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EPOV

So here I am on yet another blind date set up by my brother's meddling girlfriend, Rosalie. Today's girl was named Chloe, and boy was she a keeper – tall, blond, beautiful and completely vacant. Wow, a quadruple threat!

I took her to a coffee shop, because I figured that was the safest venue for a first date with a girl I've never met before. She was pleasant enough, really; she didn't seem to be very bitchy or catty like some of Rosalie's other friends. The only problem with her is she had no personality at all. At least a catty bitch would have made the date quasi-interesting.

Oh well, it's not like I'm going to marry the girl. I'll just pay for her latte, talk a bit about the weather and then send her on her way. After a while, though, I got tired of staring at her vacant expression. And, I was REALLY tired of listening to her yammer on and on about the stupid club she worked at. She was a bartender at some place downtown, I forgot the name already, and all she could talk about was how great the tips were. They had even paid for her boobs. Wow, too bad money can't buy you a personality, I thought.

Admittedly, it was hard to keep that last thought to myself.

My eyes, of their own accord, drifted to see if there was anyone else in the place worth looking at – old man reading the New York Times? Nope. Gaggle of rich ladies having coffee while discussing who's precious child was the most precious? Hell no!

And then my gaze settled on a pair of deep brown eyes that looked at me like they were staring straight into my subconscious. They belonged to a girl sitting across the shop behind her computer. She looked down as soon as I caught her staring and her cheeks turned a brilliant pink. It was then that I noticed she wasn't wearing any makeup – unlike the girl seated across from me, who seemed to apply her foundation with a spackle knife. It was refreshing, and quite surprising, seeing as how she was still quite lovely without any cover-up.

I stared at the brown-eyed girl long enough to make Chloe sigh in frustration.

"Are you even listening to me?"

I wanted to tell her I had barely listened to a word she had said since we met two hours ago. But, I nodded lightly and took a sip of my coffee to keep from being so rude. She didn't seem convinced.

"Well," she said finally, "I really need to get going now, I have to work soon," an obvious lie, "So, maybe we can hang out some other time?"

"Sure," I replied – hey, if she can lie, I can lie.

She got up and walked out, leaving her cup half full of whatever caramel, mocha, vanilla, skinny thing she was drinking. I threw some money on the table and got up to leave, but stopped. The brown-eyed girl was still sitting there, typing away like a woman on a mission. I wanted to know what she was writing – a blog or an e-mail…to a boyfriend, maybe? I shook my head and tried not to think about that. I remembered what my dad always told me: "Boyfriend ain't married, son."

Good advice coming from the king of the pick up. Guess that's why he and my mom divorced when I was five.

I watched for a while longer, until she finally stretched her arms above her head and checked the time on her monitor. I looked at my watch as well – it was already 3 p.m. I wondered how much time I spent here listening to what's-her-name blather on, and how much time I spent gazing at brown-eyes.

She gathered her belongings and began putting them in her bag. I figured if I didn't make my approach now, I never will.

"Did you like what you saw?" I asked. I think that came out a little more conceited than I had hoped, but maybe she would be into that.

"Beg your pardon?" She asked.

"Well, I couldn't tell who you liked looking at more – me, or my date."

What the hell was I talking about? And why can't I stop these words from tumbling out of my mouth? She just stared at me like she couldn't decide whether to shoot me down with one fell swoop, or turn and walk out the door without another word.

And, for some reason, I just kept on provoking her. "Cat got your tongue?"

"I just like to people watch," she replied quietly. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

She put her bag over her shoulder and walked out the door. I couldn't help it – I followed her. I couldn't let her get away that easily.

"Hey, I wasn't uncomfortable – far from it," I said. "In fact, anytime any female chooses to give me her attention, I'm all for it. I was just wondering if it was me you found fascinating or Chloe."

Why can't you just shut up, Cullen?

"How about both?" She asked – and, I couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or not.

"Really?" I asked, not able to stop the image of me, her and another girl from infiltrating my thoughts. "You're into that sort of stuff? Wow, it's always the quiet ones."

And then, she turned on me. "Look, do you have something important you want to say to me? Because we're getting very close to my house, and I'd really rather not have some random stranger following me home."

I looked around to see where we were at, and was astonished to find us surrounded by some of the nicest townhomes I've ever seen. I recognized the neighborhood; my friend Jasper's father designed this place. And it is not cheap to live here.

