Hi everyone! Thanks so much for reading my first attempt at an all human story.

Hope you have as much fun reading as I had writing.

I don't own these fantastic characters, all that credit goes to Stephanie Meyer. I'm just gonna make 'em play my games for a bit!

Happy Easter!

Chapter One - MochaBoy and the Three Blondes

Bella's POV

He was sitting there again.

Every day this week, and all but one day last week, he'd been in the same seat by the window – little white earbuds in place and the most adorable scowl on his face as he hunched over his notebook.

Mr. Four-Shot-Ten-Pump-Hazelnut-Mocha.

I peaked around the espresso machine I was wiping down and felt my breath catch a little as I watched him run his hand absentmindedly through his bronze, curly hair while he chewed on the eraser end of his pencil. I barely managed to stop the whimper building in my throat watching straight, white teeth sink into the little pink nub.

This was getting out of hand.

I slid back behind the big machine and leaned forward, resting my crossed arms on the counter and bringing my face down on top of them.

I needed to stop this crazy fantasizing. If only he weren't the most gorgeous thing I have ever seen.

He dressed better than most college boys, but he only looked a little older than my twenty years. The white button up shirt he had on today showed off his broad shoulders and his dark-wash jeans clung in drool-inspiring ways to his lean hips and ass. He had his sleeves rolled up, showing a hint of lightly tanned, toned arms.

But the part of him that I found myself staring off into space thinking about, that was now consistently showing up in my dreams, was his eyes.

Thick lashes a little darker than the copper of his hair framed the most beautiful green eyes. Soft green, the kind of green that didn't seem to exist naturally in Phoenix, the color I missed most from my rainy home town of Fork, Washington.

He always came in around 1 p.m., just as the lunch rush was dying down. He'd drop his faded blue backpack on an open table by the window and spend hours nursing his drink while writing in his notebook or working on his laptop. And I'd spend hours trying to keep my eyes off him.

Sighing, I pulled myself upright and went back to the mindless cleaning that filled up the downtime of my shift at Java Jive. As long as there was something to disinfect, I could keep busy enough to not stare at him like a lovesick fool.

I snorted under my breath. Lovesick… that seemed to imply I had a shot in hell. Here in reality-ville – I didn't even know his name. I was a creeper, watching him while he sat there completely oblivious to my existence. As if a man as fantastically dazzling as that would ever notice someone like me.

I had been working at Java Jive for a little over a year, since moving from Washington down to Phoenix and starting at Arizona State University. I grew up living with my dad, Charlie, in the little town of Forks, going to school with the same kids since we were all in diapers. But Charlie had remarried during my senior year of high school, and I had decided to give him and Sue some space. Renee, my mom, had been thrilled at the idea of me moving closer.

But then, Renee was usually thrilled with most ideas until the novelty wore off. Flighty and immature, my mom had left Forks when I was one year old, once the idea of being a mom lost its appeal and she realized responsibility sort of sucked. Little had changed in the interim nineteen years. Renee had quickly tired of the few expectations I had of her now that she lived less than 1,500 miles away, and I didn't hear from her more than once a month. Usually when she needed money.

So I worked at Java Jive an extra day every week, a little sad that I was so desperate for that tiny bit of contact, and missing Charlie and Forks all the more.

The coffee shop was, for the most part, a perfect part time job for a student. Good hours, close to the dorm I lived in, and all the coffee I could ever need – which was usually a lot. The biggest downside – college students.

Though I have been loving my time in school, I know I'm far from your typical student. I'd never really gotten on well with kids my own age. I was fairly young when I realized that I was just… different. A little too serious, too introverted, too lost in my own world. I've made a few friends at ASU, most notably my roommate Alice. But working at the coffee shop, I have to interact with dozens of my fellow students every day.

There were the sorority girls, like wild dogs traveling in packs, showing off being bitches for their friends. They wore too much makeup, too much perfume, and too little of anything else. They took one look at me and a feral gleam would come into their eyes. I figure I'm like prey to them, plain enough to be easily ridiculed and too shy to ever think of fighting back.

And then there were the boys. I refuse to call them men, even in my mind. Their eyes rarely made it above my neck. I had filled out quite a bit since moving to Phoenix, and it seemed most of it went to my breasts. The black polo shirts I have to wear for work had gone from baggy and comfortable in those first months to their current disconcerting tightness across my chest. New bras had been a must, and Alice had been beyond thrilled to force me on that shopping trip. But I didn't want to spend what little extra money I had left after school bills and Renee's crisis moments on new work shirts. So I got ogled. Or, more often, I hunched over a little and pulled my long, chocolate-brown ponytail over my shoulder while they tried to ogle.

