A/N: I'm not done with LDF, but I had the sudden urge to write an AH Twilight fic and this is what I came up with. Feel free to read and follow both stories, I'd appreciate it! Thanks. This is Alice's point of view, by the way.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Twilight characters, that's all Stephenie Meyer. Happy trails!
"Why are you going across the country again?" I groaned. Figures, Edward doesn't listen to me when Bella's in the room. My brother was completely preoccupied with his new epitome-of-tom-girl girlfriend, Bella. I wasn't fond of her from the start—I mean, who turns down a signature Alice Cullen makeover—but I got used to her and we were best friends.
"I'm a costume designer for this movie. They want me on set to get a feel for the location and meet the producers," I explained for the umpteenth time. I had to fly from Manhattan to Portland, Oregon to meet the producers of an up-and-coming movie so they can explain their vision. I was dreading the six-hour flight and lonely month I would spend there. Plus, I was landing on Friday, which meant I had the weekend to wallow in an unfamiliar town.
"Oh, right," his voice was distant and I heard him turn to leave the room, uninterested. I pushed in my favorite Jimmy Choos—platinum oxford heels—and winced as the seams stretched on my mahogany leather suitcase. I struggled with the zipper, but it wouldn't budge.
"Can you help me for a second?" I asked hurriedly. Edward huffed behind me and joined me next to the bed. I sat on the top of my suitcase and he rolled his eyes.
"How long are you gone for, again?" he asked as he easily closed the zipper.
"A month," I said, hopping off the bed and looking around my room. "And don't say I packed too much, because I don't want to hear it," I argued, sticking my tongue out at him before kissing his cheek. I heard a honk outside of the apartment building and sighed.
"I'll miss you," Edward said just as Bella came to the doorway. She had been living with us for six months. Edward was just about ready to pop the question. I hoped he wouldn't elope while I was gone…
"Ditto," I replied, hugging him around the waist and pulling back to lug my suitcase off the bed. It fell to the floor and Bella came to hit Edward's arm as he laughed at me.
"Help her with her suitcase!" she scolded him in a whisper. Edward complied and I grinned; I was starting to love Bella more and more. I wrapped my arm around Bella's waist as we walked to the front door of the apartment complex, Edward taking my suitcase to the trunk of the car.
"Have fun," Bella said with a smile. She'd miss me; she was just being the strong one. Her and Edward would be crying once the car pulled out of here. I smiled at the thought and turned to hug her—squeezing the hell out of her. I would miss her too.
Edward joined Bella when we parted and I slid my sunglasses on before heading over to the car as the driver held the door open for me. "See you in a month," I waved before sliding into the lush leather interior of the charcoal Mercedes. They waved back and before I knew it, we were off to the airport. I slouched back into the seat waiting for it to all be over. Portland, Oregon? What was in Portland?
After seven hours of security, boarding, kids kicking my seat, and reruns of television shows, I landed in Portland. I found my luggage before finding another driver, who held up a sign that read 'Alise Mullin'. Close enough.
My hotel room was flawless. One large queen sized bed with Egyptian cotton sheets, a flat screen television, kitchen, vanity in the bathroom, and three large windows with a perfect view of the skyline. I left a message for Edward and Bella that I got in all right, knowing that they were probably already asleep.
So tired of sitting and anxious from the long flight, I changed into skinny jeans and a frilly fitted vintage blouse and went down to the bar I had been eyeing on the drive to the hotel. Henry's 12th Street Tavern was exquisite. Lit with an amber glow, the first floor was littered with dark mahogany tables with stairs leading to a more secluded second story. The chandeliers gleamed brightly in the darkened room, guiding me to an isolated armchair on the second floor, where I sat with my legs acting as an easel to prop up my sketchbook.
My recent sketch that I had begun on the plane consumed me. The colors were of deep blues, radiant teals, and earthy greens. None of them were together, all spaced out in the collection I had foreseen while daydreaming. I wasn't sure they would fit with the movie project, but hoped I could patch them together once I went home.
A heavy bass accompanied the next song on the play list just as I heard a voice startling me out of my creative bubble. "Why is a lovely lady such as yourself alone in the corner of a bar on a Friday night?" the sultry southern accent caught me by surprise, my heart skipping a beat.
I looked up to see the body matched the voice: blonde unruly hair, sharp jawbones, dimples where his infectious smile kept me dizzy, eyes that pierced through me as if he could read my soul, a sculpted body that held itself through his fitted v-neck sweater, dark wash jeans, and cowboy boots—sexy.
"Was that a pick-up line?" I asked, a smirk tugging at my lips. He smiled shyly and looked down at his feet, his hands digging into his pockets. Cute.
