"Bella."

"Yeah?", I looked up from my sketchbook and glanced over at my best friend, sprawled Cleopartra-like at the foot of my bed, complete with grapes and everything.

"I've been staring at you for the past five minutes," she said, popping a grape into her mouth.

"And?" I asked, emptying two hours' worth of pencil shavings into the trash can.

"You, my friend, have pretty decent legs."

"So?"

"So, I think you should wear shorts more."

"Uh, I should think not, Rose." I took one last look at my messy sketch and snapped the book closed.

"Yeah? And why's that?" She sat up, pulling her hair back into a ponytail.

"Because, I'm a hairy gal and this hairy gal thinks there are infinitely more interesting things to do than shaving your legs. " I finished, getting off the bed and putting the stationary away.

"Boo!", she yelled and threw a grape right at my head. "And you'd think people who're blessed with nice legs would use them."

"Well, you do the "using" part well enough for all the boys of this town." I snickered, looking over at her impeccable figure, clad in denim shorts and a large t-shirt. Her hair was loose and wild all around her face.

"You checkin' me out, woman?" She asked, her laughter ending in a snort.

I leaned over to her side of the bed and whispered ,"I didn't know how to tell you,Rose. But I do find you.. …what's that word?...irresistable."

Rose did her best gagging impression. I had to laugh. She grasped my arms and sat me down next to her.

"Well, since you're my best friend, I might do you a favor and sleep with you. But, me thinks you should save the flirting for Nerdward." She said, patting my head.

"What?" I spluttered, alarmed. I could feel the goddamn blush coming, and I fought the urge to hide under the pillow.

"Edward Cullen," she breathed, swooning right into my lap. "Oh, how I pine for your freckly face and retainer teeth. You do not know how it turns me on when you solve those math problems on the board."

"Tha- wha- I don't even- ", I choked, refusing to believe that this was actually happening. I'd done my best to keep it my pathetic little secret. How did she know?

She looked up at my blotchy, horror struck face and grinned a wide grin. "Oh, honey. You seriously didn't think I wouldn't notice, did you? I've caught you staring at him quite an embarrassing number of times, lady."

"Shit." I mumbled, slumping back onto the bed and finally stuffing my head under the pillow. I tried my best to ignore Rosalie ROFLing all over the carpet.

I tried my best not to peek over to my right and focused on the various paraphernalia Miss Webber had assembled on the desk at the front of the room. I picked up my pencil and started sketching the contours of the lamp, the fire extinguisher and the abacus. But, establishing my character as a woman of limited will power, I looked over at the boy sitting ahead of me to my right. He was clearly struggling; I could make out the shabby lines over his hunched-over frame. I could tell that the objects in his sketch were way out of proportion, and so could Miss Webber, who walked over to his easel and pointed out what he was doing wrong. I heard a low "Thank you", and she walked away again. I watched him run his hand through his hair. Pale, slender fingers and gorgeous auburn hair in all its messy glory.

I realized my mouth was slightly open. I called myself various bad names, turned towards my sketch and started moving my pencil furiously over the paper.

As soon as I heard the bell, I turned my sketch in, earning an appreciative smile and a "Very good, Swan. You're miles better already."

I grabbed my bookbag and rushed to the door at the same time Edward Cullen decided to leave. We bumped shoulders at the door, making me drop my pencil case.

"Oh. Shit. Sorry." He apologized and quickly bent down to get it. I was still frozen from the bodily contact from 2 seconds ago, that I was still staring at him when he straightened up and handed me the case. I realized I'd never seen him this close before. His nose and cheeks were absolutely claimed by freckles. His eyes were a really beautiful green.

"Uh, your sketch was great." He said, voice all soft and shy. He flashed a smile, exposing his retainers. And just as soon , the self-consciousness that comes with wearing a retainer showed up and closed up his mouth.

I saw him coming to the conclusion that I was speech impaired and started to walk down the hall, with a "Bye. Math class."

I stood there for two more minutes, feeling like I'd been hit on the head.

God, I was so screwed.