DISCLAIMER: Right, I know, Edward is not mine. Steph can claim that one.

Only in my dreams! Please give feedback on EPOV. My Edward swears a bit and I'd like him to be angry because it's sexy on him. Does it work?

EPOV

It's boring as hell in this fucking hotel room. It doesn't matter what city, which hotel, they're all boring as fucking hell. I'm going out of my mind. I want to scream, run, hit something. Anything to break out of this mental jail I'm in.

Then she popped into my head again. The one with the amazing deep fathomless aqua blue eyes. Something about her stuck with me.

Did I save that number on my I-phone? Hmmm…let's check. Yes, it is there. Why not? It couldn't hurt, right? Send. It rang three times. She didn't answer, so I tried again, in case I had somehow the wrong number. I know I had the right number because I had called her back at the bistro as soon as she gave me her number.

So I decided to text her. Please answer. I tried calling again. This time she answered. Shy, just like I thought. She said a movie would be fine. I agreed to call her tomorrow with deets. There. That wasn't too painful. I think I actually am looking forward to tomorrow, for a change.

But another mind-numbing night to get through. Maybe I'll check out the Internet, again.

Instead, I flop on the bed. Flick on the TV. Stare at it for hours. I don't have any acting jobs at present, just shit interviews after shit interviews.

I'm going to go insane! I turn the TV off. Then the lights. I lie back down on the bed and close my eyes.

It's silence, except for the air-conditioning unit blowing air into this stuffy room. The air coming in actually smells stuffy, too. Aaarrrggghh!

It's 3:13 a.m. I can't sleep. I hate not being in my own bed. I miss home so much. I miss normal.

Normal. Hmmm…I suddenly remember the woman I met today again. The one whose phone number I got. Tracy! That's her name. She's got my number. What the hell was I thinking? She didn't look like the type to do anything psycho, did she? I sure hope the hell not. Shit. Why didn't I think before I spoke or did anything? It's a character flaw, I think. I'll have to work on that. Who'd want to join me in my life of insanity?

I fell asleep finally putting the headphones on, listening to Debussy. It's so calming. De-stressing…

My dreams found me on an escalator looking for something, or someone. I'm not exactly sure. Every time I thought I'd found it/her, it was going in the wrong direction. And by the time I reached the right one, it had switched to a different one. I couldn't keep up. I was so tired from the angst in my dream, that I woke up more tired than I remember being before sleep.

It's going to be another frustrating day. I can tell. 11:36 a.m. and I don't think I'll fall asleep again. Might as well shower and get dressed. I went into the bathroom and looked into the mirror.

Yikes! My hair. The product of too much gel and hairspray. Pretty shit. I was afraid to touch it because the PR people were hyper-aware of my image and I couldn't just do what I wanted with it. Ridiculous.

I put the water in the shower on pretty hot, as it helped to ease the tension in my neck. At least they have decent, fluffy white towels to dry me off with. I glance in the mirror at my naked body. What is all the fuss about? If they could only see what I see. Wait, no. I don't really want that. I put on a white t-shirt and a new pair of designer jeans. They said it made my ass look tight. Right.

I felt like I was being micro-managed to death. I wanted to escape so badly. But where to? I could possibly fly anywhere. I did have the resources. But I didn't really want everyone to totally freak out. Maybe just a short excursion. Just something, anything different. Maybe the movie tonight will be a good start...

I call my sister, Alice, always one to cheer me up. I hope that she's not too busy to talk. She is a model and is usually off to some amazing locale on shoots. I can't remember what her schedule is like this week. I need a distraction from my distractions.

"Edward! So glad you called. How the hell are you? Where are you?" she squealed into the receiver. God, it was so sweet to hear a familiar voice.

"Ali, I've missed hearing your voice. How are things? Where are you?" I shot back at her, not answering any of her queries. I was freaking tired of answering questions.

"Well, I'm in Milan, getting fitted for a runway shoot tomorrow and then I'm going to get some days off to go home! I'm so excited. When are you coming home?" she inquired full of hope.

"Not sure. I'd have to ask my manager, James. I can't keep track of it any more. It's crazy-ness. I envy you. Going home. Sounds like heaven."

My mind recalled memories of home. Mom making scones in time for tea. Yelling at me for not taking my sneakers off when I came in. Teasing Alice about her latest boy crush.

This call was making me feel even more caged in. I couldn't even go home when I wanted to. I was officially miserable. Alice had to go, so we said our goodbyes.

Maybe I should go for another run to Starbucks. Maybe I'll meet another person oblivious as to who I was, that I could talk with. No. I didn't want to meet anyone else. I'm not sure why, but I wanted to see this one through.

I'm really not the type to run after the ladies. One night stands are not my thing. Then why was I going to try and see this woman? I. Don't. Know.

This day dragged on and on. The only bright spot was that James had arranged for us to have lunch at the CN Tower. They only had to block off half the restaurant to ensure my privacy. That must have cost a small fortune.

The wait staff were all falling over themselves attending to my needs. I was embarrassed for them. How could I possibly have this kind of effect on anyone? When only a short time ago, nobody knew me from Joe Blow. I made an effort to be gracious to them. I posed for pictures with them and signed autographs.

I only had 4 interviews scheduled. That part was the real acting job. Trying to sound fresh for each inane, repetitive question. Boring as hell.

Another night of mind-numbing TV. I decided to search the Internet for exotic cars. There's one that's really interesting. It's a Super Car, called the Plethora, made in Montreal. Not far from here I think. 750 Horsepower. more than $400,000. Looks fucking fantastic. I'd love to test run that baby. That would be something different. I'll have to talk with James to see if he could arrange it.

Well, that wasted a few hours. Late enough to sleep finally.

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A/N: Edward…hmmm…what do you guys think?

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