Summary: Bella's friends set her up on a dating website after a tough break-up, much to her own dismay. After she's stood up and she meets a guy perfect for her in every way, she realises that maybe she has some thanking to do. But will her returning-ex cause too much trouble between her and The One, or will love finally take her side for once?

AN: Howdaaay. This is purely just for on the side, something that has been playing on my mind for a while. I don't particularly like writing in Bella's P.O.V because movie-Bella kinda ruined that for me, but oh well.

I own nothing except any characters you don't recognise. Twilight and any movie, television or book references I make all belong to their rightful owners. (And I will be making them a lot.)

Chapter One

I stared down at a pair of pink jeans in distaste, trying not to insult Alice too much, but still not wanting to even try those things on. Very kooky, very 14-year-old girl. Very Alice.

She cocked her head to the side and gave me her signature sweetheart smile. "Come on, Bella. They're cute. You're only going on a coffee date."

"Exactly," I said, dropping the jeans from my hands. At least the lace top was cute… oh, who am I kidding? I didn't know the slightest thing about fashion. That's why my roommate slash best friend was sitting on my bed, reading a new edition of Vogue and waiting for me to make my mind up on the dozens of outfits she'd laid out around my bedroom.

"Then pick something else already," she said, but she didn't seem as frustrated as the words suggested. She smiled, pointing to a cream dress and real pearl necklace hanging on my wardrobe. I shook my head.

"Very Rosalie."

"What's me?"

Rosalie appeared in the doorway, making Alice and I turn to her, watching her walk in. Her eyes darted around, and then she eyed the pair of jeans on my bed and her hand shot defensively to her heart. "You are joking, right?"

"Not this," I said, rolling my eyes. I turned to point at the dress and necklace. "That."

Rosalie was one of the Hale twins, attending medical school – the other half attending law – and a Marilyn Monroe clone. Chanel no. 5 wearing, Audrey Hepburn worshipping and James Dean loving. She grew up in New York on the Upper East Side with her super rich parents, growing up as the most popular girl in school, but also the most pure. A good girl at heart, but she's never shy of showing her true opinions, no matter how hurtful.

Luckily, she seemed to be in a good mood.

She patted her wavy long blond hair and smiled politely. "If Grace Kelly met department store." She walked over to my messy dressing table, neatly organising a few jewellery boxes – including a Tiffany's charm bracelet that I vaguely remember her buying Alice and I when we first became friends. I was too scared to wear it. "You want to avoid Taylor Swift and channel your inner–"

"Audrey?" Alice and I said at the same time. Rosalie nodded dreamingly.

We left her to organise and admire herself over and over in the mirror while we went through a few more outfits. If only I had Rosalie's walk-in closet, and I'd be able to fit all these things in; I'd only need a quarter of it, if that. But I had a crappy, Ikea, wooden thing that I'd had since I was 8. All my new clothes courtesy of Alice wouldn't fit, but I'm sure I would be donating them as soon as my best friends left.

I picked up a t-shirt I hadn't seen before. Alice picked up a pair of slender fitting, high-waist jeans. Rosalie took out my Tiffany's bracelet. And considering it'd been almost 3 hours of searching, I was happy with anything.

Rosalie's nose scrunched up. The t-shirt was what Alice called "last resort", with the Rolling Stones logo on. It'll do. I pulled off my t-shirt, showing my Victoria Secret's bra that Rosalie had picked out when I had my last date, despite the fact he didn't show. After I pulled on the t-shirt and Alice helped me pull on the jeans, Rosalie fastened on the bracelet.

"Where's that from, anyway? I don't remember seeing that in any new, relevant fall collection."

"That's because it's Topshop," Alice said matter-of-factly.

"Top-what?"

"Never mind," she said. Alice spun me around to the mirror and Rosalie stood behind us, fixing my hair into a high-bun. And then letting it fall loose. And then pulling it into a messy ponytail. Finally, she let it fall loose again, defeated. My hair wasn't always the most cooperative thing in the world.

"How do you feel?" Alice asked. "Whatever happens, we'll support you. Whether you're choosing internet dating or you want to run around the highway naked to get some male attention. Whatever. It's time you got back on the dating scene."

Rosalie nodded. I had to look up at her when she spoke. Not that she was hugely taller than me, but I slouched and she had a perfect posture, standing straight like a model. "Unless what you decide to do includes He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. In that case, we're shipping you to Mexico and changing your name to Pepito. Anything to protect you."

"Gee, thanks," I said. I pulled on my collar, rearranged my jeans so they weren't riding too low and crunching up at the bottom and spun around my bracelet nervously.

"Now, how about those heels?" Alice smiled deviously at Rosalie, who had a glitter in her kinda-blue, kinda-lilac eyes.

"How about them?" I said, rolling my eyes. "How about falling over on my first proper date in 3 months and breaking my nose? How about tripping down the stairs and breaking my neck on the way to the emergency room? How about breaking a heel and slipping onto the floor and simultaneously into a coma? How about–"

They were already fastening the straps of my heels.

