Fan Fiction, Sex Gods and Single Girls

A/N: This is a chapter-within-a-chapter of this fic-within-a-fic'ing-fic. Bella's author's notes and fic are in bold type, interspersed with Edward's verbal/non-verbal reactions as he reads.

Chapter 25: When the Shit Hits the Fan Fiction

oOoOoOoOoOo

From Hate to Heat

A/N: Just a quick note because this will be a little different.

Edward snorted. "I'll say. Never in a million years did I see this coming."

You might not like Ethan in the beginning, but I hope you'll give him a chance. People can change and fictional characters can too!

Yes, and believe it or not, he's working on it. Uh...I'm working on it. Or...uh...I guess we're both working on it?

You're losing your mind already, Cullen.

Edward sighed, wondering if he had a tendency towards schizophrenia.

I know this won't seem like my usual, but it will have a "Happily Ethan After."

A "Happily Ethan After? Like a Happily Ever After? What…with…ME? Are we talking about a Happily Edward After?"

This is a work of fiction, idiot. Don't get carried away. This will probably be more of a Laughable Edward After, anyway.

I hope you enjoy reading this.

I'm sure it'll be about as enjoyable as a root canal.

Let me know what you think!

xo, bellybeans

"You want to know what I think? I think I'm fucked! And I think you should be writing about a completely fictional character, not ME!"

He took a deep breath. "Here goes nothing," he grumbled.

Preface

I'd never given much thought to who might live in my new neighborhood, but even if I had contemplated my possible neighbors, I would never have imagined someone quite like him.

"Quite like me? Just what do you think me is like? You hardly even know me!"

I looked out across the narrow street, to the darkened windows of his home, staring benignly enough back at me.

She starts right off with the spying! What a one-track mind!

Surely this was the right place to live and own my first home. It was close to work and a good investment.

This neighborhood does have good resale value. Which will work in my favor, since I might have to sell and move after reading this.

And change my name.

And wear a disguise.

I'd pulled into my driveway for the first time only two mornings ago, and met my first neighbor immediately upon arrival. Unfortunately, he was an arrogant ass, a young man with seemingly little concern for anyone other than himself.

Edward's mouth dropped open. And then he closed it immediately.

Well, she's right about that. I was an arrogant ass. But I'm working on it. Hell, I'm an on-going project!

He was also, without a doubt, the most beautiful man I had ever seen.

Edward sighed. "I get that all the time. Seriously, it's just a face. Look beneath it and there's plenty of ugly, Bella."

From the tips of his tousled and burnished old-copper-penny hair, down to the toes of his perfect bare feet, he was the epitome of male beauty. His face was the stuff dreams are made of, with his broad forehead and lush, arching eyebrows, framing long-lashed, deep green eyes. The chiseled planes of his face were striking and extraordinary, with the sharp cut of a strong jaw, high cheekbones, and a slightly imperfect nose that only seemed more perfect for its imperfection. His jaw was shaded with a fresh growth of new beard and his sculptural lips appeared firm and yet soft. That mouth would know just how to kiss a woman. The combination of such attractive features made for the most singularly stunning male face imaginable.

Holy shit… "The most singularly stunning male face imaginable? The epitome of male beauty? The stuff dreams are made of?" Seriously?

So she thinks I'm good-looking?

Women usually do, Cullen. For whatever reason. But it's just a face and a face isn't everything. Sometimes it's just something to hide behind.

But does she mean it? Or is this the character she's talking about?

It was hard for Edward to gauge how much of that last paragraph was a description of himself, versus Ethan Collins. He would have to read the books to know for sure. The problem was Edward and Ethan did look similar. Well, Edward and that actor who portrayed the character did.

Edward wasn't so sure his face looked "chiseled," though it did have sharp angles. And he didn't know about it being "the stuff dreams are made of," but his hair and eye colors matched her descriptions, and he did have bushy brows, high cheekbones, and a square jaw he hadn't shaved that morning they'd met. His nose had been broken back in college, so there was indeed a noticeable slight bump at some angles, though not at others. Pressing a fingertip to his mouth, Edward wondered how his lips could look both firm and yet soft. That seemed a contradiction in terms. But he did know how to kiss a woman. The receptive moans he usually heard seemed to indicate a high level of proficiency. Presumably, Ethan had skills as well, since millions of women worldwide were lusting after his character, dreaming of a little fictional lip-and-slip-of-the-tongue-action, like they'd read in the books and seen on the screen.

Edward took a careful sip of his still-steaming coffee. It was difficult to taste it, with scalded taste buds, but it would still serve its purpose, helping to keep him alert as he read into the night. And speaking of reading…

He was tall and lean, lithe and sculpted, and since he had presented himself to me shirtless, I had no choice but to admire his broad shoulders and the well-honed muscles of his arms, chest, and abdomen.

She thinks I'm lithe? Or is Ethan? I'm not a clod, certainly. Fucking ridiculous dance lessons saw to that. But maybe it was a good thing in the long run. At least I'm not a total spazz now.

The whole "sculpted" thing… I knew she was checking me out that first day. Then again, this could refer to Ethan Collins. He's probably not written as a pudgy dough ball. He's probably Mr. Perfect with a perfect body if he's the perfect guy. So this could just be a reflection of his perfect character.

On his chest was a dusting of hair that focused and narrowed as it trailed down his carved abdomen and flat stomach and beyond, pointing the way between slim hips and the sculpted pelvic V, right into the only thing he wore...

Black silk pajama pants.

And he was only barely wearing them.

"Fuck. My. Life. She had to mention them?! My douchey, black silk pajama pants?! Hell, they were a Christmas gift! From my mother! Macy's pre-Christmas sale! Dad got red and I got black!"

Shit…Bella probably thinks I bought them at Playboys 'R' Us! She must think I'm an absolute tool!

