A/N: This fanfiction is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. Feel free to share it, but attribute the work to me, and don't attempt to use it for commercial purposes.

Thanks to Kitty Cullen for betaing.

Emmett's POV

I'm wrapping a towel around my waist when I hear a knock. I secure the towel in place and open the door wide for the young blonde employee who is delivering my dinner.

She stares for a few moments, her eyes fixed on my almost naked body. Recovering, she pushes the cart through the door. After unloading the tray onto the table I hand her a tip and offer her a smile. She is young and attractive, but a smile is all that she will be getting from me.

After she leaves, I pull on a pair of soft pajama pants and dig into my food. My cell rings and I don't bother looking at the display before answering.

"What are you doing?" Rose demands.

"Eating dinner."

"Well that's boring. What are you eating?"

"A hot fudge sundae."

She sighs, very aware of what this means. Dessert for dinner never means anything good. "Sprinkles?"

"Nope. This hotel doesn't have any."

"What do you mean the hotel… Emmett, where are you?"

I blush, and am relieved that she can't see it. I tell her everything. My brief chat with him on the plane, following his cab, asking him to go for a drink in the elevator. By the end, I know that she knows why I'm having a sundae for dinner.

"I'm so sorry, Emmett." She is being sympathetic, a side of her that almost no one but me sees. "It sounds like it's nothing personal though, just that he doesn't date."

"I guess." Sure, it sounds that way, but how am I supposed to for sure? I never will.

"Awww, don't sound like that okay?"

"Like what?"

"Like you're all sad and depressed and your bottom lip is probably sticking out."

She's right; I'm making a sad face. I'm pouting like a seven year old who is told he can't go outside and play with his friends.

"Emmett. You are a very attractive, very smart guy. You work hard and you play hard. You are nice and funny and everyone loves you. And you're abs are ridiculous. Every guy that you've ever dated hasn't been good enough for you. If this guy wants to blow you off before he even gets to know you, he must be a complete idiot."

I'm about to defend Mr. Serious, to stick up for him and tell her that she's wrong, but I realize that I have no basis for that argument. So I change my mind, instead I defend myself.

"Am I that terrible at picking out guys? Not every guy that I've been with has been a loser."

Rose laughs a bitter laugh, and I know exactly who she's thinking of.

"Oh yes, Peter was a real winner."

Peter. Of course she had to bring up Peter.

"Peter…" I'm not sure what to say about Peter. She's heard it all already anyway.

"Peter is a selfish bastard who made you think you were in a committed relationship when he was really blowing every bartender in the city – on your birthday."

I wince because I really could have done without that last reminder. I don't say anything, because once again, there is nothing left to say that Rose and I haven't already hashed out in painstaking detail over many dinners involving hot fudge.

"You deserve better, Emmett," she whispers, and once again I wonder why it is that I'm not straight, that I just don't want this woman in ways that I never have before. Life would be much easier if I wanted to bang my best friend. But I don't. I never have, and I never will.

"Thanks, Rosie."

"Now finish your dinner and get to bed. You have an early meeting and you've got to be fully rested so that you can convince your employees that you really aren't a big teddy bear made of whipped cream and maraschino cherries."

We hang up and I listen to her, turning off all the lights and trying not to think about what might have been.

.~.~.~.

It doesn't work.

I dream of him. We're at the airport, holding hands at our gate, only this time our trip is strictly for pleasure. I think that the sign by the gate say the Bahamas, but I'm not sure, and I don't really care where we're going, as long as we're going together. He doesn't say anything, just holds my hand, stroking it with his thumb in soft smooth circles. He looks up at me, our eyes lock, and I lean in…

Ring.

My arm shoots out and I pick up the phone to hear my wake up call. Reality dawns on me I realize where I am and how I ended up here. I pull back the covers and stand up, wanting to crawl back into bed but forcing myself to move on.

Downstairs I order breakfast but end up just pushing my food around on the plate while I pretend to watch CNN while I really scan the room for him.

He never shows, and I wonder if he's the type that doesn't eat breakfast. I worry for a moment, as I always like to start the day with a good meal. But then I realize that I'm having hypothetical concerns about a hypothetical relationship with a man who is clearly not interested in me and that I will never see again anyway.

.~.~.~.

I walk into the lobby of the McCarty Sporting Goods headquarters in a dark grey suit and dark green tie. The tie is close to the color of his eyes, but I try not to think of that because I need to focus on work. The receptionist at the front says a pleasant "Good Morning, Mr. McCarty", but I can tell that she is terrified of me.