I walked into the bar, stumbling a little. I held onto the large glass windows, my bracelet clinking on it. Goddammit, Rosalie. I'd kill her for bringing the heels to my house in the first place if she couldn't already kill me first. If looks could kill, Rosalie would put me in critical condition after seeing what I'd done to the front of her precious Louboutins after scuffing them on the front steps of the coffee house.

Okay, so the said coffee house is more a bar slash restaurant owned by my father's best friend Harry Clearwater, who's known me since I was in diapers. But Harry's is known for serving just about the best Irish coffee in town, and when I spoke to my date Felix online, he called it a coffee date.

So that's what I'm going with.

"Just a coke please, Harry," I said, sliding onto the bar stool and smiling at him. He nodded. A quick glance at my watch told me that I was on time, but I couldn't spot a dark-haired, green-eyed, tall man anywhere. Trust me, I'd looked through the windows, around the restaurant area, the lounge and the bar, too, where I was currently sitting.

"There ya go," he said gruffly, handing me my glass. "Waiting for somebody?"

I looked around again. "Just a date," I said. "It's pretty casual, though."

"Anybody I know?"

Everybody in Forks already knows each other, which is why he was asking. I shook my head. "He's… from out of town," I told him, which may or may not be true.

I waited another 10 minutes, and then ordered another drink. Waited. Added vodka. Waited another 20. Decided to give up. Double-vodka and coke, please, Harry.

"There's always next time," he said, scratching his beard. I suppose I'd agree.

If he hadn't said that last time.

Here's the deal – I'd been on dates all year and so far, only a couple had shown, which led to nothing – or a friendship, which is what I had with Mike Newton, the friendliest of the bunch. After a while, I gave up – precisely 3 months ago. Until Alice suggested internet dating by the off chance I'd find somebody.

I did. And now I've lost him.

Okay, so maybe I wasn't looking hard enough. But I'd went on two bathroom breaks, searched everywhere, couldn't find him. And I remembered him not giving me his number, or me not knowing anything other than the basics. Could I have easily missed him in the crowds?

Too late now.

I didn't hear, but I could see Harry whispering to a bronze-haired man at the end of the bar, occasionally glancing in my direction. Then, moving towards the space besides me, the bronze tapped my shoulder and cleared his throat.

"If you say your name is Felix," I slurred, "I'm going to kick your ass so hard that you'll feel Rosalie's heel sliding up your abdomen."

He chuckled, sipping his scotch. "I'm not sure Rosalie would be so happy about that."

How the hell does he know Rosalie? I looked up, searching his face sideways on.

"I don't," he said, sipping his drink. "I heard you say her name so I repeated."

Shit. I'd said that out loud.

"Oh," I said, turning away. He ordered another drink, pointing to my empty one.

"Refill?"

"I'm good."

He seemed amused. "Okay." Then his expression softened, but he was still smirking. "So who's Felix?"

"Ugh, nobody," I said, and laughed, because it was true. "So you're not him?"

"I'm Edward," the guy said, extending his hand. Did people still do that? I shook it, surprisingly happy that he hadn't directly hit on me. Maybe that was still to come. Maybe I'd be surprisingly happy at that, too.

"Bella."

"It's nice to meet you, Bella."

We sat in silence for a few minutes, the only noise Harry making sure the glasses he cleaned were squeaky. It was calm now in the bar area and a quick look around about 10 minutes after Edward and I had spoken introduced me to an elderly couple sitting on a brown, beat-up leather couch opposite a mahogany coffee table, chatting quietly amongst themselves.

Another few minutes passed and then Edward cleared his throat. "So are you here to meet somebody?"

I thought I heard an edge of humour in his voice, but when I turned to glare at him, he was staring at his glass seriously, turning around a dark rope bracelet knotted around his wrist.

"Nope. How about you?" I answered.

"On my own," he said. "Do you come here often?"

Something about my current situation and the alcohol coursing through my body made me want to starkly ask "What, is this twenty questions or something?" but I ended up just shaking my head. He nodded, pushing away his empty glass.

"I heard it's a good place," he said.

"You've never been here before?" I was surprised honestly. Harry's was the go-to place in Forks – mainly because there were hardly any other places where you could find the comfort and enjoyment that you do here.

"Never in my life," he said, without missing a beat. He smiled crookedly at me. "I just moved here from Alaska."

"Oh," I said, smiling. Alaska. That can't be too bad. "I moved here from Phoenix a few years back. I went to school there."

"I went to school in New York," he said, grinning. Then, seemingly realising even NYU stumped anywhere in Phoenix, he added, "All of my family went there. Kinda a tradition."

"Its kind a tradition that my family never go to college," I told him. "So I was a first."

"You're also the first girl I have met since moving here," he said, smiling crookedly again. I had to smile back, though I was afraid how it looked because of the amount of alcohol I had consumed – I could feel my face drooping drunkenly slash tiredly. "So I guess that means I can buy you a drink?"

"Does it now?" I challenged.

He chuckled. "I hope so."

Edward called Harry over and ordered us two tequilas, clinking his glass with mine. "Cheers," he whispered ghostly.

"Cheers," I repeated, wiggling my eyebrows. We both laughed.

And I think Harry's just became my new favorite place.

AN: A little bit short for the first chapter, but let me know if you want me to finish it. :D I hope you enjoyed!