Edward's POV

"Bartender!" I yelled, banging hard on the wooden countertop. "Hey, I need another shot over here!"

"Just a second, sir!" he called back, wiping a spill.

I sighed. After having been stood up by a woman for the first time in my life and getting lost in Central Park South this afternoon, I shouldn't have to wait for a damn drink. I had been through enough already. I felt my head starting to buzz though, something I should have expected after drowning my sorrows for a good three hours. I was about ready to leave, but at the same time I wanted to get as drunk as possible and pass out on the floor. That would make me happy, but it would definitely be unprofessional. And that was not something Edward Cullen was.

"BARTENDER!" I bellowed.

"Alright!" he relented. "You really should take it easy, Mr. Cullen." He poured the drink and topped it off with some soda water.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'll stop when I start to feel happy. I'm still about five drinks away." I gulped down half of it and banged it down against the table. Dear God, what the fuck am I doing with my life?

Why the hell was I letting one stupid girl standing me up get me so upset? Maybe because I had never been in this situation before in my life. I stood girls up, not the other way around. What happened this time? Maybe she was running late at work and forgot to call?

I placed my pounding head on my arm, wishing I were drunk enough to sleep. How long did it take for me to start slurring? I sure as hell wasn't there yet. I was still in my right mind too, that was frightening. I kept my head down, afraid to face the world. I could have stayed in that position until the bar closed.

"Can I get one Jack Daniels topped with soda water?" someone asked from beside me.

The voice was so soft and gentle. It could only belong to a woman. I couldn't resist a peek. I lifted my head and saw the girl who had taken a seat next to me by herself. She was pretty. Not blond-bombshell porno pretty, but in a more subtle way. Her hair was brown and fell down in long tendrils to her waist. She was light-skinned and not busty or curvy; in fact she was just skin and bones. There was nothing about her that defined her as attractive or particularly interesting.

I was about to look away with disinterest when she suddenly turned to face straight ahead. Her lips were red and full. Her cheekbones were high and prominent in the angle of the light and her eyes were a pretty brown color. The strange thing was; she wasn't plain at all. I thought of the last girl I went out with. She was blond with shoulder-length blond hair and the most annoying voice I had ever heard. This girl's voice was pretty and gentle, even if it was a little hoarse.

"Here you are, ma'am," the bartender said as he put her drink in front of her.

"Thank you."

She sipped at it absentmindedly and I sat up straight, attempting to improve my appearance. I knew I must look like shit, but I didn't let that stop me from speaking. Maybe I was drunk after all.

"Good evening, miss." My voice was rugged and formal and showed no hint f the amount of alcohol I had consumed today.

She looked at me, one perfectly shaped eyebrow tilting upwards. "Hey," she greeted. She turned back to her drink, not even feigning interest.

I coughed. I wasn't used to rejection. "That's a strong drink for such a young lady," I noted.

"You're not my father," she spat back. "Not that I ever listened much to him. And I had a bad day."

"You too, huh?" I asked, grasping at edges.

She turned her chair so that her whole torso faced me. she was wearing a little black dress that just barely covered half of her thin thigh and it showed off her average, but perky, boobs.

"When I came in here, you looked suicidal, what with your head on the counter. Why the sudden mood-change?"

I laughed. "I guess I'm just in dire need of someone to talk to. I've been lonely today."

"Cry me a fucking river," she muttered, gulping down most of her drink. "There's no way you could top my story."

"Wanna bet?" I asked. "I just found out that a girl I've been asking out for the last year stood me up for no apparent reason. I came here hoping to get drunk but it's not really working."

She rolled her eyes. "You mean, you're here because a girl stood you up? That doesn't sound too bad, you know."

"I've never been stood up before. I've never even been denied a date since high school," I said.

"Would you like a round of applause?" she asked sarcastically. "I, on the other hand, just got fired from my job, my car refuses to start and I lost my purse somewhere on the subway. The only good thing was that it was practically empty." She grimaced, finishing her drink.

"You win," I laughed, taking another big sip of my drink.

"We don't see much of your type down in this area," she commented, crossing her legs.

"My type?" I ask skeptically.

She nods. "Mm-hm. You can tell a lot about a man by the way he looks, you know."

"Alright," I said, playing along. I sat up straighter and turned to face her. "What does my look say about me tonight?"

She analyzed me for a short second before sighing. "That you're a guy with rich parents, but works to make a good living himself. You're a little uptight but looking for a well-deserved break. You feel as though you've never been good enough, and you spend your life trying to prove yourself worthy." She shrugs. "Personally, I think it's a waste."

"What are you talking about?"

"Why spend life trying to please someone else? Then you're not living for you, you're living for them."

I blinked a few times, then chuckled breathily. "Wow."

"How did I do?" she asks.

"Hit the nail on the head." I sipped my drink again and looked up at her. "You think I could try analyzing you?"

"You'd never get it right," she said.

"What makes you so sure?" I challenge.

"Because," she sighed, "I'm complicated."

"I doubt that's really the case," I say. "You are . . . a fun-loving girl. Always up for a challenge. Not shy—definitely not shy—and are probably really mean when you want to be."

"I'm not mean, I'm honest," she laughs.

"I'm honest," I tell her. "There's a difference."

She gulps down the last of her drink and I can see she's preparing to leave.

"Say, you wanna get some coffee sometime. Maybe some dinner?" I ask her.

She shakes her head. "Trust me, you don't wanna do that."

"Listen," I confide, staring into her big, innocent eyes. "You're the best thing that's happened to me all week. If it weren't for me talking to you now, I might have been plotting my suicide as I drive back. Please, let me take you out?"

She smiled wistfully. "I really enjoyed talking to you. But I'm nothing but trouble and you don't need that extra baggage."

"Everyone has baggage." I rolled my eyes.

"No, everyone has a carry-on, maybe a small suitcase. I have heavy baggage. You know, the you-can't-pack-it-on-the-plane-without-paying-the-extra-fine kind of baggage." She chuckled and turned to the bartender. "I'm ready to pay."

"I'll get that," I told her.

"Well, it is the least you could do after I talked you out of your depressed suicide planning," she said sarcastically. Then she stood up. "Maybe I'll see you again sometime. Thanks for the drink." She walked halfway across the room before turning back. "Oh, and I hope things work out with your lady-friend!" She laughed darkly.

I nod and watch her leave. "I suppose our hopes differ then," I mutter, turning to the bartender. "Give me the check." He nods.

"You must really like this one, sir," he notes, setting the piece of paper on the table.

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, you've had girls in and out of this joint for years. You've never actually paid for their drink before."

I stared at him. Could he be right? Possibly.

"She is a pretty one, though," he said.

I nod in agreement, then slap my forehead in frustration. "Damn it!"

"What's wrong, sir?"

"I didn't get her number!"

I sprinted out of the seat and rushed out of the door. But she was gone. She must have called a cab. Why hadn't I offered to take her home? How could I be so stupid?

I sighed and slumped to my car. I got into my silver Volvo and started driving out of the parking lot. There goes the one good thing I had experienced all day. I had to see her around sometime, right? Yes, it wasn't that big a city. I would run into her eventually. She got to this bar without a car, didn't he? So she couldn't live far away from here. I would just wait. That's all. Things would eventually go my way. Things always went my way.