at my nipple until I could no longer stand it. Then his lips replaced his fingers. I watched him devour me like a man who hasn't eaten in centuries, licking and tasting and growling possessively.

I sighed as he looked up at me, his green eyes shifting over my face. In my dreams, he wanted me like I wanted him. I'd run my hands through his mess of rust colored hair and tug at it until he groaned. He'd say my name and touch me between my legs until I'd grind into him desperate for…

"Dear God, I leave you alone for five minutes…"

My eyes popped open and the reflection of my best friend stared back at me in the mirror. I looked down at myself to find one hand squeezing a breast and the other inches away from the apex of my thighs. Not to mention my flushed cheeks and look of perverted necessity on my face. I let out a quiet residual moan and blinked at her.

"Are you ready yet?" She looked me up and down as I adjusted my body from masturbating stance to cool and casual. "You should totally stuff your bra if you want to be noticed."

My lip curled up in response. "Stuff my bra?"

She palmed her chest and grinned at me. "Yeah, you don't think these puppies are natural, do ya? Fifty percent Kleenex, baby."

I couldn't help but be impressed with the faux boobage. Rosalie Hale was five and a half feet of blonde hair, pale skin and fiery attitude. She wore braces on her teeth with multicolored rubber bands and she had an obsession with collecting model cars. She'd sit for hours, looking through tiny little spectacles in an effort to glue them together perfectly.

"I don't think I could pull that off," I told her.

"Oh, sure you could," she muttered, walking toward me. With a smooth rolling motion, she wound a gob of toilet paper around her hand, forming a flawless stuff-able square. She'd done this before, probably many times. Who was I to judge? I was the stalker fan girl, here: Obsessed with someone I'd never talk to, let alone get close enough for him to notice that my bra was stuffed with tissues.

"Here…just let me…" She pulled out my shirt and stuffed the toilet paper into my bra with a gentle shove. After a few adjusting pushes and tugs, she stood back and looked at me. "There, now which boob do you think looks better?"

I turned and looked in the mirror. "The stuffed one looks a little clumpy."

Rosalie huffed. "People will just think that you have a fancy, ruffled bra on or something. You're missing the point; look at your cleavage."

With my head tilted, I obeyed and looked at the small hump of boob that came up over my shirt with thanks to the toilet paper. I made an agreeable noise and said, "Not bad."

"Let's do your other boob and get going before all the good spots are taken. I didn't come all this way to New York with you just to miss out." I watched her repeat the square of toilet paper equals hump of boobie routine.

"Did you check your phone to see where he is today?" I asked.

"Not yet," she answered.

"Why haven't you?" I huffed. "We need to make sure we're in the right place to be able to see him."

"Our first priority is making sure our appearance is first class, right? Then we go out on the prowl." She held her hand up like a claw and made a sad sounding tiger noise. "Does no good to find him if we don't look good, right?"

I blew out a sigh. "I guess."

With a contemplative look on her face, she stood back and looked at me from toes to hair. As close as we were, I could never tell what Rosalie was thinking. She was always a closed book so I shuffled my feet in a nervous manner as she tapped a finger on her chin.

"Well?" I finally squeaked out.

"I think you look hot," she said with a grin. "Your hair is a little big but you'll fit in if we have to go to Brooklyn, at least."

"You don't think that my skort is too short?" I waved a hand over the cotton material that hit me mid thigh. The thought of wearing a skirt that bred with a pair of shorts always made me feel smart and sexy; like I had this naughty little secret. At first glance, I appeared to be wearing a pretty little skirt but between my thighs was a slice of fabric. Unfortunately, I had a knack for sitting like a boy so my secret didn't stay safe for too long. I had been working on my posture ever since I had taken the Yoga: For Beginner's class at UW.

"No, it's perfect!" Rose exclaimed.

"What about my make up? I don't look like a whore, do I?" I fluttered my false eyelashes subconsciously and smacked my lips together. "Red usually makes me look pale."

"You have to stand out a little bit," she explained. "Otherwise, he'll never notice you standing there with those hundred other girls screaming at him."

