AN: In college, a boy told me the second to last line in the chapter. I still swoon at the memory.

Chapter 3

"Emmett wants you to come," Angela whined, as she perched on the side of my desk.

"Uh huh." I moved the mouse over to change the color of the font on the screen. "Are you sure Harris wants this orange? It's hideous with the moss color background. Is the man color blind?"

Angela was an Account Manager at Molina Designs. Thank God that she had to deal with the clients. I would have lost my mind due to them over their horrible color choices alone, not even getting into their other awful design suggestions.

I had known Angela since I was six and our mothers had us to play together at her father's Baptist revival meetings. It was the summer my mother found Jesus. She lost him again by Christmas and discovered Buddha instead. I might have lost bible school, but I kept Angela.

My friend was sophisticated with her sleek, black hair and freshly pressed suits. I, in contrast, was a mess of frizzy brown curls and The Who concert tee-shirts I had pillaged from my mother before they were sacrificed to the alter of dusting.

"Yes," my friend admitted about Mr. Cooper of the poor taste, as she grabbed the cactus that sat in my desk and played with the prickles. It was a perfect choice for my black thumb. Sometimes my mother had rare glimpses of inspiration. "So Emmett—"

I looked up from the mess of an ad I was designing and rolled my eyes. "Has broken up with Rosalie Hale again for the millionth time. He can find another sexually frustrated chickie to satisfy his needs until Rose decided to take him back again. I've seen this song and dance on a continuous repeat. I prefer to avoid the broken heart that I've seen others suffer at his hands. Listen carefully. . . No. Thank. And you."

"You just admitted that you're sexually frustrated! Use that big piece of man meat and get some release, silly!"

"Ang, for a preacher's daughter you are a naughty, naughty girl." I shook my finger at her. "I have a vibrator named Grover. He's blue and gets the job done. Plus, he doesn't disturb me with all the dirty talk. A baby is an infant. A doll is a child's toy. A dirty slut is named Lauren and can be found on the corner of Fox Avenue and South Street. I don't need to be called any of those things to get some sort of satisfaction."

"Honey, you just haven't had the right boy dirty talking you." Angela wiggled her eyebrows.

I stuck out my tongue and she giggled. Then I, at least, went back to earning a living. "What about the amount of text? It's so busy! The size of the ad can't fit everything and be legible."

"You're changing the subject!" Angela stole my mouse.

I disagreed. "I'm doing my job, Angela. You should be too."

Angela wouldn't give up. "Come hear the boys play this weekend! Alice and I will be lonely without you!"

The boys. It was always the boys with those two. Jasper and Ben played in a jazz band with Emmett. They always said it was the music that led them to form the band as an escape from their humdrum lives as lawyers. It was actually just a cool way to pick up the ladies. Angela and Alice had stuck their manicured talons into Jasper and Ben, which left me with good, old Em.

Emmett was a player when he wasn't with the beautiful Miss Hale. I was just the ugly duckling next to that swan, but I was okay with that. Okay as long as I didn't have to witness those two groping and arguing. There was not enough brain bleach in the world.

"I rather not go, Angela. I love that you and Alice are finally getting close to actual dysfunctional relationships with the accident chasers, but I don't need to watch you do it." I swiped my mouse away from her. "Shouldn't you be trying to talk some rube into postcard designs for a laundromat or bumper stickers for a knock-off Hooter's?"

She pouted. "You need your own dysfunctional relationship, Bella! Just because it didn't work out with Riley—."

I threw a package of pretzel sticks at her head. "We don't mention Beelzebub's name in this office. In my car. In my home. In local cafés. Definitely not in places of worship, because we will spontaneously explode with a poof. You know this!"

Riley Scott was conceited, shallow and a waste of air. He was also my ex-fiancé. In the scheme of things, I was better off away from his flippant words and ability to juggle five relationships at a time. I had a feeling he bought engagement rings in bulk at the local discount warehouse store. We all had one of those shiny baubles. Not surprising they were cubic zirconia.

I remember lonely nights waiting for him to come home, but never arriving. The way he would lie about having to work late and sleeping in his office. Finding him with Lauren, the girl who worked at his gym, having sex in his car. It was parked in front of our house. I can take a hint.

"Bella, one bad relationship shouldn't turn you away from looking for something lasting or at least something lasting a couple of hours. A naked couple of hours," Angela said.

Then, in a way that only Angela Weber could, she made an obscene hand gesture that made me blush. Her father was possibly right. She might actually be going to the underworld.

