9/12/2011

^EPOV^

"I would've liked to have seen more robust details from the book, including how characters differed from the movie version, and which you liked better. Why so hard on the actor who played Cedric Diggory? You need a stronger conclusion. You've left room for improvement, Mr. Cullen, but don't worry, you will improve. B-"

Not great, but not my worst grade by any stretch. And considering I never read any of the Harry Potter books, I'd say I did pretty darn well. As long as I keep my GPA above C minus, I'm good to play, and that's all Coach cares about anyways. I get my diploma, they get their wins.

"Okay, so good first attempt, folks. I tried to let you each know where you lost points, but if you have any questions, please do not hesitate to contact me at any point in the process. Email me, visit my office during posted hours, call if you're desperate. If you're serious about improving, I'm here for you. Though anything after 5 pm on Thursday is going to be ignored.

"Let's take a look together at some highlights and lowlights from these papers."

Professor Banner proceeds to click on the whiteboard to display a number of excerpts from different papers. He teaches using the examples anonymously, pointing out good use of colorful language, strong thesis statements, weak conclusions (mine), and grammatical errors.

"That brings us to this week's assignment: What is your most highly prized possession, and why? There's nothing scholarly about this one. I'm looking for an emotional connection. Whatever it is that you choose to write about, I want you to describe your attachment to it so that I feel it in my guts. This one should be around 500 words- longer won't get you a better grade.

"Okay, we have ten minutes left. I'm about to read off the partners. Before I do, let me say that I've put a lot of thought into pairing you so that each of you can learn from the other, and I'd like you to please try to remember that as the semester wears on."

I can't imagine what someone is going to learn from me.

"When I read your name, stand so that you can find each other. Then, pair off please and exchange contact information. The bulk of the peer work takes place on Wednesdays, so please bring a solid outline to class so that you and your partner will have something to discuss. There's no requirement or restriction about exchanging ideas with your partner outside of class. Each pair should do what feels comfortable. But please, respect each other's boundaries. Here we go…"

All I pray for is that he doesn't pair me with Bella Swan. I don't think I could face her knowing I let James take advantage of her vulnerability. Luckily, she doesn't know I was there. But I know, and it shames me still.

"Jessica Stanley and Mike Newton. Edward Cullen…" I rise, hoping for any one of the twelve remaining acceptable choices.

~BPOV~

"…and Bella Swan."

Shoot me now! He did not just put us together. I stand on shaky feet and twist my body to see mute giraffe boy. He looks none too pleased at the pairing. Considering our only interaction in the classroom was perfectly pleasant, I have to assume he knows what happened with James. He must think I'm the biggest slut in the freshman class. Or maybe the biggest tease. Jeez, which one is worse? I don't even know.

I pack away my paper ("Insightful, concise, convincing. Nice start, Miss Swan. A") and hoist my backpack over one shoulder. Edward makes the first move to a set of chairs along the side of the room, and I follow with heavy footsteps. Professor Banner has been clear enough that there will be no reassignments, so I resolve to do my best to make this work.

"Bella?" He says, then waits for my nod. "Edward."

"Hey." I panic for a second, thinking he might want to shake hands or something equally awkward. Luckily, he keeps his hands to himself, and we leave it at that.

"So, should we…?" He points vaguely to the chairs and shuffles into one of the seats.

"How do you want to do this?"

"Why don't you call my cell and then we can both fill in the contact info. My number is 714-774-4477."

"Really? That's pretty cool."

"Oh," he says, dipping his eyes to his phone. "We applied for a special number because…of my…dyslexia."

"Oh."

Shit. Now what do I say? Sorry about your disability? Thanks for sharing? Damn. I stick with 'Oh' and dial his number. His phone lights up and I'm Alright by Kenny Loggins starts playing. He looks even more embarrassed and answers quickly to cut off the music.

He mumbles, "Caddyshack," and slowly types in my name. "So your email is belswan at holden dot e-d-u?"

"Actually, it's 'isaswan'. Isabella," I answer his unasked question. "And yours is…?"