"I don't want to stand out in a bad way."

Rose snorted. "You can't tell me that you wouldn't do Edward Cullen, even if it meant that you'd never see him again."

I shrugged. "So?"

"So, that means that you're a whore for Edward…an Edwhore."

After careful consideration of what being an Edwhore would entail, I decided that it wasn't as insulting as I originally thought. As long as I remained an Edwhore and not an everyman-whore, I was fine with the title.

"What does that make you?" I asked. "An Edwhore's best friend?"

Her face scrunched up in thought before she answered, "I'm your Edwhore Wing Woman."

"I think just Wing Woman would cover it," I told her. "No need to overuse the word Edwhore."

She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. "The things I do for you, you Edwhore."

I rolled my eyes. "Do I have to remind you of all the basketball games I went to last year so that you could get a glimpse of that sweaty-ass Emmett McCarty? I could have been at the library but instead I got elbowed in the ribs every ten seconds by my best friend, every time he got the basketball. I supported you through all of your Emmett-gawking."

She ignored my rant. "Looks like from our little 'find Cullen I-phone" App., it seems they are filming in Central Park." After looking at her watch, she blew out a breath. "They start filming at seven; it's six now."

My eyes widened and my pulse quickened. I was an hour away from being twenty feet away from Edward Cullen, Movie Star and Sex God Extraordinaire.

"Let's go!"

We managed to snag a cab right outside our hotel so the trip to Central Park was short and sweet. Unfortunately, when we arrived there were gaggles of girls standing along the roped off lines of the set. There were men with broad shoulders and mean expressions watching the crowd in a secret-service-like fashion.

Rose and I frowned from across the street as we watched the girls squeal at nothing and jump up and down a few times every few seconds. I wondered if their energy was thanks to adrenaline or a stimulant.

"God, they all look so young," Rose muttered.

"They're only a few years younger than us," I answered.

Rose and I were in our senior year at UW. Both of us were a year past the legal drinking age but I had failed to see the wonderment in being inebriated. I had gotten drunk one time in the past year and I thanks to my hangover, I ruined my favorite Garth Brooks t-shirt. No matter how many times I washed it, I could still smell the stink of whiskey-vomit. I didn't have the heart to toss it in the trash. That t-shirt and I had been through too much together to just pitch it in the dumpster simply because it had a foul odor.

My sophomore year in high school, I had gotten felt up for the first time underneath that shirt by my ex-boyfriend, Mike Newton. It wasn't mind blowing but it was a definite milestone in a young girl's life. Memories were the main reason the faded black Garth shirt was stuffed into a Walmart bag and tied tightly closed. Its final resting place was in the back of my closet under a heap of old textbooks.

"Besides, Edward likes girls his own age," I said with my chin tilted high in the air. "These girls don't stand a chance."

Rose raised her eyebrows but kept her silence.

"I'm going for coffee," she mumbled after a few moments of shifting awkwardly on our feet. Keds were comfortable but not stylish so we both had stuffed our feet into high wedge sandals with ribbons that wrapped around our ankles. My feet were already beginning to ache but I kept telling myself that it was all for him. From what I've read, Edward Cullen is a leg man.

"Get me one?" I asked then added, "Something really strong, pretty please."

As she stomped away, folding into the flow of pedestrian traffic like a pro, I turned my gaze back to Central Park. It seemed that the crowd had doubled its size in the past few minutes.

"You look lost, pretty girl," a voice said from behind me.

I turned to see a tall blond man with a tied back ponytail and mischievous dark eyes. He was grinning at me and looking at my toilet paper boobs. For a moment, I wondered if he saw the transparency of them through my shirt- looking rather crinkly- but then his tongue swept out over his bottom lip in a predatory manner.

"Uh…not really but thanks," I said, not wanting to sound rude. "I'm just waiting for someone."

The man of my fucking dreams!

He chuckled even though nothing I said was particularly funny. "Well, maybe I'm the one you're waiting for."

Perhaps, I had said that thing about the man and my fucking dreams out loud. No matter what he meant by it, how the hell was I supposed to respond to that?

