Dedicated to my lovely friend Steph, because she is one of my most favorite people in the whole world.

This is my first legitimate fanfiction, so please tell me where I can improve and such. Expect some citrusy treats later. )

Stephenie Meyer owns everything. I just like playing with the characters.

(Mike's PoV)

I am a lucky, lucky man. While walking out of school, I caught an angel falling from heaven! Okay, perhaps I am under-exaggerating. I caught a chestnut-haired, brown doe-eyed goddess before she fell down the stairs to the entrance of Forks High-School. This goddess just happened to be Isabella Swan, the new girl in the tiny town of Forks, Washington.

Anyway, I caught her small and delicate frame in my arms and finished the brisk walk down the last two steps of the school entrance. I lightly placed her on her feet, and, like the gentleman I was raised to be, I held out my hand to this blushing beauty and coolly said, "Hey Babe. My name is Mike Newton. You okay?"

This nonchalant gesture, however, made her blush an even more beautiful rose color, and she replied in a clear, bell-like voice.

"Oh! Thank you so much! I'm Bella Swan," she shook my hand, "and I really am a clutz! I am so sorry for falling on you! And I'll be fine, now, as long as I don't trip again!" Bella paused for a second and blushed even redder. "Oh Shit!" I cocked an eyebrow at her unexpected swearing, "Looks like I am rambling again, so thanks, again, and I'll be leaving. Ciao!"

Impulsively, I grabbed her hand, "Hey, wait Bella! You want to go to coffee or something with me sometime? I promise you there won't be any stairs involved." I chuckled when she blushed yet again. Gosh, this chick gets embarrassed easily.

"Umm… That's sounds, uh, cool. Call me."

I realized that I was still holding her hand. Wow, it was really soft and smooth. Regrettably, I dropped it.
"Well, can I have your phone number? And do you have text?"

"Sure, 424-3698. And yeah, I have text. What's your number?"

"424-8936. Hey we have the same numbers! That's wicked." Yeah, today wasn't my brightest.

She gave me a funny look, "Yeah, wicked. Well, I gotta go. Nice meeting you, and thanks for saving me!"

Soon as she finished blurting that out, she turned on her heel and strode quickly to her car, tripping a couple times. However, I couldn't compose myself enough to say "Adios", and I also realized that I was still holding my hand out… I lowered my arm. And by then she was halfway across the parking lot. My gaze followed her as she got into an old, rusty red truck. Bella gave me a quick glance, and I waved to her. She smiled, and it was absolutely beautiful.

I was then hit in the face by a basketball coming from none other than Eric Yorkie.

I turned around to face the skinny, greasy-haired geek and he was laughing his ass off. Of course, I was fucking pissed. And when Mike Newton is mad… Oh, you fucking know it.

"You stupid fucking son of a bitch!" I yelled. Immediately, he was on the defensive, his face flushing to an unattractive red color. However, both of us knew he was no match for my 6'1" finely toned body. Thank you basketball team. But Yorkie decided to play the dumbfuck anyways, and holler out.

"Hey, at least I wasn't the moron staring at that fine piece of ass your neva' gonna get!"

Wrong. Move.

I didn't even think before I threw a punch that knocked out a tooth or three. Before I could jump on him and do anymore damage to Eric's already ugly-ass face, Tyler Crowley, my best friend since 1st grade (and about the size of a bear), stepped in and held me back. Being about the only person that could hold me down, I allowed him to lead me away from the asshole crying on the ground before Crowley beat me up for trying to get back at Yorkie again.

Finally, Crowley released me and I turned around to gather my cool. I then realized that there was a warm, red, sticky liquid running down my face and dripping to the ground. My shirt was ruined and that that son of a bitch fucking broke my nose! Again! Now it was probably even more crooked… God damnit.

As I bitched over my nose to Crowley (whom was trying to help pansy Eric off the ground), I tried to reset it myself, which was extremely hard to do without a mirror. However, to my joy, I found my nose to be completely straight, and it didn't need to be reset! Ha! My luck was good today! (Eric's however, not so good.) But at least my crooked nose had become one less thing for the guys to ridicule me about.

While pondering these facts, I had turned again and started walking to the bathroom. Upon entering the school, our English teacher, Ms. Jones, saw me and turned as white as a sheet of paper, and rushed into the teacher's lounge next to her.

"Well, teach you for giving us a 5 page minimum essay due Monday." I grumbled, spotting the men's restroom and wandering in. Once I was there, I grabbed a shitload of paper towels, peeled off my blood-stained shirt, and peered at the ghost-white and bloody-red image staring back at me in the mirror. My bright blue eyes and light blonde hair stood out greatly as I began the slow process of removing the blood from my face. Finally, after a 15 minute process of lightly dabbing my face and such, I had completed my task and I looked at my newly reset nose.