He didn't, though. Mr. Four-Shot-Ten-Pump-Hazelnut-Mocha. He was always a perfect gentleman. The first time I had taken his order he had asked for a simpler drink, a plain mocha, and then watched me with the syrups, as if he didn't trust that I would do it right. Now, he just smiled a small crooked smile at me, ordered in his caramel and velvet voice, and then turned his back to look out the big front windows and waited for me to make his drink.

And I would bite my lip while daydreaming about feeling that crooked smile against my mouth.

And on my ear.

And on my neck.

And on a lot of other places.

I scrubbed harder at a nonexistent spot on the stainless steel countertop.

Focus, stop being a creeper. Mental pep talks usually meant it was time to restock the pastry cabinet. I sighed again and headed for the walk-in refrigerator in the back, trying to turn my mind to the paper I had due in my Shakespeare class on Monday. It was either that, or plan out ways to lock myself in the walk-in with Mr. Four-Shot-Ten-Pump-Hazelnut-Mocha and offer to keep him warm.

A ding echoed through the back of the shop and I set a box of muffins I didn't remember picking up back on the shelf before heading out of the fridge. I worked the afternoon shift most days, as I had only morning classes this semester. Things were never very busy and it left me with plenty of time to do homework behind the counter. I loved the slow part of the day, but working alone at the front also meant that all the smiling and order taking fell to me when a customer wandered in.

I had only gone a few steps toward the counter when I saw the wall of blonde surrounding my mocha boy. Oh, so now I was getting possessive… shit, I was such a creeper.

There were three of them. Sorority girls to the core, from their barely-there, clingy dresses to the noxious cloud of perfume I could now smell pouring off them. Blecch – it was like getting sprayed in the face while walking through a department store. I could taste it at the back of my throat.

I stopped just behind the big espresso machine, not wanting to draw attention to myself. I could see the whole front from here, but they wouldn't be able to see me. When I saw the first blonde put her hand on my mocha boy's shoulder, I suddenly wasn't sure I wanted to watch at all.

"E, baby," Blonde One cooed down from atop her five-inch strappy sandals. Alice would have loved those shoes. Wait, did she call him E? Like the letter? Weird.

"I've been looking everywhere for you," she scolded, tracing one evil looking pink talon along his back and shoulder. Those things looked like they could draw blood. I thought I saw him shiver a little under the touch.

Blondes Two and Three giggled inanely for no apparent reason and he glanced over at them, seeming to notice them for the first time. Of course, he probably hadn't wanted to look away from Blonde One.

She really was extremely pretty. Her long blond hair was flawlessly curled down her back. Her perfectly suntanned skin seemed to glow against the bright pink dress she wore. It was a t-shirt material that clung to perfect curves that would take me hours a day in the gym to achieve – and probably not even then. Between the extremely short dress and the exceptionally high heels, her legs looked six feet long. She leaned forward to rest her clawed nails on the table by his drink, giving him quite the view down the front of her dress, and he seemed to be enjoying the scenery.

Obviously he wasn't always against ogling.

Blonde One gave Two and Three a victorious little smile and tossed her curls. He seemed to realize he was staring down her shirt and brought his gaze up to her face, his cheeks going a little pink.

"Anyway, the movie starts in 30 minutes," she said with another toss of her perfect hair. He stared at her at her blankly for a second, probably still dazed by her boobs, until she spoke again. "We should go. Your brother said he'd meet us there."

The blondes tottered on their too-high shoes toward the door, but Mocha Boy just sat there with a scowl on his face. Blonde One glanced back once and frowned at him.

"Come on, E," she tossed over her shoulder, walking out of the coffee shop.

And my mocha boy… I would not call him by her ridiculous one-letter nickname, even in my mind… my mocha boy packed up his bag and followed after the blonde.

~o~

I don't know what most people do when they need to blow off steam. I know Alice shops, but then she also shops when she's happy. And when she's depressed. And when she's nervous. Or bored. Or pretty much whenever she has spare time.

When I'm worked up – I bake. And within an hour of getting home from work I had the tiny kitchen in the one bedroom dorm apartment I share with Alice completely covered in flour. I was pulling a baking sheet with golden brown chocolate chip cookies out of the oven and replacing it with a sheet full of unbaked mounds when I heard Alice's key in the lock.

"It's open," I called out, setting the hot tray onto the two-burner stovetop and pulling off the oven mitts.

