Disclaimer: Once I find out how to modify myself, genetically, to become Stephanie Meyer, then I can own Edward. Until then, she is Queen!

BPOV

I took several deep breaths, trying to forget that my own father had just caught Edward and I being rather inappropriate on the front porch, as I turned off my street and headed for La Push. My heartbeat was still frantic from the kiss, and my face felt hot with embarrassment and anger. That kiss – oh what a kiss it had been! Had I actually felt Edward's chilling hand start to creep up my stomach, under my blouse? Never had Edward let himself be that close to me before, let himself loose control around me like that. It had been wonderful – more than wonderful! We definitely needed more kisses like that in our relationship.

But then, of course, Chief Swan had decided to finally make an entrance onto the scene. Why, oh why, did that man have such unfortunate timing? I began to think about what might have happened had Charlie not caught us, and anger flared at my dad. I knew it wasn't his fault, and that he was in fact my father, giving him the right to freak out over something like this. But what if he hadn't interrupted us? How much further would Edward have gone? I felt the shadow of his cold hand on my waist once more, and decided to try and recreate the event later tonight.

I was well on my way to La Push now, crossing over the snaking Quillayute River. The road was boarded on both sides with the dense, green woods, which I knew, on occasion, hid more than just squirrels and deer. The ancient trunks stood proud, smothered with green, green and more green. The wispy rain added to the eerie enchantment of the forest, and I couldn't help but marvel, as I did each time I drove past, at the beauty of the place. It really was a shame that Edward never got to see this far in. The only thing spoiling the serenity was the thundering rumble of my truck. It seemed louder than usual – but maybe that was just because I was used to being chauffeured around in a purring Volvo by a tall, handsome vampire. Who, sometimes, would also be purring in my ear. I smiled to myself as I passed a sign reading 'Quileute Reservation'.

Instinctively it seemed, I flicked a blinker on, and started driving to Jacob's house. What a silly habit I seemed to have developed. There wasn't really enough room for a u-turn, so I carried on down the street. As I approached the house, my foot itched towards the brake, and it was with great effort that I kept on driving past the little shack-like house that belonged to the Black's. I would have thought my truck's deafening roar would have been a dead give-away to my approach, but no one seemed to notice as I thundered by. From the corner of my peripheral vision though, I could have sworn I saw a curtain twitch, hiding a tall figure behind it. But I could have been seeing things, as I rounded the corner and made a fresh start towards my actual destination. That was enough detours for today.

I lumbered up to a long street, with small shops here and there on either side. A large purple sign on the left side of the road, with flowing yellow letters reading 'Alanna's Hair and Beauty Salon' caught my eye, and I pulled up out the front behind a white Toyota. I exited my truck, pulling my jacket on as I did. It was cold today – cold and wet. How unusual. I crossed quickly to the footpath and entered the warm salon. A tinkling bell sounded as I stepped over the doorstep and into my own, personal nightmare.

I had already decided that I was going to be bad at this, terrible no doubt. So there was no point being worried or gloomy about it. Instead, I was going to give it a crack. I only had to suffer for a couple of days, and I might as well make them as enjoyable as humanly possible. I still hadn't figured out how any clumsy and defunct person could have fun when contained in a hairdressing salon for two days straight, but at least it was a start.

It wasn't so bad, really, as I glanced about the room. The walls were violet, similar to the colour of the sign outside, and below was a rich-pine wooded floor. On either side of me were two small tables laidened with old fashion magazines accompanying purple chairs, for people waiting to be 'beauty-fied'. Against the right wall, was a tall charcoal counter, and beyond that was several large sets of shelves, cluttered with hair and beauty products. Weapons of mass destruction when in my hands. Along the left wall, was a long black bench, with four leather chairs pulled up to it. In front of each station, there was everything from hair straighteners to blow dryers, scissors to spray bottles. Mirrors placed at intervals along the wall reflected the dangerous tools, making it seem so much worse. Hairspray flew up my nose, and I crinkled it in disgust. Wasn't so bad though, I thought. Not really…

The place seemed deserted – there was no one behind the counter, and no one at any of the chairs. Maybe I'd gotten lucky, and someone had poisoned the hairdresser, rather than have me burn her face off accidentally with a hair straightener? I called out, "Hello?" hoping to hear no one respond so that I could go home.

