Place to be Chapter 6, a twilight fanfic

Howdy peeps!

Its Friday! well not actually but you get what I mean...

Sorry about the wait but RL is all shades of shit right now.

Anyway this chapter pulls out one of the ultimate stalking songs and some of my favourite songs ever. Plus we make contact..finally I hear you cry!

Thanks to everyone who's showing support by adding to favourite's, alerts and especially the little angels who are reviewing!

Special shout out to katie if shes still reading, who suggested one of the songs used in this here chap. If anyone else has any songs they'd like Guitar Guy to play just let me know and ill see what i can do :)

This chapters EPIC long, so grab a coffee, munch a cupcake and kick your feet up, and hopefully *fingers crossed* enjoy?!.. let me know either way

Disclaimer: I own fuck all still. Twilight and Edward Cullen don't belong to me, but that doesn't bother me, I'd much rather have Rob. All these things aren't mine as well: Rain Man, Anchorman, The Labyrinth, The Sound of Music, Starbucks, Forrest Gump, Bubbleboy, Slaughterhouse five, Theres Something About Mary, Miss Piggy, The Goonies ( including the Truffle shuffle *sadface*),or The Jungle Book... I think thats them all, and they sure as hell make a random looking list :P. Still dont know how the whole beta thing works so this is unbeta'd.

Songs featured in Chapter 6

'All that Jazz' Liza Minelli

'Sensual seduction/sexual eruption' Snoop Dogg

'Magic song' David Bowie

'Unchained Melody' The Righteous Brothers

'Strange and Beautiful (I'll put a spell on you)' Aqualung

'Smile' Unkle Kracker

'Something' The Beatles (I 3 this song soooo much)

'The Blowers Daughter' Damien Rice ( another of my favs )

'Dont stop believin' Journey

'Purple Rain' Prince

' Love is a stranger' The Eurythmics

'Suck on my lollipop' DJ Alligator

Jeezo thats a lot of song references :/, Il put the link up to the playlist asap. But all can be found on youtube anyway, if your deperate to see them ..

Heading to bed after the film I felt pretty damn good about the prospect of tomorrow. I had everything ready, my outfit was planned to the T (by myself after much protest from Alice) and sitting on my dresser waiting for the break of day, my bag was packed, iPod and phone charged, and I was going to get the recommended 8 hours of sleep tonight for the first time in what feels like forever.

I feel like a little kid the night before starting back school. All organized and eager for the next day despite the butterflies battling it out deep down in my stomach. I fall asleep pretty much as soon as my head hit's the pillow, surprisingly, looking forward to all that will unfold tomorrow.

Chapter 6 – Coffee/"A Gruesome Cannibalistic Scene in Central Park"

Its Friday. Fucking Friday morning, 6.35am on Friday the 19th of June in the year 2009 to be precise. And all of the anticipation I had subtly coursing through my body last night has been replaced with a deep quaking sense of dread caustically rushing through my veins. I couldn't possibly feel any more dismayed, discouraged or demoralized... this is a D day for sure. Shit D day... that's really not a good thing to be thinking about right now...

And of course this newly acquired state of disheartenment has resulted in my second guessing every single fucking thought and move I make. Including the completely ridiculous and inconsequential motions, such as whether to use my regular Strawberries and Cream shampoo or my 'saved for special occasions' Smooth Intense Anti-frizz shampoo. I honestly stand in the shower for a good 10 minutes scratching my head,no pun intended, while comparing the bottles. Scrutinizing every minute frivolous detail. From their claims to give super shiny sleek hair and frizz free flowing locks respectively, to the listed ingredients before deciding I am seriously loopy, (what the heck do I know about that crap?! Fuck all that's right..) and sticking with my regular shampoo.

I emerge from the bathroom 30 minutes later, freshly shaved, exfoliated and moisturized -the moisturizing may have been a bit excessive- and smelling like Strawberries and Cream. The first step in my plan to talk to Guitar Guy complete; Clean and Preen self. I may also have been humming "All that Jazz" at this point, its hard to tell when the Liza Minnelli transformation formally commenced...

The next step in my carefully formulated plan to sensually seduce Guitar Guy, wait a damn second is that really what I'm trying to do here? Seduce him? My subconscious has apparently woke up after the unusually long muggy shower and hollers a 'Hell-a-yes! while waving a squeezy bottle of honey in the air and singing Snoop Dogg's 'Sensual Seduction'... fair enough. Anyway next step is to put some clothes on. I think I may possibly be going about this seduction thing the wrong way..

It sounds so menial 'put clothes on', but in this moment it feels like a near impossible feat as I scowl at the black skinny jeans, white shirt and wedges ensemble I had originally planned on donning. I continue scowling at the outfit for another 5 trivial minutes before deciding my planned to the freaking T clothing makes me look well, boring to be honest.

Not even the multiple lengths of colorful gemstone necklace's made by my own fair freaking hands can vivify the lackluster outfit. It still looks unexciting and plain when I want nothing more than to look exotic, intriguing and like I just stepped out of his freaking dreams. Like some kind of enigma Adonis himself couldn't conceivably fathom leaving alone until he had cracked. Although, its ridiculous and egotistical, to think that I could affect anyone that strongly..

I then, in true Bella style, started freaking the hell out. Banging around my walk in wardrobe in a nonsensical inertia, singing "All that Jazz" at top volume now as I continue lobbing various items of clothing around the room that just aren't going to work. I'm in near hysterical tears when Alice, my savior bathed in white light (okay maybe that's a bit dramatic but surrounded by the early morning sun anyway) came lithely springing into the room. Jazz hands a go go.

She pauses to take in the frenetic scene I have managed to accomplish before shaking her head and letting out a laugh at my expense. I watch her through crazy wide eyes as she grins at me and with the grace and skill she beholds has a full outfit laid out on the floor in front of me in a mere 2 minutes. Why the hell can't I do that?..

It's simple in a non dreary way, still not very exotic but nevertheless it's very me. Which is the important part...I suppose. A floaty blue flower print dress with a black waist belt -one of Alice remarkable creations- complete with a black cardigan and a pair of kitten heels.

Eh, noooo... kitten heels are not gonna work for many a ,many a reasons, at the top of that list is (1) The fact they have a heel, and, (2) I don't have time for a concussion and subsequent impromptu trip to the E.R today.

After scores of pouts and frowns from Alice, and a spectacular and genuine display of exactly why I should never wear heels is backed up by my inability to walk 3 yards without falling over my own feet and I'm allowed to throw on my old faithful purple chucks. But only on the condition I wear my purple sugillate crystal necklace and ring with it. Since according to Alice "It's perfect. It promotes positive thoughts and feelings of confidence". Geez, when did Alice become all New Age Spiritual and shit...

