Yes, I changed my name from WallFlowerPower.

Ch. 1: Spring Training

I wanted to be in Arizona so bad. I was actually sort of wishing my mother and her husband, Phil, would invite me down for a while. During the year they lived in Phoenix, but right now Phil was working with the young guys in the baseball spring training camp of the Cincinnati Reds—the best baseball team on Earth, in my opinion. They hadn't won a Championship in years. But after growing up in Phoenix, moving to Forks, Washington my junior year of highschool to be with my dad, and finally ending up in Cincinnati, Ohio, I had developed a passion for baseball.

The beginnings of the passion were harvested at a young age. Charlie was always an ardent baseball fan, mostly for his hometown Mariners. Before he and Renee split and when I used to visit him after the divorce, he always took me to the Forks High School baseball games, and once to a Seattle Mariners game. Then mom started dating Phil, and he took us to the Reds spring training complex in Goodyear, Arizona. Phil was originally from Cincinnati and told me the almost magical history of the team—how it was the first ever professional baseball team, how the city revolves around its baseball, and everything in between. He even took my mother and I to a Reds Opening Day. That's when he proposed to her... and when I fell deeply in love with both the Reds and the City.

I tried to go to the University of Cincinnati for college, but the University of Washington offered me such a fantastic scholarship package that I couldn't say no. They literally paid me to go to college all four years. After double-majoring in English and Business Administration, I packed my whole life up to take a job as an administrator for the Hamilton County Public Library System in Cincinnati, Ohio. Finally.

Now 23, I had been on the job for six months. Being in the offices running this particular library system was much more complicated than I had anticipated. I had no idea when I started that Hamilton County had the largest circulation of books in the country—you would think that would be somewhere like New York City. But no. I had learned a lot of pleasant things about Cincinnati that no one would ever guess.

The job paid enough, but I wasn't exactly living the high life in the Current at the Banks apartments or anything. I lived in the Garfield Tower Apartments over The Shakespeare Company, a great local theater, and Paint it Black Studio and Salon, owned by a man who had quickly become one of my best friends in Cincinnati, Jacob Black. My apartment was a really pathetically small studio, but it was all I could afford.

One Saturday morning I walked into Jacob's studio for a haircut. I only worked Monday-Friday and generally spent my weekend with Jacob or Alice. Besides my co-workers, I didn't know a lot of people in Cincinnati yet.

"Bella!" Jacob called when I walked in the studio. He rushed over to me and dramatically kissed both cheeks.

Did I mention that Jake is almost too gay to function?

"Hey Jake," I laughed, brushing the stray strands of chestnut brown hair out of my face. It was windy outside, and chilly. The temperature had fluctuated between 75 and sunny to 45 and windy in the past few weeks—a typical Cincinnati spring. This week seemed to be a cold week.

"Oh. My. God. I can't believe I let your ends get this bad! Come. Sit down. We'll fix it." Jake's giant form ushered me further into the wood-and-gold salon and pushed me into the shampooing chair.

Jacob Black was the son of a friend of my father's, Billy Black. When Jake came out at age 16, Billy was furious. He couldn't stand having his only son be gay. Jake ended up at vocational school to be a cosmetologist during high school and came home every night to either silence or the absolute minimum required for two people to live in the same house. He moved when I was in college. In truth I forgot about Jacob a little, and didn't even know he was in Cincinnati until Charlie told me. Apparently Jake and Billy were on slightly better terms. They spoke, but Billy still largely ignored the fact that Jake was gay.

"Are we doing anything but a cut today, Bella-boo?" Jake asked, forcing my head back and starting to wash it out. I laughed. He was always so enthusiastic... which may explain why his salon had boomed so greatly and been one of the biggest cosmetic businesses in downtown by the time Jake and I reunited. He didn't work there much anymore except for huge clients, preferring to take the time to work on the business end of things, but always made sure he took my appointments.

"You can do my eyebrows," I sighed begrudgingly. I was very persistent on my very first visit—my eyebrows were fine, I didn't need them waxed. But a few more appointments, and I saw all the gorgeous women who came in to be glamorized by Jake, and I gave in.

"Need anything else waxed, Bellarina?" he asked suggestively. "Just say the word and we'll set you up with one of the girls..."

"No, Jake," I growled. He dug his fingers a little deeper into my scalp. "Ow! Jeeze, you don't have to mutilate me just because I won't let you wax every hair on my body!"

