"Aaaahh…" I exhale loudly and comfortably as I prop my feet up on the couch. I flip channels on the TV until I find a Seahawks game, and settle in.

"Oh, Emmett…" I hear a voice sing from upstairs. Alice. I moan vociferously.

"What?" I snap.

Alice seems unabashed by my tone. "Will you come up here for a second? Bella and Rose and I have something to say to you."

"I'm not part of it, Emmett!" Bella throws in. "Alice just wants us to watch."

"Me neither," Rosalie agrees. "This one's all Alice."

Something "all Alice" can't be good. "Can't you come down here?" I really don't feel like getting up. I'm too comfortable where I am.

"Nope, we need you up here," Alice replies.

"Alice needs you up here," corrects Rose.

"Why?" I ask suspiciously.

Alice's sugar-and-spice-and-everything-nice façade disappears. "Oh, just get up here before I send Bella to drag you here!"

I consider this. Bella's a newborn, and she's very strong, even stronger than me. I don't think I could resist her grasp if I tried. "Fine," I grumble reluctantly before Alice can make good on her threat.

Alice squeals and claps excitedly. "Yay!" she exclaims. I manage to pull myself up and lumber up the steps, dreading whatever's coming.

I meet Alice, Bella, and Rosalie at the top of the staircase. "Come on, Emmett!" Alice says, grabbing my hand and yanking me along behind her into her room. Bella and Rosalie follow behind, exchanging significant glances. "You have to thank Jasper and Edward for this," Alice instructs.

"For what?" I ask warily. Then, I turn and look at the floor. It's stacked with neatly folded and carefully organized clothes. I cuss. "Alice, what the hell?" I gasp.

"Jasper and Edward oh-so-generously donated clothes they didn't wear to you. It's time that I gave you a makeover!" Alice declares.

"A—a makeover?" I stammer.

Rose hums the Jaws theme music under her breath.

Bella covers her mouth, but her shoulders shake.

I glare at both of them, then throw a malevolent look toward Alice. "I don't need a freaking makeover!" I thunder at her.

"Come ON. Look at what you're wearing." She gives me the once-over and scoffs. "Three words, Em. Di-sa-ster."

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" I boom, narrowing my eyes at her.

"Hello?" Alice rolls her eyes. "Ratty t-shirt. Old sweats. You've had those sneakers for fifteen years!"

"Your point?" I ask, glowering at Alice.

"Here, try these on." And suddenly a flurry of fabric and leather is being whipped at me from all directions.