Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or The Bachelor.

My palms were sweating as I rubbed them against my tuxedo pants.

That's right I was in a fucking tuxedo.

People swarmed around me, reminding me of lines, fixing my make-up (don't get me started), hooking up mics and wires and straitening and pinning. I felt like a doll.

Tonight was the night, weeks of preparation with the studio, contract deals and Alice yelling at me every time I wanted to quit. And there were a lot of times. I wasn't even excited anymore as I stood there outside the giant house that the women would stay in. The mystique was over, any hope I had of miss right squashed.

Because after countless meetings, lawyers and scripts, I finally got the whole concept behind the bachelor: I was there to put on a show.

The basic gist of what I had signed up for was as crude as it was genius. I was to meet 25 women tonight. Throughout the course of six weeks, I would narrow them down through means of set up dates, scripted rejections, and of course, perfectly timed, perfectly queued make outs.

It was degrading; it was fake; it was everything I had ever gone against, and yet here I stood, thinking about how one little pixie could wield so much power.

" Alright Mr. Cullen, the first woman will arrive soon, greet each with the same amount of enthusiasm, except for 3, 7, and the last, who you are to appear specifically interested in. Got it?"

I mumble an affirmative as everyone set up around me. Did I mention this was fake? As in, I already knew which woman were expected to win the ring. I already knew which one was to go home first, and which I would give the rose to tonight.

That's the things about reality television, they don't like surprises. Of course, they said that I had complete veto power. That, if I were so inclined, I was technically and freely able to keep whoever I wanted, though they still had to approve the ones I let go. Something about keeping good ratings around.

I just nodded and smiled, because they had given me a run-down of what was required to get on the show, and none of these women were going to make me so inclined to keep them.

At that thought the first limo pulled up. I had to admit, this part would be interesting. They had given me numbers of who they wanted to progress the furthest in the show, but as they said "to create a more realistic reaction" they never let me see the faces of the competitors.

I refused to think of them as dates or love-interests. They were competitors now doubt, and I was their prize.

The door to the limo opened and a pair of very long, very orange, and very exposed legs swung out. This first woman was tall and blonde, a complete California girl by the looks of it, and totally not my type.

"Why hello there," she purred as she sauntered up to me. I was about to respond when she grabbed my lapels and pressed her sticky lips to the corner of my mouth.

My body stiffened and I tried not to be too obvious as I pulled away and shot her my standard "I'm totally not interested smile."

"Hello to you..."

"Tanya. I just wanted to get the first kiss in, you know? Set the bar."

At that she winked and turned to go into the house; I didn't have the heart to tell her the bar she set was more like a footstool.

The next few women all appeared the same. I remembered to raise my eyebrows and appear a bit more interested in 3 and 7. It wasn't that hard. They were both beautiful women, 3 a statuesque blond, Rosalie, who shook my hand and looked me dead in the eye. She reminded me more of someone I pictured as a colleague than a potential love interest, but I could see why the studio would want me to appear interested: she had the makings of the next bachelorette.

7 confused me a little more. I couldn't understand the studio's motivation behind singling her out. She was beautiful of course. Tall with brown hair and a quiet disposition. I practically had to bend over to hear her tell me her name was Angela.

As more women filed in one after the other, I had to be remade for the last two. Apparently all the greeting was working off the pound of makeup they had on my face. Yeah, ok.

The 24th woman will always stick out in my mind. First: because she literally ran from the limo to my side, and second, because her dress literally exposed her tit. I wasn't even sure what to do.. I tried not to stare, I really did.. but I'm a man, and when presented with bouncing, running tits, I'm going to stare. The worst part though was when she noticed what had happened and LAUGHED. As in, didn't even really try to cover herself while she winked at me. I was so confused I didn't even register her name as she passed me and went into the house. I would just have to remember her by her crazy laugh and definitely fake tits (like I said, I could help but stare, and they were definitely fake). Not that it should surprise me.

While I was mentally calculating the ratio of fake to non-fake tits within the household (it was a very skewed number) the last limo pulled up. I remembered that I was supposed to look interested in this one, so I stood a little straighter and took my hands out of my pockets.

That looks interested right?

I really didn't have to pretend for long.

It felt like my entire being focused on the woman getting out of the car. Like I could take in multiple things simultaneously, even while being stunned. Her hair was long and brown, curling in deep waves around her face. She was small and thin, but the dress she wore hugged her curves and I felt my gut clench in response.

She thanked the doorman the held the car open for her, giving him a smile and calling him by name.

She was the most gorgeous woman I'd ever seen.

She turned and started walking my way, and I tried to remember how I was supposed to act. She had her eyes down and a scowl marred her face as she made her way to me. It seemed to take her hours to get there, and I wasn't sure if my mind was slowing the process down, or if she was actually just taking that long.

I was anxious to meet her though. I was anxious to touch her.

I got my wish a lot sooner than I would have expected though. As she closed the gap between us, her heel stuck inside the cobblestone causing her to pitch to the side. I didn't even think as I reached out to snag her waist before she fell, holding her against my chest as I set her back on the ground.

"The hell?..fucking cobblestones…" was all I heard as she regained her footing.

I felt my skin tingling everywhere it made contact with hers. I had this irrational desire to pull her closer, to close the difference between us and let my body ride this jittery high. I couldn't even hold in my laugh at her antics if I'd wanted to.

She wrenched her head up at the sound of my laugh and my eyes locked on her brown depths. I felt my breathe hitch as I realized we were still so close together, and I hoped she didn't notice how my eyes flickered down to her full lips.

I slowly released her, feeling the euphoria of her touch subside as I stepped into my own space.

"I'm so so sorry. Holy shit.. I mean crap, sorry. Man do I know how to make an entrance."

She was so cute. Her rambling and blushing giving away how embarrassed she was while her scowl and set of her shoulders only gave off defiance. It was fascinating.

"That you do," I laughed, trying to make eye contact with her again. She wouldn't look up at me, and I felt like it was going to drive me insane.

"Yeah so, I'm just going to try to go into the house now without killing myself, nice to meet you." She said and the next second she was gone, always looking down, scurrying into the lions' den.

As I lost sight of her and the production crew descended, I could think of only three things:

One: I owed my sister an apology.

Two: I was going to marry that woman.

And three: she didn't even tell me her name.