A/N:

Hey guys welcome back! I hope the travel overseas went well for all of you! Who's ready to see what happens next?

Thanks for the support for this story and for ID. It means a lot that you guys understand that RL stuff has caused us to take a break. But we will return!

Thanks to my amazing pre-readers and my wonderful beta! I'd be lost without you guys!

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight yada yada, If I did, my ass would be living in London somewhere! But I do have a jar full of money that I'm saving up to go there!

BPOV

I couldn't believe that I was in in London. As in England. LONDON BABY! I had been dreaming about coming here for so long; thankfully I was lucky enough to not only visit, but to live here for a solid four months. God bless studying abroad.

When I received my acceptance letter to the program over the summer, I couldn't believe it. I screamed. I cried. I danced and then I screamed some more. I had my dad read it to me because I was in utter disbelief. He wasn't exactly happy that I was going to be living in a different country for four months, but I had to remind him over and over that I was an adult and this would help my career.

Okay, not really.

If I was being honest, I was only staying in the English Department so I could study abroad. Had I not been accepted, I was going to switch majors. Granted, I'm going to switch majors anyway, now, it's only slightly delayed.

What does one do with an English degree anyway?

Teach? Negative. After babysitting during the summers, I found out that I, in no way, shape, or form wanted kids. Screaming children, tantrums, diaper changes, and everything else associated with those little monsters is the best birth control anyone could ever ask for. Perhaps if some of those girls on 'Teen Mom' did that, they would think twice about having sex at sixteen!

There were ten of us in the program. Other departments from school went to Spain, and some to Italy. As amazing as those other countries sound, I couldn't pass up London. Besides, I could always run rampant around Europe while on a school break. Or, perhaps take a holiday like the English do.

Holiday. I was so giddy to learn the slang and terminology of the locals.

I barely had time to unpack when we were already discussing what we wanted to do for our first night out in London. We decided to explore the neighborhood we were living in and hit up a local pub. They might as well get used to us now. After sleeping off some of the jet lag and adjusting to London time, we set off to explore some of the city.

My class load allowed me to have plenty of free time. Which was a huge selling point for joining this program. As if actually living in London wasn't going to be enough, If I was going to be here I wanted to do as much as I could in the short amount of time I was here.

Friends from home always said that if I ever came here, I would never go back home. They always said it was so easy to get lost in the city and the atmosphere. It was almost like a black hole that sucked you in. I was sucked in before I even got here. Just trying to think of my future and what it could hold, I hoped that it would always bring me back to London.

Still feeling groggy, I got myself ready to hit the pub around the corner. Brushing out my long, dark tresses, and sweeping some mascara over my lashes, I was ready to go. Until I doubled back and put some concealer under my eyes to hide those bags. Not that I was trying to impress anyone, but it is London, so why not at least look presentable. I didn't want to come off as an American who could care less what she looked like. Sometimes I don't. Don't all girls have those days where they just don't feel like putting in the effort by doing their hair and make up and choose the perfect outfit just so they are dressed to impress? Okay, I'll be honest, I bought a whole new wardrobe before coming out here. I'm coming to freaking London and wanted to look my best! I always thought I had some semblance of style back home. But yeah, why not amp up that style just a bit?

I could become anyone I wanted to be while I was here. Hell, I could discover who I truly was. I knew that coming here would teach me alot of the world especially outside of my hometown and, moreover, alot about myself and who I really am.

We walked around for a bit, seeing what kind of shops and restaurants were in our neighborhood. We found a pub not too far from our flats. Talk about not being in Kansas anymore Toto. I was definitely far from home, far from the states, and certainly in an English pub.

Highboy tables were scattered about the space with a small stage in the back corner. They were perfect for leaning against to have casual conversations. Crests of different family orientations littered the walls. I felt a sense of history emanating from each plaque. I longed to learn about them, to become a part of them. Dart boards and other various British signs filled with the lingo of the locals and slang terms filled in other spaces. Many were in a humor I had yet to understand, but hoped to learn while I was here. The long, high bar was a deep mahogany color with an array of draughts I was unfamiliar with. But certainly willing to become familiar with.

I could not wipe the grin off my face. I was just so excited to be here, I honestly did not care if I looked like the American tourist that I was being in the moment. My group seemed to absorb the atmosphere. Everything was different, but it was the same. I felt like I was a million miles away, but at home at the same time.

Getting a round of beers and settling in, we sparked up some conversations with a few locals. They were extremely friendly and welcoming. I don't know why I was so worried that they wouldn't warm up to us.

As some time passed and more rounds kept coming, I noticed an older gentleman setting up a guitar and amp on stage.

"What's going on there?" I asked one of our new friends.

"Oh, we've got an open mic going on tonight. It's just some bloke standing up there and singing about heartache and what have you."

"Is he any good?" I inquired.

"Uh, yeah, I mean, I've seen him 'round here before, but he's still fairly new. Kind of shy, nervous. You'll see. I think his first show was just a little bit ago." He replied with a shrug.

"Oh, poor guy. Well, we'll have to be sure to show him some love, huh?" It takes some guts to get up on stage and perform in front of people who could care less you were there. Especially in a bar. I could never do something like that. You had to have a certain kind of presence, an aura. Confidence. I didn't have any of that.

"If you say so, but I think more drinks are in order then."

I laughed and waited for this poor 'bloke' to get on stage. I realized that he was more than likely to be singing to no one in particular. Most of the people in the bar were having their own conversations and not paying attention to anything but themselves. I felt sorry for him before he even got on stage.

Engrossed in the re-telling of a story about going through customs from someone in my group, I hadn't noticed the singer take the stage. His quiet, yet firm voice caught my attention, and I automatically turned towards him.

