Buried
-Way behind. Overwhelmed.-

Bella Swan hated being the new girl—hate, hate, hated it. While living with Renee, she'd been the new girl seven times. Seven times, she'd stood at the front of the class and insisted her name was not Isabella. Seven times, she'd told her uncaring classmates that she had a cat named Sprinkles, or Lucky, or Bono. And seven times, she'd said goodbye to the classmates who had never really seen her. Moving in with Charlie during her junior year had precipitated number eight. New girl experience number eight found her classmates very interested in her desire to be called Bella and her current cat named Zep. By far, the Forks High School new girl experience had been her worst. The worst, that was, until her first day at Hospitaliano.

Hospitaliano was one of those chain restaurants that tried to project a high-class image. Servers zoomed between tables carrying over-priced wine, while the really good stuff was locked in a cage in the lobby. Guests—never customers—would ooh and ahh over the dusty vintages and daydream about actually ordering one of them someday, before sitting down and asking for the $3.75 rosé.

Carlisle Cullen had personally interviewed her and seemed very impressed with her intelligence and desire to earn her bachelor's degree in Psychology. Without a second look at her application, he directed her to purchase a white, button-down shirt, black pants, and non-slip shoes to wear the next day for orientation. She left the noisy restaurant, thrilled that she could start earning some money instead of taking from Charlie, but terrified at the prospect of being the new girl once more.

"Hey, Zep," Bella sighed as she tossed her keys onto the scuffed up hall table.

The fluffy grey wound figure eights around Bella's ankles as she struggled to get to the kitchen. She made it to the doorway before accidentally stepping on the cat's tail. At once, Zep screeched bloody murder and Bella pitched sideways into the doorframe.

"Damn it, Z! Are you trying to kill me?" She rubbed at the tender spot and thanked the powers that be her hair covered it. Starting a new job with a knot on her head would just make a fantastic impression.

She opened a can of cat food and dumped it into the cat's bowl unceremoniously. Zep scarfed half of it before she could even pull the empty tin away.

"Murderer," Bella accused.

The cat ignored her.

"Oh, God," Bella muttered. "I'm going to suck at this job. I can't even get my cat to pay attention to me! How am I supposed to be engaging and make these people like me? I'm going to get fired. Carlisle is going to fire me. And I cannot handle a man as gorgeous as Carlisle firing me. I'll have to move, and change my name, and dye my hair... Oh, God."

Zep looked up from his bowl and gave a tiny "Mew," as if to say, "Right on, sister." At least, Bella was pretty sure that's what he meant. She also figured he could mean, "Unemployment line starts to the left."

She spent a long night talking to herself and to Zep, trying to convince herself that showing up for the first day of work was the right thing to do. Truly, though, Forks High had pretty much destroyed the novelty of first days, and she couldn't imagine any way at all that the next day might be considered fun.

oOo

As she climbed down from the cab of her ancient truck, Bella smoothed her brand new shirt and made sure that it was tucked in securely.

"Ugh! I hate first days. There can only be one first day," she muttered under her breath.

The packet of orientation paperwork that Carlisle had handed her the previous day slipped off of the seat and hit the rain-slicked pavement with a smack. Immediately, the wind grabbed the top sheets and whisked them under the truck. Grumbling and cursing, Bella dropped to her hands and knees to peel the soggy papers from the tires.

Once she had the packet reassembled, she mourned the sad state of the pages. A name was written on the top corner—the person she was to meet before orientation. The ink had smeared and spread into the fibers of the paper, making the words nearly impossible to read. She traced her fingers over the lines, praying it would become legible as it dried.

She was so engrossed that she didn't see the Mustang until it was right upon her. The driver honked and screamed outrageous curses. Through the blood roaring in her ears, Bella was sure she heard some made-up words.

"Sorry!" she called, waving her papers.

The massive, bald man was not appeased at all. Instead, he rolled down his window to spew even more insults at her.

"Really," Bella muttered, leaving him behind. "He'd have done more damage to me than I would him."

On the bright side, she'd managed to read enough of the name to remember whom she was to meet. Rosalie. The name sounded like a sweet older lady who hosted at the restaurant to stave off boredom.

A quick glance at her reflection in the glass door proved she looked like she'd just survived a hurricane. Bella hurriedly swept her hair into place and straightened her clothes again, but she saw a tall figure waiting on the other side of the glass.

Of course, Bella groaned internally, yanking open the door. Rosalie was undoubtedly the most beautiful girl in the continental United States. Probably all of Mexico, most of Canada, and even parts of Brazil, too. And that was saying a hell of a lot, since the world's biggest supermodels all seemed to be from Brazil.

"What the hell are you wearing?" Rosalie sneered, raking her eyes over Bella.

"Um..." Bella stuttered, wishing a hole would open up and swallow her. "White shirt, black pants?"

"Technically, yes," Rosalie drawled. "I can't let you go to orientation looking like that. Carlisle would kick my ass. Having Carlisle Cullen anywhere near my ass might sound like it would be pleasurable, but it really would not in this situation."