I was gravely mistaken though. I heard some scuffling about from behind one of the shelves, and a muffled, "'Ang on a 'ick. I'll 'e 'ith you in a 'oent!" Great, she was speaking gibberish.

A few moments later, she rounded the corner. I assumed it was Alanna – the place after all, was called 'Alanna's Hair and Beauty Salon'. She was tall – monstrously so – and I suddenly felt self-conscious about my height. Dark freckles stood out against her pale skin, and her blue eye's were pastel, glowing with curiosity. From head to toe she was dressed in black, bar a bright red pendant that lay on the collar of her v-neck blouse. She had a pen in her mouth, explaining the inaudible words before, and under each arm she held a cardboard box, one labelled 'bobby pins'. I ogled – just how many bobby pins did she need? But most shocking of all, was her hair. It was short, black, and pulled back into a messy bun, where it stuck out at all angles, reminding me a little of Alice, only more extreme. She then had a long fringe falling back into her face, and the fringe was green. A vivid, fluoro green that seemed to almost glow. As if there wasn't enough green in this place already?

The smile on her face was warm, though slightly distorted by the pen, as she said, "'Arlie's kid, 'ight?" I nodded. Anyone would think my dad was a celebrity the way these people seemed to carry on. Apparently everyone knew him, and so, in turn, knew me. It was really quite off-putting sometimes, having random strangers look at you, and know exactly who you are by name, though you've never seen them before in your life.

She moved to the counter, setting down the two boxes as she got there, and removing the pen from her mouth. She then threw out a hand to me, still grinning. "Howdy, I'm Alanna. You're Isabella, right?"

I groaned inwardly before shaking her hand. I wish my dad wouldn't call me that behind my back. "Yeah, but I prefer Bella," I said with a well-rehearsed smile. I'd lost track of how many people I'd had to correct since moving here to Forks, though I had thought there was no one left to correct. Mind you, this wasn't exactly on my list of places to visit, especially with Alice already owning every hair care and beauty product under the sun. Well, under the clouds in this instance.

She withdrew her hand, and studied me for a moment. I found her pastel eyes a little scary, and the green hair absolutely petrifying. Upon closer inspection, I found she had a silver stud in her nose, barely noticeable at first amidst the chocolate-brown freckles. They didn't do piercing here too, did they? The idea of me wielding a needle, and attempting to poke a hole through someone's ear with a steady hand, was terrifying. I knew I'd never be asked to do that whilst here, but the thought still lingered in me.

"Bella it is, then," she said, as if finalising it. "So, you excited?" She shrugged her shoulders a little, and wrinkled her face, as if talking to a small child with false enthusiasm. Again I became conscious of my lack of height, and raised my chin a little in an attempt to gain a few centimetres.

I had to lie to her. "Yeah, been looking forward to it, actually." It was more than what was necessary, but it just came out. Yet another bad habit I seemed to now have, just saying whatever the hell came to me. I was almost certain she didn't believe me though, because her eyebrows rose in question. I was such a bad liar.

"Well, let's not beat about the bush, shall we?" Her smile was pleasant, and genuinely friendly. It was obvious from my attire that I was no beauty expert. I wore a simple white blouse with my unescapable jeans, and a blue jacket over the top, my hair pulled back into a simple ponytail. But that didn't seem to bother the hairdresser as she beckoned me, turning back towards the shelves.

She glanced back at me as I took a step forward. "Oh, could you grab those for me, thanks?" and she gestured to the two boxes on the counter. I lifted them with difficulty, dropping one twice, and stumbled over to Alanna.

Behind the shelves were even more boxes, all labelled with what their contents were. So, this is what hairdressers did in their spare time? They did inventory. I placed the boxes clumsily down amongst the rest, and let my lips form a smile. Unpacking boxes all day was a lot more tempting than being forced to ruin other peoples hair with nothing but a comb and a curling wand.