"Edwcullen." He spells it out for me as I type it in. "Should we get each other's room numbers?"

"Makes sense," I answer. "I'm in Warwick 303."

"Wait, did you just say Warwick 303?"

"Yeah, why?" He has a huge grin on his face now.

"I think my brother met your roommate at the game."

"Your brother? Oh shit, Cullen, of course." I think back to Emmett's dark coloring, huge dimply toothpaste commercial smile, and easy manner, trying to identify similarities. Edward's watching me, as if reading my mind.

"The eyes," he offers helpfully, drawing my attention to his deep, green eyes. "That's about where it begins and ends," he says, almost apologetically. "So I'm in MacNeil 301."

"You're kidding! You're right around the corner from us in the Lower Quad."

"Yeah, that should make things convenient if we ever need to get together outside of class," he says.

People are starting to shuffle out of the room now. We get up and walk toward the door together. "By the way," Edward starts, "thanks for your compliment last week."

I must look confused because he adds, "Mute giraffe?" to clarify.

"You're welcome. And it was nice meeting you, Edward."

"Yeah, you too, Bella."

O)(O

"God, Bella, Emmett is so divine," Rose gushes, bouncing onto her bed and folding her legs underneath her. "I got banned from football practice today."

"You went to football practice? In THAT?" Rose is wearing the same outfit she wore to the game.

"I wanted to make sure he'd recognize me from the game."

I laughed. "I don't really think that would be a problem, Rose."

"Well, Emmett was just going out for a pass when I arrived, and he got a little…distracted…and the ball hit him square on the forehead." She's laughing recalling the memory.

"Shit! Did he get hurt?"

"No, just a little dazed. That guy has a pretty thick head."

"Don't they all?" I muse.

"So, he jogs over to the bleachers after practice and he says, 'Sorry, Rosie, Coach says you can't come to practice again.' Then he whips out his phone and asks if he can take my picture instead."

Her phone buzzes and she laughs when she looks at the screen. "He's taken a picture of himself and sent it to me. The caption says, 'Fair is fair.' Is he cute or what?"

She taps out a response.

"So, Rose, guess who my Comp Sem writing partner is. Emmett's baby brother Edward."

She squeals. "You're shitting me! That's amazing! Is he cute? Does he look like a mini-Emmett?"

"Actually, aside from the eyes, they don't seem to have anything in common in looks or personality."

"Too bad for him! So what's he like?"

"He seems nice, kind of shy. I get the feeling he's had to work really hard to get where he is. And maybe it hasn't always been easy to live in his brother's shadow."

"What's he look like?"

"Actually, you saw him on Sunday out on the driving range. He was standing in front of that asshole James from PiKA."

"He's on the golf team? I bet he's adorable."

Adorable? I haven't really thought of him that way, I've been so preoccupied with what he must think of me. "He's about Emmett's height, but he's not nearly as broad. Still, he's solid, just skinnier. His hair is much lighter, almost with a touch of red, and kind of wild. He has a quiet way about him and a nice smile. And he's got these green cat's eyes-"

"Mmmm, those eyes!" Rose says, flopping back on her bed.

"Rose, I'm starved. What's on the meal plan tonight?" She hates it when I use the word 'diet'. She says it has negative overtones.

"Quinoa with vegetables and tabbouleh," she smiles cheerfully.

"Ugh. Let's go get it over with already."

^EPOV^

I take just my putter out of the bag room and grab two sleeves of balls from the rack. I don't even want to be tempted to practice with another club. Putting grounds me, and after two full days of classes, I need all the grounding I can get.

Walking out to the practice green, I reflect how Advanced Algebra didn't really prepare me for Pre-Calc, at least getting a "C" in the class didn't. It's only a matter of time before I need a tutor for that class. I thought Psychology would be easier, but the reading material is dense and the professor is demanding. History of Jazz should be a respite from reading and writing. The teacher seems cool and easy-going. Comp Sem is a giant question mark at this point.

