Hey, ya'll.

This is a Bella/Edward fanfiction. Best couple ever.

I'm hoping to make it a pretty decent length, around thirty chapters or more.

I have three chapters done right now, but I'm only going to upload them one at a time.

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or any of the characters. That is all Stephanie Meyer's genius.

Summary: Bella meets Alice on a plane flight to New York. The two become fast friends. Alice invites Bella back to California with her. But did Alice invite her out there just because they are friends, or does the pixie want to hook Bella up with her brother, Edward Cullen, a famous actor with a horrible girlfriend?

The alarm clock screamed "Wake up!" at me in its high-pitched, loud voice. I groaned as I tried to untangle myself from my web of blankets. It was four-thirty in the morning, an ungodly hour to be awake. Why had I set the damn thing so early, I wondered, trying to remember what day it even was. My brain was still asleep, it seemed. I hoped that Angela, my housemate, had remembered to buy coffee yesterday for me. I was nothing without my coffee in the morning.

The floor was cold on my feet. I glanced desperately around my messy room for my slippers. I found them sitting by a pile of half-packed suitcases and a backpack. I remembered suddenly why I had set my alarm clock for so early; I was supposed to be flying to New York this morning. My plane left in five hours. It took me an hour to get to the airport, which left me two hours to get ready and finish packing. I always arrived at airports two hours early, to be on the safe side. It always took me forever to get through security.

I threw on my robe and started down to the kitchen. I had to get coffee in me before I could do anything. The stairs groaned under my weight. I wasn't a heavy person, the house was just old. Angela, Jessica and I had decided mid-way through our sophomore year in college to get a house together. Since we were all college students without much income, we couldn't go for anything grand and perfect. Instead, we settled on an old, slightly rundown house that had enough room to suit us all. It had three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a large kitchen. The kitchen was what sold me to the house.

I spent most of my time in the kitchen. I loved to cook; there was nothing more fun and relaxing to me than trying new recipes. I got my love of cooking from my mother, Renee. She owned her own restaurant in Phoenix, simply named after her: Renee's. It wasn't anything high-class, but it was successful. I wanted to do that; open a restaurant, feed people my food, cook for a living.

Entering the kitchen, I almost cried with joy when I noticed that there was not only coffee on the counter, but that Angela had set the timer last night, so I had coffee ready for me. That girl was the best. I took out my favorite mug and poured the delicious liquid into it. The mug had a picture of my mom, dad, and I on it, one of our rare pictures together. I grabbed my Dulce de Leche creamer out of the refrigerator, along with some yogurt and raspberries. It wasn't a full breakfast, I'd have that right before I left, but it was a good snack to get me going.

My first sip of the day was heaven. I quickly finished my snack, drank three more cups while sitting at our kitchen table, and brought a fourth cup upstairs with me. It was completely normal for me to drink an entire pot in one morning. I set the cup down on my desk and started to finish my packing. It didn't take me long. I had everything that I wanted to take with me planned out, but I had gotten too tired to finish last night. I looked at the clock again. Five-thirteen in the morning. I downed the rest of my coffee, grabbed a towel and the outfit I would be wearing on the plane, and headed to the bathroom.

My shower was quick, nothing like I normally take. I didn't have time today to take an hour long shower, no matter how much I wished I could. I pulled my towel around my body as I stepped out of the tub. And suddenly, I was falling. There had been a wet spot on the ground, and I'm a hazard to myself with how klutzy I am. I hit my head hard on the floor, and my leg got smashed up against the bathtub.

"Ow, hurts," I moaned, standing wobbly to my feet. I limped over to the mirror to look at the damage done. I could see a beginning of a large bruise forming on my forehead. I hated when I got bruises. They always looked worse on me because of my white skin. I sighed and took out my hair dryer. Maybe I could cover it up good enough so no one would notice.

A half hour later I was almost ready to go. I was unable to hide the bruise that looked terrible now, so I pulled my long brown hair back into a loose ponytail. I had light makeup on, just enough to make me look okay, but nothing glamorous. I was wearing my favorite pair of blue jeans that were loose-fitting enough on me to be insanely comfortable but still made my ass look fantastic, a black tee-shirt with the Beatles on it, and a cozy grey zip-up hoodie. I pulled on my bright yellow Converse shoes, which matched my jacket perfectly. This outfit really was perfect for a long flight.

I went back downstairs to make my breakfast before I packed my luggage into my truck. I opened the fridge, trying to decide what I wanted to eat. I decided on one of my favorite breakfast meals. I took out the eggs, bacon, mayonnaise, cheese, and bread. I then proceeded to make the best sandwich ever. I poured myself another cup of coffee, finishing off the pot, and sat down to eat.

I ate two sandwiches before I stood up to pack my truck. I knew it was fattening, but luckily, I had this amazing metabolism. Jessica always commented on how jealous she was that I could eat anything I wanted and never gain a pound.

Packing the truck took me about twenty minutes. My truck was an old, red Chevy. The thing was a monster, but I loved it. My dad had bought it for me when I went to live with him in my junior year of high school. He thought it was perfect for me, and it was. I hoped it lived forever. I grabbed my carry-on bag, my laptop case, and my plane tickets; I was off to New York for three weeks.

My mom was sending me there for a birthday present, all expenses paid. She would be meeting me there with her new husband, Phil. He was the reason she could afford to do this for me. Phil was a famous baseball player who made a fortune.

It took me exactly as long as I planned to get through the airport. Security was a nightmare. My plane was surprisingly right on time. Phil had bought me a first class ticket, which was amazing. I had never flown first class before. I was excited to see how different it was.

The seats were incredible! I'd never felt more comfortable. I sighed happily as I thought about how great this flight was going to be. My eyes closed and I laid my head back on the headrest. I felt the seat next to me move slightly, indicating that someone had sat down next to me. I was just hoping that it wasn't some five-hundred pound old lady who would sweat on me the whole trip.

My neighbor cleared her throat. The sound was soft, very feminine. I opened my eyes to find a beautiful, pixie-like girl with short, spiky black hair sitting next to me, staring at me with large blue eyes. She was very petite, wearing a plain long-sleeved black shirt, a striking blue miniskirt, and black peep toe boot pumps. A billion-watt smile appeared on her small face. She was dazzling. The girl held her hand out to me.

"Hi! I'm Alice!" she said, her voice full of energy and fun. I was suddenly more awake and hyper than I had ever been. Her energy was overpowering, but in a good way.

"Bella," I said, taking her hand and throwing her a large smile.

Alice giggled, "You know, I think we're going to be great friends."

I believed her.

Okay, so that was the first chapter. Not too long, but hopefully you won't hold it against me. I promise that they're all not this short.

Review, tell me what you think.

I'll post another chapter either tomorrow or the next day.

Until then, my darlings!

Ta-ta!