Disclaimer: I don't own these characters.

Spotlight

Roughy Date

I blew it. I completely bombed. Again. And once again I'm stranded in a bathroom waiting for absolute humiliation to stop coloring my face. The loud bumping music from the inside of the dance room vibrates on my back and butt checks on the rather discomfortingly warm toilet seat. There was a line when I came in and there's probably still a line. My needs for privacy dimmed in the light of my constant conscious telling me I'm taking up too much space. Reluctantly, I swing the door open and stare at my feet as I make my way to the trough styles sinks lining the wall ahead. I must have been standing there for quite awhile because the bathroom attendant handed me a scented towel.

"You okay?" The older, kind faced gentleman asks. "Did you take some pills and you didn't know what kind?"

"No." I shook my head. "Sorry. I'm on a date.-"
"That's nice." The bathroom attendant nodded encouragingly.
"It's going badly." I finished.
"Oh, that's a shame. I know it feels horrible now. But in the morning, you'll have a good story." He patted my arm, and I wanted to melt into the greasy tile below my feet. Right. A good story. My next big seller: A Loser Who Flew Too Close to the Sun.

I tried to make my mouth form a smile at the bathroom attendant, but I think it just twitched painfully.

"Oh dear." He sighed. He offered the guy behind me some cologne or hand lotion then turned back to me. "Why don't you start at the beginning."

I leaned against the edge of the sink and took a deep breath.

"Beau?" Alice leaned over the bed at my figure, strung out on the floor. "Beau, you okay?"

I jerked to fling her an exasperated expression. "Do I look okay?"

"Well, pull yourself together." Alice got to her feet and crossed her arms crossed her arms. "What kind of clothes did you bring?"

I pointed to my suitcase in the corner.

"Okay. You will wear this and this." She said after a moment of rummaging around. "And, no. No. We're getting you new shoes. You are not wearing those. No friend of mine is going on a date with the famous Elliott Cullen with those."

"Is this the part of the movie where you take of my glasses and I turn into a pretty dateable girl in the 80's?" I said with my face smushed against the floor.

"Yes." Alice replied with a straight face. "Yes, it is. Tables are turned. I'm the gay best friend now."

I groaned and somehow managed to get on my feet without falling over. Hell hath no fury like my agent when she's on a mission.

"Why do you have such big feet?" Alice huffed as we tried the third shoe store in a row. Apparently no one in downtown manhattan had feet larger than size 13.

I wiggled my eyebrows at her. "Because I have a big-"

"Nope." Alice held her hand up. "I fell right into that one. I get it. You have big pe- nis. Congratulations. You have the humor of a middle schooler. I hope that gets you far with Elliot."

That stopped me short.

"Oh god." I felt the panic come in. "This is going to be horrible. He's going to real- ize how much of a loser I am. We won't have anything in common. I don't know how to 'be' with a famous person."

Alice gripped my shoulders. "Beau. He's just a person. Snap out of it."

"I know that. But, like, how. . ." I tried to find the words. "How do I let him go?"

"What?" Alice blinked.
"Obviously this isn't going to work out. I mean. I'm me. And he's gorgeous and

funny, and brave and intelligent. And I know everything about him and he knows nothing of me. It's weird. I'm going to have to watch him walk away and. . . how do I do that?" How could I make her understand?

"Beau. You always do this. Remember the rough draft stages. You kept fretting over how to tie off the strings in the story, but you hadn't even figured out which strings to pull up. You jump the gun. This is just a date. Just a hey, I think you're cute date. Get to know him, let him get to know you. Talk about what it's like being a struggling author with social anxiety, ask him about his favorite projects, or what he does on lazy Sunday afternoons. Be real. Be honest with him. And when the night's over, you'll cross whatever bridge you have to cross then, but don't try to jump over the water when you're still on a concrete road."

I thought for a second. "That was good. Did you just come up with that?"

"No. I read it in a certain client's work. You should read it sometime." Alice raised her eyebrow at me. "The guy who wrote it has some really great perspectives and is a very interesting guy that I'm sure will have a nice time with a nice guy tonight."

"If I can find the right pair of shoes." I amended for her.

"Cinderella's dilemma." Alice sighed and got back to looking through the stacks of boxes.

I smirked, reminded of the note I left for Elliot. That must have been it. Perhaps that's why he reached out. I don't think I could have made much an actual impression. If I asked him, would he tell me the truth? Would I find his answer suitable or would I keep trying to tear us apart at the seams. Maybe I am self deprecating. Scratch. I am self deprecating.