"You live here? Damn! Either you're house-sitting, or you're freakin' loaded – I heard these places cost about $2,500 a month!"

"I have a really good job," she said defensively. "Now, is there anything else I can help you with?"

I had to think fast, I was dying here. "What's your name?"

"Bella; anything else?"

Think, man, think!!

"Yeah, Bella, do you have a phone number? Or does living on Park Avenue here leave you with little cash left over?"

"Why do you want my number?"

"I would like to call you sometime." I sound like such a lame-ass tool right now, what the hell is wrong with me.

"I'm not really into three-ways – I was just kidding."

"Oh, I'm sure of that," I said – it still didn't stop me from imagining that amazingly hot scenario, though. "I just want to buy you a cup of coffee sometime."

"Here," she began after what seemed like a moment of debate. "Give me your hand."

I gladly held out my right hand, palm up, so she could scribble her number there. I made a mental note to run straight to my car and find a piece of paper to write it on. My cell phone is not really working at the moment, unfortunately.

"I'm Edward, by the way. Edward Cullen." Who the hell do I think I am now, James Bond?

She smirked at me. "Well, Edward Cullen. I'm Bella Swan, and maybe I'll hear from you again some day."

That had to be the most beautiful name I've ever heard. The scent of her filled the air around me as she whirled around and headed down her street.

"Oh, there's no maybe about that, Bella Swan," I called out to her.

I went to my broken down Jetta and scribbled the number down on a piece of paper. I could still see down her street, and I watched as she looked behind her to check if I was anywhere in sight before turning up her walk and stepping into her house. I fired up the old jalopy and made my way back to my neck of the woods – my rundown apartment on the other side of town.

After ducking my landlord – or, should I say slumlord – I made it to my place and threw my car keys onto the coffee table before kicking off my shoes and slumping onto the couch.

Being a waiter and an aspiring actor wasn't exactly working out the way I had planned. I had dreamed of moving to the big city so I could perform on stage – but, doing dinner theater isn't exactly what I had in mind. I was lucky to make rent every month, and I often times had to borrow money from my best friend Jasper, or my brother Emmett.

Both had taken the traditional path in life – college, internships, careers. But, that just wasn't for me. And I refused to let either one of my parents help me; especially not my dad. Doctor or not, I didn't want him to have anything to do with my life anymore.

I sighed as I glanced at the clock; I had an hour before I had to be at work. At least tonight I wasn't having to go through the motions of murdering another version of "Our Town," I was just helping in the back with costume changes and helping the kitchen staff for some extra cash.

At least if I get some good tips tonight, I could have some money to take out a certain brown-eyed girl. My thoughts drifted back to Bella Swan – those haunting eyes, that heart-shaped face. I felt the corners of my lips curl into a smile as I lounged on my couch and imagined how our next encounter would be.

And how I would not act like such an idiot this time. I guess it just comes with the territory, considering my upbringing. I'm the son of a philandering, womanizing cad – and my older brother has had a similar history. I just can't help myself sometimes, I switch on and become Edward Cullen: Über-douche.

But, for a girl like Bella, someone who can easily put me in my place, I could definitely see myself changing.

Apparently, everyone at work noticed a change already. My friend Kate, probably the only other decent actor I work with, caught on to my shift in attitude immediately.

"What's her name?" She asked as she grabbed plates of food in between acts.

"What makes you assume I'm thinking about a girl?"

She rolled her eyes, "You've had a shit-eating grin on your face all night. Either you've met someone or you've got a tip on an acting gig. And, either way, you'd better start spilling before I 'accidentally' drop a bowl of hot soup on your head."

"Geez, you starving actresses are vicious," I said – she just crossed her arms over her chest and glared at me. "Fine…her name is Bella, and I met her at a coffee shop today."

"Bella," she repeated in a sing-song voice. "Another one of your blond bimbettes?"

"I'm glad you think so highly of me and my dating choices," I quipped. "And, for your information, she's not blond…and she's most definitely not a 'bimbette.' She's sweet and shy – though, she did manage to put me in my place today."

"I like her already," Kate said. "So, you going out again?"

"I don't know," I said. "I haven't called her yet."

"Typical," she replied.

I helped her load her arms down with plates so she could run them out before my ears were corrupted by the sound of a shrill, harpy-like voice.

"Edward…can you help me with these plates?"

