A/N: we topped 100 reviews, yay! Thanks so much, everyone, please keep the feedback coming! Adding on to the disclaimer, I don't own Breakfast at Tiffany's, I'm just a big fan. On a side note, I'm basing the Cullens' pug on my own five-year-old monster. If you guys don't know what pugs look like, google them, they're comedy. Happy reading x

Chapter Ten – Edward

"Damn it," I hissed and slammed the cordless phone back into its cradle. The line was busy again. Like I'd predicted, it had been a hectic weekend. I spent most of Saturday reading, and by the time I remembered I hadn't called Bella yet, it was too late to do so. Then, on Sunday, whenever I tried, the line was busy.

I heaved a sigh and looked around. The apartment felt like my prison just now. I hadn't left it since Saturday morning, when I went to get some groceries before I confined myself in the apartment. I intended to finish my assignments before Sunday night and have a chance to ask Bella for dinner, but that wasn't happening; not just because I was unable to reach her, but because I'd wasted too much time in trying. It was as if someone up there was teasing me again for even thinking of pushing my limits with her.

Every failing attempt brought on new frenzy of concern. She'd expect my call. It wasn't just me bragging; I knew she would. She was one of those people you couldn't break the promise you'd made to them. I hadn't actually promised I'd call, but I'd said I would, and for me that was the same. I wasn't keeping my word, and this was bad timing to say the very least. If it was her trust I was hoping to gain, I wasn't doing a very good job.

I had just picked up the phone for another try when Alice burst into the apartment. "Who are you calling?"

Speaking of bad timing, I thought bitterly, and slowly placed the phone back. "Is the phone in your common room broken?"

"I don't know. Why are you calling there?"

"I was, umm, looking for you."

"Silly, call me on my cell," she said, ruffling my hair. "What's the matter?"

"Everything's fine, Alice, stop asking that," I grumbled.

When I next looked at her, she was eyeing me strangely, as if I'd said something wrong. "Okay…" she said slowly, "but you said you called me, so something must have happened or you wouldn't have forgotten I had a cell you could reach me on."

I felt like kicking myself. "I just wanted to ask how you've been," I said weakly. She clearly didn't buy that. No one in his right mind would. "What are you doing here, anyway?" I hoped a change of topics would sidetrack her.

"I came to ask if you wanted to come down for some coffee," she said, and there was strange urgency in her stare.

I looked her over, from her high heeled boots to her purple vintage coat, the one she only wore on special occasions. "So why are you dressed as if you're going out to see a play?"

I couldn't believe my eyes. She actually blushed. I had to do a double take. "Just coffee, that's all," she mumbled, barely meeting my eyes.

"Look who is keeping secrets now," I murmured, half to myself, half to her, unable to hide my wide grin. It felt nice to be on the other end of the game, for a change. "Who is he?"

"No one you know. So are you coming?"

"Can't, sorry. I've got a lot to do before tomorrow."

"Ah, come on, it can wait for later!" she pouted.

"No, it really can't. I spent too much time today already – "

"Trying to call me on the common room phone?" she asked, her lips curling devilishly.

"Get out of here," I laughed.

"I'm going, I'm going. I'd hate to keep him waiting," she said, batting her eyelashes dramatically.

"Alice," I stopped her on the doorway. She turned to give me an inquiring look. I hesitated. I didn't feel like being laughed at again. "Can you… leave me the number in the residence halls, just in case?"

She just stood there for a moment and watched me, as if trying to read something in my expression. I struggled to meet her gaze without flinching. But then, as if she didn't find what she'd been looking for, she walked over to the phone and wrote something down. On her way out, she ruffled my hair again, and left wordlessly.

The moment she was out of the door, I launched at the notepad by the phone, an action that was followed by a string of all the nasty curses I'd known (which, unfortunately, wasn't much). For the past two days, I'd been dialing the frigging wrong number! I remembered the number all right, but I misplaced two digits, which was enough to mess up the entire thing. I grabbed the phone and dialed slowly, making sure each digit was in place.

I didn't even have a chance to steady my shaky breath when someone on the other end picked up. "Hello?"

"Umm, hi. I'm looking for Isab – I mean, Bella Swan, is she there?"

"I'll check if she's in her room."

I closed my eyes and pressed the phone to my ear. Excuses and apologies were lining up as I waited for her to get to the phone. I could only hope she wouldn't be too upset with me, although I knew she had every right to. I knew whatever I'd say would sound lame, but I had to try. I didn't get this far just to be thrown back to the starting point again.

"Hello?"