I empty the boxes onto the green and start my routine, placing the balls in a straight line leading away from my body. I get into a rhythm and putt each one successfully the six inches into the hole. I repeat the pattern from six inches farther, and continue, allowing my mind to focus only on the stroke. Moving the balls out to eighteen inches, I make all but the last one. Patiently, I begin again at six inches. It's a stiff penalty for just one miss, but I welcome the discipline of the drill. It's familiar and effective. I rarely miss anything inside three feet on game day.

Once I make all six three-footers, I move to a different hole and practice some longer putts. I don't know this green yet, not the way I intimately knew my home course in Orange. But it's all about practice. I move around until I can feel the breaks and regulate my speed more accurately. Before long, the sun is beginning to set and I can no longer use putting as the diversion from mapping out my paper for tomorrow.

O)(O

"I'm going over to Alice's to hang for a bit. You want to come?"

"I can't, Jas. I have this outline due tomorrow."

"You've been working on that since dinner. Why don't you come take a break? Her roommate's cute- you remember Bree from the scavenger hunt? She's dying to see you again."

I consider whether to tell Jasper the truth. I haven't even started my outline yet. I've been sitting at my desk for an hour trying to figure out what to write about. I've broken two pencils in frustration and wadded up the entire first third of my three-subject notebook.

Fuck it. He's going to find out sooner or later that he's not rooming with an intellectual giant. I think back to our time on the range, when Jasper so readily asked me for help. And how it made me think more of him, not less.

"Jas, I don't even know where to begin."

He crosses to my desk and takes a look over my shoulder. "You don't have anything? After all this time?"

I bang my head down onto the desk and cover my head with my arms.

"Okay, what's the assignment?"

"I'm supposed to write about my most highly prized possession."

He thinks for a bit before answering, "Driver? Putter? Trophy?"

I push up and refold my arms under my chin. "Those won't make for an interesting paper. It's supposed to be something with…feelings attached to it." I groan in agony.

"Okay," he says, plopping down onto my bed. "You'd probably have your most prized possession with you at school, right?"

"I guess so," I say, becoming slightly hopeful.

"Well, what did you bring with you then?"

"Clothes. iPod. Laptop. Pictures."

"Pictures? Now we're getting somewhere. Where do you keep those?"

I push off my desk and open the thin drawer in front of me. Jasper approaches from behind me and moves me to the side, taking full command of my life. He gathers up the scattered photos and flips through the pile, asking questions as he goes. I answer dutifully.

"Mom, Dad, Emmett. Prom."

That catches his attention. "She's cute. Anyone special?"

I shake my head no.

"Okay, this doesn't seem to be the right place to look. What else have you got? Wait, what's this?"

He digs up a large Ziploc bag from the back of the drawer.

"Notes."

"What kind of notes?"

"Just notes I've gotten over the years from campers."

"Here. Pick out the best one and read it to me," he says.

I pick through the bag, knowing exactly which note I'm after, but I don't feel comfortable reading it to him. "I can't, it's too personal."

"Isn't that the point?" he smiles winningly.

And now I have my subject. "Thanks, Jas."

~BPOV~

"So, basically, the music connects you to your mother?"

"Right. The manuscripts are all marked up with her fingerings and notes," I answer him.

"And you play this music?"

"Yes."

"Okay," he responds maddeningly.

"What do you mean, 'okay'?"

Edward shrugs. "I mean, I see the connection."

"But…?" I sense that he is holding something back.

"Nothing. It's good."

I sit back in my chair and fold my arms. I see the other pairs working with heads together all around the room while Professor Banner circulates. We better learn to talk to each other or this partnership is not going to work. "That's not very helpful, Edward."

Shit. He looks hurt now. I try a direct prompt, "Don't you have any suggestions how I might improve it?"

He bites his lip and stares at me. I feel like he's sizing me up to see if I can handle his criticism. Eventually, he says, "I guess I don't see why these particular pieces are so special to you. I mean, I'm guessing your Mom writes in all her music?"

Pretty fucking insightful for a guy who's known me for all of three minutes.

