A/N:

Alrighty you guys, this my first story EVER. Twilight related at least. (I'll give a prize if you can find my other account from forever ago). I've been itching to write something for the past coupla weeks and here is the end result. The idea just came to me.

Anywho, I want to give a shout out to ATHPluvr, for beta-ing and supporting me. And Chicklette, for making me feel unlonely in the Twiverse and for being such amazing inspiration.

So…. READ.

Why had I gone out with them? I looked up above my head, seeing Rose and Alice dancing with their hands above their heads and their shame (apparently) out the window. This was also of course, my fault because I, Isabella Swan, egged them on. The guys were cheering and screaming and their dates looked on with disgust and envy. I sucked on my Coke and Rum below them. I guess this was also how it's always been, me below them, holding their coats and purses, and if I didn't stop them soon, I would be holding their panties as well. I crawled up to the top of the bar and put my arms out.

"Alright guys," I shouted to the ever increasing crowd, "Show's over. It is way past the ladies' bedtime." I turned around and grabbed them both by the elbow, attempting to drag them down to the floor.

"Oh Bellerrr," Alice drunkenly shouted in her Drunk British Accent. This was normal. It only got un- normal when Rose started to talk in a Russian accent and call herself Vanya. That's when I knew somebody needed to vomit it all out and go the fuck to bed.

"Don't be such a party pooper!" Alice cried while attempting to fling herself around in a circle, but just ended drunkenly flailing around for a bit before actually taking a tumble from the bar and falling spread eagle on the ground, much to my chagrin and the audience's delight. She shamelessly giggled and covered herself up like a naughty school girl.

"Nyet! Nyet!" I heard Rose cry as a guy tried to put his hand up her skirt. I walked away from the now half asleep Alice on the ground and stood in front of the scary guy and looked directly at him while sticking my arm out for Rose to grab at the same time. She helped herself down as I continued to stare down the creep and mustered an "excuse me", while helping Rose walk back towards Alice's resting place. I knelt down next to Alice and shook her awake, wondering how I always got myself into these situations.

Thirty minutes later, we're in a cab, heading up West Broadway. Well, more along the lines of I am in a cab, because I am the only one who will remember it in the morning, Rose and Alice passed out as soon as their heads hit their respective windows.

This was how it's always been. Rosalie Hale, prom queen and school tease had been best friends with me since the sandbox days. In 7th grade, Alice moved to Forks, Washington and completed our little trifecta. We were all very different girls, from very different backgrounds. Rose's mom was a former actress who liked to believe she was still the shit. Alice's parents were ultra religious dentists who raised Alice to believe there was no way but the God way. When she met us that changed pretty quick.

And what about me? Bella Swan, well, I moved to Forks after my mother died when I was 5. I lived with my father, Charlie, the Police Chief of our little town.

Life in Forks was boring. So the girls and I decided to look for some excitement in our lives and we all applied to NYU.

We all got in and now share a teeny, teeny two bedroom a good four blocks away from campus.

This was the beginning of the summer I was 21. Ever since we all turned the big 2 – 1, Rose and Alice had picked up the habit of doing the things we'd secretly been doing since we were 15 in public. And though entertaining for a while, you eventually need to get them down.

I've, of course, had my moments as well, but I never remember after the horrendous hangover. I've asked them to tell what I've done, but they always laugh really hard as they recall my behavior and then tell me I "wouldn't want to know".

And I don't. Sorta.

Tomorrow, we started our summer jobs. We were referred by our professors to a big name studio who hired us to assist certain members of their crew for a romantic comedy they were shooting this summer, "Pretty Lies". I tried to read the script but I felt very numb mid way through and couldn't continue.

Rose was working in the Costume Department (of course), Alice was the assistant to the film's star Jessica Stanley, and I was working with the fantastic Esme Platt. Esme had done the soundtracks for tons and tons of films. She sits there and composes with all of her heart and mind and puts more passion into music than anyone I've ever met in the industry. I met with her last week, and she was just as amazing as her music choices.

Enough with background information: onto the present.

We arrived at our cozy (teeny) walk up at about 1:30. I took money out of both Rose's and Alice's wallets and paid the cab driver his fee. Payback for making me drag their sorry asses home. I somehow managed to coax them up the stairs, and as soon as they hit their pillows, they were out.

They shared a room, while I got my own. Compensation for nights like these and the fact that the other room had a bigger closet also helped seal the deal.

I collapsed onto my bed, wondering how this summer was going to work out. Kicked off my heels and pulled down my jeans.

I thought for about 30 seconds more before falling into complete unconsciousness.

We had to wake up early. Early early. I stumbled out of bed, walked into the kitchen (more like a closet) and put the coffee on. While it was making itself nice and caffeine- like, I got dressed and attempted to wake them up.

"Oh My God, you guys," I shouted. Nothing.

"Wake the fuck up before I throw the only pair of Louboutins you may ever own out the window!"

Oh, whaddya know. They woke up.

"Belllllaaaa. Whhhy do you do this to me?" Alice whispered yelled while covering her face with her pillow.

"Yeaaahhh…" Rose sleepily agreed.