Ever since 3rd grade, my nose had been weirdly crooked because I had gotten hit right on the bridge of it with a baseball. No, not a softball. It had to be a baseball. I tenderly touched the sides of my nose with my large hands and long fingers.

"Owww!" I winced when I tried to scrunch my face even a little. Already, my nose had started bruising and looking a dark, gloomy shade of blue and purple. I decided that it was the best I could do, so I threw my shirt in the trash and walked out of the men's bathroom to go see what other damage I may have caused to Yorkie's stupid face.

By now, Tyler had helped the shmuck get to the nurse and had come back to bitch me out. He was sitting on the curb at the scene of the crime with a very frustrated expression.

"What the fuck is your problem man! Yah know you can't get fucking suspended again! It goes on your fucking record, and because yah want to go to a fucking good-ass college, yah need to step up your act! I can't be fucking here for yah every fucking time yah fuck up!"

Shocked at this outburst, I back up a little, put my hands up, and say, "Jeez man, say fuck a lot?" He glowered at me. "Are you okay, man?" He had never freaked out on me like this.

"Not really, Mike. I found out I can't go to college today. My parents can't pay for it, and they completely wiped out my savings account. I have no money." He put his head in his hands.

That was the last thing I expected. The Crowley's always seemed so nice. "Tyler, dude, I am so sorry. If you need a place to crash, just give me a call. What are you gonna do now?"

Tyler looked up at me, "I guess I'll be getting a job. You still have an opening at your parent's store."

"Yes, we do. Show up tomorrow afternoon to fill out an application."

"Okay, Mike. Thanks so much."

I patted him on the shoulder and turned to look at the parking lot, searching for my car. However, I became a bit distracted. Staring at the school parking lot, I noticed that Bella's red truck was still there. 'That's weird' I thought, because usually, by this time, every student from Forks High-School would have driven out of here like flying monkeys on crack, trying to get away from this hell-hole.

I jogged to Bella's car, figuring that she was doing homework, or was looking for something. As soon as I got within a distance enough to see through her windshield, I noticed that she had passed out over the wheel. Now sprinting, I made it to her truck, and knocked on the door. No reply.

"Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit." I said in a frenzy as I yanked open her door and tried to get her out of the car. I tried to get her awake, and she still didn't respond. I yelled to Crowley, who had seen me start sprinting and was currently on his feet running towards Bella and I.

"Call 9-1-1!" I yelled, and gathered her in my arms.

(Bella's PoV)

Bright, white, cold light. It's hurting my eyes… I want to go back into darkness, the nice and soothing warm darkness. I want to- Hey! What is in my hand? "Mmmmm…" I moaned. It's warm and soft and big has a nice pressure. I like it.

That's when I, Bella Swan, decided to open my chocolate brown eyes to face the world. The bright lights stung, but as my pupils adjusted I took in my surroundings and a sterile bleach smell. I realized I was in a hospital room. A clock on the wall across from my uncomfortable bed told me it was 1:32AM, and I slowly turned my now-throbbing head towards the light and warm pressure in my right hand. I gazed up to see a tall, muscular, blonde-haired hunk of man, with no shirt ta' boot, sleeping in a chair next to me. As I peeled my eyes away from his bronze, 8 pack abs, I was able to see who this man is.

It was Mike Newton! The gorgeous hotty who caught me before I plundered to my humiliation down the stairs at the school today. Not even my third day of living in Forks, and on my first day of school, I end up in the hospital. Yeah, I am that smooth. Not.

I swear, I should come with a bright yellow and red caution label. I can just see it now. 'I AM BELLA SWAN. MAY CAUSE BRAIN DAMAGE TO SELF OR OTHERS. EXTREME CAUTION. MAY RESULT IN DEATH.'

Yep, that's perfect.

Well, if everyone came with labels, then sleeping hotty in the chair next to me should wear a 'I'm Sex On Legs Gorgeous!'… Or no shirt at all is preferable. I'd be fine with that, too. Hell, have him lose all his clothes, because that'll make some damn nice eye-candy… What I wouldn't give to strip off those clothes myself. I'd trace those beautiful and firm abs with my fingers, going all the way down to his bountiful d-.

