Disclaimer: Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer

Chapter 1

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The noise sounded deafening in the deserted diner. As I looked around, taking in the worn red booths and the scuffed tabletops, I sighed. Working into the wee hours of the morning on a weeknight never boded well for good tips or remaining conscious. It also allowed time for my mind to wander which was never a good thing…

I sighed again. My manager, Esme, was hoping to become the hip spot that the college kids went to after a night of studying or a night of drinking. So far it hadn't caught on.

I mentally calculated how long it would be before I was home in my apartment curled up under my comforter. 46 minutes if I jogged the several blocks to my place, quickly brushed my teeth, stripped down and fell into bed.

"Bella? You can head out if you've done your side work."

Since my side work had been done for the last hour, I breathed out a sigh of relief. "Esme, you are a saint. Have I told you how much I adore you today?"

Esme just smiled fondly and shooed me out the door telling me she would see me tomorrow.

Unlocking the door with a satisfying click, I entered the quiet space. This was odd. It was never this quiet. Between the three of us, there was always music playing or trashy TV on in the background. I tossed my keys on the side table and headed for the kitchen.

There asleep on her Psychology book was one of my roommates, Alice. She was still for once, only the slight movement from her steady breathing. This was quite the change of pace from her usual vibrations. I swear, that girl never stopped moving when she was awake.

I set down my bag on the chair next to her and turned to the fridge to pull out a beer. Settling down and propping my feet up on the seat next to me, I popped the top and nudged Alice's shoulder.

"Alice… Al, time to wake up," I said in a soothing voice. No joy. "Al, the house is on fire," I tried again with slightly more urgency. "Al, is it okay for me to mix stripes and plaids?" I heard a grumble from her under her arm. Now we're getting somewhere. "What about this brown belt? Can I wear it with my black lacy top?"

"Are you crazy?" she screeched. "Bell, you are the most fashion illiterate person…" she trailed off, realizing that I was just ribbing her. She blinked her big eyes at me trying to figure out where she was and what time it was.

"Don't worry, Alice. After almost 3 years of living with you, I'm better trained than that." I smiled at her coyly. "Trying to study through osmosis again?" I indicated the drool mark on the tattered text book.

"I have an exam on Friday and Jasper kept me up too late last night." She wiggled her eyebrows at me. "We got in quite a work out." She giggled.

"Oh yeah? You try out that new move we were reading about in Cosmo?" I piped in, goading her.

"Definitely, although it was complicated getting my feet up…"

I took that moment to glance at the clock. "Sorry, Al. As much as I love over-sharing, I am beat. Rain check?"

She just wiggled her eyebrows at me again and wished me sweet dreams.

I chuckled to myself as fell face first into bed, thoroughly exhausted from the day. Too exhausted for my thoughts to creep forward. Just like I like it. Mentally reviewing if I had set my alarm clock, I drifted off to sleep.

Creative Writing was one of my favorite classes on my course load right now. I enjoyed the creative process of writing short stories and poetry. The zing of getting your ideas down on paper, of giving birth to something that was entirely yours.

I did not enjoy sharing in front of a room full of strangers.

The last 20 minutes of today's class was devoted to sharing our writing and allowing for constructive criticism. I declined.

As we were dismissed, Mr. Henkel was passing back the previous assignment with marks and notes for revision. As he handed me mine, he looked me in the eye. "Nicely done, Bella. Quite a lot of raw emotion here. I would love to have you share some time."

That was not going to happen, but I smiled at him weakly hoping he'd take it as a maybe. I gathered up my bag and shuttered at the thought of bearing my soul to the class. My short story had been about the disastrous aftermath of the death of a child told from the point of view of the father. Not going to happen, I repeated to myself. I closed my eyes for a moment to control and push down the mental anguish that threatened to come forth. I took a breath. Moving on.

I strolled across campus, ear-buds in, as my latest playlist filled my head with sound. I was off to meet Rose, my other roommate, for lunch. Spring was just starting to show herself, but there was still a crispness to the air that told me winter wasn't quite finished yet. Of course, spring on campus meant that Rush and Pledging was just around the corner. I couldn't wait to snicker at stupid freshman so desperate to belong that they'd do almost anything.

The Grill, as everyone called it, had changed hands and names more that I could count in my short time here. The food, however, remained constant. It was good and cheap and located a block from the quad. During the day and evening, it was a family friendly establishment with a variety of dining choice. After a certain time of night, the college students and 20-somethings took over. They even had $2 burger baskets and $1 drafts on Thursdays. Every college student's dream. Full and drunk for under ten bucks.

I caught Rose's profile as I entered and headed over to the booth. She tossed her long blonde hair over her shoulder and eyed a table of frat boys with disdain. "Hey Rose," I said lightly.

Her face warmed immediately. "Hey kid!" echoing the nickname my annoying cousin had for me. She had obviously been spending way too much time with him. Well, they were practically engaged, so I suppose that was acceptable.

I growled back at her in annoyance. She just chuckled at me. "Emmett is a bad influence on you," I muttered darkly.

She smiled wider. "You only have yourself to blame. You did introduce us after all."

My frown finally broke into a grin as this old repartee resurfaces. "More to your detriment than mine, I think," I said smiling smugly. She may love him, but Emmett is a lot to handle sometimes.

"So, what's new?" she asked looking down at her menu.

"Same old. Diner's been slow lately. My English classes are kicking my ass. Too much reading. Too many papers."

"What'd you expect? You're an English Lit Major." She stretched it out and enunciated it like I was a little slow on the uptake. I rolled my eyes at her.

"No one ever said I was the sharpest tool in the shed."

Just then, the waiter came to take our orders. He tried to flirt a little with Rose, but went to enter our orders after getting the cold shoulder. "What's new with you?" I asked. "How is my wayward cousin?"

She got a slightly faraway look in her eye as she answered. "He's good. Actually, he got a new roommate, thank God."

The saga of Emmett's old roommate was a slightly hilarious, mostly horrifying tale. Apparently, he found religion. Don't get me wrong, I have faith. I believe in right and wrong. I do not, however, take to leaving pamphlets about my apartment about how to save your soul and why alcohol is the devil's juice, or explain to my roommate's girlfriend that she is a harlot that is going straight to the bowels of hell for her multiple sins. Nor did I take to crossing myself and leaving the room whenever said sinner entered it. Needless to say, Emmett has been on a mission to find a new roommate, pronto.

"Oh, fantastic! Is he sane?" What? That's a valid question, right?

"He seems normal enough. Plus, he's lick-able," she stated indifferently. I arched an eyebrow at her.

"Really? Above gorgeous and scrumptious?" We had a scale worked out after several years of objectifying men. "What's his name?"

"Edward. He's a grad student and he works over in the Psych office. Maybe Alice knows him."

My mind pondered this new information as our lunches arrived. If he was Emmett's roommate, that probably made him persona non grata, even if he was lick-able on the hotness scale. Guys always seemed to get clingy after I told them about my dating policies. Maybe I'd have to feel him out. Feel him. Now there's an idea.

"Friday, we're all going out to the bars. You're coming," she declared, leaving no room for argument. I held up my hands in surrender. At least, I had Friday to look forward to because this week was already starting to wear on me. I wonder if he really is lick-able…