"Uh…why would you think you're the one I'm waiting for?"

"Well, you look rather tempting out here all by your lonesome and it appears that you have been stood up." He held his hand out in offering. "I'm James and it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance…"

He trailed off and raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"My name is Bella," I said, shaking his hand.

The man wasn't bad looking and what if this was the man of my dreams. His clothes were casual and I could make out the hint of a tattoo on his forearm. There was something mysterious about him; something that drew me to him like a crazed moth to a flame.

I wasn't psychotic enough to really assume that Edward Cullen was my soul mate. In fact, there was a humongous possibility that I'd never speak to the man. With that thought, I felt myself frown.

"So, what brings you out to this part of town?" he asked.

Not wanting to admit that I was a twenty-two year old stalker, I lied. "I was just checking out the scenery."

"Hmmm…and what do you think?"

I was caught off guard since I really hadn't checked out any scenery past the gaggle of girls and the mean looking security guards.

"It's…uh…pretty."

He barked out a laugh. "Pretty?" he said, looking around. "I guess you could say that there are certain parts of the city that are easy on the eye."

James was an odd man but entertaining, to say the least. I still hadn't figured out what the hell he was doing chatting with me at such an early hour on the sidewalk of a busy street.

"Not to be rude but what exactly do you want?" I asked.

He smirked and looked down at me. "I thought maybe you'd like some company this morning."

I shrugged. "Okay, but I really do have to meet my friend."

He snuck a quick glance at his watch. "How much time do you have?"

My face screwed up into confusion. "A few minutes, I guess…why?"

"Well, where should we go?" he asked.

I opened my mouth to answer but before I could get my voice to work, he grabbed my hand and dragged me into a nearby alley. It wasn't completely desolate; people were flocking by the mouth of the alley in spurts.

"What the…"

"So, how do you want to work this?" His tone was agitated and rushed and I was glad that I had decided on the wedged sandals because they could do some serious damage to a nearby shin.

"Pardon me?" I asked.

"You know...how much for me to rip that skirt over your head and bend you over?"

I blinked at him and blurted out a ridiculous answer. "It's not a skirt…it's a skort."

He seemed puzzled by this. "It's a what?"

"A skort; you know, it looks like a skirt but really it's…"

"I don't give a shit what it is! How fucking much?" he said through his teeth.

My mouth fell open as I suddenly realized that he thought I was a hooker. That made me curious as to whether I would be considered a high price hooker or a skanky hooker. I didn't figure I'd ever have another opportunity to find out.

"How much would you give me?" I asked, tilting my head in question.

At first he looked at me as if he thought I was joking: Eyebrows scrunched together and lips pursed. After some consideration, he pulled back and gave me a once over. I sucked it in a bit and pushed my thighs together to make them seem slimmer.

"Uh…I'd give you thirty," he muttered.

I sucked in a breath. "Thirty!" I yelled and kicked at him a little with my wedge sandal. The thing was so fucking heavy that I barely got it off the ground. Good to know in case I really needed to use it as a weapon. "You'd only give me thirty bucks to-"

He shushed me and held out his hands in front of him as if I were the menacing one. "Okay…okay, how about seventy five."

"That's a little better, I guess," I grumbled. "You couldn't go five more dollars to make it eighty?"

His eyebrows twitched but he looked relieved. "Okay, eighty it is, then."

I hated to let him down but I couldn't let him believe that he was going to get laid for a measly eighty bucks. If everything cost more in New York, I guess in Seattle, my price would be half that. I was contemplating that as James moved toward me in a swaggering fashion.

"Uh…look, I hate to break it to you but-"

"I hate to break it to you too, sweetheart, but…" he whipped out a pair of handcuffs and slapped a link on my wrist. "You're under arrest."

The only logical thing to do at that point was to start laughing; like full out, bend at the waist guffaws. Guilty people don't laugh like that when they get arrested so that had to go in my favor.

"What's this one on?" another big dude asked as James dragged me out of the alley.

"Cocaine…Meth…who the fuck knows," he grumbled.