She smiled apologetically at me, "Look, I know you're here for work experience, but I could really use a hand. I've got an appointment in what –" she glanced down at her watch "–well, now really. I'd really appreciate some help, just so we can move through things quicker?" I smiled and nodded enthusiastically. I was more than keen to get stuck into something I could actually do. "Great, thanks Bella. So, just put everything with its matches. You know, colours with colours, hair gel with hair gel, curlers with curlers." She pointed at different spots on the shelf, and I continued to nod, trying to get her to stop explaining. God hairdressers could talk! "If you have trouble with anything, then just come ask me. Or leave it, whatever, I can do it later." The bell over the door tinkled merrily at us, signalling Alanna of her customer's arrival. "Oh, that'll be Ms Clearwater. Thanks again for this, Bella," she threw me another apologetic glance, and then hurried off to greet her customer. "Sue, how are you, honey…"

The bulk of the morning passed rather smoothly – no hairdryers or crimpers, curlers or shampoos. Alanna was the only one working here, so she was forever busy with the customers. I sat in my corner, with the boxes, sorting through the products and equipment, and putting them in the appropriate spots. Some of the customers, like Sue Clearwater, I recognised, and we shared a small greeting and smile, before I would set back into my work. Overall, it was far easier than I had anticipated, though I knew it would get worse once I'd finished with the unpacking, and Alanna asked me to do something a little more 'dangerous'.

Roughly two hours had passed, when a familiar voice entered the room. "Morning Alanna." I placed the bottle of conditioner I was holding onto a shelf, and then stopped to listen.

"Morning Sam!" Alanna sounded thrilled to see him. She was currently busy with another customer, her foamy fingers massaging the head of a little old lady that had come in ten minutes earlier for a colour and a perm. "How are you? And Emily, how is she?"

I heard the bell tinkle once more as the door closed, but I could not hear Sam's footfalls as he entered the room. "We're both great, thanks. Emily's a little busy at the moment. Her two nieces are down here visiting, and she's fussing over them like crazy. Especially Claire – she's only two, see," I could hear the smile in his voice, and imagined the adoring beam that was probably spread across his face at that very moment. Sam really did love Emily more than anything else in the world. I didn't think I would ever understand the power of imprinting. "So I decided to come get a quick haircut while they did some family bonding."

It was a good excuse, but I knew that wasn't the only reason Sam was probably getting a haircut. Werewolves needed their hair trimmed; else they'd be all shaggy. Like Jacob… I thought. I tried to shake him from my mind as the image of his grief-stricken face flew across my vision once again. I'd see him again soon. Now just wasn't the time to dwell upon it.

"Aww, that's great, you know, that she's so into being an Aunty," Alanna's voice was sappy, like distant relations sounded when pouring over a newborn baby and exclaiming 'she's so cute! Looks just like her mother!' I chuckled to myself.

"Yeah, it is – she can't wait for kids," His voice seemed to drop a little at the end of his sentence, and I wondered if Sam was doubting the possibility of having children with Emily. I knew it was possible, but Sam would never want to risk hurting Emily again. Maybe he didn't want her to have to go through having adolescent werewolves running around the house? Or maybe he was just scared of loosing control around her – of experiencing too much emotion, too much passion, and literally exploding into a barbaric canine? It reminded me of Edward and his stubbornness. What was it with guys nowadays? So unwilling to take their goddamn clothes off!

"There you are, Kristy, dear. Just sit there for, oh, five or so minutes, and the dye should be done. I'll just go do Sam while you're waiting, then we can give you that gorgeous perm!" Alanna rinsed her hands beneath the sink, and walked over to greet Sam properly. I too, stood, wanting to go and talk to Sam myself. Though we weren't the closest of friends, I still really liked him.

I peered around the corner, and there he was, tall and muscular, like the other werewolves in his pack. His hair was already short – but I knew they kept it cropped even more so usually. His face was warm, and his brown eyes were tired looking against his russet skin. Still, they seemed to sparkle from the affects of talking about his Emily only minutes earlier. A smile touched the corners of his lips, as Alanna scooped his large frame into a warm hug.