"Yeah, she did," I answer, deciding how many beans to spill. "This collection was her last concert."

Poor Edward turns white, and I immediately realize what he thinks he's done. "Shit, Bella, I'm such an ass-"

"No, Edward, don't. It's not that."

He slumps back in his chair and lets out a relieved sigh. He waits for me to embellish.

"This was the concert my Mom gave three days before she left my Dad and me."

I meet his gaze cautiously, and I really admire the way he holds onto me with his eyes. We're not really friends, so it's not like I expect him to give me a hug or anything. But I have to say I feel comforted by the fact that he doesn't shy away from the tough moment on the table between us. It makes me feel safe with him.

"So are you going to write about that?" he asks quietly. Not making any judgments, just asking.

"I haven't decided. Do you think I should?" I find myself really caring about his opinion.

He smiles. "Professor Banner did say we should hit him in the guts."

I smile back. "Thanks, Edward." I give it a moment and then I gather my materials. "Your turn."

With a groan, he opens his notebook to his outline and passes it to me with great trepidation. I'm looking at a bare bones outline that is not particularly organized, and I can't get a good read on what he's trying to say.

I remind myself that this is a guy who has trouble getting his thoughts down on paper, but that doesn't make them any less astute.

"Help me out here. Tell me about this note."

He starts rooting in his backpack, and I understand he's about to produce the subject of his paper.

"Wait," I say. "If the essay is good, I shouldn't need to see the actual note."

"That's a big 'if', Bella."

"We'll get there," I reassure him.

I notice he sits up a little straighter in his chair when I mention 'we'.

"Start with a physical description of the note. What kind of paper is it on? What did…LeVon write with? How was his spelling?"

"Okay, hang on. You're going too fast. First of all, the paper was ripped out of one of those blank pads you get at the grocery store. Even though there were no lines, he wrote really neatly with a pencil, like he used a ruler under his letters. You can tell because some of them are straight across the bottom. And his spelling was awful, way below fourth grade level. But, -"

Edward gets a faraway look in his eyes recalling the memory. "He was so careful to spell my name correctly. He'd never heard my name before- in his neighborhood, Edward is not exactly common- and he made me write it down on his hand for him the day we first met."

I jot that down while Edward continues.

"What were the exact words he used- not all of them, but which ones give the reader the best flavor?"

"He wrote, 'Thank you Edward for helping me hit the golf ball so far. It makes me feel very good about myself.' And at the end, he signed it, 'See you on the Tour! And don't worry- you already have my autograph at the bottom. Your friend, LeVon Lewis'."

"That is awesome. I can see why you chose to write about this."

"He was a really special kid. He was so teachable. He just needed a chance."

"Tell me more about LeVon. What was his situation?"

Edward talks and I take notes. There's plenty here to fill three pages, but it's only a 500-word essay. "This is fantastic stuff, Edward. I think the only other piece you need to fill in is the conclusion. Can you remember how you felt when he first gave it to you?"

"The last day of camp, most of the kids brought little treats for their counselors. Being the golf instructor, I got a few things, but not many. So I was surprised when LeVon approached me at the range and handed me a big bag filled with homemade oatmeal chip cookies. He handed them to me and said, 'These are from my Mom,' and I thanked him. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out this note- if I showed it to you, you could see that it's a little crumpled. He held it out so proudly and said, 'And this is from me. I hope I got everything right.'

"He stood right next to me while I opened it up and read it. I told him it was perfect and he hugged me. I remember feeling on top of the world, that I could reach this boy and help him feel better about himself. The fact that he shares some of the same challenges as I do in school really helped us bond. And rereading the note always takes me back to that moment where he drove the ball farther than ever before, and he looked up at me with this face filled with so much pride. I guess there's really nothing better than helping another person achieve his best."

I am once again blown away by the depth of this quiet guy in front of me. I turn the notebook around so he can see what I've written.

"Here's your outline," I inform him.

"Wow, Bella. That's great!" He perks up, seeing the fruits of our combined labor.

"It's all you, Edward. I just listened."