I was in the hotel room again putting on the final touches, when the phone rang. I combed my hair once more, and fixed my collar with nervous hands before I picked it up.

"Mr. Swan. I'm calling from the front desk to inform you that your limousine is ready."

I gulped. "Limousine?"

Alice waved at me from the hallway as I stepped into the elevator. "You look great. Have fun tonight, okay?"

I nodded, too busy trying brace myself for whatever happens next. The inane mu- sic in the elevator was pitiful company for the 20 floor ride to the bottom. I wondered when I would be this alone again and under what circumstances. Was this really happening? Maybe this is all an elaborate ruse.

I wouldn't think Alice was so sadistic but perhaps she was duped too. This is all a joke. I'm going to walk out of this elevator to jack ass laughing at me. Maybe Mike. Or a tabloid magazine. Maybe Ashton Kutcher with his camera crew. Surprise it's 2009 and your on "punk'd."

Then the door opened. No camera crew. Just a pleasant smelling hotel lobby. As I approached the door outside the doorman opened it for me hurriedly. I thanked him awkwardly before ducking outside. The sun was a lowering behind the buildings giving off an orangey glow down the streets. I stared at the black vehicle in front of me, parked right in front of the awning for the hotel. In my head, I guess I expected a stretch limousine. The kind that a group of teenagers pools their allowances for on prom. I'm glad I was mistaken. It was a classy car, but in the city it blended in with all the other stately back vehicles lined on the street like ants. The door opened from the inside and He stepped out. He was still wearing the cotton buttoned up shirt from before, but he wore a blazer on top of it now. His reddish brown hair was combed up, and I couldn't tell if he styled it to look disorderly or if he just happens to have the perfect amount of dishevelment in his hair.

"Hey." Elliot grinned, one corner of his lip pulling up into that smirk I've ogled through my teenage years. Yes. It was real. Yes, I was having a hard time pretending to be a functioning human.

"Hi." I replied breathlessly. He took my breath away.

"I'm Edward." For a second there was a flash of vulnerability in his green eyes. I felt my memories start to shift at the truth of his real name. The letters in every movie poster I'd ever seen with his billing changed in my mind's eye, melting and morphing from Elliot to Edward. He was letting me in, taking off his public persona, and letting me in to the real man. I wanted to explore him like a treasure map.

"Hi, Edward." I felt alive saying his name. "I'm Beau."

I wasn't sure if I was supposed to shake his hand again. He didn't move to do so. I decided to just follow his lead.

"Yes. Beau." He paused for a second. I wondered if he felt the same way about saying my name as I did his. "Would you like to grab dinner?"

"I'd love that."

He nodded, and I saw his shoulders relax a little more. Did he think I might say no? Then Edward gestured for me to get in the car. I did.

"Sorry, to have to invite you to dinner through professional contacts." Edward apologized as he fastened his seat belt and closed the door behind us. The leather seats were soft and warm. A bucket of champagne on ice was in the middle next to the partition. He poured a flute for me and one for himself as the car purred down the street.

"I know that's not exactly a romantic invitation. I prefer to be more personal, but I didn't know how else to find you."

"It was surprising." I admitted while shifting my weight. I took a sip to have some time to figure out the words I wanted to say. The words romantic, and personal. . . and finding me swirled in my head. "I guess, I'm not sure why you went through the trouble." I shrugged.

"I hope you don't get the wrong impression." Edward grinned, and for a second my stomach dropped. Did I read this all wrong? "But I'm actually somewhat a fan of your work."

I rolled my eyes. "That's funny."
"It's not a joke."
"Right." I looked down at my hands. I felt something change in the atmosphere in the car, a shift in the dialogue. I didn't realize he would be making fun of me. I mean, compared to him, I'm a bug. It was sort of laughable I suppose, but it still stung.
"I—. Seat belt." Edward said, his tone a little more solemn.
"What?"
"Please. Seat belt." He gestured to the straps by my side. "Still have to obey normal traffic laws."
Goddamn, why was he so polite?
By the time I had clicked the metal into it's clasp the car slowed down and I had to unbuckle again as the driver came around and opened the door for Edward and I to get out.

The hostess opened the door for us as we approached the darkened glass doors. I didn't see the name of the restaurant on the door and there wasn't a sign that I could see. The lighting was so, I could only make out the shapes of the people.