WAIT! What am I even thinking? Or doing? The mind-rambling, the guy sleeping soundly and holding my hand… Jeez, even asleep, this guy has the ability to scatter my thoughts. I can't even form a non-stupid sounding sentence when he's awake. Not to mention, I was thinking filthy thoughts while in a hospital, wearing a scanty and revealing hospital gown, about the sleeping guy (who's gorgeous and muscular and beau- STOP IT! Grrrrrr….) who was sitting next to me. This all became way too much for my small brain to absorb. I began hyperventilating (which may not just be from me being overwhelmed… Maybe I had forgotten to breathe while ogling at Mike's abs) and then my head began to throb even more.

Suddenly, Mike Newton was awake, firmly gripping my shoulders, and trying to hold me steady. He looked deeply into my eyes and, in all seriousness, said, "Bella! Bella, it's okay. Your alright, just calm down. You are with me, it's safe."

This guy was magic. I stopped freaking out and took some labored breaths as he stared at me with eyes full of concern. Then I tried to calmly ask, "What happened to me?"

However it came out like, "Wha-what happened t-t-to me?" Failure of epic proportions, on my part.

"You passed out in your truck and received a mild concussion when your head hit the steering wheel." He replied, meawhile taking his hands off my shoulders, "but I, nor any of the doctors, know what made you pass out like that. Care to enlighten me, Bella?"

Yum… The sound of my name rolling off his tongue was music to my ears. Rather look speechless after listening to him speak, I replied none-too brilliantly.

"I know." I said meekly, blushing a deep red, "When I saw you get hit in the face with that basketball… All that blood… It- it made me feel all light headed and—and I must have fainted…"

"Well, Bella, looks like we have to stay away from red liquids from now on." Mike said jokingly, trying to cover my embarrassment for me. Wasn't that sweet… But why was he staying here with me? Not that I objected to this, but I mean, the hospital must not be the greatest place to spend the night. And I was still wearing this gaudy hospital gown.

"Ummmm… Mike?" I said, enjoying the way his named rolled off my tongue, "Are there any clothes here that I can change into?" I asked.

"Mhm, I believe your clothes are in the dresser here," he said, patting the top of the bed-side table, "but I suggest waiting until the doctor checks in and dismisses you."

Just then, I remembered Charlie, my dad, must be worried to death. I had just moved in to spend some dear old quality time with him, and because he ran the police station in Forks, he probably had the whole squad out looking for my right now. I was going to get in so, so much trouble. Urgently, I turned to my dear, bed-sitting companion.

"Mike!" I said urgently, "Did you ever tell my dad about this?"

"All taken care of." He responded calmly. "He had to go home and get some sleep. I think Charlie said it was because he got the 4:30 morning patrol shift or something. Otherwise, he wouldn't have left you."

"Oh, okay." I muttered, glad that the police squad wasn't scouring the woods and city dumpsters for my remains. "Sooo…" I said, at a total loss for words. Then, I looked up at his face and noticed the bruising around his nose. I inclined my head and leaned in, gazing into his eyes and my lips made it's way to the very tip.

There, I laid the lightest kiss, and I watched as he closed his eyes, almost as if he were savoring this very moment.

"Hi, I am Dr. Carlisle Cullen."

Suddenly, the moment was completely lost. Looks like the doctor had made it in…

"Am I interrupting?" Dr. Cullen said, noticing the close proximity of both Mike's and my lips. The consequential glaring may have also hinted that he had, too.

At a moment as awkward as any, we both moved back to our original respective places, Mike looking fairly relaxed, and me trying to gather my very scrambled thoughts.

"No, Sir. It's fine." Mike told the doctor.

Then, I really noticed the doctor. For a man of about 30, he was extremely attractive. He had classic good looks, was very pale, and he had a halo of thick, dark blonde hair on his head. His golden eyes sparkled, and he seemed like a trustworthy person whom someone could depend on. I suppose that is why he's a doctor.

As I was gaping at him like he was some kind of specimen under a microscope, he gave me an embarrassed smile and I believe that Mike actually did a facepalm… Wow, I must be on a stupidity roll today.

...Three minutes pass...

"Uhm… Ms. Swan?" he said, shrugging off my awkwardness, "You have a minor concussion, but now that you seem to be in a stable condition, and you look much better now than when you came in, I'd say that you are certainly free to go. However, I expect you to be careful for the next two weeks, don't jump around, drink a lot of fluids, rest, and if anything starts to bother you, call me immediately. Okay?"

I gave him a vague 'Uh-huh' and he abruptly left.

Mike leaned forward again, smirking, "So you think he's pretty, right?"

I really blushed, and glared at him, obviously confirming his question. He laughed and sat back, a mischievous smile on his face. Again, were the only two people in my hospital room… And the sexual tension was through the roof.

Author's Note: So how was that people? Shall I continue Mike's shot at Bella?

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