Edward groaned and closed his eyes, tipping his head back to rest on the couch. He briefly considered a conversation with Bella, in which he explained the history of those pajama pants, from maternal Christmas gift, to fire-ring kindling on his patio the day she moved in, but it would be difficult to work all that into a casual conversation.

A moment later he tipped his head forward and downward, lifting the hem of his sweatshirt and clenching his abdominal muscles, inspecting what he saw there. All those crunches he routinely did added quite a bit of definition to a formerly soft and slightly pudgy gut.

Lifting his sweatshirt further, he contemplated the hair that traveled and narrowed, from his chest down into his usual 100% cotton, silk-free pajama pants.

I'm not too hairy, am I? Some hair is normal, right? Unless you don't like hair. Emmett gets waxed. Should I wax? That must be so fucking painful! I'm going to assume a "light dusting of hair" is an okay thing. An acceptable thing. A less painful-than-waxing thing.

But if I had hair on my back, I'd wax that for sure.

I can't believe I'm contemplating waxing back-hair I don't even have. What the hell is wrong with me?

Edward sat up to drink more of his coffee. Maybe he was hallucinating. Hopefully the coffee would keep him more focused. He just felt like he was going in so many directions at once. Setting the cup down, he went back to Bella's preface.

I might have wondered how those flimsy pants didn't slip over those slim hips and slide right down to pool at his ankles. But there was little chance of that. This masterpiece of the masculine physique,

"Masterpiece of the masculine physique?" That's a new one…

…who stood before me in all his glory…

Edward rolled his eyes.

… this embodiment of ethereal, manly perfection…

I've been told I look like a runway model, but… "ethereal?"

…was sporting a shockingly obvious erection!

Edward's eyes bugged out as his jaw dropped in shock.

"SHE WROTE ABOUT MY GODDAMNED BONER?!"

His voice echoed off the tiled floors, high ceilings, and dove gray walls of the great room as he slammed himself back into the cushions of the couch. After a moment of stunned silence, he tossed the laptop to the side and stood.

"GOOD GOD! She wrote about my DICK?!" His arms flailed about in his disbelief.

Instantly he began pacing. Into the living room, back to the great room. Into the living room, back to the great room. Into the living room…

"OhmygodohmygodohmygodohmyGOD! WHY? WHY?" he fumed as he headed back to the great room. And into the living room.

Of course he got no response. In either room.

As he paced, he clasped his hands together on top of his head. It was a vague gesture, a feeble precaution against the threat that his head might explode and he'd lose his mind trying to deal with the weight of what he'd just discovered.

This was just too much.

He made a growling noise and paced his way back to the couch, dropping heavily into place. After a moment, he flopped sideways, landing facedown onto the pile of pillows in the corner of the couch.

"SHIT! She wrote about my HARD-ON?!" he yelled into the pillow-pile. "Don't tell me she wrote about that entire first encounter!" The pillows helped to muffle his voice. And subsequent groans. And barely audible moans.

This is slander!

Nope. Slander would be verbal. This is written.

Well then, it's libel!

Nope. She hasn't bad-mouthed your dick.

Edward stilled as that thought swirled through his mind. The stray thought of Bella bad-mouthing his dick…and then not-so-badly mouthing his dick...literally, not figuratively...caused a distinct twitch and subsequent stirring within his cotton flannel pajama pants.

Get your mind out of the gutter and your dick out of her mouth! Try and stay focused. It's technically Ethan Whateverthefuck's dick and not yours she's writing about. And there's no bad-mouthing of any kind going on here…so far she's just relating her point of view of what happened last Saturday.

But this is defamation of character!

Defamation of "a character," perhaps, but that would be fictional Ethan Collins, not factual you.

Could this be considered muck-raking?

Uh…no. YOU have certainly mucked up and fucked up for years, but there's been no muck-raking on her part. This is muck of your own making. You're the Muck-Maker here, Cullen.

But I'm trying to clean up my act!

No one's handing out gold stars after just four days. But keep up the good work. In the meantime, you'll just have to deal with a little payback for your past.

Edward sat upright with a heavy sigh. A vein pulsed and throbbed in his forehead. One hand rubbed his face and then threaded its way roughly into his hair, tugging the locks into and out of place, before finally dropping back and scratching at the nape of his neck. He adjusted the laptop back into position, bound and determined to continue reading what she'd written.

"Okay, back to chewing on my just desserts…slathered in karma sauce."

I only barely had time to focus on that protrusion in his pants, when he began shouting and swearing a blue streak at me.

"I was shouting to be heard over your malfunctioning truck!"

And you were swearing because you were angry about being interrupted with your redheaded bimbo.

Edward froze, grimacing as he thought about that morning, and about his "date" from the night before, whose name he hadn't even been able to remember. Once again he felt disgusted with himself, wondering how the day might have gone differently for himself and a new neighbor if he had woken up alone that morning.

You were an idiot, Cullen. So cut Bella some slack. This is her way of dealing with that awful first meeting. And don't lose your shit…this is anonymous. No one knows this is you and no one knows this is her.

Edward reined in his thoughts, focusing once again on his laptop.

Who was this obnoxiously behaving, yet other-worldly appearing young man?

"It was your screwed-up, oft-screwing, soon-to-be-screwed-over, screwball neighbor...your new friend, although maybe it would be better if we weren't friends…or acquaintances...or whatever this is...was.

He hadn't bothered to introduce himself, instead he'd chosen to overwhelm me with his good looks and his assholier-than-thou attitude.

Edward re-read that line with a snort. He'd known people with an asshloier-than-thou attitude. It was a great line. And then he realized he was actually enjoying Bella's commentary on what a jackass he'd been. So he put his game face back on and went back to her preface.

I found myself at a complete loss in the face of his unexpected volatility, feral beauty, and overt arousal.

Yeah…who expects to move in across the street from an attractive, quasi-exhibitionist lunatic?

I'd only just arrived in Seattle and already I was entertaining thoughts of leaving.

Edward groaned. Had he really been so awful to her?