When I took over the company I quickly realized that almost all of the employees were scared of me. I'm sure that it's because I am the son of the CEO, but I know that I'm also physically huge and intimidating. I went with it, not out rightly being a jerk, but being firm and letting people know that my father's business is something that I take very seriously. To them, I am a hard ass – and that's the way I like it.

I say a quick hello to the receptionist, Gianna, who probably thinks that I don't even know her name. I take the elevator to the sixth floor where my office is. The office is really just for show, as I'm only here once a week and usually in the conference room anyway. It's surrounded by floor to ceiling glass windows that looks out over a small park. Whenever I get a few free minutes I usually spend them staring out over the parents and kids that playing on the swings and jungle gym.

Rose is right; if I were friends with everyone here I would probably get no respect.

The day passes by slowly and my mind keeps wandering to my return flight home. I realize that there is a possibility that he is taking the same flight back to Portland as me. After all, I know that he's returning to Portland today. I try not to, but I cling to that possibility all day; until after the board meeting is done, until after I've gone over the monthly financials with the CFO, until I walk out of the office and take a cab back to the airport.

He's not at security.

He's not at the gate.

And he's not on the plane.

I fly home alone, tired, and convinced that I may have lost my mind.

.~.~.~.

After another night full of dreams of Mr. Serious I walk into the Portland office. This office is much smaller than Seattle's, and also not nearly as fancy. A much smaller group of people work here, mostly people that my father hired personally, people that are grateful I didn't close down the Portland branch altogether when I took over.

These people still think that I am a hard ass, but they know that I have no intention of leaving the city. They also know that I buy everyone lunch on Thursdays over our weekly status meetings. So they don't complain – at least not to my face.

I walk straight up to my assistant, Angela, who is a nice, shy girl just out of college. Her mother Heidi was my father's assistant for fifteen years, but an unfortunate incident with a ladder has made it so that she can't work anymore. Concerned over her finances, I hired her daughter as soon as she graduated.

Angela is not only grateful, but smart. It's a good fit.

"Morning, Mr. McCarty!" She sings out as she holds out a cup of coffee.

I grunt my response but take the coffee with a smile.

"Angela, you need to make adjustments to my weekly travel plans. I had to switch seats on the plane and hotels at the last minute."

She looks at me, obviously confused, but my low chuckle clues her in that I'm not really blaming her.

I quickly jot down the seat number and hotel name and push the paper towards her.

"Don't let it happen again." I say sternly, a bit louder than necessary.

Angela smiles as she takes the paper and I offer her a wink.

"Yes, sir," she says, also a bit too loud, holding back a giggle.

.~.~.~.

The week passes by quickly. Rose and I go out to a club on Friday night, but don't stay long. I dance off the energy that I need to and then we go back to my place for a Star Wars marathon. She doesn't mention Mr. Serious and neither do I. I would like to think that she thinks I've forgotten about him, but she knows me better than that.

Tuesday night comes around and next thing I know I'm at the airport again, waiting at the gate, annoyed after being informed that the flight is delayed. I situate myself in seat where I can see everyone else who is waiting.

I people watch, like I usually do, only this time I'm looking for bronze and green.

I almost fall out of my chair when I see him.

He walks up to the counter and sees the sign with the new departure time, a frown on his face. He walks towards the chairs with his bags and he spots me.

I freeze, both ecstatic that he sees me but wanting to disappear at the same time. And then he does the last thing I would expect.

He walks over to me.

And he sits down.

Right. Next. To. Me.

I stare at him, both because he is beautiful and because I can't believe my eyes.

He clears his throat and starts to say something, then stops, then starts again.

"I want to apologize."

Thankfully, I find my voice.

"Apologize?"

"For last week. I was really rude to you, and all you did was ask me to go for a drink. You didn't deserve that. So I'm sorry."

This is not what I expect. This blows me away.

"Um, it's okay," I mumble.

He sits there for a moment and I begin to think that is all I'm getting, any second he is going to get up and walk away and that will be it.

But he doesn't.

"It's just that I don't date… ever. And I don't get asked that often."

"Maybe it's because of the big "fuck off" sign that you have on your forehead."

My mouth drops at my own words; I have no idea where they came from.

His mouth is hanging open as well, and some part of my brain registers that he has perfect teeth. He snaps it shut, and after a moment… laughs.

It's quiet and low and I love it. It may be the best sound that I have ever heard.

He tilts his head and smiles crookedly, which may be the best sight I've ever seen.

"Yeah. Maybe."

I smile my relief and rack my brain for ways to keep the conversation going.

"So you don't date… because you're in a relationship?" I swear I have no shame. This man has made me loose all of my dignity.