I blinked. "Bella?" I heard my voice croaking. Ugh, you idiot.

"No, sorry, she's not in her room or next door. Do you want to leave a message?"

"No. Thanks, I'll… try later." I didn't wait for the faceless voice to say goodbye. The phone was heavier than steel when I slowly placed it in its cradle. I stared emptily at the window in front of me. The sky was a gorgeous mixture of oranges and purples and pinks, blending into one another. Normally, I'd stop to appreciate the live palette in front of me, more breathtaking than any work of art. Today, I couldn't care less. I was too baffled to even be disappointed. I knew I wouldn't try to call again later. It was already too late, in more ways than one.

xoxox

For the first time in my history in Juilliard, I didn't show up for two classes in a row on Monday morning. I wasn't thrilled to ditch, but I told myself it was my punishment for acting so stupid. I should have let her write the phone number for me when she had suggested it instead of acting so nonchalant about it. Instead I'd created this unnecessary conflict I now had to solve. I had no idea what her schedule was, so I was putting my bets on the only place I knew for sure she had frequented – where I'd seen her dance the previous Wednesday.

I knew I wouldn't be able to just walk up and down the hallway; it was too quiet and deserted and I wouldn't be able to mingle and do it all unnoticed, so instead, I spent a while searching the hallways where most of the dance lessons had taken place before I went up there. I moved slowly down the hall, hoping I wouldn't bump into that vicious girl again. I stopped by every door to take a look inside, but all the rooms looked empty.

And then, when I reached the last door down the hall, just when I was about to give up hope, I saw her.

She was wearing black today, a one-piece leotard that was thankfully less distracting than that other ones. She didn't have her ballet slippers on, but a different pair of shoes I'd seen Alice wear for her jazz lessons at home. Her hair was tied back hastily. A few locks managed to escape, and she kept pushing them back with slight irritation. She stood away from the door, practicing some moves in front of the full-length mirrors. Her orange backpack next to the tape was the last giveaway.

Mustering all the courage I had, I raised my hand to the door and knocked. She turned at once, and her lips parted as if with a gasp. But in the next second her expression became blank. She just stood there for a moment, watching me carefully, as if she was undecided as for what she should do. Then she crossed the room and walked over to the tape. I took this as a sign I was allowed in.

The lights were off, but there was enough sun coming through the windows to provide light. This room was built differently than the one I'd seen her dance in the week before. There were narrow windows lines along the wall where it met the ceiling. I expected the room to be stuffy, like in a greenhouse, but it was surprisingly chilly. I spotted an open window at the farthest corner of the room. I sort of wondered how she got up there to get it opened. "Good morning," I said quietly, hesitantly.

She ignored me. She grabbed a small towel from near her bag and held it to her face. Then, a moment later, she wrapped it around her shoulders.

"I didn't mean to interrupt you, I'm s – "

"What are you doing here?" she cut me off, her voice sharper than I'd ever thought possible. I'd never thought her to be assertive. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly when they met mine and I winced. She was clearly hurt, like I knew she would be.

"I've been looking for you all morning."

"Well, you found me. You can go on with your day now."

"Bella," I sighed and took a step forward. She instantly took a step back, her eyes still hard on mine. "I know what you're thinking, but I didn't do it on purpose. I've been trying to call you all weekend."

"Right," she said dryly.

"I have! But being the idiot that I was, it wasn't until last night that I realized I was dialing the wrong number." I was still bitter about that. I stepped towards again. She didn't step back this time. "I would never do that on purpose. Why would I when it was my idea in the first place?"

She said nothing. I was standing closer now, trying to hold myself back from tucking those straying locks behind her ears. There was slight swelling beneath her eyes, as if she hadn't slept well, as if she hadn't slept at all. "I thought you were going to get some rest this weekend."

"It wasn't a very good weekend," she said, more gently now, lowering her gaze to the floor.

"Because of me?" I couldn't stop the words from slipping.

"Among other things," she replied, but she didn't sound as mad now. I couldn't help but wonder what happened that made her look that way. It was half of the image I'd pictured the week before. Her eyes were dim, lifeless. It was almost as if she'd spent hours crying. I was so used to that constant glimmer in her eyes that this Bella looked like a completely different person.

"I can only apologize for my share in this," I said sincerely. More than anything, I wished I could take her hand, do anything I could to comfort her, but I didn't want to scare her away. I should be grateful she didn't kick me out of this room when she got the chance. "I'll go now, I can see you're in the middle of things. I'll see you on Friday." As much as it hurt, I forced myself to turn away from her. I'd have to wait until Friday to try it all out again. I wouldn't force her into anything while she was still upset. It didn't seem fair.