You were dreadful to her. She was just having car problems, you dolt! Nobody plans for mischievous car problems.

He sighed heavily.

Though I'd only just met him two days ago now, I knew he would try my patience and goodwill, push the boundaries of common decency, and keep me befuddled and bewildered with his flawless features and overpowering presence. He was the Beauty and the Beast in one attractive and exasperating package.

"The Beauty and the Beast? Edward sputtered. "Well, here's some news for you, baby… You are one attractive and exasperating package yourself! I can't help how I look anymore than you can help how you look!"

Whoa, there! What the hell are you saying, Cullen?

It was a figure of speech.

I think we need further discussion.

Fuck off. I'm busy reading.

And yet just two days later, here I was, in my new home, staring at his empty house, as I held the keys to his castle in my hand. He would be out of town for the next few days, and strangely enough, had entrusted me to pick up his mail and newspapers.

I couldn't help but contemplate all manner of practical joke I could play in his absence.

"You were contemplating practical jokes?! Well, shit, this fan fiction story kind of takes the cake in that department! This would make Emmett proud!"

Oh, dear God… Emmett can never know about this!

But for as irritated and indignant as he'd made me feel that first day, I couldn't bring myself to regret my decision to move here. I had accepted my dream job and now owned my dream home.

I would just have to wait and see, if living across the street from Ethan Collins proved to be a nightmare.

"A nightmare?! For me, maybe, but not for you! I don't imagine you're sitting in your house, at fuck o'clock in the morning, reading a fan fiction starring you and your dick!"

She's a girl, Edward…she doesn't have a dick…she has a…

I know! I'm not stupid! But how can she think this is a potential nightmare? That I'm a nightmare? Tonight was fun…well, before I got to the non-fan-non-fiction portion of the evening. But we had a good time this evening! She pulled an awesome prank and she was cracking up. It was incredibly cute.

There you go again, Cullen.

I'm tuning you out.

I'm Stella Marie Brown and this is my story…

No, it's our story.

Chapter 1: First Fight

"First fight? So, there'll be more?"

You're the one who flipped out at her honesty after dinner at her house.

I was shocked she'd been snooping!

And what the hell are you doing right now?

I'm…uh…doing research. And I have no intention of writing an inflammatory exposé.

Whatever. You wanted to know about her and the things she writes, so get reading.

Stella. Italian for "star." Chosen by my mother in an attempt at the exotic and far-reaching.

Mom was "reaching for the stars?" Edward smirked at his "Written in the Stars" mental quip.

Marie. Inherited from a grandmother I'd barely known.

Brown. The color of mud and dirt. A surname given by my father, firmly grounding me in reality.

Mud and dirt? I get it… 'grounded' in reality. But brown is warm. I's the color of your expressive eyes and that mane of hair.

Edward paused, considering those first few lines more seriously.

So...Mom is kind of out-there and Dad is more down-to-earth?

Stella Marie Brown. That's been me for the past nearly-twenty-four, mostly-uneventful years.

Edward continued reading about Stella's parents, a frown appearing as he read. They had divorced after nine years of marriage and eight-year-old Stella had been shuttled back and forth between them in the summers, living with her restless mother the rest of the year.

Is this really Bella's background? Her age matches, certainly. So her parents are divorced?

Such an upheaval for a kid so young. Old enough to get what's happening but not fully understand why. I can't even imagine… We've always been such a close-knit family. And then for her to have moved around a lot, unable to establish lasting friendships… Children need stability, don't they?

Edward realized he'd stopped reading. He found his place and picked up where he'd left off.

In the aftermath of my parents' divorce, I found great joy in books. They were a wonderful escape at a time that was rather lacking in happiness and security. I could hide in their worlds when there wasn't much wonderful or secure in my own world.

Edward ran a finger thoughtfully across his lower lip. Her words conjured an image in his mind from the night before, when Bella had returned his things to his front doorstep. The image morphed, and he envisioned a smaller, younger Bella Swan, hugging herself in her loneliness, burrowing into a book for comfort.

Climbing into the lap of a good book can be a wonderful escape. Lots of people have done that.

Edward could certainly relate.

He'd always been a thinker, and had often chosen reading over more physical activities when he was younger. A highly intelligent child, he'd learned things rapidly, mastered them easily, and would have suffered great boredom if he hadn't had books to turn to. Finishing assignments quickly in school, he would turn to his latest book while the other students caught up. By the time they were done with their work, Edward would be so immersed in what he was reading that he would forget about socializing. And so the intelligent boy was eventually perceived as a geeky bookworm by his peers.

In junior high, someone had once referred to him as "Edweird" and the cruel nickname had stuck. Of course that sort of thing often follows a person…and so as Edward moved on to high school with those same peers, "Edweird" moved on with him. It's difficult to fight something like that, it's easier to find a few similar friends with similar interests and lose oneself in more solitary pursuits, like reading books.

The culmination of the "Edweird" period came at the end of high school, with an excruciatingly embarrassing pair of events, involving the only crush he'd ever been stupid enough to have had. Luckily, just a few months later, he moved to the other side of the country to attend Dartmouth College, and finally began to see the light at the end of the Edweird-tunnel.

He'd found himself rooming with Emmett McCarty, an encouraging and out-going, non-judgmental and happy-go-lucky, one-man-festival of fun and camaraderie. Edward suddenly had the opportunity for a do-over, a chance to re-manufacture himself and play catch-up, to better interact with his peers. Emmett became Edward's own personal brand of trainer, coaching him both physically and socially.

The result was that Edward received quite the education, achieved resounding success, and would forever feel indebted to Emmett for helping to draw him out and give him some social confidence. Emmett, in turn, had found his calling in life. It had been for that very reason that Edward had partnered with Emmett and helped to set him up in his dream job at Gymerica Elite. Edward didn't intend to remain business partners forever, though. His plan was to sell his half to Emmett one day, at very little cost, because Edward had already reaped tremendous reward from his friendship.