"No…" he says slowly, like he's not sure how to explain it to me. "I'm not in a relationship. I just… don't really have the time."

He says it in a way that makes me think there's more to it than that, but I don't push.

"Well, you have some time now don't you?" I cock my head to the side and smile.

He looks confused.

"Our flight is delayed. Probably just enough time to go and get that drink." I hold my breath because here I am putting myself out there to a man who literally seconds ago told me that he doesn't date. Apparently he has made me loose all of my dignity and sanity.

"Um, yeah...I guess."

"Good." I say it simply, as if that's that.

I stand and motion towards the sign in the hallway that has a picture of a martini on it.

He looks at me, then the sign, and then back at me. He bites his lip. He bounces his knee.

And then he stands up.

"Okay."

I allow myself to smile, holding back the victory dance that I really want to bust out in front of everyone.

"I'm Emmett McCarty," I say as I hold out my hand.

"Edward Cullen," he says as he grips my hand back.

I smile like an idiot.

We head over to the bar and I sneak a few glances at him. He's dressed casually again, a dark blue t-shirt that clings to him just right with jeans that hug his hips in ways that make me want to reach over and grab them. I'm just looking away when I notice him doing the same to me, and I can't help but smile again.

The bar counter is full, for which I'm grateful; I would much rather be in a booth, with the excuse to watch his face, taking in all of his expressions.

We put our bags down and a waitress comes over to take our order. A beer for him, jack and coke for me.

We are served our drinks quickly and after I take the first sip I motion over to the long black tube next to him.

"Mind if I ask what that's for?"

He glances over at it and hesitates. Like every detail he reveals about himself is actually painful.

"I'm an architect. Those are my drawings."

I immediately imagine Edward leaning over a drafting table, his hair falling in his face, an intense look in his eyes. I like it.

"An architect… That's so cool." I know that I sound like a moron, but he looks up at me with a really? expression and smiles that crooked smile.

He seems to relax a bit, and I'm not sure if it's the scotch or if it's me, but I'll take what I can get.

We chat about his job, which is obviously very important to him. He says he loves almost everything about it, except for his boss, who is a real jerk. He has just started a new project for a new office building for a law firm in Seattle, and will be going over once a week for meetings to discuss its progress. He works out of an office in Portland, but lives in a house in the suburbs.

He seems impressed by my role as CEO of a small sporting goods chain. He asks why I haven't just relocated to Seattle and I explain that my mother lives in Portland. That she has breast cancer and while she has been in remission for three years her friends and doctors and support group are all in Portland. She won't leave them and I won't leave her. So I make it work. He nods seriously as if he completely understands but reveals nothing else.

By the time we get up to go I realize that our conversation has mostly revolved around me. I resolve to change that, to find out as much about him as I can.

We get to the gate just as they are calling our row. We walk down the aisle together and I have flashbacks to my dream when he and I are going on vacation. I itch to reach out and grab his hand. My mind wanders and I imagine pushing him up against the wall and crushing my lips against his, running my fingers through his hair and feeling his chest rise and fall with deep breaths.

"What seat are you in?" His voice breaks me out of my daydream and back to the present.

"Um… 8C," I say, hoping that he is in 8D and that he doesn't notice this very convenient coincidence.

"I'm in 8D." He gives me another one of his curious looks, but he doesn't say anything else about it.

Once we are in our seats we jump back into our conversation, which I try to make less one sided. Each time I do though, he finds some way to twist things around, ask me about myself, and answer nothing at the same time.

By the time we land he knows about my parents divorce, my mother's health, my education, Rose, and my desire to one day have a house with a big yard and a chocolate Lab.

By the time we land I know that he is an architect, he drinks scotch, and that he has an amazing ability to not talk about himself.

The most that I get out of him is that he has a sister named Alice, but as soon as it's out of his mouth he clams up like he's said too much and unintentionally revealed information critical to national security.

We get off the plane and make our way to ground transportation. On our way I reveal that I am staying at the same hotel as him again, and if he thinks is odd he doesn't let on. We share a cab, and he insists on picking up the tab. We check in at the front desk and head to the elevators.

Besides his evasion skills things have been unbelievably good. I feel like I don't want our time together to end, and I'm almost positive that he feels the same way.

So we get on the elevator and I take another leap.

"Do you want to go and get some dinner?" I ask with a smile, because I am sure that the answer will be yes.

But he looks down at his shoes again and bits his lip, and my heart sinks straight down to the lobby.

He looks up at me and then away.

"I can't."

I stand there in shock because surely we're beyond this. But I guess I'm wrong.

The doors open and once again he's gone.