I also, as promised, wear the new black lace with blue lotus flowers lingerie Alice bought for me yesterday. I grudgingly have to admit to an entirely too gleeful Alice that I feel a hell of a lot more empowered than usual whilst prancing about in them.. well more empowered than I've ever felt if truth be told.

Thankfully Alice's prudent intervention has calmed me down a hell of a lot and I'm able to resume getting ready with the finesse of a semi-sane person. I've moved down a notch, from full out singing to humming "All that jazz"..

Leaving my hair to dry naturally and do its own thing, I focus my attention on putting some light make-up on. By some strange voodoo-baby or possibly goat-sacrificing-magic I succeed in brushing a light coat of mascara onto my long eyelashes without poking myself in the eye with the wand. Can you say...Result!

Smirking at my small victory over my own natural clumsiness, and reveling in the fact that the tear film of my eyes or 'windows to my soul' are not stained an ominous black, I half think about putting some blusher on my forehead and chin. You know...to try and even out the crimson flush which will inescapably grace my cheeks with it's presence as soon as I look at Guitar Guy never mind attempt to chit-chat with him. Did I seriously just say Chit-chat?, Jeebus when did I turn into Sue...

After a considerable stretch, reason seems to emerge from some hidden corner of my brain. Yeah Bella, painting your forehead and chin red will only lead to you looking like you have contracted some mental Tropical disease to every other inhabitant of New York. Idiot.. Geez, subconscious give me a brake here, go back to the honey smothering fantasies. I add that brainchild to the rather long list of fucked up ideas that have been conspired whilst intoxicated by thoughts of the pretty...dipped in honey.

A quick coat of syrupy sweet Caramel Apple lip-gloss( which is promptly licked off as visions of Guitar Guy dipped in honey float through my deprived psyche) and I'm, in theory, good to go. That's what she said! God, I really need to stop hanging out with Alice so much..

Looking in the wall length mirror at the complete article, I'm pretty damn pleased with what I've, well Alice really, has managed to achieve. I don't look like an idiot so that's gotta be a good thing. I faintly hear Alice shout through from my bedroom,

"No one dressed by me ever looks like an idiot, Bella!".

Scoffing at her claim (I seem to recollect very vividly, visions of Alice wearing a banana yellow jumpsuit whilst driving her banana-mobile Porsche in the not so distant past). I head out to my bedroom and pick up my already packed bag waiting for me on the dresser. Spinning around in search of Alice, because I'm positive she'll want to give me a once over before I'm deemed suitable enough for public viewing, I'm received with an ear-splitting "Weet-a-wow!" from the little pixie in question as she stands bouncing excitedly on my bed. Puck is gonna break even more of my bed springs dammit..

She lets out another shrieking "Weet-a-wow!" before violently slamming herself down on to the bed. I internally cringe as I imagine the springs protesting at the sharp movement.

The thing about Alice and whistling is well, she can't. It's one of the many peculiar or special' things about Alice. No matter how many times, and believe me there have been a shitload of times, Rose and I try to teach her, she just ends up spluttering, drooling, blowing bubbles and all in all having a bit of a Rain Man moment.

Alice however is not one to be missing out on the whimsical fun of such an act as whistling and so 'improvises' by shouting what she supposes the relevant whistle would sound like. You haven't wholly lived until you've been to see a game with the weird and wonderful whistling Tourette's version of tiny Mary Alice Brandon. The crowds reaction to her alone will make you piss your pants.

"You look shit hot Bells", She smiles zealously before wishing me good luck in a rather tactless manner yelling ,"Break a leg!", blithely into my ear whilst enveloping me in a robust hug. Yeah, I will literally break a leg now, thanks Alice...

Getting my $200 pass and go Monopoly style from Alice, we both head out of my bedroom, I froth inside as I trip over the skirting of the door and Alice seems to float and dance beside me, graceful as anything.

With a final pat on the back from Alice I watch jealously as she flirts ethereally along the hall back towards her own bedroom. Prudently, having learned from past experience its a necessity, I clutch onto the banister and descend the stairs slowly in seek of the kitchen and the promise of a breakfast good enough to bug-zap the infestation of butterflies in my stomach.

Smiling at the 1930's replica Kit Kat clock complete with moving eyes and tail on the kitchen wall I note with a mixture of happiness and nerves that I still have plenty of time to spare before I realistically need to leave.

Checking the contents of the fridge I pull out some eggs and milk before making some fuck hot Honey French toast with truly excessive amounts of sugar sprinkled on top, because there just wasn't enough sugar in the honey already... Good thing Diabetes doesn't run in my family or I'd be royally fucked. Are we talking about being royally fucked by the Honey French toast or the Pretty smothered in honey here, "Sexual seduction, So I can get a, Sexual seduction, So we can get a, Sexual seduction..." Apparently my subconscious thinks its time for the dirty version of sensual seduction..

I revel gloriously in the thrilling sugar buzz which ignites upon my taste buds as the first bite enters my mouth before moving to sit at the kitchen table positioned close to the wall of windows encompassing the kitchen. I watch the hundreds of people already scurrying along the streets below in an attempt to occupy my mind and ease the nervous tension which is continuing to pent up within my body. They look like tiny colorful ants against the darkness of the pavement's,

At twenty to nine I tear my eyes away from the rather successful and strangely amusing distraction of the rainbow of ant human hybrids and head out to the hall.

Taking a colossal breath, holding it in for 10 seconds then releasing it in a loud whoosh, I learned that shit on Oprah, I try to 'woman-up' and get myself ready to do this...A name, all I need today is a name and Psycho imposter Rose will allow me to live another day. I do a little rendition of the Magic Song from The Labyrinth Ala David Bowie style, to get myself psyched up, and well just because that shits funny-cheesy and makes me "laugh like a brook". Yes, I did indeed just quote The Sound of Music..

"You remind me of the babe,

What babe?,

The babe with the power,

What power?

The power of voodoo,

Who do?,

You do !"

Damn right I got the power, I can do this I'm feeling good. Today's going to be a good day.

I check my reflection one last time in the hallway mirror, inspecting for any embarrassing greasy French toast finger stains or sugary smears...nope all clear thankfully. I triple check my bag to ensure I definitely have money to carry out the next step in my plan. Buy Coffee. With any luck this phase of the plan will go more smoothly than the previous two.

I fish my apartment keys out from the muddle of random crap that's been abandoned in the key word here is ironically Key dish. I only just avoid getting my finger stuck in an Amazing Chinese Finger Trap.

Amazing my ass, after 30 minutes believe me it ain't very amazing or amusing, I had to look up Wikipedia to find out how to get out of that fuckery. For your information, mayonnaise doesn't work it just makes shit a whole load worse, or comical if your Rose and happen to have been the one who planked said finger trap...I still need to get her back for that. Pushing new plans of revenge to the back of my mind I steel myself heading out the apartment while searching out my iPod from my bag.

