Summary: She's troubled, he's in a rut. They're complete opposites – but they've been brought together. She's a young, naïve stripper and he's the successful recently-single man who wants to help her. BxE . OOC.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Twilight saga.

Two

Edward's POV

Life.

Anticlimactic.

You go to school, then most likely you'll go onto college. You'll grow tall, learn new things, have adventures. Maybe, you'll fall in love at one stage or another. Then you'll reach a point. You'll get your masters. You'll get what everyone calls the dream job in one of Seattle's top advertising firms. You'll have it all.

You'll feel nothing.

You'll wake up one day next to your soon-to-be-wife. You'll be twenty-five and you'll have no idea what happened to your life.

That was me.

My alarm rang, informing me that it was the delightful time of 6.30am. Tanya roused beside me and rubbed at her eyes, opening them slightly. "Don't forget to get bread on the way home," she murmered, half-asleep, before closing her eyes and falling fully back to sleep. I looked at the shining white-gold ring on her hand, kissed her forehead gently and quietly got out of bed.

I walked across to the ensuite and ran myself a steaming shower and got ready, arriving at work just after 8.30am, a hot long black coffee in hand.

"Morning, Edward," my secretary, Angela, called to me when she arrived. "I have the paper here for you," she placed it down on my desk, "Aro wants to discuss the Masen account with you when you have a moment, also."

"Great. Thanks, Ange."

I gulped down my coffee, before walking down the hallway to my boss's office. Aro was standing at his window, admiring his 29th floor view.

Aro was the founder of Volterra Advertising, along with his brothers Marcus and Caius. He was a very distinguished looking man with broad shoulders and salt-and-pepper hair. I used to find him intimidating, but that had quickly become a thing of the past. He had this strange way of being nice – almost to the point where it was sickly.

"Miserable day," I commented, even though I personally didn't think so. I enjoyed the rain. If all else failed, you could always count on the constant rain in Washington.

"Yes," Aro agreed, "it is. Take a seat." He gestured towards the chair across from his, on the otherside of his desk before returning to his own large leather seat.

"Good weekend?" He asked. We made our usual pointless chatter, before getting down to business.

Taking on new accounts was always fine by me, but I felt kind of apathetic towards it now. It used to excite me that Aro trusted me with these things, but now, I felt like I was just biding my time until something new came along. It wasn't the work so much as it was me. I knew I was slowly digging myself into a rut, but I kept telling myself, something would give out and it'd be fine.

I walked back to my desk and found Angela trying to sneakily update her facebook.

"I don't care if you use it. As long as my work gets done, it's all good by me." I smiled at her and she smiled back. She was twenty and still in college part-time. I admired her youth and potential. Even though I was only twenty-five, I felt older. She still had everything going for her in life; this limitless potential.

I remembered my days of youth and high school. I had always achieved a high standard. I went to an exclusive private school and then on to Dartmouth. I'd never really experienced the struggle of youth. I had life relatively easy, yet I wouldn't consider myself a snob. I attributed that to my wonderful parents who always assured my brothers and I always maintained a level head.

My father, Carlisle, was Chief of Staff at Seattle Childrens Hospital while my mother, Esme, was a quite well renowned architect. They always saw to it that I was never without anything. Myself and my brothers had grown up with nothing short of the best.

My eldest brother, Emmett, was a personal trainer who was also looking in to opening his own gym. He married his college sweetheart, Rosalie, mere months after they graduated from college. Rosalie worked in civil engineering and the two of them lived in an average-sized house on the outskirts of the city.

Now that was fulfilment. They were completely happy and had a wonderful life together.

My other brother Jasper was a graphic designer who just asked his girlfriend Alice to marry him. She accepted and although I've only met her a few times, I gathered that she was a very lovely, genuine person. Her and Rosalie are very close, too. I couldn't be more happy for my brothers and the women in their lives.

So it was only natural that i'd be the one to get married next and settle down.

I loved Tanya, but I was starting to question whether I was in love with her.

I knew we definitely were in love at a point, back in college when we were young and passionate. However, once we moved in together all of that changed. She worked in journalism so she worked odd hours, while I worked the standard 8.30-5.30 Monday to Friday.

I couldn't even remember the last time we'd had sex.

Actually that's a lie. It just wasn't worth remembering. Tanya underneath – and I could tell she was wondering when it'd be over – while I wondered why I was bothering from above.

Things between us were all about, 'we need to talk about this bill', or 'I think we should get a new sofa, tv, dining table etc...'.

Still, marriage was the next step. It was all about natural progession, I guess.

We cared for one another. We both had good, sturdy jobs. We loved one another, in a way. It just seemed right. I mean anything more was just asking for way too much, right?

Sometimes, I worried that Tanya wasn't happy in our relationship, but she'd smile and she would do her hair and put on her make-up for me still, so I figured there was some spark there for her still. We were just busy, going through a bad patch. Besides, couples get in ruts sometimes. It wasn't something that couldn't be fixed. It's not like we fought – but at the same time that worried me, too. Sometimes, fights are a good thing – it shows you are passionate and you still care enough to argue about it.