"We've been expecting you. We have a table in the back." The young lady in a form fitting black dress and wedge heels walked us to the back corner where a small table made from, what I guess is reclaimed wood. A small Edison style lightbulb in a glass case gave off very little light. I suppose it's supposed to be romantic. But, I had a hard time reading the menu. Am I old? Are my eyes going bad? Am I supposed to be able to read this? Oh god. This is really hip and trendy place and I don't know how to order. Though I couldn't see, I could hear. And the place was noisy. The music was loud, which still didn't drown out the chatter of other guests. For some reason, it made it harder to concentrate.

We silently perused the menu and I tried to hide the fact that I couldn't actually read it to myself. I tried holding it up to my eyes, but quickly put it back to a "cool" distance when the waiter came to the table.

The waiter introduced himself and asked for our drink order.
"I would like water and a vodka soda, please." Edward asked politely.
"Make that two." I copied. When in Rome.
"So, where are you from?"
"New Mexico. Phoenix."
"Do you live there currently?"
"I do. My mom took me there when I was younger when she got divorced." I hesitated. Oh god, nope. Don't talk about being a child of divorce on the first date. Come on, Beau. Rule 1. "I was young." I hurriedly added. "Eventually my mom remarried when I was in high school and moved around with him and sort of settled in Florida. So I lived with my dad for a bit. But I left when I graduated and moved back to Phoenix. I like it there. It's home, you know."

"That must get lonely."

I shrugged. "I never really noticed." Then to change the topic so he wouldn't ask me how I fill my time and realize how absolutely boring I am I turned the question to him. "What about you? Where do you call home?"

"I suppose I have to say Chicago. I was raised there, then moved to LA when my parents died."

"Oh, I'm so sorry." I, of course knew his story, like a total creep that lives off of the lives of celebrities, but his was particularly tragic and memorable.

"I was young." Edward shrugged it off, using the words I had said to shrug of my parents divorce. But I knew he wasn't that young. He was 15 when they both got some virus abroad. Edward didn't go with them on their trip because he was in a school play at the time. He quit school and took his parents life insurance monies to set himself up in LA, so he could audition for roles like a full time job until one of them stuck. He lied on all his papers, saying he was 18 so that he didn't have to have a parent's permission. Though, with his circumstances I doubt, that would have mattered.

"I've got a condo here for when I'm in town. But—"
"But what?" I found myself leaning forward.
"Well, I don't mean to sound pretentious. I have a few houses in different places,

including Chicago, but I don't really live in any of them. I feel like guest in my own house. I never stay for long anywhere."

"Why is that?"
"Work mostly." He shrugged.
"Do you have questions about the menu?" The waitress appeared out of the literal

darkness and I almost fell out of my chair in shock. She placed our drinks in front of us. "I'll have the house special."
"Two please." I said after taking a gulp of water to hopefully calm my frightened

heart down. I had no idea what the house special was. I knew I probably wouldn't like it. I scratched at my shirt collar. The loud music bumped in my ear.

"I wanted to ask you, something about your book." Edward started slowly. "I didn't like your last movie." I blurted out.
"What?"

"Shit. No. Sorry. I don't know why I said that." I grabbed for the vodka tonic and drained it. The skin in my feet started to feel fuzzy be the time I hit ice cubes.

"No, continue." Edward said, I couldn't tell what kind of tone he was in. The music was too loud. I couldn't see his expression because the lights were too dark.

Though perhaps that worked in my benefit now, so he couldn't see the blood raise beneath my skin, staining a blush there. "Um."

His green eyes seemed to glow, like a cat in the back alley.

"Well, I thought it was slightly tone deaf." I whispered into my glass of now empty vodka soda.

"And some of the actor's performance didn't seem consistent, but that could have been a problem with the director. And also the writing was so saturated with emotional language, it was hard to distinguish what the motives of each scene were supposed to be."

Edward didn't say anything.

I bit my lip. "Oh god. Sorry. No. I. Oh boy. Okay. Um. Forget it. I shouldn't have— You didn't— I've been a super fan of yours since I was 16. I used to have posters in my room. Not in a creepy way. Oh god. No. Beau. What are you doing. Stop. God, I can't even here myself think in here. I'm shutting up now." I was supposed to be following his lead, and when I didn't, I went off the rails. Not again. I'm only going to speak when he asks me a question again.

We sat in silence for several agonizing minutes. It was only until our dinner arrived that Edward broke out of his stillness and thanked the server.