The elevator by some unknown marvel is sitting vacant waiting for me to cross the threshold. I hit the button for the ground floor before swiftly sticking my headphones in to drown out the monotonous drone of the classic ubiquitous 'elevator music' version of Unchained Melody.

This is where the first quandary in step 3 of my plan materializes. I don't know what the heck to listen to... I always listen to Guitar Guys playlist when I'm heading to see him. But, I'm not sure if listening to it today will only result in jolting my nerves and causing the somewhat repressed nausea to become viral or not. Fuck it... I need to stick to routine. I need to stick to my plan. I'm a bit anal once I've made a decision or a schedule I have to stay with it.

Selecting the familiar playlist and hitting shuffle as per usual, the delicate and wraith-like piano of Aqualungs , 'Strange and Beautiful (I'll put a spell on you)' resonates images of Guitar Guy playing this song acoustically from months ago. The sensation immediately overpowers and cancels the unnerving warbling of Unchained Melody previously submerging me.

I've been watching your world from afar

I've been trying to be where you are

And I've been secretly falling apart

Unseen

To me, you're strange and you're beautiful

You'd be perfect with me

But you can't see

You turn every head but you don't see me

In what feels like no time at all I've departed the elevator and pushed my way out of my apartment building onto the street. I walk torpid and languorously along the street's, past the hundreds of civilians brushing past each other in their haste to be some place more important than the others. The air almost hums with static electricity as I'm engulfed in the haunting lyrics. Before I even know it, I've halted abruptly outside the entrance of Starbucks, while passers by bump and collide around me in their attempts to avoid the crazy girl having a fit outside Starbucks..

I quickly dart out of the onrush of civilians and push the ludicrously heavy door open. Seriously why are their doors so heavy? Is it to stop kid's from getting in? Maybe it's to stop the weak..survival of the fittest or something else Darwinian. I immediately make my way over to the counter and take my place behind one of the many generic business men awaiting their morning caffeine fix.

It's not long before theirs a backlog of customers in queue behind me and I busy myself once again people watching with the added bonus of eavesdropping this time around. Apparently someone called Irina "has had the clap so many times it amounts to applause".

A burst of blue plaid and black leather flashes fleetingly into my vision, stifling my sniggering, freezing my body and prompting memories of Guitar Guy. I recover quickly and spin around towards the door in search of the blue plaid, perchance it's him.

Turns out to just be a freakishly tall woman though...damn androgynous clothes, in fact I think I have that shirt too. The incidence has done nothing to aid my already fragile nerves and I squirm as the flight of butterflies within my stomach pick up their pace once more.

And cue the second classic Bella style freakout of the day. My skin starts bubbling as my subconscious dredges up the exact images I've been trying to avoid. The numerous ways I've established over the past 2 days that I could fuck this meeting up.

I try to repress these visions as I move forward to make up the gap that's formed between myself and the suit in front during my freakout. The counter is visible now and I concentrate on watching the Barista messing about with ice and syrup bottles to occupy my mind and attempt to restrain my inner irrational nut. It has quite the opposite affect however and an onslaught of new fuckery bashes my brain.

Fuck... what if he doesn't like coffee. What if hes allergic to coffee.. I've heard stories of people being allergic to the smell of freaking coffee. Jeebus, maybe I should get a coffee and a tea. Give him a choice of death by coffee or not. Shit..no, I need to stick with the plan. The plan was coffee, that's what I said I was gonna do so that's whats happening. If he does so happen to be allergic to the smell of coffee, he can run away like the wind blows freaking Forrest Gump style. I'll even shout "Run, Forrest run!" to spur him on if needs be..

I eventually arrive at the front of the queue and immediately start to order two white coffees to go but stutter half way through and let out an involuntary strangled yelp as visions of Guitar Guy keeled over because he's allergic to milk and I've given him freaking milk float through my mind...Holy crow, I really don't want to kill the pretty.

Maybe you should buy him a plastic bubble suit and holler "He's got no immunities!" Sheesh ,Bella, overreacting much? Ah so my subconscious has returned from the dark or should I say lemon tinged and honey flavored side now...

Absurd whiny moaning baby-like noises from the suit behind me in the queue brings me free of my visions and I settle on ordering a white coffee and a black coffee. I do check a crazy number of times with the Barista that she hasn't accidentally added any trimmings like cream or syrup shots into the black coffee. Sugar intolerance anyone?

Carefully picking up the coffee's after paying I head over to the condiments stand where I shamelessly load heaps of sugar (brown and white), sweeteners, milk pots, cream, stirrers and napkins into my bag.

Basically anything I can get my kleptomaniacal little hands on. Making sure I pocket what would appear to an outsider/normal person to be unwarranted piles of napkins. In preparation for spillages since well, it is me and I can sense a reenactment of the infamous freaking egg and spoon race of 2nd grade coming on as I, with the grace of a freaking hippopotamus, attempt to carry two very full cups. Two very flaming hot full cups might I add.

Needless to say the likeliness of not spilling at least half of the coffee out of the cup and onto my person is pretty damn low. Or even worse my number 1 fear could come to be. I could spill it on Guitar Guy. I have seriously had nightmare's about burning his crotch with wakey juice.

Ooh maybe that wouldn't be too bad, I'd need to blow on it to cool it down, then unquestionably I'd need to kiss it all better. I cant help but snort out loud at how ludicrously possible and probable that situation is. Well the spilling part anyway...

My laughter earns a derogatory sneer from the whiny baby-man who was behind me in the line as he stirs his no doubt completely overcomplicated drink. Seriously, you really want a grande extra hot soy with extra foam, split shot with half a squirt of sugar-free vanilla and a half squirt of sugar-free cinammon, put in a venti cup and filled up with extra whipped cream with caramel and chocolate sauce drizzled on top?

I try not to glower back at him as I continue packing in even more napkins just to spite him. What's his deal ? Its not as if he's paying for them..

I fling a sickly sweet smile in the high and mighty fucker in a suit with his crappy leather briefcase ( whose only contents is most likely a stinky tuna sandwich and an apple) as he tut tuts in abhorrence. Most likely muttering some shit about the youth of today, because God forbid anyone should be having a nice day. Carefully picking up my hot cargo I give him one more biliously sweet smile as I pass by heading out the heavy door and in the direction of Central Park.

My iPod shuffles again and Uncle Kracker's 'Smile' boosts my moral as I smile along with the infectiously happy lyrics. How can you not smile while listening to a song entitled 'Smile'? It freaking impossible.

You're better than the best

I'm lucky just to linger in your light

Cooler than the flip side of my pillow, that's right

Completely unaware

Nothing can compare to where you send me,

Lets me know that it's okay, yeah it's okay

And the moments where my good times start to fade

The early morning sun is shining artfully over the city casting a faint but warm golden glow which bounces off the buildings and flickers as cars pass by. I reach the familiar park entrance and skip through the gates admiring the green leaves of the trees as they almost twinkle awake in the dim morning sun.