"Wait! Wait! I'm not who you think I am!" I shouted as a police car pulled up. It had its lights on and a siren blurted out shortly as it stopped. The gaggling girls stopped hopping and turned around to watch the exchange. I couldn't blame them, really; if it were me, I'd want to witness a real live arrest, too. "Really? Was the siren necessary?"

"Pipe down or we'll book you for solicitation and resisting," James said in my ear.

"I just wanted to see Edward Cullen," I said, giving it one last shot to prove my innocence. "I'm a big fan!"

He contorted his face into a grimace. "Who da fuck is Edward Cullen?"

Then he slammed the door in my face.

"Son of a…"

I spotted Rose, standing by the gaggle of girls looking confused. She turned in circles, looking for me in the crowd and clasping a cup of coffee in each hand. I didn't want to bang on the glass in case that would warrant some other charge. So, there I was with my face pressed somberly against the window, trying to send brain signals to Rose so she'd just fucking look at me.

I was driving away from my one chance to meet Edward Cullen.

It took two hours to get my fingerprints done, my picture taken and registered in the system. Then I was able to make my phone call to Rosalie who was conveniently already at the police station, attempting to file a Missing Persons Report.

"What the fuck, Bella?" she asked.

"Please bail me out, Rose," I begged. "I promise I'll pay you back."

"What happened?"

I sighed and told her the story.

"Eighty bucks? That's it? Did he see your tits?"

"I think he knew they were toilet paper," I mumbled. "You should have seen the looks on the Officer's faces when they searched me. I think they were sad for me."

She scoffed then said, "Yeah, sad that they didn't think of it first."

"So, are you going to get me out of here? There's a big woman in the back named Harriet and she's smiling at me all weird."

"Yeah, I'll be there in two seconds."

I scowled as I hung the phone on the receiver.

My Dad, Charlie, was a police chief in Forks, Washington and he was going to be pissed. I knew that he could pull some strings and get me out of this but I wasn't sure I wanted to spill the beans and ask for his help. That would be a pleasant conversation… "Yeah, Dad, they thought I was a hooker! Can you believe that?" Insert giggles and eye rolling. "Of course, I didn't do it! He only offered eighty bucks!"

An hour later, I was walking through the double doors of the precinct and down the concrete steps.

"Edward came out soon after I got back with the coffee," she told me. "His hair was all messy and he hadn't shaved in a few days."

"Just rub salt in my wound, why don't you, Rose?" I snapped.

"Hey, it's not my fault, you got yourself into that mess," she said. "Are you hungry?"

I rubbed my belly. "Starving."

We grabbed some hotdogs from a stand on the sidewalk and sat down on a bench. I scarfed one down in silence and started to unwrap my other one as I thought about the events of the day.

"Your hair still looks really good," Rose told me.

I smiled at her. "Thanks, girl, and thanks for bailing me out."

She shrugged a shoulder. "Hey, no problem; besides, I used my Dad's credit card. He'll shit when he sees that on his statement."

"Well, I guess this was a wasted trip," I grumbled. Rose started picking hot dog pieces out of her braces with her fingertips. "I'm sorry that I ruined the weekend."

She grinned around her fingers. "I haf un iea."

With my head tilted, I looked at her suspiciously. "What sort of idea?"

After the last of the hot dog bits had been successfully removed from her braces, she said, "You still want to meet Edward Cullen?"

"If this doesn't work or I get arrested, I'm giving up on this dream," I announced as we got out of the cab.

"It'll work," she said with a smirk. "Do you have the secret weapon?"

With my palm, I patted my pocket and grinned at her. "Got 'em."

We squirmed our way into the crowed restaurant and squeezed into a spot by the bar. With reluctance, I ordered Rum and Coke and Rose ordered a Martini. We bobbed our heads to the beat of the music and watched people push and shove their way through the crowd.

"Are you sure he's going to be here tonight?"

She whipped out her phone. "It says that he's already here. We just have to wait it out and we'll spot him somewhere."

"How accurate is that thing?"