He merely sighed and mumbled something under his breath before getting back to work. As he worked over me I found myself observing the studio and Jake. He was tall, well over 6'6, and had dark Quileute skin and short black hair, with huge brown puppy-dog eyes and eyelashes to kill for. He was a catch. I knew more than one girl had been broken-hearted upon finding out his sexual orientation. Hell, if we weren't childhood friends and he wasn't gay, I'd probably go for him too. Jake accidentally led on girls more than he knew, being as he only acted hardcore femininely gay half the time or so.

When my hair was clean he helped me flip up and cover it in a towel without getting any on my clothes, even if it was only a Reds t-shirt and jeans. It didn't work all the way and he had to take a rag to my brown eyes to keep the water from burning them, but soon enough I found myself at his favorite station with scissors snipping all around.

"So Bella, sweetheart, tell me about life. I haven't seen you all week! How's Mikey at the office?"

He was teasing me. Mike Newton worked as an accountant for Hamilton County. We worked in the same city building, and it felt like I would never cross paths with him if he wouldn't practically stalk me.

"Actually, I'm commemorating a special event in our relationship," I giggled. Jake's scissors stilled.

"Really? Do tell."

I looked up at him, trying to contain my laughter. "Today marks the fiftieth time Mike has asked me out."

Jake barked out short laughter and started clipping again. "And I'm guessing it's also the fiftieth time you've told him no, hmm?"

"Oh I went a little beyond a no this time."

Jake froze again and put his hand under my chin to look me in the face. "Isabella, you didn't."

I burst out laughing. "Today we progressed from a no to a HELL no."

Jake laughed and started cutting again. "My gawd, child, you almost gave me a heart attack! Next time don't tease me when I have scissors in my hand, or I night just snip a little too much off."

"Oh, Jake, you wouldn't."

"True. I wouldn't. You know how I love your hair." He ran his fingers through my brown locks. "Now look in the mirror and tell me if the length's right."

I looked in the fancy, gold-rimmed, brightly lit mirror and blinked. My hair had never looked so good as when I had Jake start to do it. It framed my face perfectly, even wet, and made my dull brown eyes pop with vibrant color.

"It's a masterpiece, as usual," I said dryly.

"Lovely, doll, now let me dry and style you."

"Not too much styling," I siad, shaking my finger at him. "I don't want products running out of my hair when I get in the shower."

"Whatever you say, Bella-boo," he said without really paying me any attention, as per usual. I sighed as he attacked me with his hair dryer.

A little less than an hour later my eyebrows were waxed, my hair was perfected and I was ready to leave. Jake took his long lunch and came with me out to fountain square, where we ordered some Skyline to go and ate it on the tables. I was wolfing down my 3-way of Chili, spaghetti and cheese while Jake attacked the four coneys he ordered.

"So, did you ever get Opening Day tickets?" Jake asked, mouth full. I gave him a repremanding look and swallowed before answering.

"Unfortunately, no, and I don't think I can afford to buy them if their not team-direct."

"Oh really?" Jake gave me a sly look and pulled out his wallet. I watched curiously as he pulled out three slips of paper and handed them to me. "Give it a look-see."

I looked down at the paper and nearly gagged on my Sprite. "Holy... Jacob Black, where in the name of God did you get these?"

Sitting in front of me were two Red-and-White tickets with the Reds four best players in various active stances printed on them. They were tickets for Thursday, April 5, 2012 at Great American Ball Park—Reds Opening Day tickets.

"Darling, you should never doubt my abilities. I got three, I figure you can take me and the Pixie if you want."

"Of course I want!" I jumped out of my seat, practically knocking the table over in the process, which a laughing Jake steadied as I attacked him in a hug. "Oh my God, Jake, you're the best!"

He laughed and patted my back. "Just promise me you'll try not to fall over into the dugout or anything, babe. Those are some damn good seats and I will not have your clumsiness ruining the day for me!"

I looked at the ticket again. Jake was right, they were damn good seats in the first row behind the Reds dugout. "Oh my God, I love you," I moaned, collapsing on his lap. He laughed again.

"I love you too Bella-boo, in a totally platonic way of course. I just don't swing that way."

"I know you don't," I laughed. "Dear lord, I have to call Alice!"

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Being a baseball fan in the franchise city in March is absolute hell.

It's like being addicted to a seasonal ice cream in December. You want it so bad. You know it's going to be here in just a little while. You can even hear about it being in different places, where seasonal isn't so restrictive. But you can't have it.