I stared at my screen with a little grin. "Preacher's daughter, I have a question? Has daddy scheduled your exorcism yet?"

She poked my forehead. "I love you, best friend! Come drink and be merry."

"I love you, as well. I just can't handle another night of sitting at the table alone while the rest of you find romance. This doesn't mean that I begrudge either of you, because it actually brings me great joy. I'm just not ready to dive in myself. Soon, I promise."

I gave her hand a squeeze.

Angela squeezed me back. "I just hate the thought of you hanging at home, watching old musicals and drinking Tom Collins like an old lady with lots of cats."

"Don't mock my future furry babies, Weber." I sighed. I needed to get out of this. She was a persistent bugger. Then I remembered the boys. "I already have plans."

"What plans?" She was rightfully skeptical.

The faces of Lord Byron and Hemingway flitted in my brain and I couldn't help but smile.

"I'm going to a reading by local writers at a bar near campus. It should be fun."

Angela's mouth dropped open. It took her awhile to regain her cool. "By yourself? You are becoming a cat lady!"

"No, but thanks for the vote of confidence. I'm going with some classmates."

"Are you sure?" She scoffed. I was slightly offended.

"Are you deaf? Was I whispering?"

Angela stood up. "You rather go listen to a bunch of badly written stories that were once told to therapists instead of getting thoroughly fucked in a bathroom? I thought I knew you, Swan!"

Of course, that's when our boss decided to walk by. John Molina stopped quickly at Angela's words and fell over. He barely caught himself. The poor old man probably almost had a heart attack. He took a deep breath and addressed his Account Manager, "Miss Weber, please get back to work and stop distracting Miss Swan. She's actually doing her job."

Angela just gave him a salute and turned towards my computer, whispering, "Old fuddy duddy."

He called back, "I heard that, Miss Weber!"

I tapped on my screen. "Can we please get back to discussing the orange?"

There was a knock on the frame of my door.

"Let me just get Angela's opinion on this color choice, Mr. Mo—"

Edward's voice filled the room, "That orange makes me think of traffic cones."

I turned slowly and saw him leaning against the doorway with a grin. He wore all black and made me think of Johnny Cash singing the Folsom Prison Blues.

"Edward, what are you doing here?" I felt really confused. "How did you know I worked here?"

"I'm Lord Byron. Nice to meet you, Bella's co-worker." He gave a little wave to Angela, as he came over towards us. He pulled over an extra chair I had in a corner to sit much too close to me to be appropriate. He smelled of the forest covered in a rainbow of fallen leaves. His poetry was rubbing off on me. He turned towards me. "You told me after class where you worked."

I swatted his hand away from my mouse, as he tried to play with my computer. "Why are you here, stalker?"

"I missed you, Bell," he stated this as if it was the most natural occurrence in the world. "I also wanted to make sure that you're coming Friday. Garrett thinks you'll chicken out, but I reminded him that you might look like a delicate bloom but our Bell has nerves of steel."

"Peachy," I deadpanned.

Angela looked back and forth like she was a spectator at a tennis match. Then she stopped suddenly and pointed at me. "You are such a little shit, Swan!"

"Why are you a little shit, Bell?" Edward questioned, as he tried to grab my mouse again. I gave him another swat. "Behave, Bell! You know I like spankings."

I banged my head on my desk. I was going to hurt him.

Lifting my head slowly, I told Angela, "Please don't listen to a word that stalker says. Obviously he's suffering from delusions."

"I like Lord Byron better," he pouted.

Angela gave me a huge smile. "I'm calling Alice!"

No! Alice was the worst, megalomaniacal busy body I had ever known. I was screwed.

"Come on, Ang—"

Edward rested his arm around my shoulders. "It's lunchtime."

"No shit," I answered. "I have work."

"You need lunch." He wasn't going to take no for an answer.

"What are you suggesting?" I looked at the clock on my wall and not at his grass green eyes.

He pulled me up. "Lunch, conversation and good company."

"Where can I find the good company?"

"Ha, ha, ha, Bell," he stated. "My treat! I can explain about the girls."

Oh lovely. "Yay. I get to hear all about the harem."

"There isn't a harem." He looked solemn. He took one of my hands. "It isn't what it looks like. We can talk over burgers or the rabbit food, you ladies like so much."

"Oh no, you're buying me a juicy cheeseburger and a load of fries, L.B." I had to smile.

"That's my Bell." He grinned and I reflected it back. "You know what?"

I tried to pull away. "I eat like a horse?"

He tapped the tip of my nose. "You have the most fucking adorable nose."

Edward Cullen was going to kill me.