Disclaimer – I wrote this story. But Stephenie Meyer came up with the characters in the first place, which is why she has a gajillion dollars. But I bet there are more Disney Princess jigsaw puzzles in my house than in hers (nine, if you were wondering).

Thanks go to xoEMC my best beta (*tickles EM under the chin*) and Jaustenlover who pre-reads this and makes sure the tenses remain the same all the way through, and reins my British slang in when it is needed. I dedicate this to my daughter, who has brought a ton of beach sand home with her in her suitcase, and my husband, who paddled in Beer this week. It's a place, you can Google it...

~o0o~

Say Hello, Wave Goodbye Chapter 3

(More hotel rooms and another première)

~o0o~

From the WavesFansLondon website: Dateline June 18, 2009 - WHAT A HAPPY COUPLE! Edward 'Dr Dan' Cullen and Rosalie Hale have been spotted together again in LA, heading off to Volturi Studios together. Here's hoping they have some fun as well as business while Edward visits his girl's home town, especially with his birthday at the end of the week. Rumour has it that he's been spotted looking in the windows of Beverley Hills' jewellery stores... Keep tuned to our twitter feed for more info on these beautiful people.

~o0o~

EPOV

The meeting with Aro went better than either Rosie or I could have hoped. We sat there and looked as innocent as possible, as he peered at us over his enormous mahogany desk, looking at prints of the première pictures as well as the airport shots.

"You know I run a tight ship here," he said to us, looking down his beaky nose. "I don't like to think that anyone as... valuable... as you two would like to see what would happen if you messed with this studio, its policies, or the movies you are both attached to. You are both special to me, and I would hate for our relationship to fail at this stage..."

Yes he was an old fart, one of the oldest and fartiest in the business, but he was the head of a studio that was proud of its heritage – and of the fact that it was not a tiny part of some international conglomerate like so many others, kept going for its name only.

The problem was that he felt that the studio owned us, just like it was the 1950s and we were Doris Day and Rock Hudson, with our movies and our lifestyles chosen for us. He almost expected us to live our lives by the Hays Code. His Snow White persona made Disney's squeaky-clean image look like the Wicked Stepmother.

The financial benefits of my deal with Volturi did help keep my mind on the job. I was being paid very well for the Waves movies, and Rosie and I were on a percentage of the profits for each one... provided we kept to Old Man Aro's Victorian rulebook while we were working with him.

Aro rambled on, but Rosie and I both knew we had passed this particular test, and that our unintentional PDA at both airports had saved our skins. I could tell Aro was getting to the final point of his lecture, so I tuned back in to hear his summing-up.

..."so you will both agree to these terms, then?" Aro asked, rhetorically. Rosie and I nodded in unison and he smiled. "Well in that case I don't think we have anything further to discuss. It has been a pleasure, as usual. Rosalie, please pass on my best wishes to your parents."

He stood up and held out his hand to me for a handshake. It was like shaking hands with a haddock. He walked around the desk, kissed Rosie on the cheek and propelled us to the door.

Gianna, his secretary (sorry, senior administrative assistant), was hovering on the other side of the door, waiting to see us out. She smiled as she saw us, obviously thinking what a lovely couple we made.

She handed us each a manila envelope with the Volturi crest printed at the top, which contained a reminder from Aro about the topics covered in our conversation.

We went our separate ways at the studio complex. Rosie's parents were waiting for her to head off to a two-day spa break they had planned, and I had a town car to take me back to the hotel to get ready for the Beat It press junket.

This was a far more informal situation than the London première, but at the same time it was oddly more structured. There was a press conference-style general question and answer session with the three of us, then a series of one-on-one interviews with selected TV and print people.

The day had already started for the press, with a screening of the movie, then schmoozing and canapés with the director, Sam Uley, and the handing out of glossy press packs and other freebies.

Em, Charlotte and I had to be there by 5pm, and since it was in the hotel where I was staying, I had plenty of time to prepare myself.

It was about 4.30pm by the time I got back to my room, and after a quick change into a cream-coloured heavy cotton shirt and indigo jeans, I was lounging on the balcony having a cigarette when there was a knock on the door. To my delight, Em had come up to see me before heading downstairs.

We shared a back-slapping man-hug at the door before I headed back to the balcony to finish my smoke break.

Emmett McCarty was born to play Keith Moon in the same way Renee Zellweger had been born to play Bridget Jones. He was really a big burly boy from Tennessee, given to saying "y'all" at top volume, and randomly shooting at wildlife for fun, but he lost the weight and grew the hair and learned to speak London English like a native, probably better than I could, for the role.

Early reviews were tipping Em for an Oscar nom; he was certainly the star of this film.

Despite his desire to shoot wildlife, he and I had hit it off immediately, and I knew we'd be friends for years to come. He was quite a bit taller than me, and quite a bit broader in the shoulders.

He knew about all sorts of shit I didn't, like the rules of American Football, and we argued frequently about how biscuits were cookies, that suspenders held up stockings and not trousers, and that vests were in fact called undershirts. I adored the big lug, and told him so, often.