Jake and Alice both tried to tell me I was being overly dramatic. They just didn't understand. Baseball is soo much better than any ice cream could be. I was addicted, and I hadn't had my fix in far too long.

I woke up on the fourteenth and almost went straight back to bed. It was annoyingly, persistently, undeniably the middle. It was a Wednesday, the middle of the week. It was smack in the middle of the month... speaking of middle of the month... oh God, I was going to be starting my monthly friend soon, too. I closed my eyes and turning into the pillows of my bed. It was so warm... small, only a double, but warm. And comfortable. My apartment might have been pretty cheap (though clean and nice enough), but my bed was rocking. I have a memory foam mattress and goose down pillows and comforter...

Oh my God, if I didn't stop thinking about my bed I would never leave it.

I rolled out of bed in my old, long t-shirt and bare feet and shivered. The weather was warm last week, but now was back to cold. I couldn't keep up. Still, anything was better than the constant rainy drizzle in Forks.

Weak shivers of light came through the sheer curtain over my seventh-floor window, dimly illuminating the dull room. The floor was a gray carpet that had probably been a considerably less... well... dirty shade of gray at one point or another. The walls were white. I never got around to repainting them, preferring to slap a bunch of pictures and mementos over the blandness. No one ever saw the inside except me, Alice and Jake anyway. The kitchen area was off to the side. I had somehow managed to squeeze a tiny two-seat table into the area. The only other furniture was the couch, a coffee table and the TV, and the only other rooms were a small bathroom and a dressing room/closet.

I threw some bacon on a pan and shoved it in the oven, then went into the bathroom and yawned at the mirror. My hair was a matted haystack. I sighed and went to work on it with a comb, then washed my face and put on a hint of mascara. Then I went and collapsed on the couch until the oven timer beeped, rousing me from my sleep and alerting me that the bacon was ready. Less than a minute later a drowsy Jake barged in, rubbing his eyes like a toddler.

"Bacon?" he sniffed before falling on the couch.

"Morning," I sniffed. This wasn't an unusual event at all. What would have been unusual is if he didn't show up—Jake could barely cook and, since I had no one else, spent most of his breakfasts and dinner at my place. I didn't even have to call for him. He just miraculously knew when to show up. I swear, even though his place was a much nicer 1-bedroom two floors above me, he could smell when the food was ready.

A minute later I had bacon sandwiches on the table and Jake stumbled over. Neither of us were morning people in the slightest. I collapsed on my chair and started eating. Slowly but surely the food, in combination with coffee, was starting to wake me up.

Jake was blinking himself awake, too. "You, any idea what you're going to wear today?" He asked me that every morning. It got old fast, but he didn't let up.

"Slacks and a blouse I'm sure," I grumbled. It really didn't matter what I'd say. Jake always ended up picking my clothes for me.

"Bella honey, face it, if it weren't for me you'd be lost and Alice would have disowned you by now. Besides, if I had your bod, I'd be showing it off every day of the week." He ran his fingers over his bare muscles. Jake's general morning outfit was some variety of cotton sleep pants and a robe hanging open over his chest.

"Please," I scoffed. "You have no issues in that department."

"Still Bella. You're a babe."

I shook my head, ignoring him. Jake always tried to convince me of this, but I wouldn't have it.

He shoved half of his sandwhich in his mouth. "So what are the chances that I can get you in to a skirt today?" he mumbled around his food. I raised an eyebrow, and he had the decency to chew his food before prompting me any further. "Sooo... skirt?"

"No way in hell," I answered calmly. Jake literally asked me the same question, and I tended to only agree when it was particularly hot outside. He AC in the office didn't work all that well, so it was always good to come prepared in case the temperamental thing decided not to work magically. But today wasn't hot and I wasn't going to be forced into one of those death-trap pencil skirts Alice kept buying for me.

"Heels then."

"Only if they're less than an inch."

"Bell-ah," Jake whined, elongating the second syllable of my name. "You never let me have any fun."

"Oh for goodness sake, Jake, just go pick out my outfit."

He sat there like a pouting child, not moving. I sighed. "Fine. I guess I'll dress myself."

He was up out of his seat and rummaging around the dressing room before I even had time to laugh.