You make me smile like the sun

Fall out of bed, sing like a bird

Dizzy in my head, spin like a record

Crazy on a Sunday night

You make me dance like a fool

Forget how to breathe

Shine like gold, buzz like a bee

Just the thought of you can drive me wild

Oh, you make me smile

I can almost feel the moment that the rabble of butterflies within the butterfly box, which was previously my stomach, burst through causing my whole body to pulsate in a bunch of divergent emotions. Luckily for me, buoyant anticipation of what could be seems to be winning out over trepidation for the moment. I follow the wonted path and round the corner leading to the little cozy nook which situates our benches.

I glance down at my iPod to check the time, its already 09.10am, meaning he should be here pretty damn well soon. I practically skip to my bench at the thought of seeing him again and the resolve of finally talking to him. I'm feeling good right now.

Sitting down in my usual place to be in my habitual manner I place the coffees down on the bench surface beside me before discarding my bag on my other side. I inspect the damage I've managed to inflict upon the beverages and smile superiorly as I note that most of the coffee is indeed still held captive within the cups. In spite of the fact I had a slight disagreement with a newspaper hazardously sliding along the sidewalk and just avoided hitting the sidewalk by utilizing the sturdy person walking in front.

Slouching down in my usual position I rest my head against the back of the bench and watch the leaves in the canopy of trees above my head. Completely immersed in the light-show, every single leaf shining bright and glitzing uniquely in the sun. It doesn't take long before the fulguration of deep sea green, jade and emerald lights contrasting against the blue sky starts to remind me of Guitar guys eyes and the butterflies flap with renewed vigor.

The song ends and the opening chords of the acoustic version of The Beatles 'Something' starts up melodiously.

Something in the way she moves

Attracts me like no other lover

Something in the way she woos me

I don't wanna leave her now

You know I believe and how

Somewhere in her smile she knows

That I don't need no other lover.

Something in her style that shows me.

I don't want to leave her now,

You know I believe and how.

Looking around for something, anything else to distract me from my waiting I look across at his usual bench and spy a small brown bird just behind it jumping animatedly around the grass on its little spindly legs as it fishes for worms. For some reason the tiny buzzards energy and well boney little legs remind me of Alice, I don't think I'll be telling her about that though..

The song ends and Damien Rice's unmistakable heartbreaking voice flows through the speakers singing 'The Blowers daughter''. I freaking love this song and nearly died on the spot when he sung it a few weeks back. Its 09.17am now. Any minute now he should be walking around the corner all carefree and mouth wateringly hot.

And so it is

The shorter story

No love, no glory

No hero in her skies

I cant take my eyes off of you

I cant take my eyes...

09.24am, still no Guitar Guy. I unplug myself from my iPod and chuck it into my bag, why does time seem to be reverting? Approximately 1 minute later I seem to develop the undying urge to bite my nails, I never bite my nails..

09.28am I sigh in vexation and pull out my book to read some and attempt to salvage what remains of my nails.

" "Oh my God," said Valencia, leaning over him," Billy- are you all right?

"Yes."

"You look awful."

"Really-I'm O.K." And he was, too, except that he could find no explanation as to why the song had affected him so grotesquely. He had supposed for years he had no secrets from himself. Here was proof that he had a great big secret somewhere inside, and he could not for the life of him think what it was."

Sighing in aggravation I whip shut the book with as much force as you can whip shut a 157 page long paperback. That line "he could find no explanation as to why the song affected him so grotesquely" runs through my head in an unremitting loop. Yeah you and me Billy pilgrim.

Back to the nail biting then...

It doesn't take long before the dominant emotion switches from anticipation, back to dismay. I start to feel stupid. I mean seriously stupid and seriously ignominious, normal people don't devise crap foolish, and possibly disturbing in some peoples eyes, plan's just to talk to a random man. Especially not when they cant really explain why they want to talk to said man... I don't think he'd really be interested in me rambling and stuttering on about the unexplainable affect just seeing him never mind hearing his voice has on me...

09.40am. The view hasn't got any better, still no Guitar Guy. The birds gone now as well.

09.41am I think its time for some 80s power-ballad action. I select the playlist and hit shuffle, Journeys 'Don't stop believing' comes on, yep that'll do nicely. I lift one of the cups up from the bench beside me, my posture deflating as I swirl the now freezing cold coffee around in a circular motion a few times before sitting it back down.

Stranger waiting

Up and down the boulevard

Their shadows searching

In the night Streetlights, people

Livin' just to find emotion

Hidin' somewhere in the night

Sliding backwards until my back meets the bench I lift my knees up and wrap my arms around them getting comfy before burying my head into the little cocoon this motion provides. Feeling pretty fucking resigned,

Its obvious to me now he's not coming today, he's always here though and the only reason I can think why he isn't is because of me. I've probably creeped him the hell out with my little display and fan-girl sing-along the other day. I should just change my middle name to 'Twat'. Isabella Twat Swan has a certain ring to it.. Plus if he does appear now I cant exactly offer him freaking freezing cold coffee, can I?..

Don't stop believin'

Hold on to the feelin'

Streetlights, people

Don't stop believin'

Hold on

Streetlights, people..

Yeah, yeah Steve Perry put a freaking sock in it. I quickly skip from the 'inspirational' Journey song while rolling my eyes, to something a bit more fitting. Prince 'Purple Rain' oh yeaahhh... nothing like screeching along to a little Princey boy, no pun intended on the little, to make you feel a hell of a lot bigger, I mean better.

I let out a loud despondent lungful of useless air mangled with a quiet animalistic sounding screak in preparation for the 'I know, I know, I know times are changing' crescendo before loping back into my cocoon.

Not even Prince can save me from the gloom that engulf''s me as I realize I don't know how long I will have to wait before I see him again, if ever.

I stay nestled in my cocoon swaying along with the music and most likely looking like Mary''s brother Warren from There's Something About Mary after Ted touches his ear. It's only when the song ends and I stop wobbling that I become aware of the heat of another persons body situated close to me. I turn my head to peek out and inspect my new bench buddy to find Alice sitting next to me excitedly swinging her feet and smiling in my direction.

Her momentum comes to a standstill though when she takes in my expression, I must look like someones shot my puppy, which makes me feel even more pathetic than before, Jeebus Bella pull yourself together woman..

I bury my head again into the solace of my cocoon as The Eurythmics 'Love is a Stranger'' comes on my iPod Alice slides along the bench until our sides are snuggled together. She wraps her left arm around my back pulling out my left earphone and, I'm assuming, putting it in her own ear before placing her hand on my back and rubbing in calming circles. I can make out Alice singing along quietly next to me and smile at her little squeaky voice, I cant sing but Alice really cant sing for shit...