"I wish you wouldn't leave it unlocked. Anyone could just walk in," she muttered, dropping her backpack on the floor and her keys on the little table by the door. She immediately turned around and locked all three bolts on the door.

Alice was a little bit paranoid. We'd met the first week of our freshman year. I'd been sitting on the floor of the hallway outside my dorm room, reading a much-abused copy of Pride and Prejudice.

My randomly assigned roommate Kendra was determined to live out her dream of what it meant to be a college student – which for her meant working her way through the male population at full speed. And usually at top volume.

I looked up when the door across the hall opened a crack. I'd never seen our neighbor, as she'd skipped all the hall activities and never left her door open. So when a small face surrounded by a dark, messy hair peeked around the door, I just stared at her.

"Why are you sitting right outside my door?" she asked, her voice suspicious and her eyes narrowed.

"Uh, I'm actually sitting right outside my door." I didn't think telling her that the hallway was public space was going to go over well.

She glanced up to the corkboard above my head that held a poster with bubbly letters spelling out 'Bella and Kendra'.

"And who are you?" She still sounded distrustful, as if I was going to have to check the poster to get the name right.

"I'm Bella. Kendra's inside, entertaining a… gentleman caller."

Right on cue, the moaning coming from the closed door beside me reached a fever pitch, drowning out the last of my words.

Her eyes got huge and let out a disgusted puff of air after the groans of 'yeah baby' died down.

"That's foul."

I laughed in a short burst.

"You don't know the half of it. I'm just hoping I don't have to sleep on the common room couch again tonight. It smells like feet."

As if my words had urged them on, the noise started up again behind me.

"Oh for the love of…" I dropped my book and rested my head back on the wall. Then moved it quickly when I realize it made the noises more intelligible.

Her tiny nose scrunched up and she pulled her wild, short hair down over her ears like it would help block the sound.

"Oh, come in already." I looked up, shocked, as she held the door open for me.

"Um, okay…" I pushed myself up off the floor and warily walked into her room. It was the cleanest dorm room I had ever seen. It was probably the same size as mine, but with only one bed and everything so tidy it seem like it was twice as big.

"You live alone?" I asked, looking around the immaculate room.

"Yes. Most people are gross. I wasn't going to live with a stranger."

I glanced over at the bizarre girl, and got my first good look at her.

She was tiny. She was a good half-foot shorter than my five feet, four inches, and definitely less than a hundred pounds. Her short-cropped black hair seemed to stick out in all directions around her head and her grey eyes looked huge in her small face. Dressed in a light blue tank top and matching silk pajama pants, she could have passed for a twelve year old.

She was watching me look at her, still seeming cautious.

"Thanks for letting me in. I'll try not to be gross."

She grinned up at me, the smile lighting up her entire face.

"I appreciate that. I'm Alice, by the way." She bounced forward and held out her hand to me.

I spent that night on her floor. And the next, when Kendra brought yet another boy back for the night. The next day we went to our RA to get the forms I needed to switch rooms.

It didn't take long to realize that Alice really didn't like people. Particularly men. I was pretty sure there was actually a lot more to it than that, even though we had never talked about it.

Neither of us dated much. Okay, at all. I was just too shy, but Alice's issues seemed to run a little deeper.

It was hard to miss the panic that flashed in her eyes when a guy came too close to her, even accidentally. And, since we shared a room, I heard her crying out sometimes in her sleep. I knew there was more to her anti-social nature than a personality quirk, but I was never going to push her to share what she worked so hard to hide.

So Alice had her cynical attitude and her quippy mantra for any situation involving boys. I'd heard her say it more times than I could count.

Boys are icky.

Beside me, Alice's only social interaction was with her family. And who was I to judge? Beside Alice, my social life was… no one.

I find it fascinating how much she adores her family. I mean, I love Charlie and Renee, but it was so much work to be around either of them. Maybe it was the shared genetics… The Cullen family had adopted Alice when she was twelve years old, raising her with their two boys.

They only lived about twenty minutes from campus, but her parents had encouraged her to try and be a little more social by moving into the dorms rather than live at home and commute. Even so, she still went home most weekends to spend time with her parents and brothers.

I hadn't met her family. I worked most weekends and had spent summer break up in Forks with Charlie. By the time I got back, her brothers had moved all our stuff into our new dorm apartment and I just needed to unpack. Living together seemed to be the perfect situation for both of us, so we had moved into a slightly bigger place for our sophomore year.