"Yeah, you did," he smiles. I can almost detect a note of disbelief in his voice.

^EPOV^

"Your swing arc is too steep. Try to flatten it out." I watch a few practice swings before he tries it with a ball.

Jasper slices three balls off to the right. But the fourth ball flies straight. And long. "Holy shit! That felt different!"

"Looks good, Jas," I chuckle, happy for his success. "Ten thousand more and you'll own it."

He snorts and hits several more seven-irons before trying his driver. "Here comes the moment of truth," he says, swishing his club through the air. He tees up the ball, steps back and takes one more practice swing. He puts a nice backswing on it, but brings it through fat and hits the ground first, taking about thirty yards off as well as throwing it left.

"Slow the backswing down a little, just until you get comfortable with it."

Two more swishes, one more practice swing, much slower this time, and Jas rips through the ball on the exact right plane. He hits the sweet spot of the driver and the ball takes off with the perfect trajectory, soaring past all his previous drives. He's got that Sports Illustrated pose, club resting over his shoulder, perfect hip turn, and a gigantic smile on his face.

He's still in that statuesque position when he says, "I knew there was a reason I liked you."

I chuckle, "Here, all this time, I thought it was my boyish charm and chiseled chin."

"Yeah, buddy, I'm all about the chin."

I see a blur of movement over Jasper's shoulder and zero in on two girls walking quickly on the path that winds behind our mats, a buxom blonde and a larger girl struggling to keep pace. The brunette stops for a second and waves to me. After taking a closer look, I realize it's Bella.

"Hey," I call and wave back, realizing one beat too late that I've attracted all kinds of unwanted attention to them.

Jasper swivels his head to look behind him. "Whoa, who's the blonde?"

"That must be Emmett's new love interest."

"She's hot. Who's her friend?"

"That's her roommate Bella. She's my Comp Sem writing partner."

"Nice?"

"Yeah," I answer.

From the other side of Jasper, James scoffs, "Oh yeah. She's a real nice girl."

"Cool it, James," I warn. The girls aren't that far away and I don't want Bella to hear his derisive words. For that matter, I don't want Jasper to hear them either.

"What, you're going to defend that fat cocktease now?"

"Leave. It. Alone," I growl, hopefully just loud enough for him to hear me.

"Fuck this," he says, gathering his clubs. "I've got better things to do than stand around with a couple of faggot whale lovers."

"He's a charmer," says Jasper in the wake of James's exit.

~BPOV~

"Who was that?" Rosalie asks, as we reenter the woodsy trail just past the range.

"That's Edward Cullen."

"Aha!"

"Aha what?"

"Aha, he's cute."

"Yeah, I guess." I was thinking sweet, but cute fits too, I guess.

"Bella," she laughs, "you really haven't noticed how cute he is?"

I shrug. "Did you see that jerk James right behind him? It looked like he was saying something about me to Edward."

"Ugh, would you please ignore that big snake? He doesn't deserve your time."

"I just hope he hasn't spread his venom."

O)(O

From: Edward Cullen
To:
Bella Swan
Subject: Prized Possession
Sent: Thursday, 9/15/11 12:30 PM

Bella,

How would you feel about proofreading my essay before I turn it in tomorrow?

If you're busy or you just don't want to, no problem. But if you do have a chance to look it over, I would really appreciate it.

And, by the way, I'm more than happy to read yours if you want.

Let me know- I have a match soon but I could email it to you right now.

Thanks,

Edward

Edward's email request spreads warmth across my chest. I feel needed, and it's such a wonderful feeling. I force myself to wait all of two minutes before replying.

From: Bella Swan
To: Edward Cullen
Subject: Re: Prized Possession
Sent: Thursday, 9/15/11 12:32 PM

Edward,

Of course I'll read your paper. Send it along.

Good luck with your match!

Bella

PS-Don't worry about proofing mine. You already gave me what I needed to finish it in class.

I would so love to ask him more about his match, like 'Can I please come watch?' But I'd rather be specifically invited than put him in a position where he can't say no.