She shrugged. "We'll see, I guess." She looked down at my chest. "You took the toilet paper out, didn't you?"

With a cringe, I nodded. "I don't think I'll look at skorts or toilet paper again in the same way. As comfortable as they are, I'm done with skorts. They're trouble magnets."

Rose laughed. "You'll have the black one on, come Monday."

I ignored her, partly because she was right. The black one was my favorite. Perhaps, I'd narrow it down to just a couple skorts in my wardrobe. That would make the traumatic memory of the trouble-magnet skorts to a minimum.

Unfortunately, we didn't see Edward Cullen anywhere in the bar and Rose suggested we get a couple more drinks to help loosen us up. With a grunt of disapproval, I ordered one but sipped on it slowly.

It wasn't a head banging bar where the music was so loud that it made your ears bleed nor was it a calming, like the Beatnik bar in Seattle that I had been to a couple of times. Men hunched over women, the women squeezed happily into the men and I suddenly became claustrophobic.

"I need some air, Rose," I said close to her ear. "I'm getting dizzy."

"I think there's a patio out back," she replied, pointing her finger toward the other side of the bar. "Hopefully, it won't be so packed."

We weaved between crowds of people, I stepped on a few toes and someone spilled their drink on my back (perhaps, one of the owners of the toes I had accidentally walked on) but we finally made our way to the back patio. As we opened the door, we were relieved to see it was empty.

"How is this empty?" I asked, taking in gulps of air. "I mean, that place is a madhouse and there's no one out here."

Rose sat her drink down and shrugged. "Maybe they know the elusive Edward Cullen is lurking somewhere inside and they're dying to get a glimpse."

I cursed. "That's where I should be if I really want to meet him."

"What would you say if he came out here right now and introduced himself?"

It was a good question; perhaps, one that I hadn't given enough thought to. As if preparing for such a meeting, I used both hands to pull my breasts up in my bra and crossed my legs. I wasn't wearing a skort or a skirt so I was safe no matter what position my legs were in but I still wanted to represent myself as a lady.

"I guess I would tell him my name and tell him how much I respect him as an actor. I would ask him for a picture or…"

Rose cut me off. "Blah blah blah….that's what every little squealing little fan girl says, Bella. You have to be unique and interesting."

"How the fuck am I supposed to do that?"

"Well, start off by winking to him after you tell him your name- real seductive and mysterious."

I practiced winking and my false eyelashes clung together for a second before I was able to open them. "How was that?"

"Uh…it was okay. You have time to practice that one," she told me then proceeded with her advice. "Next, is don't be afraid to casually touch him, you know? Like, lay and hand on his arm or rub his bicep."

I got a little heated as I imagined rubbing his bicep; all that hard muscle, bending and flexing underneath my palm.

"Bella, stay with me, girl."

After regaining my focus with a little headshake, I waved her on to continue.

"Then, you have to tell him about yourself in a manner that would interest him."

"That's a tough one." I chewed on my lip as I thought about what was interesting about me. I was from a small town in Washington. I liked to read and I loved music. I wore skorts and I had bad posture. "The most interesting thing about me is my recent arrest."

Rose shrugged. "Maybe he'd think it was funny."

"Do you think?"

"You know him better than I do," she replied.

I took a gulp of bravery in the form of rum as Rose smiled at me. A couple people came out onto the patio and headed toward the opposite end.

"I'm glad we did this, Bella. You're my best friend, you know that? I never could have gotten through my freshman year if it weren't for you." Her eyes were suddenly shiny in the light from the street lamp.

When Rose has started college, she had been fifty pounds overweight. Even though the extra pounds didn't define her, it made her feel like an outsider. I first spotted her in French Club, and we became fast friends as soon as we knew that the other one's favorite movie was Anne of Green Gables. Rose was a kindred spirit.

"I feel the same, Rose." My eyes had suddenly welled with my own tears and I waved my hand frantically in front of my face to keep them from falling. "I love you, girl."

She reached across the table and pulled me into a hug. "I love you, too."

