SM owns these characters. Not me. So sad.

I told a lot of you guys in the review replies that this would be up tomorrow, but I'm really hoping to make this a daily update fic. Since AtR is on track toward updating Friday as normal, I figured why not tonight?

Mackenzie L. makes these words pretty, and kr2009 and texasunshine swoon in all the right places.

Thank you so much for all the reviews, favorites, and alerts. I never imagined I could write fluff, so the validation means so much to me!

The highest of fives to those of you who called out the Shawshank reference. There will probably be many, many more.


It's amazing the things you can learn about a person through simple observation.

Mystery girl's favorite candy is Skittles. She brings a bag to class with her every day. Her favorite color is pink, as in the color of her backpack and notebook. And her nails. They're bright pink and acrylic. The kind my mother always has that hurt when she accidently scratches you.

I silently wonder if she's ever maliciously scratched her boyfriend with them. That thought makes me smile.

I imagine what it would feel like to have those nails scrape down my back while she squirms beneath me. Too bad I'll never know.

It's a nice image, though. It does the trick, and before I know it I'm leaning back against the shower wall trying to catch my breath.

I towel off quickly and get dressed, my mind still reeling from the powerful orgasm I just had. There's never been a real girl in my head before. When we were teenagers Edward and I would steal our dad's copies of Playboy, but they never did anything for me. I wanted something real.

Mystery girl was real.

She was tangible.

I could touch her. Not literally because that was called sexual assault, but I could definitely fantasize about her in the shower. And in class. And in the grocery store. Basically everywhere.

I walk from the bathroom to my bedroom and stare at the clothes sitting in a pile on my floor. There are technically two piles. One of clean clothes and one of things I'm too lazy to put in the laundry basket. It's a complicated system.

I pull on my standard clothing choice of jeans, t-shirt, and converse, and walk to the kitchen where Edward is frying bacon on the stove.

"Breakfast, bro?" he asks, offering me a plate.

Edward's friends would shit themselves if they knew he could cook.

He's incredible in the kitchen. Our mother has always told him he should be in culinary school instead of engineering school. He never says it out loud but I think he's afraid culinary school would make him hate cooking. It happens. Our dad wanted to be a lawyer until he actually became one. Now he hates what he does.

I sit at the tiny table and eat my bacon and eggs. I probably wouldn't survive if Edward didn't cook for me. I can make ramen but who really wants that for breakfast?

Our parents both wanted us to continue living at home when we went to college, but I couldn't stand that thought anymore than Edward could.

Even though they help us out some with the rent, neither of us liked the thought of being their charity cases. We both got small jobs to pay our other bills. Edward works in a sporting goods store, and I found a part-time job in a bookstore on campus.

He joins me at the table with his own plate.

"So, what's your plan for talking to mystery girl?"

I shrug. I honestly haven't thought of anything, but I know I need a plan. I've never talked to a girl on purpose before. I don't know how to do this. I feel sick just thinking about what to say.

"This is what you do," Edward says, suddenly becoming serious. He takes a long breath and pauses like he's going to make some massive, important speech. "Be yourself."

I blink several times. "That's it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, thank you for that, Edward, but who I am is nobody."

He looks annoyed. I can't say I blame him. I'm a little annoyed with him myself.

"Seriously, how is it that you can talk my ear off like any normal person, but you can't say two words to this girl?"

Technically I've said three words to her. Here you go, when she asked for a pencil. I'm not sure Edward would think that counts.

I'm not you," I say. "I can't just look at a girl and make her instantly want me."

"You know why that is, right? You have no confidence, bro. And I don't understand why. You're smart, your funny, you could be attractive." I roll my eyes. "Okay, that came out wrong, but you know what I mean. There are girls out there who love the nerdy type. You just have to be willing to get shot down a few times before you find one."

"We're talking about getting mystery girl to let me tutor her. I'm not trying to get married."

"Maybe not, but you like this girl a lot. The same rules apply. If she turns your offer down you're going to be crushed. The trick is to make her want to accept."

"And how do I do that?"

"Well you can start by not calling her 'mystery girl' to her face."

I throw a strip of bacon at his head. It misses. Damn.

"Really, dude, I can't give you an instruction manual. There isn't one. Just be you, and be sure of what you want. Chicks dig a guy who knows what he wants. You want to tutor this girl. Make sure she knows that."

Easier said than done, bro. Easier said than done.

I watch her sit down next to douchebag and rub his shoulder lightly. Stupid boney shoulder. I bet rubbing it hurts her hand.

I crumple the paper I'm holding when she kisses him. Then I realize it's my homework that's due today, and I want to scream.

As much as I hate it, I can't stop watching. Her mouth is so stunning. Her lips are full and red, and I'm pretty sure that's natural and not caused by makeup. They look like they would taste like strawberries.

Their kiss lingers. It's like they don't notice anyone else in the room.

I want her to kiss me like that.

He holds the side of her face in his hand, and she's kissing him like she's desperate to feel something for him but can't.

Maybe that's just me wishing that deep down she hates him. I must be delusional. She's kissing him in a classroom full of people. Do people do that with someone they don't like? I doubt it.

They break apart when the professor walks in and class begins. I try so hard to pay attention but I can't think about anything but what it would feel like to have her lips on mine. By the end of class I'm ready to get away from there.

In my head my plan of asking if she wanted to study with me sounded so great. In reality I was sure I would never be able to work up the nerve.