He had invited me to join the McCarty clan in Memphis for the Fourth of July celebrations and I was looking forward to kicking back with him on such an iconic American holiday, especially as it was the beginning of my month off.

Five minutes before we were due to arrive, the pair of us headed downstairs and met up with Charlotte before being taken to an anteroom to prepare for the press conference session.

The screening had come to an end, and I could see gaggles of journalists sneaking outside for smokes before filing into the room.

After about 15 minutes of waiting, we filed in and the questioning began. Thankfully, as it was not a Waves-related junket, direct RoseWard questions didn't happen, and I was able to bat away the indirect ones quite easily.

Em and I were in our element, answering questions about the characters and music involved in the movie, and Charlotte chimed in too with her funny memories of filming. The whole thing was a blast from start to finish.

The good vibrations continued through the one-on-one sessions, when the hand-picked critics and the showbiz reporters from the big TV channels all got to ask me about the movie. They all asked the same questions so it wasn't hard for me to answer.

The majority of interviewers were from the US, but one or two were Brits, and it was lovely to hear a voice or two from home. The last interview was with a girl from the BBC, who was little and dark-haired and reminded me slightly of Bella Swan – so she got the full-on Cullen charm!

By 10pm the last of the press had been sent on their way and the three of us convened in the corner of the room to re-group. We were all high on adrenaline, plus Charlotte and I still had some jet-lag, so we decided to take ourselves upstairs for a nightcap.

Charlotte was the first to crash out, falling asleep on the couch in the main area of my suite, but Em and I stayed up for hours, shooting the breeze and getting up to date on each other's lives.

I told him about Bella and my subsequent epiphany, and he slapped me on the back in congratulation at the news – he had been one of the cheerleaders in the "Rosie is bad for Edward" camp, despite not actually having met her.

We kept on drinking, getting to the "Love you man," "no, love you more, man" stage, but eventually I managed to kick him out, with promises to meet up for some quality time before I left for London. Charlotte was fine where she was, curled up on the sofa. I took her shoes off and fetched a blanket for her before turning in.

My Bella dreams were even more vivid that night – in one she was wearing a long green gown and high heels, descending a staircase and running into my arms. In another she was in a meadow full of wildflowers in a white sun-dress, with her arms extended, out waiting for me to run to her.

Then she appeared for a third time between my knees, looking up at me through those thick black eyelashes as she gave me the best blow job I ever had. Again, I woke with raging morning glory which had to be alleviated in the shower.

Charlotte had disappeared by the time I got out of the shower, so I ordered bacon and pancakes from room service for breakfast – with a shudder at the very thought of putting syrup on bacon – and ate in happy silence before switching on the TV for the local news (nothing interesting) and the weather (hot and sunny, as usual).

I had most of a day to kill, with nobody to see and nothing to do. I decided to have another crack at Operation Bella Swan. It was afternoon in London, so I sent Mum an exploratory email from the BlackBerry to see what she was up to. She replied immediately.

"Any joy at your end?" I asked, knowing my mum was using her doctor's wife Mafia connections to try and find out something for me. "Not yet, sorry, working on it!" she answered.

Idly, I fired up the laptop and went on to Facebook, typing in "Bella Swan" to see what popped up. Damn, over 300 of them. I narrowed down the search to Bella Swans in the UK – 54, that was more like it. I typed in St Martins College, but there were no results, so I started to plough through all 54 names hoping one of them had pictures which would look like her. No such luck.

Seven had no pictures at all, some had cartoons – one was of Hello Kitty as Darth Vader; another one was Hong Kong Phooey – but none of the photos was my brown-eyed dream girl. I was going down another blind alley.

On a whim, I checked if any of my own friends were at St Martins, and bingo – one match, the mini firecracker of a costume designer, as well as my self-appointed life coach, Miss Alice Brandon.

Alice was some kind of clothes designer prodigy. Born in the Deep South of the USA, she had graduated two years before, and turned down cushy jobs at Chanel and Stella McCartney after Volturi offered her a lucrative deal to create wartime-vintage dresses, uniforms and zoot suits for the Waves movies for three years. She also ran her own online boutique, ABClothing, making clothes for the rich and famous.

I sent her an email via Facebook asking how she was and when I was going to see her again. I could see no point in bringing up the subject of Bella until I could speak to her properly about it.

Again, I found myself waiting. It was too early in the day to be drinking, I was to bored to read a book and I was penned in by fans so I couldn't just go out., I didn't want to pamper myself in the spa, so I decided to exercise some of my frustrations away in the hotel's gym.

Throwing on some trackies and a t-shirt, and hiding my hair inside a baseball cap, I headed down to the basement gym. There were a couple of fat moguls with expensive velour tracksuits and gold chains on, who glanced at me, realised I was only an actor, then carried on, but apart from them I was alone.

I spent a torturous but effective couple of hours working up a sweat, letting my mind clear and focus back on to the première. Em and I hadn't been on a red carpet together before, and I was looking forward to it with childlike enthusiasm. I just hoped his head was clear after the beers and Laphroaig he and I had put away.