I placed my hand on the doorknob when she spoke again. "Wait." I turned, nearly unable to believe she'd actually said the word. But upon meeting her eyes, the Bella I'd known seemed to be back in the room. She offered me a tiny, nearly invisible smile. "What are you doing after school?"

I felt my lips curl in response. Maybe it wasn't too late, after all.

xoxox

Our schedules were tough to coordinate, but we managed, somehow. In the next couple of weeks, our meetings became more frequent. Most of them were brief moments in the hallways in between classes. We had coffee a few times after school, and I finally brewed enough courage to ask her out to dinner on Monday, but she called me in the last minute to cancel. Her roommate was down with a flu, and she had to stay behind and tend her. I couldn't possibly resent her for that.

There seemed to be a virus going on at the residence halls, because Alice showed up at my apartment a few days earlier showing similar symptoms to what Bella had described. Alice had sworn to me that she wasn't sick, that she was too busy to get sick. Then the next day I got a text early in the morning: am sick, damn it. don't come over. will be fine. We'd kept in touch via texts ever since.

On Thursday, I hurried out as soon as my lesson was over. Bella and Anya were supposed to come over later to watch the movie for tomorrow's class. Now that Bella and I had spent so much time together, asking them over came naturally. We had such a great evening the first time that we decided to make a habit out of it until the end of the course. Thankfully, things weren't awkward with Bella. It was just like in class: light, harmless banter into which Anya had joined as well.

I was looking forward for tonight. Breakfast at Tiffany's was one of my favorite films, and it made me kind of excited to share it with them. Last week the girls brought in pizza on their way here. Tonight I was going to cook for them, something I neither excelled in nor had done often, but I felt I owed it to them. I called my mom for some cooking advice. I told her I was spending the evening with friends, but didn't bother to mention the fact they were girls.

I was short in time. I still had to make sure the living room wasn't a complete mess, to take a shower, to change, and less than an hour to do it all. I ended up making pancakes, because it seemed like the easiest thing on my mom's list. Thankfully, it was simple enough. I hoped it didn't mean I was doing something wrong. I scanned the room as I waited for the pancakes to be ready. It looked representative enough. I lit a few candles and turned off the main lights. I hoped I didn't forget anything crucial, like a straying pair of boxers behind a cushion.

I took the last pancake out of the pan when the phone rang. It was right next to me on the counter, where I'd left it after talking to my mom earlier. "Hello?"

"Disden do you, all dice and cheerbul."

"Aww, Munchkin, you sound awful," I laughed softly. Alice was like me as far as illness went. We hadn't been sick often, but when we got it, we got it bad.

"I beel awbul," she said, sniffing. "This sucks."

I walked over to the bathroom to make sure there were no oil stains on the front of my shirt. I cradled the phone between my ear and my shoulder as I rolled my sleeves down. "You'll get better soon."

"Yeah, I hobe so." She sneezed and blew her nose a bit too loudly, probably to demonstrate her point. "Whad are you ub to?"

"Oh, nothing special," I replied, hovering over the sofa to make sure there really wasn't anything behind the cushions. I pushed my sleeves back up again. The door to the balcony was shut, and after standing by the stove for so long, the room was stifling hot. I didn't want to open it and get some fresh air in, fearing the girls would be cold when they got here. "Is your roommate taking care of you?"

"Do, I'b adone."

"The French opera singer left you while you're sick?" I asked in feigned astonishment.

"Do, I didn't bind. There are a bew ob us sick here. We sent the healby ones away."

The doorbell rang just when I rearranged the cushions on the side of the sofa. "Alice, I gotta go. I'll check on you tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay, ib you bust," she said miserably.

"Try to get some sleep, Munchkin. Text me if you need anything."

I hurried to get the door, still holding the phone. Bella stood on the threshold, looking as hesitant as I hadn't seen her in weeks. Well, not hesitant. It was almost as if something had scared her. She looked as if any moment she would turn and run the way she'd come. I became instinctively worried. I looked her over quickly. She didn't seem hurt in any way. Did something happen to her?

"What's wrong?" I asked, looking over her shoulder, expecting to see Anya. She didn't say anything yet, but at that moment, it sank in. Her guarded expression made sense. She came alone. "Where's Anya?" I asked, hoping the quiver in my voice was undetectable. This was not a big deal in any way, I told myself fiercely.

"She's not coming," she said, eyeing me carefully. "We have this virus in the residence halls. It was only a matter of time."