I helped myself to a big spoonful as soon as the plate touched the table, just so I could have something to do other than being a complete ass. I unrolled the napkin she laid out across my lap, then winced because it was warm and wet. Shit, it was one of those places. Great. Now my pants are wet. I swallowed whatever was in my mouth quickly, barely even able to taste it.

"Our orange roughy fish is hand picked from our private vendor in New Zealand. We get first pick above all the other restaurants in the world. Our chef says to the best way to enjoy the flavors are to place it on different parts of the tongue to really play with your taste buds. Please enjoy. This bottle of wine is on the house." She placed a bottle in front of us and pour us each a glass. I took another bite of food, before my mouth said something stupid again.

"Thank you, so much. You didn't have to." Edward smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.

And then to top it all off, Tanya Peirce, the leading actress in half of Edward's films appeard.

"Elli?" She squeeled. "My, my. Coming out of your cave? Listen, I have a new script I want you to look at. Oh, and Charlotte says hello. she loved the flowers you sent her. Is that the arragnement I saw in the times? Listen. I know the oscars are coming up. . . "

She prattled on for a bit and I kept shoving food in my mouth not sure what else to do. I was more annoyed than star struck. And somehow more embarrased than relieved that Edward was distracted for a moment from my mess of a life.

And then there was a camera flash. Just a moment of light exploding in this dark bar. My eyes hurt from the flash. And then all hell broke loose.

Edward stood to his feet. "Did you invite them here?" He turned to Tanya as a swarm of people started to enclose around them. Reporters, paparazzi, the general public. I heard the hostess squeeze through and try to push them back.

"We have a no camera policy. I will call the police. Get out." She said in a strained voice, holding her arms out and trying to block the people from Tanya and Edward, and I guess me.

Edward held his hand up to his forhead and began rubbing his temples. I hadn't moved. "You really like Orange roughy, huh?" Edward said almost so quietly, I wasn't sure if I was supposed to hear it. It was a miracle I did, because of the background noise. If I hadn't been so focused on everything about him, I might have died.

"Wait. Orange roughy?" I dropped my fork. "Is that what she said this is?" A fresh set of panic played with the alcohol currently floating up my stomach.

Edward raised his eyebrow. "Yes, did you not—"

I immediately spit out the bite I had in my mouth and stood up to my feet. "I have to go." I ran to the left and proceeded to hit a column that suddenly appeared out of nowhere. I stumbled back, dazed, but determined. I had to find the bathroom. I had to get away. I had to find a spaceship and fly myself to mars.

"Restroom." I gasped to a passing server. I caught his shirt sleeve in clenched fists. His startled reply pointed me to the side by the kitchen.

The bathroom was somehow fancier than the restaurant. I bypassed the restroom attendant and barricaded myself into one of the stalls. There I proceeded to make myself throw up.

Rule #2. Don't eat seafood you don't know what it is, because it might be orange roughy and I could die. Once I was at the beach visiting my mom when the restaurant served orange roughy by mistake and I ended up at the hospital where they had to pump my stomach.

"So. That's where I'm at." I looked back the bathroom attendant who listened to my harrowing tell of ass-hatery and mistakes, complete with near death experience.

I looked at myself in the mirror again. Nothing puffy yet, but I would have to keep an eye on it. I don't have an epi pen, because who often are you accidentally exposed to roughy fish? I hopped that I was able to throw it up in time.

The bathroom attendant handed me a small cup of mouth wash. I gladly took it and swished it around my mouth before spitting it back into the cup and dumping it into the sink.

"You should probably go." He advised. "You can't hide in here forever."

I nodded. The thought of seeing Edward's face again made me want to crawl in a hole and die.

I opted for. . . the route of least resistance. I would just quietly leave. I don't think he would look for me. He might have already left while I was in here. I made my mind up, and walked out the bathroom and headed for the door. When I was outside I felt slightly better. My feet didn't stop. I kept walking. Away from it all. Away from the humiliation. The self deprecating. I wasn't myself in there. I wasn't anyone I recognized. At least out here in the brisk night air, I could breath and hear myself think for once. Though I had no kind thoughts for myself.

"Beau." I heard someone call my name as I was about to round the corner. To my dismay it was Edward. "Are you okay?"

"I'm so sorry Edward. I have to go. I don't belong here. This isn't my scene. I'm not part of this world. It's not for me. I was someone different in there. I couldn't see the menu because I guess their trying to save on their fucking electric bill in there. I couldn't hear myself think or talk. And I don't know how to be with you. I don't know how to be in the spotlight. Also, I may have to go to the hospital because I'm deathly allergic to orange roughy. That's a sign if I've ever saw one. So, if you'll excuse me. Thank you for everything. But I have to go."