I sit on a bench outside the main engineering building. There's half an hour till I need to be at my next class and I need to clear my head for a minute.

I almost miss it when mystery girl rushes past me. It's impossible to miss the fact she's upset or that her boyfriend is nowhere to be seen.

I wonder what happened.

I'm tempted to follow her, but then I remember that stalking is illegal. And rude. Mostly illegal.

I do it anyway.

She stops near the English building where there's a kind of courtyard with several tables and benches. She throws her bag down on one of the tables and sits down. I try to make a quiet exit, but she notices me.

"Hey wait," she says just as I turn to leave. "You're in my CE class right? You sit behind me?"

I can hardly believe she's speaking to me. My brain is so busy trying to think of something to say that I can't think of anything to say. So I nod. Smooth, Cullen.

She grins. "I still have your pencil."

"It's okay," I say. "You can keep it."

You can keep it. What kind of pickup line is that? I get the feeling my brother would be very disappointed in me right now.

I was failing at everything he told me to do.

She looks around for a few moments and bites her lip. "Do you want to sit down?" she asks.

Of course I wanted to sit down. What happens then, though? Would she initiate conversation? Was I supposed to do that? Why is all of this so complicated?

She watches me expectantly and I realize I have yet to actually sit. I've been so busy panicking about what to say once I am sitting. I probably look like an idiot to her.

She smiles encouragingly, and I slide into the seat across from her.

"I'm Esme," she says. She extends her hand across the table, and I know I'm supposed to shake it, but I stare for a moment. Her fingers are long and perfect. I can't stop imagining them wrapped around me.

I finally clear my throat and take her hand. It's warm, just like I knew it would be. I'm sure mine is sweating and I hope she doesn't notice.

"I'm Carlisle," I tell her. That was easier than I thought it would be. So far so good.

"It's nice to officially meet you."

All I can do is nod like some kid who's never spoken to a girl before. Maybe because I haven't.

"How did you do on our test?" she asks.

Wow. She was making this easy for me and she didn't even realize it. "Pretty good," I reply.

Am I supposed to ask her how she did? I don't want to ask. I know how she did and it wasn't good. I don't want to embarrass her.

Her faces falls and I get the feeling I don't need to say anything.

"I didn't do so great." Her voice is soft as she speaks. There's a brief moment where I remember being in the shower this morning, and I wish I could have imagined her voice like that. Then I remember that she lowered her voice because she's ashamed of her grade. Now I want to slap myself.

"I'm sorry," I say. I don't know what I'm supposed to say at all. I'm so far out of my league I'm pitching from the berm. And now I'm making baseball metaphors. Edward would be proud.

She sighs. It's such a sad sound. It's not right at all. Such a beautiful mouth shouldn't make sad sounds.

She shakes her head. "It's not a big deal. I'll do better next time."

I suddenly feel very brave, and I really hope I'm not about to say anything stupid. "Can I ask you something?"

She nods and tilts her head like she's curious. "Of course."

"I always notice in class that you talk about engineering like it's second nature to you. I guess that didn't come across on the test?"

Her eyes widen. Did I screw up already?

"Wow! Do I really sound like that?"

I smile. She really has no idea how smart she is. "You sound like you're already an engineer," I say.

She blushes. Her cheeks flush red and she ducks her head. She seems so shy. Not at all like the confident girl I see in class every day.

"I'm a bookkeeper in an engineering firm," she explains. "I guess I just say the things I pick up around the office."

Well that explains the nice clothes.

"I don't know why I failed the test so badly," she continues. "I guess…" She shakes her head. "Nevermind. It's not a big deal."

I lean forward. I'm concerned now. She needs to pass her classes. She's too smart not to succeed at this. "If there's something that's negatively affecting your schoolwork it probably is a big deal."

"You're right. I need to just apply myself better. I've been letting myself get distracted by other things lately."

I wonder if this has anything to do with her loser boyfriend. Who isn't a loser at all in fact. I'm the loser. But I'm the one who she's confiding in right now. Not him. That realization makes me sit up a little straighter and smile.

"What if we study together?"

Where in the hell did that come from? I know my whole goal in talking to her today was to convince her to study with me, but I never thought I'd actually be able to say the words.

But now I have, and I really want to hold my breath waiting for her response, but that might not end well.

"You mean like meet up here at the library and do our homework and study?"

"Sure," I say. "If you think it would help you."

She nods. "I do. I think it would help a lot. It would give me some focus if I have a study buddy."

"Great." I think I'm in shock. I don't think it's hit me yet that she agreed. I'm trying to play it cool like Edward suggested but it isn't easy.

"Let me see your phone," she says.

I blink. My phone? And then I realize she wants to give me her number. I smile as I hand it to her. There's never been a girl's number in it before. Besides my mom. That hardly counts.

At approximately 8:53pm my phone rings. Well, the alert notification goes off. Same thing.

Can you meet at nine Saturday at the library?

At night? I'm messing with her. I know she means morning.

You should know by now they close before then. I have to tilt the phone to the side, and stare at it for a moment before I realize the equal sign and close parentheses that follow her message are actually a smiley face.

I'll be there.

K. See you then. Another smiley face. I kind of like them. Okay, I like them a lot. More to the point I like that she texted me.

And now I would see her again in just two days. It would be just us. Along with anyone else who decided to use the library so early on a weekend. I wouldn't think about those people.

All that matters is I have a study date with mystery girl.