"Yeah, I know, I just talked to…" I let my voice trail off, raising the phone as if to prove my point. "Are you okay?" I asked, ushering her in. I watched her closely again as I took her coat. She didn't look sick.

"Surprisingly, I am," she replied, turning to look at me as I shut the door. Then she did a double take, and her forehead creased with concern. "You're not looking so well yourself."

"Why thank you, that's always nice to hear," I teased. The truth was that I was still hot and my head was throbbing. It was no more than a steady pulse at the back of my head and so I remained unaware of it until she'd made her comment. I rubbed my temples and watched her cringe. "It's nothing," I assured her. "Healthy as a horse."

I looked over my shoulder. The pile of pancakes was still on the counter, but it was mocking me now. I'd doubled my mom's list of ingredients to make sure we wouldn't run out, and now it turned out I'd done it for nothing. "Well, I hope you're hungry," I told Bella, nodding towards the counter. "Since Anya isn't coming, someone will have to finish all that."

Her eyes followed mine, widening in surprise. "You cooked?"

"Pancakes. No biggie," I shrugged. "I wanted to return the favor."

"You didn't have to do that. You're providing the TV and the movies and everything."

Her tone was slightly higher than normal. I only noticed it because I'd spent so much time with her recently. She looked kind of edgy. I hoped it wasn't because she was scared to be alone with me. I knew it was an arrogant thought. She was probably just worried about Anya. But it would be a dirty lie to say I wasn't terrified about being here alone with her. Wasn't it the very reason I'd avoided inviting them here in the first place?

My eyes wandered to the coffee table, where I'd left the DVD case. I walked over and took it, then handed it to her with a small, guarded smile. "Here. Take care of that, I'll get the food."

Her fingers brushed mine as she took it from me. My skin still tingled when I walked towards the kitchen. I swallowed, hard, trying to compose myself. There was this funny lump down my throat, and I hoped it didn't mean what I thought it meant. Just nerves. It was legitimate to be nervous, wasn't it?

I knew was overreacting. It didn't matter that Anya wasn't here. I told myself that over and over when I took two mugs out of the cupboard while waiting for the water to boil. So what if I'd never been completely alone with Bella before? It was a good opportunity to put my willpower under the test. "I'm making some tea, is that okay?"

"Sure."

The teabag flew out of my hand into the sink. I turned, startled. She flashed an apologetic grin at me. I didn't realize she'd followed me here. She kept her hair down this evening. It tumbled down her shoulders, almost copper in the dim light. I tried not to look at her for long, and it was pretty obvious she was doing the same. I sighed inwardly. It was going to be one hell of an evening, I could tell. I carried our tea to the living room; she followed with the rest of the stuff.

The TV was on and a trailer for an anonymous Japanese film was running. Bella kicked her boots off and settled into one end of the sofa, taking her plate with her. I was glad she was feeling so at home here. I sat on the other end of the sofa. I didn't dare to sit closer although every inch of me yearned to do it. I remembered the look she had on her face when she had arrived. There was a delicate balance between that look and the way she appeared to me now, and I didn't want to break that balance by making her uncomfortable.

"Hey, this is pretty good," she said, looking at me from above her plate. "Almost as good as mine," she added, smiling sneakily.

"I didn't know you cooked."

"With my parents, it's kind of necessary," she replied, rolling her eyes. "I only know some basic stuff, though. Italian, mostly."

"Whatever you know, it's probably more than I ever will."

"Well, you did well with these," she smiled, tearing another piece of pancake. "We can make a proper cook out of you, with a little practice."

She obviously missed the implication in her own words. I chose not to point it out to her, just enjoy it as long as it still lingered. We. It sounded promising.

"I'm really looking forward for tomorrow's class," she said when the opening credits began to roll. "It's one of my favorite movies."

It was as if she had read my mind. "Mine too."

I sipped my tea slowly, letting it burn its way down my throat. I stole glances at Bella when I was sure she wasn't looking. Her feet were tucked beneath her. She leaned her head against the back of the sofa. She looked completely captivated, despite the fact she had probably seen this movie more times than she could count. On screen, Audrey Hepburn had just cuddled against George Peppard after sneaking into his bedroom. We're just friends, that's all, she mumbled sleepily, drifting off against his chest. I smirked inwardly. I couldn't help but think how ridiculously appropriate this scene had been to our current situation.

I heard her murmur the lyrics of Moon River when it came on, and I looked away from the TV to watch her gaze wistfully at the screen. It was nearly impossible to look away. I thought it was funny. The way Holly was lounging there, oblivious to her being watched, was just like how Bella had been when I watched her dance, a few weeks ago.