Long, dark, ruffled hair, angled towards one side of his face, blocked part of my view of him. The only think I could make out was a defined jaw line and a twitch of a smile.

"Uh, hi," he mumbled into the mic, while adjusting his guitar strap. "My name is Edward Masen, and I'm going to play a few songs for you tonight."

His accent was so strong and his voice was so firm. Even if I was the only one giving him any attention tonight, then his job was done. At least someone had heard him.

He never peered up from behind his hair. It was his curtain; his security blanket. He strummed a few notes on his guitar before beginning to sing.

"First one I'm going to do for you tonight is called 'Streetlights.'"

My focus was entirely on him. He had this aura about him that made me want to listen. He sang to no one in particular, keeping his eyes shut during each song. I tried to listen to the words he was singing, but was finding it difficult to sift through the buzz of the crowd.

I watched as he sang. I longed to see his face, for him to bare himself if not just to me. Not that it mattered, but there was something about him. Others were trying to engage me in their conversations, but I waved them off. My focus was on him. On Edward Masen.

His raspy voice and bluesy undertone was hypnotizing. I watched intently as his dexterous fingers strummed his guitar. As each note rang out you could hear the passion and soul that was put into every piece of his songs. I'm an avid listener of music and have gone to my fair share of concerts, but seeing this, seeing him, was different. You could tell he was singing and performing because he loved to do it and nothing more.

Even if I was the only one listening, it probably didn't matter. The message he was sending out was being received. And I was a fan.

He only sang a few songs, which was really disappointing, before giving his thanks and stepping down to talk to the same man who set up his guitar for him. They were talking to another older gentleman, who I assumed to be the owner of the place. They were shaking hands and smiling. That smile. Wow. I could feel my own smile breaking out across my face. I was desperate to see it for myself, face to face. To make him smile. To hear him laugh. I bet he's got a great laugh.

I couldn't help but keep my eyes on him, I was drawn in. Suddenly, I knew I wanted to see him perform again; and again, and again.

"We're gonna pop out for a fag, fancy one?" One of the Brits from our group asked.

"Uh, I don't-" I was about to reply when I noticed Edward reaching in his pocket, retrieving a packet of smokes himself. I cleared my throat trying to pass it off. "Uh, sorry, I was just going to say I don't have a light, but I got it."

I purposely waited a few steps behind the others to watch Edward file out. As soon as we stepped outside, everyone lit up, breathing in the not-so fresh air.

Edward stood away from the rest of my group, alone, just enjoying his smoke. He pulled the hood of his sweater over his head, once again hiding himself and his face from me. Oh how I longed to see all of his features without the hair and dark bar lights and the hood. I wanted to know if he really was a shy guy, hiding behind everything, including his guitar. What was his story?

I drew a breath and ventured over to him. Suddenly, I was nervous, my hands shaking. What was I thinking? Calming myself down, I smiled and approached him.

"Great set you had in there," I said to him.

He laughed lightly, billowing the smoke from his cigarette out into the night. "Oh, um, thanks. You were probably the only one listening."

My heart stopped. That laughed rattled throughout my veins. So simple, so genuine and lovely. I was right.

I smiled at him, "Oh, I don't know about that. The older guy you were with seemed pretty interested too."

"Ah, me manager, Emmett. He's a great guy, always helping me out."

"Well it doesn't seem like you need much help, you were great." His eyes met mine and I wasn't sure if it was all the beer I drank or just him, but he caused me to stumble. He was gorgeous. Seeing him without his masks was breathtaking. His hair was damp with sweat, no doubt from the stage lights. His eyes were a dark green that anyone could get lost in. A few freckles were speckled across his cheeks and some facial hair was sprouting across his jawline, which was obviously chiseled to perfection. My eyes bounced everywhere and nowhere as I really looked at him. I drank him in like he was the last drop of water in the desert.

"Edward. Sorry, I'm Edward." He placed the cigarette between his lips and reached his hand out towards mine. I shook my head, breaking out of the spell he placed me in and glanced down at his extended arm. It seemed to go on for miles all the way to the tips of his very long fingers.

"I'm Isabella. Izzy. My friends call me Izzy." I placed my hand in his and tried not to cling to him like I was falling off the edge of a very high cliff.

"It's a pleasure, Izzy."

A few moments of silence passed between us before he spoke again. "You smoke?"

"Uh, no I don't. All of my friends were smoking so I figured..."

"Ah, you're a sheep?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Excuse me?"

"A sheep. You know, a follower."

I laughed, "Oh, I suppose I am. Well, no, really I wanted to just say hi and that I thought you were great."

He smiled again. "So you've said a few times already."

I blushed. "Right, well, I should probably..." I rambled while making a gesture to head back inside.

"Right. Um, well, thanks for the support. I hope to see you again? Well, maybe not, since you're obviously not from around here." He cut himself off seeming disappointed. I could have been wrong however, letting the beer, once again, get to my head. Wishful thinking right?

"Oh, no, I'm studying abroad at Birkbeck, so I'll be here for a while."

A small smile slowly crawled across his beautiful face. "Brill, that's brilliant."

Another moment of silence passed between us before he spoke again. "So, do you need another drink?"

"I just got one before coming out here actually."

"Oh, well, when you're ready for another you come and find me."

I blushed at him. "Really?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah? Alright then. I'll see you inside."

"Looking forward to it, Izzy."

I went inside not believing what had just happened and returned to my group.

Edward stood at the bar speaking with the bartender and his manager while occasionally looking back at me and smiling. In that moment, studying abroad seemed to be the best decision I ever made.

A/N:

So what did you guys think? Who isn't swooning over Edward Masen? *sigh*

Thanks for reading! Until next time... xoxo