The day seemed to slip away from me, between meeting with a major client and helping Aro with other tasks. I noticed it was almost six, so I dismissed Angela before heading out into the rain myself.

I stopped in at a supermarket along the way to pick up some bread, before running back to the car, my hair soaking wet thanks to the walk from the carpark.

When I pulled into the garage, I noticed Tanya's car was in it's usual spot. She either finished work early, or she didn't go. I wasn't worried, though. I hadn't grown to expect dramatics from Tanya. When the claws came out, however, you knew she meant business considering she was normally quite mild-mannered.

I waited for the lift to go up to our floor and heard muffled chatter coming from the otherside as I approached the door for our apartment.

"Tanya?" I called as I unlocked the door and walked through.

"Edward," she sighed, appearing at the doorway of our bedroom. Her curly blonde hair was held back carelessly with a headband and she was wearing jeans and an old shirt that used to belong to me. Her cleaning outfit. Why was she cleaning then?

"Is someone else here?" I asked, just as her best friend Lauren appeared in the doorway, carrying a small suitcase.

"I'll....um....take this stuff down to your car, Tan," she called before giving me a small wave and exiting our apartment.

"Are you giving her some of your clothes or something?" I asked.

"No, Edward," Tanya said in a serious voice, her hazel eyes looking down at the carpet.

"Do you mind telling me what's going on then?" I demanded. "Why aren't you at work?"

"I took the day off on personal leave. I didn't want it to be like this, Edward. It's just gone on too long," she sighed.

"I don't understand what you're talking about. What's gone on too long?"

"I'm leaving you, Edward." Those four words cut straight through me, even though she said them in the most delicate voice possible. I forgot momentarily to grasp onto anything, even her words, and the bread fell out of my hands and down to the floor with a quiet thump.

"You're leaving me?"

"I'm sorry," she murmered. "I met someone."

"You met someone?"

"Yeah, well he's one of the photographer's from work..."

"Oh, that's nice," I said in a quiet voice. Some part of me was screaming, 'why don't I care more?', but I found myself being more outraged that I bought her the damn bread, rather than the fact that she was leaving me for someone else.

"You asked me to get the bread this morning," I said, because well – the irrational side of my brain gave a damn.

"Yeah, I realised once you'd left. I was half asleep. I'm sorry."

"It's fine. It's just bread."

"I'm sorry." She apologized again. "For everything, I mean. It was purely a friends thing between Matt – the photographer – and I, but I found myself getting more involved and you haven't been here for me. You've had work on....we just aren't the same people we were in college. Edward, I do love you and I never would want to hurt you, it's just -"

"No, I understand," I whispered. I did. I really did. It scared me.

"You aren't in love with me."

She shook her head. "I thought we were just going through a rough patch, but I realised that I don't want this. I didn't want us to make a mistake by going through with the wedding."

"It's alright. I think.....I think maybe I wanted the same thing as you. I think I wanted out. We were digging ourselves into a rut."

I knew we were both stuck, just trying to find our bearings. She'd apparently found hers in this Matt guy, the photographer, but me....where would I be?

"I got this polished today" she said as she moved her hand to take her engagement ring off. "It should be fine to return. I still have the box." She walked over to the coffee table and picked up the little velvet box, placed the ring inside before placing the box in my hand. "I'll get the rest of my stuff while you're at work. Goodbye, Edward."

And with that, she walked out of my life.

She did what I was too gutless to do and too oblivious to realise I wanted all along.

The rain seemed to get louder as I collapsed back onto my white leather couch – the one Tanya insisted we had to have. The one that my damn paycheck afforded us. I looked around the room; white, simple, but classy. A part of me liked the white because that's how my house growing up looked. It was comfortable and trusty, just like what I was beginning to think everything in my life was.

People so constantly yearn for comfort and the assurance that everything'll be okay – but okay just wasn't enough for Tanya and as much as I wanted to blame her, I couldn't. When I first met her, she was crazy and we would stay up til all hours making love then drink shitloads of coffee and head off to college. It was a cycle, alright, but it was fun and unpredictable.

Then everything became utterly predictable.

When we first moved in together, it was great. I knew a part of Tanya loved playing the housewife. On the nights she had off, she'd usually have some gourmet meal on the table for me when I got home.

She loved showing me off to her friends, just as I loved showing her off.

Outside, we were the perfect couple.

I just should've realised that a life like that really isn't a life at all.

I recalled our first major fight since we moved in together. I was working late and when I got home, I found a smashed plate in the kitchen sink. I found Tanya in the bedroom, wrapped up in bed, an empty wine bottle and glass on her bedside table.

"I just wanted to do something nice for you," she'd cried, "but you weren't here. Even if you're physically here, you aren't emotionally anymore, Edward." I held her in my arms until she cried herself to sleep, only to wake up the next morning, the fight forgotten. I tried to forget it like she did, but it was always there in the back of my mind whenever we'd have a little tiff.

