Chapter 2

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of S. Meyer, or themselves. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.AN: I am planning to update this story on a semi-weekly basis. I have written about eight chapters - a bit more than half, so hopefully I will be faithful to that promise. I've had some RL inspiration for my version of Edward, but some cannon character traits have been retained, either because I like them or they are necessary for the plot. This is fan fiction after all. Enjoy!

I could not have recounted what the movie was about if I hadn't read the book it was based on several times. I had spent the whole film replaying my conversation with Edward and still found myself in disbelief. He'd probably just been bored. That was the only logical reason he would have been flirting with me, let alone even talking to me. Thankfully, Angela wasn't really into the series as much as she was just… into Jasper… so she didn't ask me any probing questions about how closely the movie matched the book.

The after party for the première was at a restaurant in the same complex as the movie theater so we slowly wandered over after stopping by the ladies room to fix any damage done during the movie. The left side of my hair in particular seemed to have suffered from repeated unconscious tugging at the curls. Angela giggled and walked over to help me fix the mess I'd made.

"This reminds me of DC," she said wistfully. "Remember how I always had to help you fix your hair before we went out and then again in the bathroom anytime you wanted to talk to a hot guy - although none of those bathrooms were ever as nice as this." The movie theater bathroom was fairly utilitarian, but did have a counter and a large wall mirror above the sink.

"By nice, you mean clean and equipped with a mirror that wasn't covered with stickers and graffiti?" I joked back. Angela and I shared a love of indie music; punk, rockabilly, garage, electronica; and that music filled much of our free time in college. Unfortunately, the clubs and dive bars we frequented rarely cleaned or improved their facilities. But, at least I had learned to make do without toilet paper in a pinch and had seen some mind blowing bands before they had sold-out, imploded or overdosed.

Angela finished smoothing my stray hairs back into the styled long, loose curls I was wearing. We'd spent all day being pampered and primped at a spa in Korea Town and Angela's favorite salon near her home in the Silver Lake neighborhood of LA. My skin was glowing from the full body scrub (or was that just a lingering blush from my conversation with Edward) and my hair tumbled in artful disarray around my shoulders. The woman reflected in the mirror was unrecognizable from the woman I'd been just a few months ago. I'd recently lost about 20 pounds of post-baby weight. My motivation had been a declaration by my five year old that I was "squishy," just like her favorite gummy fruit snacks. To show off the return of the old me, Angela suggested I wear a black vintage dress she liked from our college days that finally fit again. I was actually happy with my appearance.

Angela watched me assessing the "new me" as she finished reapplying her lipstick and smiled to me through the mirror. "Come on, you are gorgeous," she reassured. "Let's go rock this after party."

The bar of the restaurant twinkled with thousands of tea lights and their flames reflected off the borrowed jewels, metallic dresses and hyper-white teeth of the elite crowd. In the soft glow, I recognized several Hollywood actors, a handful of rock stars, and of course, the cast, while I slowly scanned the room for Edward. When I could not locate him, my spirits fell at the thought that he might not even be there. Damn Bella, obsessive much, I thought. It's not like I would ever see him again after tonight and what did I expect to happen anyway…I was married and lived in D.C. with a husband and two children. I might as well have the minivan with stickers representing each member of the blissful family unit on the back windshield.

A mass of people had roughly queued up along one side of the bar to have their photos taken with the cast members. Angela made a beeline towards the group surrounding Jasper as I promised to bring her a beverage from the bar. I immediately felt in my element as I leaned up against the bar trying to get the bartender's attention and tapping my fingers along to the syncopation of the dance music blaring through the air. I definitely was at home ordering a couple of drinks at a bar while loud music wailed in the background. After a couple minutes, the bartender handed me two rum and Cokes. I turned with one in each hand, on my mission to find Angela and deliver one, when I felt a tingle of warm, moist air down my back.

"Double fisting it? Did you think the movie was that bad?" Edward's smooth voice stopped me in my tracks and I had an urge to just lean back and press my backside against him.

"In this crowd, I guess I would have to say it was the best movie I ever saw," I replied without turning.

"What if it was just you and I, no crowd?" he countered. The boy did not waste any time turning on the charm or the double entendres.

I took a sip of my drink through the small cocktail straw for liquid courage and finally turned to face him. "Then, I would have to confess that I barely remember the movie because I was distracted," I said shakily, but finishing the last word with a smirk. Damn, just being near him made me flirt shamelessly.

"Would that be because you were making your assessment of my answers to your little list of questions?"

I hadn't actually thought much about his answers to the questions. The way he looked, the sound of his voice, the gestures, yes; but analyzing the actual answers, no. I still had so many questions I would love to ask him.

"I didn't get to finish all the questions so I couldn't perform an analysis," I snapped back.