Still...beneath the now highly successful, highly attractive exterior, a somewhat solitary and bookish, sometimes lonesome Edweird still lurked. And now the thought of a young Bella, seeking refuge in books, struck a definite familiar chord within him. Just knowing about her lonely childhood affected him and moved him, but he pushed those thoughts aside as he kept reading.

While living a rather nomadic existence with my divorced mother, my closest friends were the ones I came to know in books. Those fictional characters would pick up and move with us, remaining constant and consistent even when my own family-life did not.

But it wasn't until later that I discovered those fictional friends could also step outside their books. I could take them out of their story and insert them into my own imagination and take them on adventures, no matter where my hare-brained mother and her latest interests led.

This is where the fan fiction writer in her comes from, taking those characters and creating her own stories with them.

Like in this story, where she's made a character of you…possibly a cartoon character.

Five years later, Mom's interests led her to a much younger man, a sportier man, a man with a dream that would involve even more moves and change-ups. Bill Wyler was a rising star, a minor league pitcher just breaking into the majors. It would mean extensive traveling for Bill, and since Rhonda was his most avid fan, of course she wanted to go with him. So, like a player caught off base and on the run, I was tagged out at home. I returned to live with my dad in Washington the same year Mom scored a new husband and moved to Florida.

Her mother acquired a husband and lost a daughter? Do they still have any kind of a relationship? At least Bella probably had more stability living with her father. She must have been thirteen. That's a tough age for any kid, even without upheavals.

I never proved to be very exotic nor out-of-this-world, as I suppose Mom had hoped. I'd always been much more like my father: realistic and grounded...two polite ways of saying I'd always been rather boring and plain. And just like Dad, I've always been a Brown...neither vibrant nor vivid, but rather more dependable and dull.

Edward couldn't help chuckling. She couldn't be more wrong in her view of herself.

You don't see yourself very clearly, Bella. You are neither boring nor plain. You are the exact opposite of both. And there hasn't been a dull moment since you arrived. You're intriguing and very easy on the eyes, whether you realize it or not. And being dependable certainly isn't a bad thing. It's an admirable trait many people lack.

I did prove to be a rather stellar student through the years, but I suppose that was to be expected from a quiet, shy, bookworm. I followed the rules and did as I was told, and good grades came easily to me.

She sounds so much like me. I wonder if she was more sociable, or if she felt like an outsider, too. She probably wasn't an obvious geek, like I was. And if she stayed with her father in the summers since she was young, a few friendships must have developed over the years. Like Jake.

In my junior year of high school, I began contemplating the great beyond and formulating plans for my future...and an education focused on education.

Edward smiled as he read about her decision to become a teacher. Her classmates thought she was crazy.

They couldn't understand how someone could commit themselves to a life-sentence in high school, let alone deal on a daily basis with students like themselves. But I liked school and I loved reading and writing, and hoped maybe I could encourage those interests in others.

Alice's friends had thought she was nuts, wanting to be a high school teacher. It certainly wasn't for everyone, but Alice loved it and Bella probably would too. God knows he could never do it…his blood pressure would be through the roof...but Bella would probably do well.

Plus she has that outstanding poster collection to spark her students' interests.

Books had been my friends and literature and writing became my passions. Several years later, I graduated from the University of Washington with degrees in both, and within two years, I'd armed myself with a teaching credential, ready to embark on my chosen path.

Edward remembered their conversation during the blackout. She'd told him the exact same information as they'd discussed her new job, where she'd gone to school, and what she'd studied.

"Wow...this is really you, Bella. You are writing your own story."

Edward stilled as the words from her summary flitted through his mind. "Can these two opposites ever find any common ground and become friends…or possibly more?" He found himself wondering if she really and truly expected or hoped for something more from him, beyond the story. Something he'd never had. Something he wasn't capable of. Something that would quite possibly only leave her hurt.

He sucked in a deep breath and let out a long sigh.

Packing my life up into boxes and bags, and pulling up roots from my childhood home near the coast, I set out for the future I just couldn't turn down. I would be "Miss Brown," fresh-out-of-the-box high school English teacher by day, closet aspiring-novelist by night, and proud first-time homeowner in Seattle.

Or Bella Swan, fresh-out-of-the-box English teacher by day, aspiring writer of fan fiction by night, and ruiner of new acquaintances' reputations thereafter.

Edward read about Bella's move from home. Her father hadn't been able to help with the move. He hadn't been able to get the time off work on the weekend she needed to arrive.

But I wasn't worried. I knew I could count on my oldest and dearest friend, Jethro Brick.

Edward burst into laughter. "Jethro BRICK?! Seriously?"

Jethro and I had always had each other's back and I knew he would come to my rescue... He'd been rescuing me on a somewhat regular basis for years.

So he's her knight-in-shining-armor. But he lives so far away. Who will protect her here, when she needs rescuing? She has no one here, does she?

You know, you can be rather protective when you're not being an ass. You were certainly quite protective tonight when you brought her and her friend home.

I was just being neighborly.

Riiiiight.

Edward suddenly felt a little restless. Shifting his laptop to the couch, he stood and stretched, picked up his empty coffee cup, and took it to the kitchen for a refill.

Upon returning to the great room, he noticed his leather jacket, lying snubbed and forgotten on the floor. As he picked it up, his phone clattered to the floor. Tossing his jacket back over the top of the couch, he stooped and retrieved his phone, and saw that it was dead and in need of charging. It must have died sometime after he'd shown Bella his Words With Friends coup against pissy, pissed-off Alice.

A small moment from earlier in the evening floated into his thoughts. While showing Bella the text he'd composed, regarding a possible mariachi prank on Emmett, he'd held fast to his phone, so she didn't give their clandestine communication away. The result was that she'd held his hand in hers, beneath the edge of the table as she read his text. Her hand was small and soft and warm. He'd studied her in profile then, and had seen the faint, warm pink infusing her face. He'd felt a little warm himself in that moment, and realized he should look away, before he called attention to their actions.