"What?"

I blinked. She was no longer watching the film, but me, and she had probably realized I was staring at her. In the dim light, it was hard to know if she was blushing, but I assumed that she was. "Nothing," I said. I looked back at the screen, feeling baffled. I wasn't planning on getting caught. I felt as if I needed to say something, anything, to lighten the atmosphere. "When we got our dog, I wanted to name her Holly."

"You've got a dog?" she asked without raising her head from the back of the sofa. There was a hint of surprise in the question.

"My mother has a dog. A pug. She was a gift from my father."

"Aww, I love pugs. They look so funny. Did you name her Holly like you wanted to?"

"No, we ended up naming her Sophie," I replied, smiling fondly when I thought of my chubby, silly, lazy dog. "It suits her. Better than Holly, I think."

"You know what I just realized?"

Her voice was husky, getting right under my skin. I was glad it was dark; it hid well the goosebumps I could feel forming on my arms. "What?"

"We never talk about our families."

"That's right, we don't." It had never occurred to me before. "I think it's because I sort of assume you know all about my family, because of your dad, and I know your dad pretty well, so there isn't much to tell."

"Yeah, could be that," she agreed, and the conversation died. We kept watching in silence. When she next spoke, her voice was softer, sleepy. "I really don't know that much about them."

It took me a moment to realize what she was talking about. "Do you really want to hear this now?"

"I don't really mind this part," she replied, nodding towards the screen, where a mysterious man was stalking Paul Varjak through Central Park. "Besides, I'm curious," she added, as if she needed a justification. Her eyes were gleaming in the light from the purplish light. I couldn't possibly refuse her.

So with the revelation of Holly Golightly's past unfolding in the background, I did as she'd asked. I told her about my parents, about Emmett and Rosalie, about Sophie. She asked some questions at first, but even when she didn't, it didn't discourage me. I assumed she would stop me if I was talking too much.

"And then there's my cousin Alice. She's a crazy one but we love her to death. It's funny we never got to talk about her. She's a dancer too, you probably know her from classes or something. I bet you two could be good friends if – "

My voice trailed when I looked up and caught sight of her, fast asleep against the back of the sofa. I felt my lips curl in a smile. Who knew how long she'd been out without me noticing. I reached for the remote and stopped the film. Audrey Hepburn was glaring at me in frozen astonishment, as if I had personally offended her.

I leaned over and brushed my hand across Bella's cheek, holding my breath as I did. It was the first time I'd touched her deliberately. It was silly to keep score that way, but I couldn't help it. Her skin was smooth and warm beneath my palm. I resisted the urge to leave it there.

She flinched at the touch, and her eyes slowly opened. Her disoriented gaze met mine. "What's wrong?" she murmured in that same sultry tone from earlier.

"I think you'd better get home," my voice was quiet, matching hers. I couldn't stop myself. I reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes followed my movement as she slowly came to focus.

"I fell asleep?"

I flashed a crooked smile at her. "In the middle of my story; should I be very offended?"

She returned my smile. I moved slightly backwards as she straightened up. She ran a hand through her hair and yawed. "I'm sorry. I didn't get much sleep this week."

I knew what would be the most chivalrous thing to do, but I didn't dare to. Asking her to spend the night here, even under the most dignified circumstances, was nothing but pushing my luck. And my limits. She would never speak to me after that. "Do you want me to call a taxi? Or walk you back?" I asked, getting up the moment she did.

"No, of course not."

I walked her to the door, and held out her coat for her as she slipped her arms through the sleeves. "Are you sure you're going to be okay?"

"I'll be fine," she insisted. She seemed more awake now, which was reassuring. "Good night."

The smile lingered in her eyes, and I couldn't stop myself from returning it. Leaning closer, I placed my hand on her waist. I could hear her sharp intake of breath, but I didn't let it deter me. All I meant to do was kiss her lightly on the cheek. An innocent goodnight kiss. Slowly, carefully, I let my lips flutter against her cheek. She was standing so close; I could feel the erratic rhythm of her heart. I wondered if it meant she could feel mine. Her eyes were locked with mine, questioning, curious, scared, all at the same time. And in that hint of a moment, I wanted to do something else entirely.

"It's okay," I murmured, hoping to reassure myself as well as her. I thought I found approval in her eyes, but I didn't stop to make certain. I wasn't sure which of us shifted closer first, but it didn't matter. Nothing else seemed to matter when a second later, my lips touched hers.