"I'm just wearing what he told me..." Bella tried again.

"Oh, God. Please don't be a dumbass, please don't be a dumbass," Rosalie muttered under her breath. Her crystal blue eyes were rolling around, as if she were searching for an answer that she might pluck from thin air. She grabbed Bella's elbow and steered her toward the staff break room. "Here. Roll silverware. All of it. You can clock the hours but, for God's sake, don't let anyone see you. If they do see you, tell them you snuck in. I had nothing to do with this, right? Nothing."

"Um, right?"

Rosalie didn't even stick around long enough to hear Bella's response. With a sigh, Bella sat down to a mountain of forks and knives and wondered if there was a special way to roll them. She fingered the black linens tentatively before scooting the chair back and darting from the room. A basket of freshly rolled silverware was visible on the other side of the kitchen. All she needed was one set. The theme for Mission: Impossible ran through her head and she giggled.

She tossed her head back and adopted a careless stride. Within moments, she had her prize in hand and was almost back to the break room. When she was just steps away from the anonymity the room could offer, she heard something that turned her whole body into a big gooey mess.

"Emmett, you dick! The order said 86 potatoes, add pasta! If this costs me my tip, I'll kick your ass!"

The words were not pretty, but the voice was like a thousand angels singing. He was pretty. All six feet and two inches of him. Every shiny, red-gold strand of hair on his head.

He spun away from the window and caught her looking. The heat that flooded her cheeks made snapped her back to reality in time to see his grin. Bella looked down at the roll of silverware that she was clutching for dear life and suddenly remembered her abandoned task. She glanced back up to offer a final wave to the beautiful guy, but he had disappeared. The swinging kitchen door was the only clue to his whereabouts, and she was left with only the memory of his lopsided smirk.

Slowly, the smaller hills of forks, knives, and table linens became a larger mountain of rolled silverware. Bella couldn't imagine that there was a single unrolled piece of silver in the entire restaurant, and she had the burning arms and lower back to prove it.

"Hey, hey!" a voice interrupted, and she found herself praying internally that it was the hot guy she'd seen earlier.

Hot guy, he was, but not the one. Instead, Carlisle Cullen stood in the doorway to the break room, looking as resplendent as any restaurant manager could hope to. His charcoal gray slacks hugged his lean legs jealously, and the crisp white shirt with faint purple and grey stripes was open just enough at the neck for Bella to see the beginning of a very nicely formed chest.

As with the one, she found she couldn't form any words. 'Brilliant, Bella. Convince every last person working here that you're a half-wit on your very first day.'

"I thought you bailed on me!" he said, as he swept into the room.

"I-I'm sorry... The girl told me to come in here and… There was something wrong with my shirt and—" Bella literally smacked herself in the forehead to stop stuttering.

"What's wrong with your shirt?" Carlisle asked with a puzzled frown.

Bella shrugged and tried to avoid his open perusal of her failed uniform. His eyes lit up with some realization, and he chuckled.

"My fault entirely. I'm sure it was Rosalie that called you on it, too. The shirts have to have a button-down collar and no designs. So you rolled all the silver in the joint? Excellent. Wanna watch a sexual harassment video now? I mean, it's gotta happen sometime. I'll bring you some toasted ravioli to munch on." He didn't wait for a reply before darting from the room again.

Bella was startled once more as two more people flew into the room, carrying water glasses and chattering. Jessica, according to her nametag, had curly, light brown hair in a messy bun on top of her head. Mike was classic, boy-next-door handsome and looked supremely bored with whatever Jessica was saying. Bella, on the other hand, listened raptly as she gathered the rolls of silverware and pretended to ignore them.

"Lauren is driving me up the wall! She stole my last two tables out from under me, and Carlisle is off looking for some stupid new girl that didn't show up, so he can't do anything about it. The last guy was really cute, too, and I bet he would have left me a really big tip."

"Mmhmm," Mike responded, catching sight of Bella for the first time. He flashed a too-white grin at her, and she ducked her head in response.

"And she always wears all that stupid jewelry, and no one ever says anything to her, except Rosalie. And Rosalie's such a bitch, she'd find something wrong with anyone, so no one actually listens to her."

"Mmhmm," was Mike's answer. He studied Bella while Bella tried her hardest to escape any questions, and Jessica was still oblivious to the fact there was anyone else in the ten-by-ten room with her.

"If she doesn't invite me to her party this weekend, that's it. I won't help her anymore! 'Jess, can you get me three waters for table 406? Jess, can you get their order for me while I go have a ciggie?' Ugh! She's such a user!"

"Mmhmm," again, was Mike's distracted offering.

At that point, Bella actually cracked a smile. Mike pulled out the chair next to her and sat down, and Jessica noticed for the first time that there was someone else in the room.

"Oh! Are you the new girl? I'm Jessica, and this is Mike. They haven't given you your tie yet, you lucky bitch." She reached down and presented a truly hideous necktie that was part of the required uniform. "Hope you didn't manage to piss Carlisle off on your first day. He's been looking for you."