"And I want you

And I want you

And I want you, so

Its an obsession!!"

For fuck sake, even Annie's taking the piss out of me..The song ends and Alice is apparently becoming annoyed with my vow of silence and unwillingness to leave my hidey-hole as she removes her hand from my back, poking me with her twiggy fingers a few times along the way. The iPod is swiftly yanked from my ear, I can hear her fidgeting and twitching next to me and suppress the snort I want desperately to release. Ah how I love to fuck with Alice...

Unfortunately for me her clairvoyant ways pick up on this fact and she speedily seeks my hands out and pulls softly on it prying at my refuge until I have no choice but to open myself up. Turning her body to face me she keeps a hold on my hand before speaking.

"What the heck happened Bella, I thought you were doing some kind of introverted victory dance sitting here at first..."

I snicker at her before she carries on in a different train of thought.

"I honestly thought it was going to go really well, Petal... I had one of those feelings, you know... I've always been right before now..." Alice trails off her face scrunched and her voice embodied with disappointed and confusion as she scratches behind her ear. A tell tale sign that somethings worrying her.

I take a deep breath and ready myself to put her out of her misery and tell her he was a no show when she continues talking in the same confused tone before her pitch abruptly flips and her voice is positively dripping with...aggression.

"What happened, Bells? Did you spill hot coffee all over his crotch like you thought you would? did you burn his peen? Is he at the hospital.. no?..."

I let out a Miss Piggy quality snort here as Alice whispers the word's crotch and peen, who's she trying to kid shes a lady to..

"Where is he then? What did he say to you? He didn't do anything to you did he Bells? Because I swear if he did I'll find him and I'll cut off his..."

I chuckle loudly at her invective line of questioning which luckily grabs her attention long enough to cut off her rant, rather than any of Guitar Guy's appendages.

"Bells?" She questions suspiciously, one of her eyes narrowed and the other wide and owl like watching me like I'm mentally unstable, hell maybe I am..

"He didn't show up Alice" I explain before going on to chronicle in epic detail every single little event which had ensued up until this point in time. Making sure to point out all the stupid flaws which had occurred in my 'meticulous' plan.

At least I was logical in my ranting for once though, starting with the shampoo debacle before going on to the clothes escapade (which although Alice was a primary witness to she allowed me to vent anyway, bless her), the asshole suit received a hell of a bashing too, although he was more of a scape goat for my anger than anything really, then the freaky quote from the book before ending with the final nail in the Coffee plans coffin, the cold coffee and subsequent downfall of my plan. No one wants cold coffee.

Feeling the need to explain my crazy woman tendencies I use PMT as an excuse for the ranting and general wackness. Alice merely laugh's at me lightly once I have finished, letting me know with a quirk of her eyebrow she isn't buying the PMT excuse. She knows I'm an obsessive compulsive plan making freak. She quickly bursts to life though in typical Alice fashion shedding her own view on the fuckery.

"Bells, come on you've got yourself all worked up and freaking out for no reason as per usual, and you know it. You over think and over complicate everything, Petal, you need to loosen up and live in the moment"

She pats my hand lovingly and I smile slightly at her to let her know I'm not offended by her comment. Which I'm not, because I know it's true I cant help it though. What if? Is a question that clouds my decision making no matter how insignificant the choice is. Alice smiles warmly back at me before continuing her commentary.

"The shampoo was a good choice I can smell it from here, you smell like Bella and you smell lush. The clothes? Well what can I say..you look fuck hot and that's not because I either bought or designed the majority of the clothes your wearing " she teases theatrically winking her eye before continuing,

"The suit in Starbucks? Wanker, that's all he is. The quote from the book? That's just a book Bells. I bet you I could pick up that book, flick it to a random page and pick out a random quote which is relevant to some part of my life right now... plus its also an anti-war book."

She raises her perfectly sculpted eyebrows pointedly here. I just stare at her unsure what the hell that's got to do with anything.

" You know make love not war?"

Yeah... still don't know what she's really getting at. She shakes her head in weariness before continuing.

" And the coffee? you don't need the coffee to talk to the guy, Bells. Look on the bright side your worst case scenario of burning his balls with fresh roast didn't come true" She teases and smiles playfully as I let out a giggle. Her demeanor becomes more meaningful as she squeezes my hand to ensure shes got my full attention.

" Silly Bella. I just want to say one little thing and I'm not saying it to upset you, and I'm not preaching, I'm saying it because I love you..d'accord?"

I nod my head to indicate I understand and squeeze her hand back to reassure her its safe to scold me for whatever the heck it is shes about to scold me for.

"You've got to stop with all this planning shit malarkey! Seriously woman, real life sucks and never, ever, ever goes as planned. You just have to suck it up and deal with whatever fate flings your way. It's liberating to just take each minute as it comes, to do whatever you want without worrying about the implications or the what ifs. Just do whatever the fuck you want, whenever the fuck you want to do it, and fuck the what ifs?..okay?"

I nod my head and smile sheepishly, maybe I am becoming a bit obsessive with the whole planning thing, I did write out today's plan on post it notes complete with time references and stuck them around my room in prominent locations. Now that I think about it I don't really think that's healthy in any way...

" And that includes any plans revolving around coffee which are aimed to enable you to talk a man, Bells." She mocks lightheartedly, playful Alice is back in the building, or well park.. She glances down before rolling her eyes and continuing "You've got to let the coffee go ,Bells. Set it free!"

She laughs as she grabs the coffee I'm clutching from my hand. I didn't even realize I'd picked it back up, and laughs as she jumps up off the bench holding the cup in the air victoriously. Like I put up a fight... pshh its freezing cold.

"Now, Bells, there's nothing left for it I gotta destroy the coffee! set your little wanna be man meeting brain free from the restraints of evil coffee involved plans of courting!!"

She exclaims impishly before taking the lid off and bringing the freezing cold coffee to her lips, gulping a large amount down before spitting and spluttering it straight back out. The dark brown aerosol's of liquid spewing through the air in a fine mist and dribbling down her chin.

"Argh!!! what the fuck Bells! what's in there!"

She shouts as she flails the coffee cup hazardously and thrusts it towards my face. I make a grab for it as she scrapes at her tongue, that's now dangling out of her mouth, with her electric blue fingernails trying to get rid of the taste...nice.

" There's fucking Rohypnol or something in there, Bells! Were you trying to fucking rape him or something!?"

She all but stage whispers to the whole of Central Park, but obviously her accusation is directed towards yours truly. She stares at me eyes wide and tongue dangling, I frown back at her in wonder before snorting, I cant decide if she's serious or not.. Its not long before I'm doubled over pissing myself laughing though and don't really give a shit if she thinks I'm a rapist.