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It turned out to be absolutely sweltering at work. The heat was broken this time, and wouldn't turn off. I had every window in my tiny office open, with fans positioned to blow hot air out and pull the pleasantly cool air form outside in, and it still wasn't enough. My business pants and stockings were sticking to my skin with sweat, and I had long since pulled off my light sweater and rolled up my sleeves.

It was about noon when I decided I couldn't finish another five hours of this. When I left the office for lunch I gave word to the joint secretary for the five city offices on the floor, Angela, that I may be a little late coming back and to please hold any calls. As soon as I was in the elevator I called Alice.

She answered hardly before the first ring. "Hello Bella! Aren't you working?" He chipper voice made me smile. Alice was, as Jake had said, truly a pixie-like girl. She was a year older than me at 24 and already living the high life. Both her parents, while still alive, paid her very little attention, preferring to ship her off to boarding schools and expensive colleges when she was young—they even paid for her to attend Brown University, where she ruined all of the Braden parent's hopes and dreams for their daughter by majoring in fashion design. Now she worked as a private designer, trying to break through in the dashion world.

"Aren't you supposed to be working?" I countered.

"I have absolutely no inspiration," she groaned. "I'm taking a few days away from the studio since I don't have any clients coming in, but I forgot how completely boring life is. You know I've been sitting here watching Bones reruns for three hours now? Three hours!"

I laughed. Alice was never one to be able to merely sit down and relax all by herself. She was definitely a social butterfly. "Well I have something for you to do."

"Oh my goodness, what? I'll do anything!"

"Go to my apartment, get me some cooler clothes—a skirt or something—and come meet me at Via Vite in Fountain Square."

"I'm on it," she said, then hung up the phone before I could say goodbye. I looked down at the call ended screen and shook my head as the elevator doors opened to the building lobby.

I walked to the restaurant. My car, an ancient red Chevy truck that I'd had since Charlie got it for me my Junior year, was parked in the garage next to my apartment building in the assigned spot and probably wouldn't be coming out of hiding for a while. Besides, it wasn't too far, and the air felt wonderful against my heated skin.

I was nearing Via Vite when I saw Alice's short, bouncing head of chopped black hair in front of it, holding a bundle. Her sleek yellow porche was parked across the street, sticking out from all the other cars.

I scowled as I approached her. Alice lived in Mt. Adams, a rich neighborhood that was a good bit away. "How much were you speeding?"

"I don't considered speed limits a law as much as a suggestion," she said off-handedly. "Anyway, look what I brought you!"

I unfolded the bundle and grimaced. "Oh, Alice, you didn't."

"They look so nice on you Bella! I don't understand why you're so anti-dress."

I looked over the black cotton dress with the nice floral pattern. It was actually pretty nice, cinching at the waist and coming to just above my knee. "Thank you," I said begrudgingly. "Now can we eat? I really don't have too long."

After lunch Alice tagged along with me back to my office, driving me in her porche and coming in to sit on my desk. "So what do you do all day?" she asked, picking up a framed picture of Charlie and I on a fishing trip when I was 12.

"Field calls when a library director has question, authorize additions and subtractions to the circulation, work on branch relations, authorize and plan some programs..." I sighed. "It sounds a lot more important than it is and pays a lot less than it should."

"Well at least you get this nifty office," she said, going to the window and looking at the busy street below. "Why's it so hot in here anyway?" The heat didn't seem to bother her in her favorite casual pink dress.

"Heater's broken," I grunted, returning an email from a director about the e-book services. Some people just didn't understand that an e-book is completely different from a database. Then again, some of the directors had been here for 40 plus years and were getting up there in age.

Alice laughed, a tinkling, bell-like sound. "The life and times of a city-hired worker."

"Tell me about it," I grumbled. "I bet you couldn't live on a budget for a week."

Alice jumped off the desk and backed up slowly, pointing her finger at me. "Ah ha! I know what you're doing here, Swan. It's not going to work."

I sighed and looked away from my computer to watch her. "What's not going to work, Alice?"

"You are trying to get me to bet on that, and then I'm going to have to go a week on some completely unreasonable budget—"

"Alice dear, that wasn't what I had planned at all." I looked back at the screen, where another elderly library worker had started G-Chatting me, thinking it was an email.

"Uh huh. Sure. I'm not falling for it, chicka. No way no how." She spun dramatically and opened my door. "If you need me, I'll be at home." Then she marched out, slamming the door behind her.

I sat in shock for a moment, then shook my head and returned to my work. I should have been used to such situations by now. After all, Alice was nothing if not dramatic.

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