"He found her," Carlisle said from the door. He held a plate of food in one hand, a pink beverage in the other, had four ties laid out across his arm, and a video tape tucked under his elbow. "Jess, Mike, if you don't mind, grab all this silverware that Bella has rolled for you and put it in the baskets. She's rolled enough for the two of you, so you won't have to do any before you leave."

Jessica's eyes lit up, and suddenly the new girl was her favorite person ever. "Oh, my God! Thank you soooo much. Tyler, the prep cook, asked me out after work and now I'll have time to go change and freshen up. You're the best, Becky!"

She grabbed a small handful of silverware and took off without a backward glance, leaving Mike to manage the rather large mountain she'd left behind.

"It's Bella," Mike called after her. He sighed and shrugged when he realized Jessica either didn't hear or didn't care. Everyone in the room knew that it was the latter. "Nice to meet you, Bella. We'll talk soon, yeah?"

Bella nodded as she helped him pile his arms full, and he gave her one last toothy, blinding smile. With a sigh of relief, she plopped down in her chair again and looked up at Carlisle expectantly. He placed the plate of food and the drink in front of her.

"I figured if you have to suffer through this crap, you might as well have some good food to eat. We'll get the videos out the way tonight, and tomorrow, you can get the rest of the rundown from Rosalie. You're a smart girl, so I don't expect you to take very long in training. We'll have you teaching others in no time, right?"

"Sure," Bella said with a shrug.

Thus began three of the most mind-numblingly boring corporate videos Bella could have fathomed. Even the actors, and she thought that word very lightly, looked supremely uninterested. She wished that she had a bottle of whiskey and a shot glass so that she could make a drinking game out of every fake smile. She'd have been plastered within the first five minutes, she figured.

Carlisle didn't hang around to suffer the videos with her, so after the first one was through, she had to climb into a chair and replace it with video number two. Perky music poured through the speakers as a montage of ghastly pictures flashed across the screen. Knife wounds, broken bones, chemical burns, actual burns... Suddenly, Bella didn't feel so well. For a klutz such as herself, she realized that there were many ways in which she might die right in the kitchen of Hospitaliano.

She clutched at her throat as a ridiculously happy blonde girl demonstrated how the lemon slicer could remove a thumb. A handsome boy described the proper procedure for escaping a locked walk-in freezer. A middle-aged black woman explained the directions for each and every article in the first aid kit, as well as where to find it. Bella stopped the video and stalked out of the break room.

She was so immersed in her search for the first-aid kit that she failed to notice the beautiful guy from earlier watched her every move. She carefully traversed the wet floor of the dish area until she found the large black case. Not content just to locate it, she opened it and inspected all the contents. As she imagined every possible injury she might incur, someone else studied her every move with a wry grin on his face.

He almost laughed aloud as she closed the case with a decisive nod and gingerly walked across the wet tiles toward the break room. Whether she was clumsy or just very thorough, he didn't know. He wanted to, though. He wanted to know everything about her.

Back in her chair, Bella started the video again only to find that she had reached the end anyway. She had been cautioned by a serious redhead never to climb on the furniture, but she saw no other way to reach the wall-mounted television. With a sigh, she dragged a chair back over and placed her foot squarely in the center. If she had to do it, she'd make sure to do it as safely as possible.

Before she could finish the climb, however, a sudden presence startled her. Strong arms caught and steadied her gently before reaching above her to remove the cassette. Smoothly, her beautiful boy replaced it with the final tape.

"Th-thank you," she stuttered, still reeling from the memory of his chest against her back.

He nodded tersely and pressed play. Bella watched his retreating form as chipper music filled the room again. Her eyes landed on his tight ass just as the narrator announced "Sexual Harassment in the Workplace!" and she felt mortified heat race up her neck.

There was no way he could know she checked him out, but she agonized over it through the remainder of the presentation.

Of course he didn't feel his heart skip a beat when he touched me. He's just being nice to the new girl. And he sure as hell doesn't still feel the... what? Oh, God. It turned me on! Just touching him that short time turned me on!

Her thoughts embarrassed her further as she fanned herself with a sheaf of payroll papers that Carlisle had left for her to fill out.

I am in serious trouble.

Carlisle returned at some point to gather up the papers she had half-heartedly completed. There were instructions and a hearty "Welcome to the team!" that she heard through her daze. She was vaguely aware of her schedule for the next day, partially present when instructed on how to clock out, and wholly unaware of how she managed to get home. And yet, when she came to her senses again, she was sitting on her couch and wringing her new, repugnant necktie between her hands.

Zep crawled into her lap, and she scratched his ears absently. "Pretty boy is going to kill me, Zep. Not like Isaac Madden did, either. Stone cold dead."

oOo

Yep, you may have seen this before. I'm slowly editing it from a mild M to a T rating. I hope to post a chapter each day, but I make no promises. You may already know, but in case you don't, I'm happy to send out the M rated PDF. Instructions (and a list of other M stories I'm happy to share) are on my profile page. If you choose to read the T version instead, thank you. I'd edit and post anyway, because this is where it belongs, but it will be nice to know people are enjoying it.