Tanya, the bane of my existence for the past year-and-a-half. She was the first in my line of bleach blond flings since I moved out here; and, even though we only dated for a month, she still thinks I carry some kind of torch for her.

I put some plates on Tanya's arms, not as many as Kate, however; Kate's a smart, capable woman who can handle serving as well as she can handle her lines. Tanya is hopeless in both areas.

"There you go," I said as I turned away from Tanya.

"What, no 'hello?'" She asked. "Why are you always so rude to me, Edward? What did I do wrong?"

"Hey, save your personal lives for after work!" Mr. Simmons, the general manager of the theater, saved me once again as he started shoving plate after plate of tonight's special onto the line in front of me. I gave Tanya a faux apologetic look and got back to work.

After the night was over, Kate and I decided to go out and grab a few drinks since we had a little over an hour before the bars closed. Tanya, predictably, was hot on our heels as we walked down the street to the pub. I knew Kate would not want Tanya to join us, and that she would make this abundantly clear to her. I really liked Kate; sometimes I wish I could see her as the type of girl I would date. Unfortunately, she's become too much like a sister to me.

As soon as she heard the sound of Tanya's stilettos tapping against the concrete behind us, Kate whirled around and put a hand up.

"Oh no, lady, you're not coming out with us tonight," Kate said as Tanya almost ran into her hand.

"Hey, you can't stop me from going to a bar," Tanya said. "It's a free country, you know."

"Fine," Kate said, causing my heart to drop every so slightly. "Just, leave us alone when we get there, OK? Find one of your filthy, grease ball guys to pay for your drinks."

I refused to make eye-contact with Tanya, and instead turned and made my way into the pub. It was dark and loud – just how I like it. I ordered a beer for myself and Kate as we sat at the only spaces left at the bar. I considered myself lucky until the guy next to me got up and Tanya took his spot.

However, she surprised me by chatting with the drunken guy on her other side.

After Kate and I finished a couple of beers, we decided to call it a night. I walked her back to her car and said good night before I poured myself back into the Jetta and drove home.

As I finally fell into bed and curled myself into a ball to sleep, I felt two pairs of tiny paws crawling onto my left side.

"Hey Napoleon." The little black stray who likes to crawl in my window every night meowed his hello before curling up in front of me and drifting off to sleep.

I know I must have had a big smile on my face, but it didn't have anything to do with the little fuzz ball rhythmically purring contentedly near my chest. It was because of those deep brown eyes set in that pretty little face, complimented by cheeks that blushed a beautiful, dark pink.

Wow, now I know I'm lost – this girl's got me talking like some romance novel.

I finally woke up around 11 a.m. the next day to find Napoleon already gone. He probably ran off to go catch some mice; Lord knows my building is littered with them. I sauntered into my kitchen to fix myself a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. I sat on my couch to eat and saw the paper with Bella's number sitting there with my keys. I looked at my hand and noticed her number was also still smeared on my palm.

I didn't have a phone in my apartment, and I wouldn't be able to use my cell phone again until I paid that astronomical bill I had sitting on the table; so, I got up, showered and headed out with what few dollars I made last night to find a pay phone.

On the corner two blocks down from my apartment was a 7-Eleven with a couple of pay phones. I tried the first, but didn't get a tone. So, I moved on to the second and dropped some change in; I dialed the number and prayed she would be home.

"Hello?" It wasn't a voice mail recording – this must be my lucky day.

"Bella Swan?" I asked, praying it wasn't some trick and she gave me someone else's number.

"Yes – who is this?"

"It's Edward Cullen," I replied, feeling a little despondent that she didn't remember my voice.

She was silent for a moment, "…Really?"

"Yeah, I told you I'd be calling you soon," I said. "Didn't you believe me?"

"To be honest…no, I didn't," she said. "I thought you'd probably lost my number with all the other ones you probably picked up yesterday."

Wow, is that what she thought of me? I could see I had some serious damage control to do.

"Look, Bella, I didn't get anyone else's phone number yesterday, only yours," I said. "Could…could you meet me somewhere so we can talk? I'd like to start over if at all possible."

She sighed, "Sure, where do you want to meet?"

"Do you know where Trapeda's Deli is?"

"Yeah, I love their food."

At least we have that in common. "Can you meet me there at one?"

"OK, I'll be there."

You know I had to throw Edward's point of view of the coffee shop exchange in there. He is a bit of a ladies man, but at least he's conflicted about it.

So, still good?