Edward blinked, looking down at the same phone now, and returned to the kitchen to plug it into the charger.

Moving back to the couch, he slouched comfortably into the cushions, reclaimed his laptop, and propped his feet up. He caught the faint, floral scent, coming from his jacket, and took a moment to lean towards it slightly and inhale. Looking back at his laptop, he found his place, where Stella/Bella had begun a conversation with Jethro/Jake.

"Seriously, Stelly, you need a superhero. I don't mind doing the job for now, and Leandra puts up with it because she's a good friend and girlfriend, but at some point you need to meet someone of your own. We can't be a trio forever. The neighbors are gonna talk and I'm not getting the benefits out of this arrangement that one might assume."

"What the hell?!" Edward glared at the screen. "What a fucking horn-dog! Is this a real conversation?! Tell me he didn't really say that to you!"

Of course there was no response from the laptop.

You definitely need a new superhero. Leave this idiot to his girlfriend, Bella.

"Don't be an ass!" I punched Jethro in the arm and that wiped the silly grin off his face.

Good! Clout the lout once more for me.

"Jeez, Stelly, I was joking," Jethro grumbled, rubbing at the imaginary injury on his brawny bicep. As if I could do any damage to his big, hulking body.

So this must be Big Burly.

"Well, I'm not joking. If you're going to help me, then help me. But don't give me a hard time. And don't be gross. You know I'd help you at a moment's notice."

You tell him, Bella. Don't let him be an ass to you. Don't you let anyone be an ass to you. Ever.

"I know you would," Jethro said. "And you wouldn't give me a hard time. Sorry about the lame joke. You know you can count on me."

"That's what I was hoping. Besides, when I hook up with the man of my dreams, you're going to miss me. You'll only have Leandra to take care of and she doesn't need much rescuing. You won't know what to do with yourself, J."

The man of your dreams is a fictional man, right? Because that naked body in the middle of that banner was faceless.

I believe that was supposed to be you, Cullen, if the title and summary mean what they seem to. I think that's the "heat" reference in the title and the "or more" she alluded to in her summary.

A sudden jittery feeling flitted through Edward's body, but he squelched it immediately.

NO! That can't be ME! Well, fictionally, it can be me, but certainly not LITERALLY! Just read and shut the hell up. You're not helping at all.

"Well, maybe I'll come move in with you and the man of your dreams." Jethro waggled his eyebrows at me.

I rolled my eyes.

"Punch him again, Bella! Or kick him in the nuts!"

"I don't think so, J. Two guys sounds kind of interesting, but if one of them is you, that would just be gross."

Jethro laughed, watching me as I shoved things in a box. "Thanks. I think it's my turn to smack you now, Stelly."

"Don't even think about smacking her, creep."

Wait... "Stelly?" Does Jake call her "Belly?" Like "bellybeans?" Does he know that's her penname? Holy shit! Does he read her?

If he does, it's probably a good thing he lives so far away.

"Promises, promises. Don't get me all excited," I told him dryly. "Here, J, make yourself useful and tape up this box. Then we can load these in the back of the car."

"You know, I'm really am going to miss you, Stella," he said in a softer tone as he worked

I paused and looked up at him, unable to say anything with the sudden lump in my throat. He hugged me then. A big tight bear hug, the kind he always did so well.

Edward felt himself getting antsy, wondering if there was anything more to Bella's friendship with Jake. He'd seen him pick her up in a big bear hug the day he'd arrived with the U-Haul, and he'd had his arm around her later that same afternoon. Perhaps Jake really did have a girlfriend, and Bella had said there wasn't a boyfriend in the picture for her, but maybe she still had feelings for Jake. Was she interested in him, even though he appeared to be involved with someone else? Who had broken up with whom? And why? Surely she wasn't still interested in someone from junior high, was she?

He sighed. There was no way of knowing.

That was Thursday. Packing and loading and smiles and laughter. But the laughter was bittersweet. Jethro had been a constant through the years and I was really going to miss my oldest friend.

Edward had never had many really close friends, and certainly none of them had been girls. He and Alice had always been close, but she was his sister, and that was different. Girls had been too puzzling and he'd been too insecure and tongue-tied around them.

He'd come a long way since then.

Then again, maybe not.

He shook his head and continued.

Dad and I finished packing on Friday, after his shift at work. We stuffed what we could into my Chevy Equinox that night, and I departed for Seattle on Saturday morning. What furniture I had would be loaded into a U-Haul on Sunday morning, by both Dad and Jethro, and that same morning, Jethro would bring everything to my new home in Seattle, and help me set up.

Exactly as it happened…well, except that Stella drives a Chevy Equinox but Bella actually drives a Chevy Deathtrap. Does the real fictional Stella drive a Chevy Equinox? That fits with the "Written in the Stars" theme. Or maybe an Equinox is Bella's dream car?

Edward snorted a laugh. Any car would be a dream car compared to that nightmare truck she drove. Maybe she was just too embarrassed to include her malfunctioning truck in her story.

She includes my malfunctioning dick but excludes her malfunctioning truck? How is that fair?

That Saturday morning, I was looking forward to the new path my life would be taking in Seattle. But I was also thinking about everyone I was leaving behind. I would miss my dad. He wasn't very demonstrative and he certainly wasn't a hoverer…but I knew how empty the house would be for him without me, once again.

So she is close to her father. But if he wasn't very demonstrative, did he not give her enough attention? Is that why she's always hugging herself? And why she mentioned Jake's bear hugs? Does she need a good, thorough hugging?

Are you volunteering, Cullen?

Fuck. Off.

Of course, I'd left Dad each and every school year in college. But he always knew I'd be home on the occasional weekend, for holidays, and in the summers. This would be different. We both knew I'd come back to visit, but it would be just that…a visit. Home would never be my permanent home again.

No, her permanent home is now here, across the street from the nearly-naked, screaming-wingnut, Welcoming Committee of One.