Ahh, Alice... can always count on her to cheer me up although its never in the way you'd expect. I look up at her and try to contain the laughter but only end up gasping for breath before it bursts free again, this time however Alice's lips twitch a few times before her own giggles burst free.

When we finally stop cackling and the tears of laughter subside I can just about breathe again. After a few large gulps of lung piercingly sharp air I enlighten Alice to the fact its black coffee, bitter cold black coffee and not the warm milk with a splash of java to give the beverage a tan colored appearance the way she likes it. I also inform her with conviction that there are not any date rape drugs added. Not sure she buys it though as she continues to throw dubious glances my direction, and starts moaning about feeling dizzy and nauseous. I snicker again at her. I don't think I'll ever forget the expression on her face when she spat that coffee out it was definitely a youtube worthy moment.

A sigh escapes me as I think about how much of a clusterfuck this mornings been. I run my finger absently around the rim of the cup staring into the deep earthy brown of the coffee that's going to go to waste.

I got the good coffee as well all that poncy fair-trade organic eco-friendly whatever the fuck it is stuff. Alice senses the shift in my mood and launches into her attack at distracting me from all my fuckery by talking about the plans for my birthday next week. I'm going to be 22.. yay! (note sarcasm here) and Alice and Rose are planning a huge party at our apartment. Its really kind of unnecessary but they're insisting I have to have this party to make up for how shitty my 21st was last year.

And believe me my 21st was fucking shitty. I would do anything, absolutely anything, to eradicate the majority of the memories of that day from my brain. Purge every feeling from that day, the anguish, devastating betrayal and sheer cruelty. Abolish all of it, up until the moment I met Alice, and subsequently Rosalie. Which rather ironically was sitting on this exact bench nearly a year ago...

I scrunch my eyes tightly and shake my head to knock off the memories and focus back on Alice as she reals off lists of 'necessities' for the occasion. I'm pretty sure she said something about a Unicorn Pinata, not entirely positive that's a necessity for a 22nd birthday..

Anyway, this year Alice and Rose want to make up for last year by flinging me this crazy huge expensive shin-dig. I hate being the center of attention and the idea of everyone being there for me. Being completely aware of me, is unsettling to say the least and makes me feel all kinds of queasy. But I cant help but feel my mood lift exponentially as I listen to Alice excitedly describing what kind of decorations she wants to put up all over the apartment and roof garden. What food we should serve and what drinks we should have and how she wants to get professional bartenders into make cocktails, as well as catering staff and general waiters. Over the top, eccentric..yep that's Alice.

Then she goes on to talk animatedly about getting in a dj or tribute act to do some live music. Which I have to admit I love the idea of. We start discussing who we should invite and who we should blacklist, and easily have way too many people mentally noted than will fit in the apartment and considering the size of the apartment that's pretty ridiculous.

Alice is going on about trampolines, setting up her karaoke machine in the rooftop, circus freaks and magicians when I decide I better slow her down before she gets too carried away and we end up with flaming tigers or lions in cages up on the rooftop for aesthetic value. I cant help but laugh at how ridiculously enthused she can become, her eyes are sparkling as her she buzz's with eagerness to get the preparations underway.

Trying to get her mind away from ice sculptures and freaking champagne fountains I ask her about the one and only thing that can snap her out of this mode, clothes. More explicitly, what shes planning on wearing for the party.

Obviously, Alice knows exactly what shes going to wear right down to what jewelery and what perfume. She describes lovingly the deep purple strapless dress she designed and made herself a while back specifically for my birthday party. I'm really not surprised when she mentions she's also made Rose a black dress to wear for the occasion. She rambles on about how long it took her to decide on what material to use and what neck line would be best and I sit grinning as I watch her characteristic scratch behind her ear and wait for her to admit she's done the same for me.

"Yeah and,Bells, I also designed this really nice midnight blue dress that I just know you would look amazing in..I just finished and I really think you'll love it, its sort of matches in with like the feel of like me and Roses dresses and I was thinking you might want to wear it for your party.." She smiles angelically at me and bats her long eyelashes sassily.

Laughing at her I quickly agree to try the dress on, knowing full well it will be perfect. "Thanks Alice I'm sure I'll love it and I'm sure we will all look gorgeous in them all glam and matching"

I tease her "and not at all like the three musketeers in drag.." She smacks my arm playfully in return.

"Yeah well, I reckon we ought to head to work now and that means you can try the dress on.."

Her voice is at least 2 octaves higher than usual and she's practically jumping out of her seat in anticipation.

"Sure thing " I agree and turn to pack up my bag, placing my book inside delicately, feeling a bit shamefaced for abusing it earlier. I hear Alice literally jumping up out of her seat in excitement at this point and laugh as I rummage around trying to excavate all the condiments I stole from Starbucks.

I snort quietly when I hear her squeak in excitement, sounding a hell of a lot like a hamster I had when I was little. My one and only pet, Chunk. I loved him so. He was the best hamster in the world,he ate sun flower seeds all day long, let me dress him up in Barbies clothes, and sat on my knee watching the real Chunk in action, truffle shuffling it all over the place. Hmm, wonder how Alice and Rose would feel about getting a hamster..

I close my bag over after excavating all the condiments and swing it upon my shoulder placing all the sugar, sweeteners, milk and cream into my empty cup and picking it up in one hand. I leave out the napkins and pick them up in my other hand, so I can wipe a bit of dirt off one of my chucks before Alice spots it and goes apeshit on my ass for walking around with a huge dirty mark on my foot.

I then pick up my fake 'friend who stood me up's cup of half full coffee as well. I stare mesmerized by the little speckles of dust and vague particles which must flit and float about in the air which have came to rest on top of the dark abyss of the coffees surface. Fascinated by the fuzzy fragments I turn on my heel to head in the direction of the bin just along from my bench.

As I'm pivoting I hear Alice's strangely delighted voice shout out, "Bella! watch out!", but I'm too far gone. Way too immersed in the smidgens sailing on top of the dark sea of coffee to pay her any real attention.

How I wish I had..

The next thing I know I'm tripping over some kind of entity, in all probability my own feet are the culprits, I snap my eyes shut and fling the cups from my hands in preparation for the inexorable fall.

I'm disconcerted as my hands, in brace position, make contact with something almost instantly. Something firm yet softly supple at the same time, a sharp and quick tremor of vehement heat radiates through my palms. My breath catches in my throat as I gasp sharply at the sensation, my hands tingle with the afterglow and I revel in the feeling as it disseminates- the reaction gathering in my shoulders before surging and colliding with my chest.