"I think I could help you remedy that problem. Do you still have your list?" He was the one smirking now. It made me want to stare at his lips… I did stare at his lips, but no remedy there, just a path in deeper.

He smiled wider, as if reading my mind, but still waiting for my reply.

"Okay, but I don't need the list. There are only two more questions and I remember them from earlier. But I warn you – they are kind of weird, and probably only significant to me, so be prepared," I felt like I had to warn him.

"I don't mind weird."

"Okay, Mods or Rockers?" I questioned quickly.

"Pardon?"

"Mods or Rockers," I said again more slowly thinking he probably really thought I was lame, or daft, as he would probably call me. God, please don't let him call me daft to my face.

"Like Quadrophenia?" he asked scrunching up his nose. Yep, definitely thought I was daft. I was slightly obsessed with musical subcultures... okay, I was a total music nerd and things like that were important to me, even if only in an idle way. Now that my nerdiness was exposed, I suddenly felt a bit cheesy for being so focused on this minor point. I could feel my face flaming with embarrassment and all in the name of a random question that I had always thought I would ask him if I had the opportunity. Stupid random musical subculture fascination.

"I guess... I mean is that even still a relevant distinction now? Isn't most of the mod music just called rock now anyway?" His fingers ran through his hair rapidly. "What were the Stones considered?" he asked, trying his best to make sense of it, but he was at a loss as to even answer the question.

Of course I persevered, spouting something random that sounded like a poorly researched Wikipedia article, "Well, I think both Mods and Rockers liked the Stones, but they kind of veered off into Rocker territory as they went on, got rougher and more bluesy."

"Which do you prefer?" he asked, those blue eyes trying to hypnotize the answer from me.

"Well, it would taint the whole experiment if I told you," I teased coyly. In an attempt to end the uncomfortable banter, I relented after a few seconds, "Rockers, definitely… I don't think my constitution is strong enough for all the pills I'd have to take to be a proper Mod."

"I'll say Rocker, too. I don't think I could do the whole scooter thing, you know I'm not really good with things that have wheels…although the Mods were pretty brilliant in that film – especially Sting."

"I know, so beautiful in their defiance against the status quo, but so empty and doomed at the same time," I waxed, philosophical. I probably could have made the same observation of many rebellious youth movements.

"But that doomed defiance is what makes it a story worth telling," Edward waxed right back at me. Ah, we'd moved from music nerd territory into philosophical art chat...swoon.

I rattled the remaining ice cubes in my empty drink at him as a reply and set it down on a nearby table. I couldn't think about anything as convoluted as cultural and artistic implications of social movements while trying not to get caught up in the lull of his voice and pull of his gaze.

The next question I had on my list to ask him was about Bowie and Jagger, but after one overly obsessive and awkward music nerd question, I really did not want a repeat. Plus, I didn't want my mind wandering too far down the lane of hot musicians. I would probably be embarrass myself in attempting to discuss homoeroticism in late 70s rock, so instead I took a sip of the drink I had procured for Angela and just asked the first question that came to mind.

"Good or Bad?"

"Good," he replied without hesitation. I was oddly glad he could answer that question so quickly. "I was thinking about possible questions during the film and that was one I had thought you might ask." His explanation led me to believe that he probably had seen as much of the movie as I did.

"So, have we finally come to the end of all your questions," he teased.

Of course not, you silly boy, I thought to myself, I could ask you questions all night long. But I nodded in the affirmative, too afraid that I was going to embarrass myself with further questions from my random list.

"And, what am I?" he asked expectantly.

Um how do I reply to that…ah, charming, gorgeous, brilliant, sexy…

I must have had a puzzled look on my face because he explained himself further.

"I meant, in terms of your little experiment. What are your findings about me?"

I felt a bit slow, like his brain was light years ahead of mind. I deliberately took a long sip of my drink thinking alcohol might actually help clear my brain of its lustfog and quickly contemplated all of his answers.

"I diagnosis you as a dark, moody lover of poetic, dirty rock and roll with a good heart." I don't even know how my brain produced that assessment, but it sounded pretty close to my dream guy.

"How did you get moody from my answers?" he asked, pretending to be perturbed.

"See, you are being petulant right now, that's how." I pretended to scold right back.

"So you are a precognitive researcher? How is that fair?"

"It's just one of my many amazing abilities, and mere mortals, such as yourself, don't really have a chance. It's not fair…but I am benevolent."

"If you are benevolent, do I get a reward for participating in your research?" he asked with a cute smirk.

"I might have a reward somewhere in here for you." I replied as a pulled my clutch out from under my arm and opened it. I felt a bit like I was searching my purse for a crayon to entertain one of the kids. Cell phone, ID, lipstick…I guess it would have to be the flyer I had picked up at a coffee shop in Silver Lake. Angela and I stopped to get coffee on our way to the première and the flyer for a show by a band I liked, but never had the opportunity to see in D.C., had caught my eye.