But those things happen. Children grow up and find themselves. They take wing and fly away.

Edward's mouth curled up at the corners.

Yes, Bella… even "swans" take wing and leave the nest.

Edward frowned as he continued reading. Instead of backfiring, like the Chevy Deathtrap, the Chevy Equinox in Bella's story had a slipping, screeching fan belt as it arrived in the neighborhood.

The Equinox isn't backfiring? It's squealing? She changes this aspect of the story, but still felt compelled to include my erection? She couldn't write my hair standing on end instead of my dick?

Noticing the wind outside, I grabbed a cap from the glove compartment, and twisting my hair up, pulled it on and went inside my new home.

Come on, Bella…tell it like it is…it's the "Asshole" hat. My "Asshole" hat, now. Though I did buy you a replacement hat.

You have matching hats. That's cute, Cullen.

Just shut…the fuck…up.

I made a quick call to Jethro, and after an explanation and imitation of strange vehicle sounds on my part, he assured me he'd fix the car himself the next day.

So her knight in shining armor is going to hop on his steed…er…U-Haul…and come rescue her.

Edward continued reading about Stella/Bella's arrival in his neighborhood. In reality, the truck had remained running, backfiring loudly disturbing the peace in the neighborhood. In her story however, Stella had locked the keys inside the car and then accidentally set off the alarm. What followed was a search beneath the car for a hidden spare key while the alarm blared.

As I crawled and searched for the hidden key, I suddenly became aware of two large feet approaching, just to the side of me. The feet were bare, with neatly-trimmed toenails, and obviously belonged to a man.

"Again she mentions my feet?! Does she have a foot fetish?"

In that same moment, my hand finally located the little magnetic spare-key box. Scrambling backwards and pushing myself up, I turned to face the owner of the feet, who was now yelling angrily over the sound of the blaring alarm, and waving his arms for emphasis.

"Hey, Asshole! What the fucking hell is the matter with you and your goddamned, motherfucking, piece-of-shit, cockblocking car?"

Edward stared wide-eyed at the screen, his mouth gaping open in shock. Had he really said all those choice invectives to her?

I think those were your exact words, yes.

What a fucking asshole!

Yes, it's a wonder she didn't bring that to your attention immediately. Or spray you with pepper spray, like the average attacker.

I was stunned. Never in my life had anyone yelled a string of profanities at me like that. But it wasn't just the verbal assault that had me speechless. It was also his face, angry and red, with a prominent vein in his forehead, and blazing green eyes. He seemed so vicious, as he gesticulated wildly and spat his words.

Edward hung his head, filled with remorse at his ridiculous actions, now that he was truly seeing the entire situation from Stella/Bella's point of view. He was well aware of the throbbing vein thing. And he did get red-faced when he was upset. And he'd been known to do the windmill thing with his arms when he was extremely agitated. But he hadn't realized the true extent to which he had evidently upset her and frightened her, with his actions and verbal attack.

"Holy shit! You're a girl!" he shouted.

Pure brilliance, Cullen.

"Yes, I'm a girl!" I shouted right back.

I wasn't sure why that was important, but with the blaring of the alarm, I wasn't thinking clearly. Neither was he, judging by his next words.

"I had no idea you were a girl! How was I supposed to know you were a girl?"

She must have thought I was psycho! There I was, expecting some dipshit, jackass guy, and instead what I see is a lovely girl…with deep brown eyes, big as saucers…staring up at me…blushing and breathless…lips formed a little "o" of surprise…

Yoo-hoo! Come on, Cullen… You're staring off into space. Are we reading or what?

Edward pulled himself together, looking back at the screen.

His face was inches from my own, shouting over the alarm blasts, demanding answers to questions I couldn't comprehend. I was too distracted, noticing the exceptional hue of his hair, his absurdly handsome face and remarkable features, and his broad shoulders and lean, muscled body as it arched forward, challenging my space and trying to overwhelm me with his very presence.

A little smile of surprise appeared on Edward's lips.

You were checking me out. Taking me in while I did the same to you.

And I was most certainly overwhelmed.

You weren't alone… I was completely rattled at that point too.

He was the most beautiful man I had ever seen.

Edward realized it could just be Stella's character describing Ethan's character. She'd never thrown herself at him like others had. And she'd certainly never said anything, like so many had. But would she even do that? Is she that kind of woman?

Edward pondered the kind of woman Bella seemed to be. In his experience, women could be sorted into three major groups: Hunters, Shrinking-Violets, and Untouchables.

The Hunters were at the aggressive end of the spectrum: relationship hunters and sexual hunters. Relationship hunters were looking for permanence with a boyfriend or potential husband. They found Edward to be suitable material, both physically and financially, and Edward ruled them out immediately. How could they be interested in him without knowing anything about the real him? Sexual hunters were his bimbos, the ones who let him know they were ready, willing and open…figuratively and literally…to hopping into bed with him. They were usually attractive, confident women, who wanted sex with an attractive, confident man. They didn't care whether he had a thought in his head, as long as he had a condom in his pocket and a rock hard dick to put it on. They were looking for neither commitment nor conversation, but coitus, and that had worked fine for Edward. Until recently.

The Shrinking Violets were at the other end of the spectrum. They were the insecure women who didn't trust themselves, or perhaps it was him they didn't trust, or perhaps they were just too overwhelmed by him, because they were usually tongue-tied in his presece if he said anything to them. They shied away from him and avoided him, and of course he let them be, rather than try to cultivate something where it wasn't wanted.

The Untouchables weren't even on the spectrum. These were the women with whom Edward would have nothing to do, in the sexual sense. The contraindications were too great. The category included women who were married or in relationships, co-workers, women under the age of legal consent, and the elderly. Liaisons with anyone in this group would be ill-advised, illegal, or just plain ill. And of course Kate would have been in this final category, had Edward known of her impending marriage to her cuckold-to-be.

So, those were the three groups.

So…where would Bella fit in?