I feel so relaxed, so catatonic I could literally just curl up and purr like a cat, as long as the sultry warmth comes with me.. I let out a contented sigh before inhaling slowly. As I do so my nose unearths a forbiddingly inviting smell, like fucking sin and heaven and all my freaking olfactory dreams dusted with cinnamon and drizzled in melted liquorice. My immediate conclusion is I've tripped up and I'm on the path...however, in my many, many close acquaintances with said path it has never, ever, once smelt like this. It smelt like piss and burnt plastic .

Okay, maybe not literally like piss and burnt plastic, but it sure as shit did not smell this alluring..so alluring infact, that I'm desperately, worriedly fighting the urge to lick it...

Shit, theres some kind of epic senses fail going on in my brain, my olfactory and gustatory systems seem to be rebelling and thrusting themselves towards the marvelous smell. Opening my eyes, in a lame attempt to rouse my sense of vision into making a rational judgement out of the situation, I look straight ahead and see my hands mere inches infront of my face, braced against something sable black.

I flatten my fingers upon the unidentified surface and flex my fingertips, sighing at the sensation of heat and hardness along the small ridges I feel underneath my fingers as I splay each digit out as distal as possible.

Apparently bringing my sense of vision into the equation isn't really helping either though, the black surface entices me and draws me in like light into a black hole. Smoothing my hands further down the soft convolutes embedded and protrubing from the blackness I freeze when the realisation that I'm able to do this without face planting into the ground finally registers. I scrunch my face up in confusion, I'm not on the ground..

Which can only mean one thing, I'm standing, and as far as I can remember in my senescent state there aint no walls in this area of the park, only trees and benches. But not black trees strangely enough, plus, Ive never touched a tree or that feels like this... Not that I make it a habit to grope trees. Fuck, grope. Is that really what I'm doing? What the hell am I touching? What the fuck am I rambling on about anyway, I'm not making any freaking sense here..

I struggle to tear my eyes away from the magnetism of the black but eventually I succeed and peer slightly down, past my hands and see what is unmistakably a pair of faded black skinny jeans with a button fly. A button fly with precisely three silver buttons which are practically bursting at the seams as they just about manage to perform their function of caging in the wonder hidden wherein, I know this because I spend what feels like a decade, yet still not nearly long enough an epoch, staring at the unmistakably male bulge as the buttons strain to...

Oh my god, its a person...

I'm groping a person...

I'm groping a male person...

Fuck!

Hastily I withdraw my hands from what I now realize is this male persons torso and fail miserably in subduing the urge to pout at the loss of connection. Shit on a stick! I was groping their ribcage, that's just a tiny, huge bit freaking weird and creepy. It fucking felt soo good though.. Hello, My name is Bella and I'm addicted to ribcage porn..

And I'm also addicted to this bulge. Seriously, I'm hypnotised, brings a whole new meaning to snake charmer this shit does, I'm pretty sure your supposed to charm the snake not be charmed by the snake . I feel like Mowgli being beguiled by Kaa in the Jungle book , "Ssslip in to sssilent ssslumber, Sssail on a sssilver misst, ssslowly and sssurely your sssensssesss, Will csseassse to resssisst". What is this ressistance you speak of? Wait a fucking minute why am I singing songs from the Jungle Book?what the hells happening here? where's my IQ gone? Help..anyone?

I cant tear my eyes away from the buttons and I know I should, this is not normal Bella. Not normal at all, but I cant help but gawp spellbound as the bulge dazzles and fucks with my compos mentis as it sparkles in the sun.

No shit.

I kid you fucking not. Its fucking sparkling. This dudes junk or well jeans anyway are sparkling in the sun. And the reason as to why his crotch seems to have evolved this alluring property, well I've went and spilt, actually I flung, coffee all over his crotch and general abdominal area.

Fuck... there's coffee flavoured peen in licking distance.

Gah!, I need serious psychiatric help. Someone needs to lock me up, stage an intervention or drown me in holy water one of the three, because the images flashing through my psyche right now are securing my deposit for a one way ticket to freaking Hell. We could put some honey on the coffee peen to sweeten it up.. Yeah wondered how long it would take for my libidos internal commentary to perk up, unsurprisingly shes still obsessed with honey. I somehow muster the strength to finally drag my eyes down past the -lord save my soul- sparkling coffee peen, and feel my heart start to race and convulse violently within my chest as my eyes absorb the sight before them.

Black Doc Martens. Black, scuffed up, unlaced, with the illustrious blue paint splash on the right toe, Doc Martens. Yep and queue the third Bella freak out of the day, and possibly the final freak out of my short-lived and inchoate life, since I seem to be going into cardiac arrest as reality hits. Because there's absolutely zilcho doubt in my mind now about exactly whose ribcage I was groping mere seconds ago and who the titleholder of the sparkly diamond coffee peen is. Fucking Guitar Guy.

I feel slightly sick, hot and splendidily bothered at this discovery, and a whole shit load more turned on. I quickly snap my head up, eyes fleetingly following the trail of black, until I'm immobolised, ensnared and wantonly besieged in emerald green. Yet , I feel unbeleivably free, as if I'm floating..

A spark, an electric pulsation flares the clandestine atmosphere as I stare into his bright curious gaze. Well I think its curious.. I cant get over just how fucking exquisitely green his eyes are. So bright ,so freaking shiny, and I'm the thieving Magpie who wants to hoard them away in her little nest as toys or play-pretties. Id rather the glistening coffee peen came into our little nest box... At least my libido still seems to be coherent in the absence of my self-respect, cognitive processes and IQ...

Unfortunately all good things must come to an end, and he's the first to break our bizarre connection, his eyebrows furrowing as he looks down. I watch infatuated as his coppery hair flops onto his forehead wild and compelling. My fingers twitch at the prospect of reaching up and giving it a good yank. We'd rather yank his chain...I've got two hands for yanking, dont worry, I can multitask and I'm all over this like a scabby rash..

Before I manage to build up the momentum to actually give his hair a good tug, the softest most sultry chuckle embraces me, and I'm once again submerged in green. Beaming green, which is matched with beaming brown as a ridonkulous grin spreads across my face, the exertion stretching my cheeks and producing that splendidly dull throb usually experienced after prolonged periods of laughter. Also known as prolonged periods of time spent with Rose and Alice. Or with ice cream. Or looking at this man...

I want to pour amber on this moment, basque in it forever and a day. Trapped like those prehistoric mosquitoes for eternity. I want desperately to be stuck in this moment, though I'm not sure the mosquitoes did..

Our eyes stay locked again for a long beat before his gaze breaks away once more, his eyes fleetingly caressing my features. I bite my lip nervously, I'm pretty sure all the emotions I'm experiencing right now, the lust, infatuation and wanton are inscribed clearly across my face. Can we rewind back a few seconds, I want the beaming green back... His breath hitches as the path of his eyes falters, the heat of his gaze descending upon my lips. I bite down even harder under his scrutiny. Interesting...

