BELLA SWAN

19th of April, 2005

"Oh, fuck."

I was late.

Again.

Alice watched me with a keen eye, grinning from ear to ear as I stumbled around the apartment. I was looking for my keys – my stupid fucking keys – but they had somehow disappeared over the course of the night. I looked to Alice in desperation, throwing my hands up in the air as I stared at her bemused grin. "Help me!"

"No!" She giggled, opening her magazine. "You lost them, so you can find them."

"Alice," I moaned, "please."

She rolled her eyes, before motioning to the fruit bowl on the kitchen counter. "Try there – lord knows you're always throwing shit in there."

The keys were in the bowl.

"Alice, you're a lifesaver!"

"I know!"

I rolled my eyes, sprinting down the stairs as I tried to avoid tripping over my own feet. It had become a habit of mine – unintentional, may I add – to be extremely late. After moving in with Alice, it had all of sudden seemed appropriate to be grossly late, something that she considers polite. Unfortunately for me, although Alice may consider polite, my Boss didn't share her sentiment.

The cold Seattle air hit me like a slap in the face; eliciting a flush to tickle my cheeks as I rushed to my car. The truck roared to life before it began it's usual sputter – my chest tightening in panic as I wondered how many days it would continue to run. My Dad had got it for me when I had moved to Forks a few years prior – I had always assume it was a 'sorry I wasn't really in your life' gift but it had always worked for me. If Charlie was anything, he was practical. Not so much present, but I will take practical any day.

After a panic induced ten-minute drive, the sight of Bella Italia was a welcome one. The parking lot was bare of anything but a light layer of snow that had congregated in the garden. Parking, I jumped out of the car and straight onto my ass. Cursing beneath my breath, I pushed myself off the ground – my hands stinging from the sheet of ice I had grazed. I should have brought my gloves.

I had worked at Bella Italia for three years now. I was doing the right thing; working my ass off during the hours I didn't spend between a book to try and soften the blow of the giant debt that was waiting to be paid off. My Dad had done what he could when it came to college, but my Dad wasn't exactly financial and my mother – the epitome of flakey – had only just learnt the concept of saving money.

And so waitressing became my lifeline.

I had always been observant, but until you're serving people with an artificial smile tattooed on your lips, you don't know what people are truly like. Rude, cruel, snobbish. Husbands that paid as much attention to their wives as they did to their manners; girlfriends that wore sorrow like it was on trend. Men that leered, women that spat – sadness, constant sadness. And god forbid I didn't smile while pouring water, or speak in a high, cheery octave; as if I love scraping shit off plates and being sexually harassed by the wonder hands at the bar.

Apologies flew out of my mouth as I stumbled through the door, the sight of Jess popping gum meeting me. "Hey, is Mike in yet?"

"He's mad," She sung, before motioning to his office. "You better go flash those tits he loves to stare at."

"You're sick."

"I'm on time!"

I pushed the door open after knocking slightly, smiling as I saw Mike staring at me with a frown on his boyish face. Mike looked like he was eighteen, rather than a twenty-seven divorcee who paid alimony. He was nice enough, and always let me hide out in his office when I needed a break. Mike was … good. Mike was nice.

"Bella," He started, disapproval lining his face.

"I know, I know," I said, my voice rushed as I closed the door behind me. "I'll do better next time."

He gave me a pointed look, as if to say 'that's what you said last time'. "Don't make a habit out of it, okay?"

"Thanks Mike," I said, smiling. "I owe you."

"I'm serious!" He called as I began to walk out.

"I know!"

The night began slow – the chatter buzzing through the room as friends reunited, and relationships tried to last. I was on my feet, and after the first two hours, they began to ache. Although Mike was nice, he made us wear heels, which was the opposite of nice. I'm sure Satan sat on his throne with a pitchfork in his hands and 6-inch Louboutin heels on his feet.

Sighing, I leant against the bar – staring at Leah in exhaustion. She offered a small smile, sympathetic almost – which only served to make me groan further. It meant that the night still had four hours to go.

"Don't frown, Bella," Leah said, offering me a drink. "Mike will think you have early stages of depression and will lecture us all about not pressuring his favorite. I would really like to go just one week without him coming to me to talk about what we think is wrong with you."

"He really does that?"

"Every week," Leah groaned, before she nodded. "Look alive, he's coming."

I had to suppress another groan, before I smacked a smile onto my face and turned around. Mike was coated in a sheen layer of sweat, and quickly grabbed me by the arm – pulling me to his office. My eyebrows furrowed as I watched him close the door in haste, before he turned back to me.

"I need to take you off floor work."

"What?" I asked, almost choking on my shock. "Why? Did someone complain?"

Mike must have sensed the dejection in my voice, for his face softened. "No, of course not, Bella, but …"

"What?"

"We have a table of importance."

"A table of importance?" I repeated, feeling confusion lurch through me. "Like your parents?"