Edward blinked at that stray thought. It had come out of nowhere.

Um…I don't know.

Think about it... She's not aggressive; she hasn't thrown herself at you and probably wouldn't. She certainly isn't a bimbo. But she's also not shy. She does that lovely blushing thing, which would lead one to think she's shy, but she's quite capable of speaking her mind, hanging or hurling a hat, and putting you in your place. She's neither married, nor coupled-up, and she isn't a co-worker. She's not too young and she's definitely not too old.

Yeah… So?

So, she defies sorting. So maybe she's perfect.

Yeah… I mean, NO! No! She's…just…she's group number four!

Group number four? With just the one member? Just Bella?

If you'll excuse me, I'm going to continue reading now.

The volatile young man wasn't just barefoot, he was bare from the waist up, and very nearly bare from the waist down. The silky pants he wore did absolutely nothing to hide his aroused state. His pants may as well have been transparent, for what they didn't manage to conceal.

Okay, I'll admit it, it's hard to hide that thing, erect or otherwise. But I wasn't naked, I'm not a flasher, and I wasn't being a perv on purpose. I can't help it if my brain was too preoccupied to keep up with my joystick.

I was at a complete loss, never having been in any situation remotely like this.

I was at a loss as well. I don't make a habit of running around in my pajamas, having…uh… pointed...conversations with strangers.

The combination of shouting voice and nasty tirade, feral beauty and obvious erection, and the cacophony of grating alarm sounds, all shocked and mortified me and put me on edge like nothing I had ever experienced before.

Edward sat back, closing his eyes, massaging his temples with the fingers of one hand.

I know… I wish I could take back my nasty tirade at the very least. That was horrendous.

After a moment, Edward sighed and continued the torture.

My intense blush only served to further embarrass me, yet somehow I managed to speak, feeling the need to stand up for myself, and yelling to make myself heard.

"Go ahead and give it to me, Bella. I deserved it."

"What do you mean, 'How the hell were you supposed to know I was a girl'?" I only felt more indignant about his aggressive attitude as I spoke. "What the hell is your problem?" I added, for good measure. And then I realized I was staring downward, transfixed by the unexpected and impressive display in his pants.

Uh …thank you? I guess.

I had never seen anything like it!

Wait…

What?

At all?

He frowned.

"She's never seen anything quite like…an erect penis?"

His frown deepened with his growing confusion. She had been blushing like crazy, after all.

"Is she serious?"

He re-read her words, finally deciding she'd probably meant the whole surreal situation…a raving lunatic, running around the neighborhood in his jammies, spewing profanity and sporting lumber.

That shit certainly doesn't happen every day.

Thank God…you'd be slapped with a public indecency charge. And your parents raised you better than that.

I realized how inappropriate it was, to be staring at that most private part of him, so I forced myself to look upward and gaze unflinching, though blushing, into the eyes of my antagonist.

You were antagonistic and...cocky...literally...to the poor girl. And admit it...you were enjoying her embarrassment.

She'd been staring at my cock! I figured she was about to continue her tirade or make a suggestive or crude comment!

But she didn't.

No…any of the other women I've known would have made a salacious comment. They certainly wouldn't have blushed like they'd never seen something like that before. They've seen it all before.

She's not like the others.

No. She has an intriguing, demure quality about her. But she can also be feisty. And funny. And she never does what I expect, certainly. She's very hard to read.

Well, now you're reading her. Maybe you'll gain some insight.

His flashing green eyes changed, though only slightly and fleetingly, but I had seen it. The blaze of anger had flickered, just for a second, to a softer uncertainty. And then the blaze returned, recharged.

Her obvious distress confused me. I've been told off before, but no irate woman has ever blushed at me like that before. And for a moment I felt bad for her…I realized I'd misjudged her. And then I felt embarrassed and angry with myself…and got even more wound up and defensive...and took it all out on her.

He began yelling again but my attention flitted to a window across the street, catching a movement. A woman, wrapped in a sheet, stood glaring down at us. She had ivory skin and flowing fiery hair, and was obviously awaiting his return. I suddenly understood the reason for his arousal and anger at my interruption, though it had been purely unintentional.

"Oh, for God's sake! I wasn't still aroused because of her! I was aroused because of…!" Edward clamped his mouth shut. He sat there wide-eyed and frozen.

A moment later he stood, picked up his coffee cup, walked into the kitchen and dumped the remainder of the coffee into the sink. Then he opened a cabinet, took down a hefty, cut-crystal glass, reached into the pantry, pulled out the Maker's Mark bourbon, and poured himself a shot. Maybe a little more.

He stood in the kitchen, leaning against the granite countertop, looking at the amber liquid as he swirled it in the sparkling glass.

Courage in a glass, Cullen? You afraid of something?

Edward rolled his eyes as he lifted the glass to his lips, catching the scents of caramel and vanilla, before the smoky sweetness caressed his tongue.

After a few moments, he pulled himself together and returned to the couch and to his reading.

"What's my problem?" the young man spat. "Your car is my problem! Shut the goddamned alarm off!"

"Do you think I did this intentionally?" I shouted back, appalled, as I began fiddling with the little magnetic box, trying to get to the spare key.

"I don't know what the hell you were thinking!" he bellowed.

My eyes shot back up at him, the spare key momentarily forgotten.

"My key is locked in the damn car! I can't shut it off. You think I like listening to this annoying alarm anymore than you do? You think I like standing here while you yell at me? You're a jerk! You're a… You're a…"

Inspiration struck. All this time I'd been wearing that baseball cap. A silly gag-gift with the word "Asshole" on the front.

Oh my god. Tell me she didn't. Please tell me she didn't.

Edward cringed, knowing without a doubt, where this was headed. But he couldn't turn away and he couldn't not read. Her words were a tractor beam, sucking him into a parallel, fan fictional version of this universe.