"Ok, you guys, fine, you may stay in your beds on our first day of work, but do not blame me if you get fired," I said while walking out of the room. Ten minutes later, they were both halfheartedly dressed and their faces looked like someone was going to have to hold cups underneath them to catch the drool. I looked at them with dismay; they could do so much better than this.

"Oh you guys, it hurts to look at you guys like this. Remember I said, today is the first day of the rest of our lives!" I said with a cheesy salesperson voice and smile. Ten more minutes and two coffee cups later, they came out a little better dressed and made up. They looked a little less hung over, and after a cup of coffee, they were even better.

We some how made it down to the subway station and climbed aboard the E train.

Subway rides were my second favorite thing about New York. You just got so many different people in this tiny little thing and they all just dealt with each other for a couple of minutes. No judgment. Just tired eyes getting back from work, looking out the window wondering what'll be on the table tonight.

Or wondering what their thesis should be about.

Ah shitfuck.

My thesis.

I would have to get started on it some time next year, when we were seniors. Ever since day one of freshman year, the thing loomed over my head like the most ominous cloud in EVER.

It's not as if I didn't know what I wanted to major in (Film Technician/Music Supervision), it was more along the lines of all the fucking things to write about, how do you write just one thing? I didn't know. Maybe I'll know after this summer's over.

As we climbed the steps heading towards the studio/warehouse in which most of the movie was being filmed, we talked about our worries and hopes for today.

"What the hell does the assistant of a movie star do anyway?" Alice wondered as we fast walked closer and closer to the studio.

"You fetch her Low Fat Soy Mocha Latte with a side of bitch- fit and daddy didn't love me. Then you hold her hair back, while she uses a toothbrush to gag herself. You also get the lovely job of arranging her schedule, which consists of 'film, film, club, bed, arrive late, film, film, cluuubbbb, bed, vomit'," Rose replied as she lit up her American Spirit.

"Not all celebrities are stereotypes." Alice said.

"We're not talking about celebrities," I said, smiling.

"We're talking about Jessica fucking Stanley," Rose said, post exhale, "everyone and their mom has tapped that."

Alice smiled.

"You guys are such bitches."

"Alright ladies," Alice said as she grabbed the door handle to the studio, "As, a lovely lady once told me, today is the first day of the rest of our lives."

And she was right.

One Hour and 2 Cups Of Coffee Later…

Esme Platt is flipping her shit.

With all due right.

Our main pianist isn't here. And he should have been here 45 minutes ago.

"We cannot, I repeat, cannot score a romantic fucking comedy without a fucking pianist!" She screamed while slamming down on the top of the baby grand.

"Ok, Esme, listen, do you know who might have his number? I can give him a call and see where the hell he is," I said, in a sad excuse to calm her down.

"Thank you, Bella, but obviously this prick doesn't understand how tight of a schedule we're working under." Esme said, before leaving to go take another cigarette break.

15 minutes later and all the violins and cellos were about as tuned as they could possibly be.

Another 10 minutes later, the door opened, but it wasn't Esme.

He was an impossibly pretty boy. With impossibly messy hair. And impossibly pretty eyes. Motherfucker.

"Sorry, I'm late. I guess Vanity Fair after parties aren't for the weak of heart," nameless pretty boy said, with a douchebag smirk. Fuck him.

Nobody spoke or moved.

That asshole, not only is he an hour and 10 minutes late, he's rubbing his elite-ness in the face of the whole fucking orchestra. Esme chose that perfect time to barge in and slice through the awkward silence.

"Who the fuck are you?!" She screamed at Still Unidentified Pretty Boy.

"I'm the pianist, Edward Masen. I woke up late, sorry I didn't quite make it on time," Now Identified Pretty Boy said, obviously trying to charm his way out of trouble.

Esme wasn't buying it.

"If you pull a stunt like that again, Mr. Masen, I will kick your ass off of this movie and make sure you never get another job in this business again. I don't care how hard you party or whatever the hell you did the night before. You are here. Everyday. On time." She looked at him with disgust and just plain rage.

"Yes, ma'am." He replied, trying not to seem as scared as he actually was.

Some moments in life are just priceless.

After 6 hours of recording and following Esme around like a lapdog, I found myself alone in the studio for a bit, while everyone else took a break.

I lay down on the dirty floor of the carpet and thought about all the people who had recorded here. I don't know who they were, but I'm sure there were amazing ones.

The Pretty Boy popped into my head. He was intense when he was playing. All sound, no noise. He had a lock of hair that always fell in front of his face while he was playing.

Then, I heard a noise. The door creaked open and I sat up slowly. I saw a pair of Gray Converse underneath the baby grand and realized it was PB. I stood up slowly, and watched as he started to sit down on the bench.

"Oh Holy Shit!" He yelled as he saw me. "You scared the shit out of me," he said while looking at me.

I stared at him quizzically. I did this to people I wanted to confuse.

"Edward Masen." He said and stuck his hand out. I took it, his hand was warm and slightly damp (most likely from me spooking him).

"Bella Swan." I said and shook his hand curtly.

You dislike him, I thought to myself.

Suddenly, that shit eating grin of his was back as he felt my hand.

"You know, you're pretty cute. I saw this woman at a Nylon party the other night who looked-"

I slipped my hand out of his before he could continue.

"Oh. Fuck you."

And that was the beginning.