From: Edward Cullen
To: Bella Swan
Subject: Prized Possession
Sent: Thursday, 9/15/11 12:33 PM

Attachment: Note From LeVon . docx

Bella,

Thanks a million.

Edward

^EPOV^

Jasper and I find our opponents and get in queue for our 2:20 tee time. I am definitely anxious about playing the first match of my college career, but being out here with Jas helps calm my nerves. I'm grateful that we're playing one and two, and I hope we can both maintain our positions and keep our pairing throughout the season.

"Jazzy! Jazzy!" It can only be Alice. Golf spectators just don't normally get that rowdy. Sure enough, he locates the little pixie in the crowd and gives her a goofy grin. I see she's brought Bree, and I give her a friendly wave. Of course, somewhere out here are Emmett and Rosalie.

Since we're the home team and he's the lower handicap, Jasper tees off first and hits a beautiful drive straight down the middle, one of his longer shots. "One down, sixty-three to go," he quips to me privately, referring to the course record he intends to break.

I switch places with him and tee up my ball. I loosen up with a relaxed swing, blow out deliberately, and step up to my first collegiate tee shot. Without further ado, I take my backswing and drive through the ball in a motion as familiar to me as breathing. My ball sails straight ahead, lifts slightly with perfect topspin, bounces just beyond Jasper's ball and rolls another thirty yards.

"Woo hoo, Eddie! Great drive! Way to go!" Great, now I know exactly where Emmett is. Halfway down the fairway, I locate my brother and his girlfriend. I give them a slight chin nod. You'd think it was the Masters from Emmett's enthusiasm. Our opponents tee off with similar results, and we all hoist our bags onto our backs and march forward. Jasper moves along the edge of the fairway, and Alice and Bree pace themselves along with him. I finally reach my brother.

"Eddie, meet Rose. Rose, Ed."

O)(O

Near the second tee box, Emmett sees Jasper with Alice and puts two and two together. I catch their banter before it's my turn to hit.

"Alice, right? I'm Edward's big brother Emmett."

"Hey, Emmett, great game last week! This is my roommate Bree."

"Alice, Bree, meet Rosalie," says Emmett helpfully. "If you couldn't tell, babe, Alice is with Jas."

Rose asks the obvious question, "So Bree, are you with Edward?"

My ears perk up at hearing my name mentioned.

"Well, he did get in my pants," she answers, sharing a private joke with Alice.

"Don't forget your teeny, tiny tank top," Alice supplies, causing another avalanche of giggles from Bree.

O)(O

Emmett and Rosalie are still following my progress on the back nine, but more often than not, they walk several yards ahead and I'm left alone with Bree. I find myself staying to the middle of the fairway, where I don't have to entertain her or make polite conversation. Or listen to her giggly nonsense about my muscles, my strength, my tan.

After all, this is my golf match, not a first date.

I shudder at the thought of a date with Bree. Now that I've spent the last hour seeing how she operates, I am so not interested.

By the end of the thirteenth hole, Jasper has already won his match, and I'm up three with five to go. Though they're no longer in competition, Jasper and his opponent play out the remaining holes with us.

Fourteen is a long par four, and my extra distance helps me secure the hole. Now I've got him dormi- best he can do is tie me with just four to go. All I have to do is tie one more hole and I've won the match. Fifteen is a par three over water. My opponent hits a competitive tee shot inside my ball, but if I sink my putt, I win the match.

I hear a low growl, "Eddie." It's Emmett, reminding me to stay focused and calm. Bree chimes in three octaves higher. "Sink it, Edward!" I block them all out and take my customary practice stroke. I step up confidently and put a nice smooth stroke on the ball, following it right into the hole with my putter head. It drops with a satisfying thunk in the hole, and I've won my first match wearing the Holden shirt. I shake my opponent's hand and get a more enthusiastic response from Jas.

Emmett pumps his fist on the sideline, and I smile over at him and the girls. Emmett gestures the universal tipping back of the imaginary mug, signifying a celebration.