Some people turn to alcohol or drugs when they have a moment like this – you know, sitting home alone because your fiancée just walked out – but I turned to what I always did when the going got tough – my brothers.


"Fuck, Emmett. Please tell me this is not a strip joint," I groaned as I glanced up at the sign above me.

Pole Kats.

Well that's original, I thought sarcastically.

"I told you he wouldn't go for it, Em," Jasper sighed, seeming hesitant to even be in the general vicinity. "We should just go back to your place for a few quiet ones." Jasper looked at me and I shook my head. Home was the last place I wanted to be. "Fine. It's either this or the bowling alley."

"Please, Eddie?" Emmett pleaded.

"Fine," I agreed. "Just so long as you agree to never call me Eddie again."

"Deal." Emmett grinned.

"Rose is going to be really pissed, you know," I reminded him.

"The make-up sex'll be worth it, brother."

"Fuck. Don't need to hear that shit," Jasper cut in. I agreed wholeheartedly.

"Can we hurry up and go in already?" Emmett was back to bouncing around on his toes.

"Fine."

We entered the club and were shown to a table by a busty-redhead, right in front of what I assumed was the main stage. I ordered a beer and stared absentmindedly at the dirty carpet at my feet just as I heard the volume of the music turn up. I chanced a glance at the stage and saw a blonde – just Emmett's thing – prancing around in next to nothing. I thought the idea was that they performed a striptease, but this girl was already in next to nothing.

Emmett cheered beside me and I cringed internally before excusing myself to the bathroom. Jasper followed and said he had to go home to Alice, leaving Emmett and I.

I figured Emmett was content at the main stage, so I wandered back to quiet table near a smaller stage. The lights were dimmed so I figured it wasn't in use. I breathed a sigh of relief at that and ordered another drink from the waitress – this time a rum and Coke.

"Here you go, doll," the waitress said as she placed the drink down on my table.

"Thanks," I replied, thrusting a tip in her hand.

I finished my drink just as the lights turned on the small stage and the music began to filter through the air. I groaned and hoped to go unnoticed, but this stage wasn't as crowded as the other one. I could hear Emmett hooting so I assumed it'd be a while before I would be free to leave.

A tiny brunette sauntered out onto the stage clad in a miniscule denim skirt, ripped wife-beater and giant platform clear shoes. She kept her head down so I couldn't see her face, but what I could see of her body was certainly appealing. She was slim, but her hips flared out to create lovely, womanly curves and led down to her nice pale legs.

She slowly made her way over to the pole, almost mechanically, before throwing her legs up in a bunch of moves that would've been alluring – apart from her face. From what I could see once she finally lifted her head, she was attractive, yes. She just looked so out of place, sad almost. I figured she did this every night. You can't keep the façade up all the time.

She slowly removed her skirt, shaking it down her body, to reveal her slender legs and a whole lot more – the tiny black thong she was wearing didn't cover all that much. She then pulled the shirt over her head, revealing a black bra that pushed her average-sized breasts up in a way that I might've called appealing if there was a smile on her face.

She ran her hands up and down her body before reaching behind her to unclasp her bra, which she slowly removed. The older man sitting beside me hooted loudly and leaned forward to throw a twenty onto the stage. The stripper removed her hands from her chest, revealing her smallish, but perky breasts.

She finished her routine and before I knew what was happening, she'd walked over to my table and sat down beside me. I thought she was going for the hooting man beside me, but obviously she wasn't.

"Hey, baby," she purred as she stroked my thigh, but I couldn't help the feeling that she didn't feel all that comfortable speaking like that. "How are you going tonight?"

"Could be better," I answered honestly.

"Want me to make it better?" She offered, leaning forward so I had a full view of her breasts.

"I think i'll pass."

"Are you sure?" She pouted and rubbed her leg against mine.

"Positive. Are you even old enough to work here?"

"Yep. I'm nineteen" She smirked.

"Uh, that's great....um?"

"Marie," she answered quickly. "The name is Marie."

"Well, Marie, I probably should get going."

"Oh come on, baby. How about a private dance?" She pouted. "Seriously, guy. Can't you just give me a damn cut?"

I don't know why, but I felt bad for this girl despite her questionable occupation. I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my wallet, before handing her a fifty knowing that I could afford it. What would drive a young girl to this 'profession'?

"Oh, you want something now?" She quirked her eyebrow. "We have private rooms if you're interested. "

"No. Just take it," I cut in.

"Well, thanks," she said as I stood up.

"Have a good night, Marie."

I walked off quickly, before she could convince me to go into one of those curtained rooms.

Emmett was still at the main stage where I'd left him and he argued with me when I told him I wanted to leave, until I reminded him why we were here to begin with.

"Do you want to go home then?" He asked as we exited the strip joint.

I thought about that monetarily.

"No".

"Let's get wasted then," Emmett bellowed.

I began to think of cons, but Emmett just looked at me, expecting my reply. I was such a predictable mother fucker.

"Fuck it," I growled. "Let's go get wasted."