I miraculously manage to quell my Libidos plans of biting my lip hard enough to draw blood, just to see how he reacts and use his distracted state to my advantage, quickly absorbing his whole face. Sweet Lincolns Mullet! he's H.O.T.T., hot!.. Oh god, Ive turned into a crushing teen girl. Seriously, I cant form sentences anymore. Bullet points, that I can do:

o- Eyebrows. Dark, furrowed menacing eyebrows

o- Eyes. The most beautiful greenish blue eyes I have ever seen. Scratch that. The most beautiful eyes I have ever seen. There's even traces of topaz speckled throughout, with a little aggregate of colour in his right eye, making it appear darker than the other..so I wasnt tripping then.

o- Cheek bones. Chiseled, chiseled, chiseled..

o- Nose. Perfectly straight and pointing downwards at the end, perfectly.

o- Skin, lightly tanned with a few faint yet adorable freckles scattered across the bridge of his perfect nose.

o- Stubble. There's fucking stubble, nuff said.

o- Jaw, Holy fuck is that a jaw, its reduced me to the mental age of a baby. I have the undesirable need to put it in my mouth and bite it. Mouthing, I think that's what its called when a baby does it,"A Gruesome Cannibalistic Scene in Central Park" is most like how the NYPD would describe my actions...

Releasing my lip I breathe out a heady sigh, this seems to set Guitar Guy free from his daydreaming and once again his eyes snap up to meet my own.

This time however his green eyes pierce me somewhat timorously, and I stare back frowning as I try to comprehend whats made him so diffident. The emotions shy and insecure are emotions I would never attach to this devastatingly handsome, amazingly musically talented man..

The green starts to sway and I realize he's shifting his weight from foot to foot intermittently, obviously uncomfortable with the fact I'm gawking at him. I can only imagine what I must look like right now.

Embarrassed by my own decorum, I internally role my eyes at myself and look down focusing on the blue paint splash on his boot. So much for playing it cool and nonchalant, Bella. Why am I talking about myself in the third person? Oh yeah, the incoherency, thats right...from the tremendously close proximity of the pretty.

I feel even more mortified as the effects of vasodilatation set in. Every single red blood cell in my body is fighting for a prime place on the surface of my skin, trying to get a swatch at the hotness that is Guitar Guy no doubt.

Or maybe its the green of his eyes attracting them..reds opposite of green isn't it? Why the fuck am I thinking about this right now? Ah, the incoherency again...

I resort to biting my lip once more, this time in an effort to divert some of the blood flow to the lips on my face instead of my cheeks, and also instead of my other more intimate lips which seem to be heating up at an alarming rate right now... I bite down, even harder, in an attempt to override the tingling building elsewhere and taste coffee on my lips. Which only results in reminding me of the coffee flavored peen-sicle which is currently within dangerously close reach, dangerous for him anyway.

The white of the napkins I was about to use to clean up my chucks catches my eye as it rests on the path. I quickly bend down, kneeling on the ground to pick them up. Bad fucking idea. I can literally feel the heat radiating off his legs, his thighs, his strong, masculine, muscular thighs, sigh.. I'm way too close to them. Mayday! Mayday! Shes gonna bite!.. I have an overwhelming rush of blood to the head. Well not exactly a head rush more of a tongue-rush? Apparently my Libido has decided the coffee peen-sicle should be licked. She's managed to sweet talk all my red blood cells into manning their battle station's situated on the tip of my tongue, while singing some atrociously bad dance tunage, "I wanna lick it, I wanna taste it, I wanna feel it, I wanna suck on your lollipop!!" That is some battle cry I tell you, even I'm scared, and I wouldnt mind a suck. Infact I might pray for one..

I somehow manage to push myself up onto my feet just in time as my tongue darts hungrily out along my lower lip completely out of my control. Mmm...coffee. Yeah, lick it up RBCs its all your getting, no coffee peen-sicle today, maybe one day though..

Right, fix the fuckery, Bella. Starting with the coffee stains. I set about my mission after obtaining the napkins and commence wiping up the coffee stains on the poor guys shirt. I stick to my job staunchly, mopping up as much of the coffee as I possibly can from his saturated shirt. I know another item of clothing saturated right now. Fuck not helping.

Head back in the game Bella! My eyes bug out of my head and I almost whimper when I realize I've unintentionally, or perhaps my Libido's succeeded in hijacking my body and has very consciously, started to work on the coffee on his crotch... Well hello there Big boy.

Narrowly avoiding blacking the fuck out in a comatose state of arousal, I become aware of the absurd hyena like cackling coming from my left hand side. Apparently Guitar Guy notices the ruckus as well because he speedily backs up taking a long step away from me. Boo! I scarcely resist the itch to scream "Eeehhhhh!" like the buzzer in America's Got Talent at the distance now between us.

The cackling continues while my brain finally catches up with the present and takes a break from imagining just what the coffee peen-sicle would taste like. Honey, coffee, and man... Yep, my Libidos got it sussed out already. Ah fuck... I threw coffee all over Guitar Guy, groped his rib cage and then proceeded to grope his crotch, because the ribcage just didn't provide enough ammunition for fantasies whilst doing the old dickless dildo dance..

Mentally smacking myself up on the head multiple times. I know what else I'd like to do multiple times, shit libido simmer down. I blurt out in a completely inappropriately carnal, husky voice which fully contradicts the statement.

"Shit, I'm so sorry!"

Arms flailing uncontrollably in some strange pitiful attempt to pass the napkins which I used to soak up the coffee from his crotch. My hand however, seems to not want to cooperate and is refusing to separate with the memento, clinging on to the napkins as though they are some kind of prize. I finally regain some decree of control and push my hand out to him silently offering the napkins at the exact same time he exclaims in a them to him at the exact same time he exclaims in a resonating tone,

"Fuck, I'm so sorry!"

A/N

Houston! We have contact ! *sprays silly string* woop! woop! We can get to the good stuff now, hopefully Bells will get to do the dildoless dick dance soon :P

Anyway, super nervous about this chapter, and every chapter really lol, so please be my betas and let me know how it reads. I find it hard to be objective, surprisingly enough...

I cant edit for shit, seriously (like you's havent noticed) *shakes head at self* I write this stuff and think " Well, Ive wrote the words down, Ive committed to them, I may as well put them out there.." Which is why its took me about 40,000 words to get them to say a few words to each other * face palm* fuck knows I'm probably going to end up writing the loooongggesssttt lllllleeeeeeeemmmmmooooonnnnn in the jizztory, I mean history *snort* of fanfic...

Next chapter will pick up with EPOV, and if I can somehow find my edit button ill cut out loads of crap and start right off from where we ended with Bells..

Give a gal some encouragement and hit that review button!

Yay's, nay's and random abuse are most welcome !

lulu x

P.S. Watching Rob at the BAFTA's, fuck me the boys looking goooood!! *drool*