O)(O

"To the A team!" cheers Emmett, and the six of us clink mugs. Mine's filled with Diet Coke, but I share in the spirit of the victory just the same.

"Edward, I've never seen anyone hit the ball so far," gushes Bree. Which might actually mean something if she'd ever seen anybody hit a golf ball ever.

"How about that new swing, Jas?" I deflect. "How did it feel today?"

He laughs, "I think it needs a few more weeks at the range, to be honest. But it didn't cost me anything today."

"Sweet chip-in on ten," I recall.

"And what about twelve?" says Alice. Jasper looks pleased that she remembers his successes. He holds her a little bit tighter. Meanwhile, Rose is practically on Emmett's lap.

"So, Rosalie, you and Bella like to walk?" I ask, curious about their jaunts past the driving range.

"Yeah, I'm kind of her personal trainer. Bella's determined to lose at least thirty pounds."

"She could certainly use it," comments Bree, pushing in a French fry.

"Down, girl," warns Alice.

"What? I'm just stating the obvious."

Ignoring Bree's rude comments, I ask, "When did Bella make this decision?"

Nonchalantly, Rosalie says, "After the frat party at PiKA during orientation. She got totally abused by that douche bag James who's on your team. It was pretty awful, but it lit a fire underneath her to finally do something about her body."

"Wow. That must've taken a ton of courage for her to ask for help."

Bree snorts, "Yeah, a ton."

Alice whacks her. "Lay off the fat jokes, Bree."

I quickly finish my burger and make a lame excuse to leave. I'm eager to see what Bella thought of my paper.

~BPOV~

Rose doesn't get back to the room until after 9.

"How'd the match go?" I try to ask nonchalantly.

"Great, Jasper and Edward both won their matches, and the team won 5-3."

"Jasper?"

"Edward's roommate. Nice guy, cute-if you like blonds."

"Must've been some celebration afterwards."

Rose guffaws. "Pretty tame, actually. Just the three guys, Jasper's girlfriend Alice and her roommate."

"Oh. Did it seem like she was with Edward?"

She snorts. "It seemed like she wanted to be, but he was pretty actively ignoring her."

"He was?"

"Yeah. In fact, he was asking about you. He's noticed our walks by the driving range, and I told him how hard you'd been working…"

"Oh shit. you didn't!"

"I did, and Bella, you should be really proud of yourself. You've already lost five pounds in less than a week, and you're already starting to move better."

"It's all relative, Rose."

"Anyways, Edward was really impressed by your determination."

"He was?"

"He was. You were right about him, Bella. He is a really nice guy."

"Oh, that reminds me, I want to see what he thought of my edits."

I rush to my laptop and click on my email.

From: Edward Cullen
To: Bella Swan
Subject: Re: Prized Possession
Sent: Thursday, 9/15/11 9:14 PM

Hi, Bella. I made all those changes you recommended. Thank you again for looking over my paper for me.

See you tomorrow in class.

-Edward

O)(O

I linger outside the classroom until the last possible moment. Sure, I'd love to go right on in and take the nearest seat to Edward. But I don't want to seem pushy or desperate. Just because he has to sit with me on Wednesdays doesn't mean he should be stuck with me all week. It's impossible for me not to see him when I come in, so I give him a little smile that I hope carries no obligation on his part.

I take the chicken shit way out and slide in next to Angela after turning in my essay.

The hour passes quickly, albeit boringly. Grammar is really not a challenge for me. I'm thankful my ninth grade teacher was such a stickler that I don't even have to think about it anymore. It's as natural as breathing.

^EPOV^

I turn in my paper on the way into class, my confidence in this essay about tenfold the first assignment. I know the difference is Bella. I look forward to telling her so when she arrives. I take my usual seat in the back cluster of four chairs.

Bella files in with a group of other students just before Professor Banner begins. She places her paper on top of the pile and takes a seat up front with her friend Angela, acknowledging me with a tight smile.