I could deal with Mike's parents. They had come by before, and they seemed nice enough; Mrs. Newton was slightly narcotic but what can you do? I'll take narcotic over cruel any day.

"No," Mike said, shaking his head as he turned those puppy dog eyes to me. "Mr. Cullen is here."

Who?

"Right," I drawled, my lip pulling between my teeth as I tried to seem interested. "Is he a … food critic?"

"He's the son of Senator Cullen," Mike explained, frustrated. "Look, I need your top priority to be of this table. His father supports small businesses, and I want Mr. Cullen to have a memorable experience here."

I nodded, pulling at my skirt as I tried to comprehend what Mike was telling me. I would be stroking the ego of some trust fund baby so much so that he had a memorable experience? Mike should have just asked me to give him a lap dance so I could have rejected the notion as soon as he suggested it, rather than pretend to be the preppy girl that wore an apron.

Mike filled me in on a few more things before he left me to it – forcing me to gather up the cheeriness that would be expected of me. Letting go of all the bitterness that had congregated within the depths of my chest, I gathered whatever courage was left within me and left the safety of Mike's office.

I was submerged within the buzz of the restaurant within seconds, weaving through countless tables and offering smiles to whoever looked my way. There was a separate part of the restaurant; hidden behind near sheer hanging veils and lights of twinkling iridescence. It was beautiful, yes, but those that dined behind the veil were always those of importance. Those of intimidation.

Pulling the pad out of my apron pocket, I began to climb the stairs as I convinced myself that it would be fine. I would treat him like all the others; smile, ignore stupid comments, and laugh when I needed to laugh. That's all I needed to do.

"Good evening, my name is Isabella and I'll be your server tonight. Can I get you started on drinks, gentlemen?"

I looked up from my little speech, the smile tattooed on my face, only to be assaulted by the sight of green.

I had always hated green.

Green was life and beauty but to me it was foreign; it was being away from home and forced to live in a place I hated. Green was living with a stranger – a man I knew only from the postcards he sent and the occasional visit. Green was discomfort; green was sobbing at three in the morning after a panic attack. Green was the forests that were behind my house – the forests that I so feared.

Green was something I hated.

And yet here it was, so beautiful.

I was stunned by the beauty that lay within the depths of this green abyss – trapped by the sight of emeralds glaring at me. Shaking my head as I tried to bring myself to reality, I looked down – my cheeks betraying me as they flushed. Stupid, I thought, you're so stupid. Looking back up, I was trapped by those eyes once more – wondering if the man that owned them knew the hold they had. They were almost magnetic – drawing me in against my will and clouding my mind.

Clearing my throat of my flustered infatuation, I forced a smile on my lips – the smile I wore when I wanted a big tip and a complaint free meal. I was waiting for him – Green eyes – to say something, anything, to free me from this agony. And yet the silence continued, almost painfully so, as Green eyes stared at me, unashamedly.

I attempted to stifle my discomfort, but I failed, seeing as the other men at the table shifted uneasy glances between them. This wasn't going well. Fuck.

"I-"

"I'll have water," Green eyes said, snapping the wine menu shut.

"Water?" I questioned, puzzled.

He gave a curt nod, before pushing the wine menu into my hands. The others did the same, to which I responded with the same level of confusion before I scurried off. My cheeks flushed involuntarily as those eyes burned into the crux of my psyche – my breathing almost labored as I rounded the length of the bar.

Leah watched me with curious eyes as she poured some lonely soul a vodka tonic. It only took me a minute of fumbling around with a vase of water for her to comment. "You look like you've just been fucked backwards. Are you okay?"

My head snapped up, and I swallowed the lump in my throat. "What?"

Leah rolled her eyes, screwing the lid back on the bottle. "What's happened to you? Did you just …"

"No!" I snapped, shaking my head frantically. "I didn't do anything."

"Okay," She drawled, rolling her eyes. "I'm just saying – you look like you've just been fingered."

"Leah!" I hissed, motioning to the patron that was watching us with wide eyes.

She glanced to him, before shrugging. "Don't worry, he won't remember any of it in the morning."

I rolled my eyes, before picking up the tray and leaving the bar – attempting to cool down my cheeks in the process. I needed to calm down; to forget about the transfixing eyes of the man who I assumed to be Mr. Cullen. Green eyes was perfection in a man, but I couldn't gawk as I so wished for to dos o would mean I would lose my job and Mike would realize that I wasn't exactly the innocent girl he had assumed I was.

Calm down, Bells, I told myself, blowing air onto my face as I climbed the stairs. You only have a few more hours – get it together.

Green eyes were watching me as I placed the water on the table, my smile soft and my eyes downcast. I couldn't pay attention to him, or he would know how much attention I wished to pay to him. Breathing the air onto my face once more, I dared look at him through my lashes – my breath catching in my throat as I saw those green orbs staring at me with such transfixion.