"Did it work?" he asked, his eyes peering at me from under his lashes. I bit my lips to stop my jaw from hanging open. I hadn't been with a guy since James, who dumped me after calling me a prude workaholic bitch at my parents' anniversary dinner. Nice, huh? Still, even James didn't make me feel this way. No guy ever had and I didn't even know this guy.
"Sit," I motioned at the chair across from me and he took it, that contagious smile kept me biting my lip. We sat staring at each other for a few minutes before I blinked and looked away, folding my sketchbook closed.
"What were you drawing?" he asked curiously, the deep bass of his voice still knocking me off my feet.
"You come up with a pick-up line and now you're trying to seem interested in more than bringing me home?" I quipped. His smirk answered my question. "I don't even know your name."
"I'm Jasper," he answered. "And Miss. Sarcastic-Mystery-Woman goes by…"
"Alice," I answered, hearing my voice shake just a bit. My stomach flip-flopped as he stood up and held out his hand in front of me.
"Well, Alice," I just about fainted when he repeated my name, "can I buy you a drink?" I nodded absently, taking his hand and standing up. He grinned at his victory and we walked down the flight of stairs to the bar.
After buying me a drink, we slid into a corner booth and talked about where I was from, why I was there, our jobs, siblings, etc. He worked at a boring blue-collar job to pay for college—he wanted to be a philosophy or history teacher. He had a sister named Rosalie, who was a model and had recently moved to Los Angeles, but was coming up to visit him soon—which he dreaded since that meant he had to clean his house.
He grew up in Texas and moved to Portland for school and to get away from the small town—similar to my move Long Island to Manhattan. His accent was still there on and off; he said he couldn't seem to get rid of it.
I talked about Edward and Bella and even how I was sort of homesick already—which only came out after three more drinks. But Jasper turned the mood around quickly and had me giggling uncontrollably.
"I think you've had enough," he said as I reached my hand out for his beer. I had had enough and I don't know why I hadn't stopped after four drinks, but I ended up having six. I was pretty sure I was completely smashed and wasn't sure how this made me look—alcoholic or I was drinking my homesickness away: either one looked bad.
"No, I'm f—ine," I slurred, pausing to hiccup, which sent me into hysterics again. He wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling be out of the booth and supporting me as I stumbled. He grabbed my sketchbook off the seat before leaving the bar. "Seriously, I'm fi-ne," I hiccupped again and grinned, leaning my cheek against his chest. He was so warm…
"Where's your hotel?" he asked and I shrugged. He sighed and took my purse, finding my cardkey and finding his way to wherever the hotel was.
"Hey, it's not nice to take a lady's purse," I scolded him, closing my eyes as he led me down vaguely familiar streets.
"It's not nice to leave a lady lost and intoxicated," he replied with that favorite smile of mine. He opened the door for me once we arrived at the hotel—only two blocks from the bar—and I stumbled inside before he lunged to steady me again.
His lips were against my ear. "What floor, Alice?" he asked as his arm fell under my knees, hoisting me up in his arms.
"Ten," I gasped as he stepped into the elevator and the doors closed. I stared at him, his face so close to mine, his jaw clenching and unclenching as his gaze stayed straight ahead. The elevator stopped abruptly and Jasper stepped out looking at me for the first time.
"What room?" he asked and I tightened my arms around his neck as he walked. He walked to the last door on the left, like I said. He slid the card in the lock and opened the door easily, still holding me in his arms. He went through the foyer, past the kitchen and living room, toward the bedroom.
He lied me down on the bed, taking off my heels and putting them on the floor at the foot of the bed. I watched him curiously through my inebriated vision as he sat by my side. "Do you need me to put Aspirin or something by your bed?" he asked, but I could barely process what he was saying. "You're going to have a killer hangover in the—"
I grabbed his hand and yanked him down to my level. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I leaned up to kiss him, not completely aware of what I was doing. His lips were satin, moving in sync with mine as I took his lower lip in between my teeth. He grumbled something, but I ignored him, trying to pull him down over me, but he wouldn't budge. I persisted, my lips attacking his hungrily.
"Alice," he mumbled against my lips and I groaned in frustration. "Not when you're—good grief, woman." We both pulled back at the same time and I bit my lip and giggled taking in his messy hair and lustful eyes.
"Did you just say 'good grief'?" I asked with another giggle. He rolled his eyes and stood up next to the bed, but I caught his hand. "Don't go," I pouted.
"You'll see me again," he said with a smile, leaning down to kiss my hand. His thumb brushed over the same place his lips met and he dropped my hand. My eyelids drooped, heavy with sleep as I watched him leave my room. They fluttered closed and I internally cursed myself. What if I didn't see him again? Why did I get so comfortable around this mystery man?
So are you interested? Should I even write more? Review with feedback, please! Thank you for reading!