It was nice to have a designated bedroom space, and the kitchen came in handy when I was having a melt down. Like today.

Alice turned back from locking the door and took in the war zone that was our kitchen.

"Oh, sweetie, what happened?" She came around our small kitchen table and pulled out a chair, sitting cross-legged on it.

I moved the cookies from the tray to a cooling rack and set it on the table beside her before sitting in the other chair dropping my head on my arms.

"I had a bad day." My voice was muffled by my sleeves, but she must have understood enough because she hoped off her chair and wrapped her arms around me.

"Do you want to talk about it now, or after we overdose on sugar?" she asked, implying she was going to get the story out of me sooner or later.

"Oh, you'll think I'm stupid." I said, sitting back up and grabbing a cookie. It was too hot, a molten chocolate chip burning my tongue as I bit into it. Alice pulled the other chair closer and sat looking at me expectantly.

"I think that anyway, so you might as well tell me."

I glared at her, but there was no force behind it.

"It has to do with a boy." I didn't look up from the cookie in my hand as I said it. I knew how she would respond. Alice had her mantra.

Boys are icky.

But she wasn't saying it now. I looked at her, confused. I'd never known her to pass up an opportunity to express her favorite opinion on the opposite sex.

"From a class or from work?" she asked, taking a cookie and nibbling around the edge of it.

I sighed.

"Work. A… customer. He's come in every day for the last two weeks. He sits there for hours."

"And have you ever spoken a word to him?"

She knew me too well.

"Of course."

"Words that did not involve taking his order?"

Dammit.

"No," I admitted.

"So what happened today to interrupt your normal pining from afar?"

I looked down at my cookie, not wanting to meet her eyes.

"A girl came in and asked him to a movie." I dropped my head back onto my arms.

"Oh, Bella."

I told her the whole story, only leaving out the lurid fantasies, as they would make her shudder. We demolished the rest of the cookies by the time I was done.

"You don't know that Blonde One is his girlfriend. She could just be a friend. Or maybe a bitch he is trying to get rid of."

"You didn't see her. She was… perfect."

Alice snorted.

"Bella, one of these days you're going to actually take the plunge and talk to a boy you like."

"Riiiiiight. I will when you do," I scoffed, then caught the cagey look on her face. "Alice, you're not telling me something."

"Stop trying to change the subject. This mocha boy of yours, you should fight for him if you really want him."

"I'm sorry, did you just say fight?" My laughter spilled out around the words. "You didn't see her claws. I'd bleed out before the ambulance arrived."

"Oh, pfffh. You've got better weapons."

"Yeah? Like what?"

"Like those." She pointed at my chest and I looked down.

"My boobs?" I asked, incredulously. "She has a pair of her own you know."

"Yeah, and they're probably shiny and new. Maybe even have the price tag still attached. You have a fantastic body, Bella. You just can't bear to let me dress you so that it actually shows."

I scowled at her.

"I've been dressing myself since I was three. I don't need your help."

"Oh, yes you do, if you don't want to die alone! We've got to do something that will inspire a guy to make the first move, even though you've practically got VIRGIN stamped on your forehead."

My jaw dropped and I gaped at her. Where the hell was this coming from?

"Have you ever thought that maybe he wants to get to know you, too?" she asked me, taking advantage of my speechless state. "That maybe you come across as unapproachable, so he doesn't know how to start?"

"Wha… I… huh?"

"You're awesome, Bella. The blonde wouldn't stand a chance if you were willing to go for it."

Alice was encouraging me to… go for it?

"Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?"

She made a face at me.

"I know I don't have the… healthiest attitude toward men. But there are bound to be some exceptions to my boys are icky policy. And you deserve to be happy."

"Alice, I…"

"Just think about it?" She looked up at me, pleadingly. "I wouldn't want to change much, just some new clothes and a little makeup. Oh, pretty please, Bella?"

Those beseeching eyes were just too much to handle and I could feel a sugar coma coming on anyway. Better to get it over with now, or she'd take advantage of me in my weakened state later.

"Fine," I muttered.

"Yay!" She pulled me out of my chair and danced me across the kitchen. "You won't regret it!"

I already did, but she seemed so happy I didn't have the heart to tell her so. And if there was any chance... well, mocha boy probably wasn't worth it. But maybe, just maybe, I am.

I'd love to hear what you think! Any guesses as to who Mocha Boy is? *wink*

I'm working on the story from his perspective, too - keep an eye out for that. Any reviewers will get a teaser of the first chapter of his story, so show me the LOVE!