Standing up, I straightened my back as I stared at Green eyes. Courage seemed to have found me, for now, I could truly stare at him. Bronze hair that seemed unruly in it's perfection was slicked back; one stray piece on his forehead. Pale skin, yet glowing in it's translucent nature. He was beautiful. Beautiful was the only word I could use to describe such a man – a man who you expect to see adorning the pages of magazines and starring on the screen.

"Anything else?" I asked, my eyes trapped on him.

He cocked his head to the side slightly, his index and pointer finger brushing against his twitching lips. "No, that's all."

His voice was enough to illicit images of graphic nature to be dancing through my mind. Images of bare skin, and white knuckled hands consumed me as I stood there, feeling like a girl fantasizing about her crush. My sanity was screaming at me to get out of there – to swap with one of the other girls – but I couldn't. I was trapped in my place by the eyes that had haunted me since I had first seen them. I felt like a child staring at an exhibit at a zoo, completely and utterly consumed by the sight of him.

You need to move, I told myself, or at least say something. You can't just stare at him.

"Okay," I said, nodding before I turned to leave. Wait … "Do you want any food?"

Green eyes stared at me again, those eyes narrowing slightly. "No."

"Oh."

Turning around, I felt my whole shudder with humiliation as I stumbled out of the tables vicinity. God, I was so stupid; so completely and utterly idiotic. He said he didn't food, and what do I do? Ask if he wants food. Idiot.

"Hey, Lauren!"

Lauren turned around, slightly aggrieved that her break was disrupted by me. "What?"

I grimaced, biting my lip. "There's this table I'm serving, and they'll tip really well, but I keep tripping on the stairs. Mind switching with me?"

Lauren stared at me, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What's the catch?"

"Nothing, seriously," I said. "I just don't want to keep tripping – I can't afford another sprained ankle."

"Okay," Lauren said, rolling her eyes as she placed her empty plate on the table and stood up – brushing off her shirt. "What table number is it?"

"Thirty."

"You were serving the good table and you wanna give up that tip?" She asked, cocking a brow as I nodded. "Whatever. Just don't come asking me for the tip they'll leave."

"Believe me, I won't," I murmured, watching as she walked out of the locker room and back into the restaurant.

Blowing air from my flushed cheeks, I collapse on the chair that Lauren had only just vacated. It was an ordeal to just be near the guy – his stare unwavering as he saw every move, every twitch, every breath taken. He must have realized how unnerved he was making me, for that stupid crooked grin had occupied his face as soon as he had made me flush.

Green eyes was something different – something strange. Captivating, I thought as I stared at one of the lockers – my eyes unmoving from the dented metal. I had never been affected by a man like that. I had never dissolved at the sight of a mans eyes, or had crumbled at the sound of a mans voice. I was the level headed one – I was the one who didn't have crushes. And yet after one man, I became nothing more than a stumbling mess?

The thought almost hit a gag point.

For the rest of the night, I covered Laurens tables and avoided Mike like the plague. I smiled as I would any other night – I chatted along with the regulars as I would any other night. And yet as I weaved through the tables, and took orders, my eyes were constantly drifting over to the corer hidden by veils. I wondered what Green eyes thought of Lauren, and if he treated her the same as he treated me.

Soon enough, the night began to wrap up and my shift finished – to my relief. Grabbing my jacket, and scarf, I bundled up against the harsh cold that would be awaiting me outside as I dug for my keys. Bidding Mike and Leah goodbye, I made my way to the door when I slipped on the wet floor.

I could see the floor coming towards me at such a speed that I knew I wouldn't be able to walk in the morning. Oh, god, no. I shut my eyes tightly, waiting for the pain to hit but there was … nothing.

No pain.

No tears.

I opened my eyes, only to see green.

"Isabella," Green eyes said, a crooked grin on his lips.

"Mr. Cullen," I squeaked, my eyes wide as he helped me up. "Thanks."

"My pleasure," He murmured, before he motioned to the door. "Going home?"

"Ugh, yeah," I said, my heart pounding in my ears.

"I was wondering what had happened to you earlier," He said, motioning to the table behind the veil. "You never came back."

I nodded, shrugging. "Uhm, well, I had to do some- how did you get over here? I didn't even see you?"

He grinned, and I almost came.

"I forgot to thank Mr. Newton for his hospitality," He said, his voice low as he motioned to Mike's office. "I also wish to compliment him on his staff."

My breath hitched in the back of my throat, and I nodded clumsily. "Right, well, I'll leave you to it."

He smiled. "Goodbye, Isabella."

"Goodbye, Mr. Cullen."


I don't really know where this is going. I think I've just spent so much time writing without feedback that I decided I need some. Feel free to review, or ... don't. I'm not pressuring you into anything :)

PS: To those that are here because of Camelot - I was fourteen when I wrote that and I was in year nine of High School. I am now in my second year of University, and I am just not in the same mind set as I was when I started it. One day I may finish it, but for now don't get your hopes up on an update.