"You get this beautiful 'four by five' flyer featuring an advertisement for the White Lips show at Spaceland tomorrow night."

"Not really what I was hoping for," he faux whined, "but it sounds interesting. Who are the White Lips?"

"Um, they are this great band from Georgia, very garage-y, named after a Sandberg poem, low-fi…you'd probably like 'em. You should come…I mean, you should go to the show." I felt myself blushing over my own double entendre and hoped he wouldn't notice. "I'll be there," I added this fact in a little singsong, like it was an incentive.

I went to hand him the flyer, but accidentally let go of it before he had it in his grasp. We both watched as it fluttered to the ground and landed near my left foot. I immediately bent down while trying to keep my knees modestly together (Thank God for my yoga classes) to retrieve the paper in my left hand.

I felt his eyes on me as I attempted to swiftly recover from the pseudo-intimate position; my head near his crotch and my cleavage on full display. When I looked back to him, his eyes were a bit glazed, but he had a smile on his lips. He'd definitely enjoyed my little unintentional show.

As I handed the flyer over to him again, his expression changed from mild amusement to cold scrutiny. The juxtaposition was shocking and I almost turned around to see if some mortal enemy or a paparazzo was approaching behind me.

"You're married." It was a statement full of questions.

"Yes," I barely breathed the word.

I looked down at the flyer in my hand and saw the diamonds of my wedding bands twinkling in the candlelight. My face was cool all of the sudden as the heat of my blush and all the blood in my extremities drained away. I felt instantly transformed into a pale imitation of the bold vixen I had been playing.

Yes, I had been playing, but not with any cruel intentions.

I had just gotten caught up in the trappings and the dreamlike experience of meeting Edward Cullen. Although I had given much thought as to why he might be speaking with me, the last thing I had imagined was any real interest. He was Edward Cullen. His best friend was Jasper 'Millions of Women Want Me' Whitlock. He was intelligent, gorgeous, talented and totally out of my league.

And, I hadn't really done much but flirt back. He had approached me. My wedding ring had been on my hand the whole time. I hadn't told him I was married, but it hadn't really come up. We hadn't touched on anything remotely related in our conversation. So why did I feel so ashamed.

"I didn't mean to lead you on…" I began my explanation as I looked back up into his now stormy blue eyes. "I had my ring on and I never dreamt you…" My words faltered as he held a hand up to stop me. His body had become rigid during my explanation and he no longer looked into my eyes.

"I'm probably needed over near Jasper," he said in a low, flat tone. He did not look at me again as he turned and walked toward the crowd still waiting to meet Jasper.

I sat down heavily at an empty table near where we had been standing because I felt like the floor had fallen away from the bottom of my feet. The flame of the tea lights on the table blurred as unshed tears clouded my vision. I let the flyer I still held in my left hand fall to the tabletop.

The flickering lights made me think of stars, falling stars, plummeting from the heavens to the dark Earth and I willed my tears not to fall.

Eventually, I realized I could not lose it here at the after party, surrounded by cameras and people that would probably remember I had been speaking to Edward if some sort of scene occurred. I did not need that in my life. Edward, and vicariously Jasper, especially did not need a crazy female fan incident to mar their night.

So I wandered back to the bar to get a couple more drinks. Somehow the one I had from earlier seemed to be empty. I headed toward the line where I hoped to find Angela and deliver the drink I had promised her what seemed like hours ago, but was probably only 15 minutes. Thankfully, I quickly located her head bobbing animatedly while she talked to a couple other women off to one side of the line. I looked around for Edward, but didn't see him near Jasper and the fans.

"Oh Bella, what took you so long?" Angela cried loudly when I appeared. "I got to meet Jasper and have my picture taken with him. He is sooo tall and sooo nice," she parroted almost every other fan reaction I have heard about him.

"That's awesome, Ang," I tried to reply with enthusiasm. Her attention veered back to Jasper as she introduced me to the two new friends she had met and they related their experiences meeting him. Eventually, I politely whispered to Angela that I had developed a headache and reminded her that she didn't want to be home too late since she would have her son, Benji, to deal with at some point in time tomorrow.

As we walked out into the plaza in front of the restaurant, Angela made me stop and wait for her to take pictures of the crews slowly breaking down all evidence of the red carpet. I looked back up to the windows, but could only make out vague shadows of figures within. But, I felt his eyes on me the whole walk down the plaza until we finally turned the corner onto the sidewalk.

Playlist for this chapter:

T-Rex – The Motivator - www[dot]last[dot]fm/music/T.+Rex/_/The+Motivator

Babyshambles – There She Goes - www[dot]last[dot]fm/music/Babyshambles/_/There+She+Goes