The door opened to the patio again but it wasn't someone coming out; they were going in. There was a man on the other side, leaning against the balcony. He had on a beanie cap and was lighting up a cigarette. From his profile, I could tell it was him: Edward fucking Cullen. My eyes widened as I watched him inhale and exhale a cloud of smoke into the night sky.

"Holy shit! Rose, that's him!" I whispered excitably.

She turned slowly in her seat, took a quick peek then grabbed my hand. "Go talk to him!"

This was what I was waiting for and suddenly I was frozen to my seat. "I can't…move!"

Rose kicked me in the shin and I winced. "Woman up, Bella, and get over there!"

After I rose from my chair, I pulled the pack of cigarettes out of my pocket and opened them up. I gave one to Rose, who stared at it unresponsively.

"What do I say?" I hissed.

"Ask him for a light."

I rolled my eyes and glanced over at him. "Isn't that some sort of pickup line?"

She shooed me away with a sweep of her hand and I tried desperately to remember her advice as I sauntered over to him.

Wink…touch…conversation…wink…touch…conversation.

"Excuse me?" Oh fuck…that voice…that smooth voice that sent shivers up my body in a very perverted way.

"What?" I asked.

"You were saying something…I wasn't sure if you were talking to me or not," he said.

Oh, piss. I had been mumbling my wink-touch-conversation mantra out loud.

"Can I use your light?" I asked then added, "Forgot mine."

He reached into his pocket and said, "Sure."

When he gave it to me, our fingers brushed and my body jerked out a shiver. I glanced over at Rose and she was mimicking lighting up the lighter. As I held the lighter, I wished, just for a moment, that I had its life. Held in Edward's palm, struck so close to his mouth and stuffed into that pocket that was so close to his…

"Need help?" he asked, looking at the lighter.

An internal struggle built up inside my brain and I panicked like the almost-hooker that I was. "I was arrested today."

He raised his eyebrows and looked slightly bewildered. Momentarily, I was proud that I was the one to make him look like that. He'd never looked like that at any of his co-stars in the movies so I knew at once that it was a personal expression. In that moment, he wasn't acting.

"Is this a joke?" he asked, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"A joke?"

"Yeah, you know as in 'a priest, a rabbi and a car salesman walks into a bar' kind of joke." His eyes looked into mine with amusement but I got the feeling he was really seeing me. This wasn't a forced conversation on his part.

I was so tickled that I got confused. With the mantra chanting over and over in my head, I acted on impulse and I winked at him. My previous tears had molded into the mascara on the fake eyelashes, acting as a type of glue. I squinted as I managed to force it open to see the concern on Edward's face.

Before he could ask me if I was okay I pulled out a cigarette and lit it up. I'd never smoked before and it hadn't occurred to me in the slightest that this wasn't a good idea. As soon as I inhaled, the burn filled my lungs and I gagged out a puff of smoke.

"Are you okay?"

Instinctively, I reached out and grabbed onto his arm. I didn't have time to revel in the feel of it under my palm because I was busy trying to cough up my own lung. Rose cursed as I fell to the ground, hitting my head in the process on the railing then everything went black.

When my eyes opened, all I could make out was a face peering down at me. Even through the haziness of unconsciousness I could still make out the chiseled jaw and black beanie cap on his head. If I were brave, I would have run my fingers through his hair and my fingertip over his jaw line.

He smiled as I blinked my vision into focus. "There you are," he said. "Just lie there and they'll take care of you." I nodded and grinned dreamlessly back at him. "Can you let go of my arm?"

I looked down to see my hand still clutched around his forearm and I let go as if it had caught fire. "Sorry."

The laugh that came from him was like music. "It's okay. Take care of yourself, okay?"

He rose from beside me and was replaced by an EMT who poked at my head with a gloved hand. I was in pain but funny thing was that I couldn't really feel it.

Rose took my hand as they pushed my gurney into the ambulance. "It's not every day that you get to ride in two cars that have sirens."

I sighed and smiled at her. "This is the best. Day. Ever."

A/N: How dorky am I? Please review and let me know what you think. Thank you for reading!