I turned and walked away. I was reminded of the question I asked Alice earlier. How can I watch him walk away. I guess I answered that. I wouldn't have to, if I left first.

"Beau." His arm caught me. For a second I thought he was going to punch me, there was such a passion in his face. "Stop walking away for one damn second." Then he angled his face up to mine and before I knew what was happening, his lips were on mine. With as much passion in his hands and body movement, his lips were remarkably light on mine. A tingle ran down my spine and despite myself I leaned into him. I had never felt something so electric before. It was like lightening on a sunny day. It didn't make sense, but it was magical and marvelous. I never wanted to step out of this moment, but I knew it had to end.

Reluctantly I pulled away.

"You're right." Edward said into my neck. He gripped my head so that I couldn't pull away too far. "You're absolutely right about that stupid movie. Don't be sorry for telling the truth. Don't be embarrassed for your opinions."

I tried to pull away again to remind him of my other faults. "I don't belong in there either, Beau. I wanted to impress you, but you're right. That place was too much. And to be honest, the fish wasn't even that great. I couldn't hear myself either. And as far as the world you don't belong in. I don't belong there either. No one does. That world, the whole, celebrity world. . . it doesn't exist. It's not a place anyone can live. It's not real and I hate trying to pretend to survive in it. I just want to find a man I can love and live in a house with a big kitchen, and a fuzzy rug in the living room and have big hairy dogs. And just. . . fuzzy things and sweaters and a big green couch that I can read on when the weather is rainy. Just like, cozy and warm out of the spotlight with someone by myside. Someone who makes me think, and laugh, and see the world differently, and make me fall in love with things I've seen a thousand times before. And dammit, Beau, I didn't want those things until I read your first book."

"What?" I stepped back, stumbling, but Edward caught me.

"Your first book. 'The Redlight Inn.' I read it while I was on tour last year and I loved it. I loved it. I wasn't kidding when I said I was a fan of your work. It actually made me sad that you didn't believe me. I am. I fell in love with your words. they made me feel something real, Beau. And it's hard to get that. And then I preordered your second book and read it in a single day. And then today. You're writing is honest and brave and I fell in love. I know that sounds insane—"

This time I grabbed his face and angled myself into his lips. We crashed together again, with more urgency this time. Not as light, but just as powerful. Like the tides of the ocean, our lips pushed and pulled at each other. Just as before electricity tingled down me again.

"I'm not done." Edward pulled away and laughed. "And then you just waltz in like the breeze and sit in front of me. I didn't know who you were at first." He shook his head and laughed again. "'You're eyes I've seen a million times, but they looked up at me from a book, and I felt at home in their light.'" Edward repeated part of the inscription I wrote to him on the inside cover of the book I left on his table earlier that day. "That's beautiful." He smiled.

"So are you." I said slowly. "I'm sorry for my behavior. I'm a mess. I really am. You don't know me that well, but I'm not good at handling situations. I'm not good at being around people."

"Okay." Edward nodded. "I'm not either. Come on, let me take you back to my place. Get away from the crowds and the situations." He offered me his hand.

I reached out to him, but held back. "Do you think we can go to the hospital first? I wasn't kidding about the roughy allergy. I'm beginning to think the light headedness I'm feeling has less to do with the kissing and more to do with my body trying to kill itself."

"Oh." Edward grabbed my hand and called the driver with the car around.

He sat with me in the waiting room of the nearby ER. While people kept staring at us, we just talked. And talked. Nobody dared bother us. We kept talking about our lives and our passions and our goals and our failures. Though we lead such different lives, our interests were the same and out ideals were too. I felt the bridge that I had worried about, the one I would have to cross when it came time to for him to leave, disappearing in the ever growing distance. Edward was just as shy as I was, only he was better at pretending than me. We talked about all the things you shouldn't talk about on the first date, our past boyfriends, or girlfriends in his case. Our struggles and demons. Our future and how we could fit in it. This, like the kiss, was electrifying. Instead of depleating my social tank, talking with him seemed to fill it up, till I could burst.

When the doctor came in to check me out he asked how I was feeling. He turned on a bright spotlight to check out my eyes and tongue. I didn't know how to answer him. The closest I could get was, "whole."

AN: I honestly struggled having them be awkward with each other so I could actually make this story and have them make a come back. So, if that felt weird. It felt weird for me too.

Thank you for reading and reviewing.

xoxo

- Rosalie