The day crawled by until it was time to get suited and booted for the première, this time without Rosie, and without Bella either.

Once again the lights and noise were almost unbearable, but with Emmett and Charlotte with me it was a lot more fun, and it was much more casual. We were dressed down compared to the London shindig. I wore chinos and an antique-looking Rolling Stones t-shirt, which I know cost a lot more than it should have done and came from some fancy-pants Hollywood store.

Once we made it past the press and signed so many autographs it made my wrist ache, we actually went in to watch the movie, with Charlotte settling in between Em and me, the three of us cheerfully chugging on our drinks and sharing popcorn.

It was the first time I'd actually seen the movie on screen in its finished form, and I was truly blown away by Emmett's performance, at the same time cringing at my own appearances.

All the time I sat there in the dark, watching Emmett McCarty become an international movie star on the screen, all I wished was for Bella Swan to be by my side. And I was no closer to finding where she had gone.

The next day was my birthday, but after another night dreaming about Bella, I wasn't in the mood to celebrate.

Mum and Dad called early to give me their best wishes, and Rosie and her parents arrived back from their spa trip to drag me out to some beach house they'd rented for a Californian birthday celebration.

Charlotte, Emmett, Sam and loads of other people from Beat It were there, and I eventually gave in and had fun; drinking a few brews and finally heading out on to the beach for some boys vs. girls volleyball.

Of course TMZ and E! cropped Charlotte and Emmett out of the pap pics they bought of our goal celebrations.

They had hit RoseWard gold - their first pictures of Rosie and me actually touching each other. And, just like that, we were back on the merry-go-round once again.

~o0o~

From the WavesFansLondon website: Dateline June 20, 2009 - FUN IN THE SUN FOR EDWARD AND ROSALIE – Edward 'Dr Dan' Cullen and his best girl Rosalie Hale finally gave the fans what they wanted to see this afternoon as they frolicked in the sand in sunny California to mark Edward's 25th birthday. It's a double celebration if you believe all the rumours about this happy couple, as it's a year since they allegedly hooked up on the Making Waves set. We bet Rosalie's got a special birthday surprise for her darling doc as he reaches his quarter century. Keep watching our twitter feed for more information.

~o0o~

BPOV

I really tried my hardest not to let Edward Cullen take over my life, but every time I was online I found myself going to Google and checking what he'd been up to. He'd flown out to LA the day after I met him and was obviously having a high old time out there with that blonde Hale tart.

Then there was his birthday party pictures, with his arm over her shoulder, looking into her eyes and smiling, it made me feel physically sick. The RoseWards on Twitter had a fucking field day, with silly hearts and flowers shit, crowing that they were right after all, that this proved beyond all doubt that they were in love.

I still remembered the feeling of warmth, happiness, completion even, as we looked at each other, how my boobs tingled and my stomach twisted and turned, and remembering to breathe became very difficult.

I was still upstairs, loitering rather than making my way back to work when they began to fight, when she flew at his face and told him to go to hell. I watched as he stalked downstairs, shouting into his mobile that he wanted a car. I saw Rosalie Fucking Hale follow him down and storm out in a flurry of hair and couture Dior.

I really should have known better than to think someone as stellar and as beautiful as him would think to look at someone like me once, let alone twice; the mousy girl with the dull brown hair and the boring brown eyes; too thick in the hips to carry off designer samples and too short in the leg to carry off the micro-minis he obviously liked to see his 'girlfriend' parade about.

And as for the six-inch heels she was wearing... well, I tripped over blades of grass in bare feet so I knew I wouldn't stand a chance in them.

But Edward Cullen was under my skin. He was in my dreams both night and day. I rented all his films on DVD and watched the fan-made videos and TV appearances on YouTube. As each day passed it got worse.

I became a Twitter fiend, checking my phone so often for updates it made my dad grumble and tut at me, and eventually ban me from having it at the dinner table.

At least I had the summer break to look forward to before I had to go looking for real gainful employment. I was so glad I'd worked so hard right up to my finals to pay for the trip. Angela and I were going to enjoy our American adventure, and no boys – or movie stars - were going to get in the way.

First stop, Memphis, to celebrate July 4th with Elvis... then along Route 66 in a convertible. Bring it on!

~o0o~

A/N A couple of Brit translations: Half-cut = mildly drunk; fooling around = foreplay; snappers = photographers. Canapés are finger-food, often containing prunes or mushrooms, and sometimes, horrifyingly, both.

The Hays Code banned actors and actresses from lewd behaviour and suchlike, up until the 1960s, meaning you couldn't see Jeannie's navel in I dream of Jeannie and Rhett Butler said he didn't give a damn with such an odd inflection in Gone With the Wind.

Thanks a million for reading and reviewing this, again I am astonished at how well this story has been received.

Please give your time and attention to Quiet Ruby'sA Matter of Trust; Flubbles' A Form of Escapism and Hongkongphooey's Fill My Little World, all of whom include Britwards, and Rhian0000's lovely lemony takes on canon Edward and Bella, including the Meadow Scene.