Shit, I didn't think she was irritated by my request to proofread my paper. But now, I have to wonder if I've taken advantage. The writing exercise today is a torturous grammar lesson. Professor Banner is of the opinion that every college student should properly use its/it's, who's/whose, they're/their/there, and I/me. This exercise is followed by comma drills. When he finally releases us for the weekend, I am enormously relieved.

"Hey, Bella." I accidentally startle Bella coming up close behind her as she's gathering her belongings. "I bet those drills were a snap for you."

She shrugs.

"Do you have another class now?" I ask, heading toward the door with her.

"Not until 11. How about you?"

"I just have Psych and then I'm done for the day. We get an early finish on Fridays in case we have to travel for an away match."

"Do you?"

"No, not this weekend. We've got home matches Saturday and Sunday."

"I know Emmett's away. Rose wanted to stow away on the team bus."

I laugh. "Yeah, I don't think she'd be safe on that bus. Even with Emmett's protection. Some of those guys are animals."

Then again, not everyone on the golf team has perfect manners, as we both well know.

"So, do you have any big plans for the weekend?" I ask, trying to get a read on her.

"I promised Rose I'd go to O'Hara's with her and watch the football game."

"Oh."

"You want to come?" she asks me.

"Thanks, but I can't. I have a match."

"Oh, of course. I heard you guys did really well yesterday."

"Yeah, we did. Have you ever watched golf before?"

I shrug. "My Dad's a fan, so I've watched on TV a few times…."

"But..?"

"Nothing. I used to get my homework done while it was on."

"Ouch."

"Oh, shit, Edward, I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

I laugh light-heartedly. "It's okay, Bella. Maybe I can convert you."

The guilty look on her face makes me smile.

O)(O

"Riley, I feel really stupid lying on this huge ball. Are you sure this is going to help?"

He scoffs at me. "Trust me, Edward. There's no better way to work on your core. We're going to turn your cute little six-pack into a fierce eight-pack in just a few weeks."

I know Riley's reputation, so I put my trust in him and bounce around dutifully on the enormous ball.

"So, Riley, what do you do when you're not putting spoiled Holden athletes through their paces?"

"I have some private clients on the side. Keep that right side tight while you do these reps."

"Do you have any gym space that's more private than this?"

"Cullen, are you flirting with me?"

"Sorry, Riley, you're not really my type. I'm trying to find a way to help a friend."

"Does your friend want help?"

"Yes, but I'm not sure if she wants it from me."

"She? Tread carefully, Edward. And let me know. Meanwhile, give me fifteen on the other side."

~BPOV~

"I'm happy to go with you to the golf match today," says Rose. "I mean, the football team is going over the tapes of yesterday's game until late this afternoon."

"No, Rose, let's just take our regular walk. If he's warming up, maybe I'll see him."

"Bella, you know damn well he'll be warming up. Just admit you want to see him."

I shrug as if it makes no difference to me whether I see Edward Cullen or not. But we both know I'm lying.

"Fine, then, let's take a different route today-" Rose suggests.

"No!"

She smiles smugly. "That's what I thought."

"Nobody likes a know-it-all, Rose," I complain sourly.

"You know, he'd probably love it if you showed some interest in his sport and came to watch him. Instead of pretending to just be passing by."

"How do I know that, Rose? It's not like he's asked me to come."

"Are you sure that's not where the conversation was heading Friday after class?"

Damn her for twisting his words. I knew I shouldn't have told her about my brief conversation with Edward.

"Did he not tell you he had matches on Saturday and Sunday?"

"He did," I admit.

She puts her hands on her hips. "Well?"

"I just don't feel comfortable until he specifically asks me."

Frustrated, she blows out a mouthful of air. "Well, Emmett sure is lucky I didn't sit around waiting for an engraved invitation to attend the first football game!"

"Rose, if I looked like you, I wouldn't wait either."

"Just for that, you're carrying three-pound weights today. Now, get a move on, Swan!"


HEY, DL Panda (guest)...thank you for your sweet review! I figured I'd try to catch you here before you got past this chapter. It's the only way I can reply to a guest review. I really appreciate your review. That's it! B