I stepped into view, and Sam looked up to see who had come from behind the shelves. Immediately, a shadow seemed to fall over his face. The brightness that had lit up his features, left, and it became subdued, sombre. I took a small step back from his expression – I didn't understand the cold greeting.

Alanna followed his gaze, and appeared to have only just remembered my presence. "Oh that's right! Sam, this is Bella. She's from Forks High School, here on work experience."

His face didn't change as he spoke, "Yes, we've met," I wanted to run and hide. I'd always lived in quiet awe of Sam. Not only had he been the one to take in Jacob, help him when he had first phased, but he also pulled me from the woods the day that Edward had left. Sam was a strong man, a defender – the first of the werewolves to suffer, and he had done it alone. He had always seemed the gentle type that would never hurt a fly – even though I knew he was a werewolf. Understanding. Seeing him look at me like this was very upsetting. Nevertheless, he kept the conversation pleasant, "How are you Bella?"

"Fine," my voice was small. Alanna seemed oblivious to Sam's apparent dislike for me, and continued to beam radiantly from one to the other. God bless her positive attitude.

"I hear you're back with Cullen." It wasn't a question, it was a statement, and his jaw clenched once he'd finished speaking, as if saying the name caused him actual pain. I bit my lip. Was this why he hated me so much all of a sudden? Because I was hanging with vampires? I nodded slowly, and his nose twitched in disapproval. He nodded once; as if I had just confirmed some horrible suspicion he had had, and turned his gaze away from me, like I was not worth his attention any longer.

I felt like someone had smacked me across the face with a cold, icy hand. A vampire hand, actually. This spark of hatred towards me, for being with Edward – a vampire – was unexpected. I would have felt angry with Sam if I hadn't looked up to him so much. This was hardly fair, having to pick between two families – vampires and werewolves – both of which I loved dearly. Couldn't I just have both?

Alanna seemed to pick up on the negative atmosphere finally, and turned back towards Sam. "So, just the usual?" she asked, in an attempt to get us away from each other no doubt. I quickly moved behind the cover of the shelves, and dived back into my work. I fought hard to hold back the tears that threatened to cascade down my cheeks as I placed a bottle of hairspray on the closest shelf.

Sam chose to ignore my presence for the rest of his appointment, and I felt somewhat relieved once he'd left. Alanna bid him a warm farewell, whilst I stayed amongst the cluttered shelves, not wanting to see the look on his face again. It was just another one to add to the pile – first Jacob, now Sam. I was determined now, more than ever, to see my best friend smile once more.

After finishing up with Kristy's perm, Alanna came over to me. She had no more customers for now – apparently the next appointment was running late. She bent down beside me as I sniffled quietly. "You ok, Bella?"

I nodded, not wanting to be fussed over or comforted. I tore furiously at the masking tape holding together a box marked 'hair dyes'. From the corner of my eye, I could see Alanna giving me a pitiful expression. Apparently, she didn't believe this lie either. "You know Sam?" she asked.

Again, I nodded. "Yeah, I know Sam and Emily," I saw Alanna's expression fall once more into pity, and I turned away from her. It didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened, and though she didn't know all the details, I knew she would have deduced that Sam and I were no longer friends. It had been news to me, too. I felt her hand on my shoulder, and she squeezed it in comfort. Alanna was really quite nice, despite appearances.

A few moments passed, and then the tinkling bell sounded. I heard Alanna stand up behind me as she said, "If you want to talk about it, I'm here. I'm a good listener," then she left to greet her customer. I wasn't sure about a good listener, but she was most certainly a good talker. Nevertheless, this wasn't something I could merely talk through. It was something I was going to have to act upon, if I ever wanted to put everything right once more. I craved, more than ever, that smile that seemed to emit it's own warmth, that made me feel invincible. I craved the sun again. In my mind, I imagined Jacob's smile next we met, as I placed another hair dye on the shelf.

Author's Note: Poor Bella – she wants her sun back. Thanks to Alanna and Kristy, once more, for letting me use their names, and thankyou for all the wonderful reviews! I love getting them! Next up, is Emmett the Chef. You're never going to guess what I have planned for him – not at all what any of you are expecting no doubt! Read and review, please and thank you!