That cap, with my hair tucked inside, was probably the reason he had been surprised to discover I was a girl. As if yelling epithets at a complete stranger would have been somehow acceptable if I'd been a male. But obviously it hadn't mattered that I was a woman, because he hadn't stopped to apologize.

Edward grimaced. He hadn't apologized until Monday.

I pulled the cap off my head, and for an instant thought to hit him with it…

Fuck. My. Life. She's going to do it.

…but for some unknown reason, I chose instead to hang it on his still erect, still prominent, and still offending member.

"My...offending member?" Edward's brows knitted in a frown as he looked at the phrase. His cock had gone from impressive to offensive in no time at all.

"You're an asshole!" I snapped, feeling victorious for an instant.

"I am. I was. We both know this."

But I was mortified that I'd stooped to his level, swearing at him. I was even more horrified and embarrassed at what I'd done with the hat, invading his most private, personal space, hanging a hat on his arousal, as if I had any business touching him there.

Edward groaned as an electric little shiver ran through his body. But it dissipated quickly as he took a drink of his bourbon, hoping it would help the situation.

You didn't stoop to my level; I dragged you right down there.

I wanted to disappear and I wanted him to disappear.

Glancing up, I saw his disbelieving eyes were just as wide, just as shocked, as my own.

"I can't believe you hung your hat on my…"

"Neither can I!" I interrupted, before he could choose a word that would surely make me curl up and die.

"Dick" wouldn't have killed you, but you would have blushed. Or fainted, possibly.

"I'm sorry I disturbed your morning! Obviously you were busy with…that...!" I pointed toward the hat, "...And her!" I gestured toward the now-empty window across the way.

He just looked at me, his mouth gaping.

The heat from my blush was overpowering. The whole situation was too much. I finally fled for the cover of my house, dropping the key box and leaving my belongings behind on the ground. I didn't even care that the car alarm had yet to be silenced. I just wanted nothing more than to disappear from his sight.

And I didn't know what I was supposed to do. Chase you and apologize? I was too humiliated by my own reactions and actions. Besides, you weren't going to answer that door. You didn't want to see me again.

But of course I saw him again.

Edward snorted. They'd seen each other every single day except Tuesday.

I had been sitting on the floor, inside the front entry, when the alarm finally quieted. Perhaps the battery had died, putting all of us out of our misery. Moving into the shadows of the living room, I watched as he made his way back across the street. It was slow going, and the road appeared quite rough on his bare feet, but whatever pain was inflicted seemed justified.

She was watching me! I knew it! I felt her eyes on my back!

Edward shook his head. And then he burst into a manic little laugh, because, really, it was all just so very laughable and far-fetched. It was a hideous cosmic prank, far superior to anything even Emmett McCarty could envision.

But his laughter died in his throat as he began reading what followed.

The front door across the way opened and the beautiful fiery-haired woman appeared. Slamming the door, she stomped off, teetering along on very high heels that matched her slinky dress and little purse. Clearly this had been a one-night-stand.

I know… I know... The redhead deserved better. They all deserved better, whether they knew it or not.

I moved closer to the window...and I just couldn't help myself... I opened it, curious to watch and listen.

Watching and eavesdropping, as well. Why am I not surprised?

He called out to her, midway across the street, and she whirled on him angrily when he couldn't remember her name.

I know... Such a douche. I've already figured that out. My whole modus operandi was falling apart at the seams and you got to witness that.

Edward sipped his bourbon and continued reading.

Some higher power, maybe it was Karma, now decided to ruin his morning just a little more. I watched as he went to his front door. Unable to open it, he began pounding on it, yelling, swearing, and waving his arms. He kicked it with his bare foot, and then grabbed that foot, probably regretting his action.

It must have been like watching a cartoon.

I watched as he crept through thorny rose bushes to a front window. But the window was locked. He gazed upwards, but the second floor was too high. Finally, he circled around to the back of his house, doubtlessly looking for a way in.

I stole back out to my car then, surprised to find my spare key, bag and box I'd unloaded earlier, and "Asshole" hat, all sitting neatly on the front seat. Gathering my things into my arms, I returned to my house to put them away inside. About to make a second trip to my car, I gasped and nearly fainted. Standing in the doorway was the same angry and beautiful young man. And he was clearly furious.

His perfect body was covered in cuts and scrapes, his pants torn, his feet muddy, and a toe bloody. He was a wild and injured animal, dark and dangerous and breathing hard. He seemed tense and coiled, ready to charge.

Jeez…you're making me sound like a blood-thirsty predator.

Of course I was furious. I'd been an idiot, the Fates had gotten their kicks, and the only person I knew who had a ladder was you. There's nothing like returning to the scene of your crime, wearing the evidence of your total idiocy in the scratches and scrapes on your body. You must have been laughing at me on the inside. And the thought of that just pissed me the hell off even more.

"What happened to you?" I asked warily.

His voice was tight and low as he growled his response.

I growl? I don't growl! Again with the blood-thirsty predator references.

"You happened to me. You and your damned car happened to me!" His words spilled out in an angry torrent. "You drove in here, disturbing the peace, turning my morning from good, to bad, to worse, to an absolute nightmare from hell!"

Edward couldn't believe he'd tried to blame her. And then he recalled her quiet comment. Though she hadn't included it, he remembered it vividly.

"That's quite the hyperbole," he quoted out loud. And then he laughed out loud. Who reacts like that, when faced with a stranger going ballistic in their face? She was something else. A constant surprise out of left field. And her mind just didn't work like anyone else's Edward had ever known.

I was stunned. Clearly he hadn't been able to get into his house and he had only succeeded in injuring himself. But was he blaming me for that as well?

"I need your ladder," he barked. "It's in your garage. The previous residents left it behind. I need it. Now." Without another word he turned and stalked off to the garage.

Nice manners, Cullen.

I went through the interior, opening the garage door for him, wondering what would have become of me, if I had refused. As the door lifted, I looked at him, standing in the sunlight, seething. He was a beautiful feral beast.

Snatching up the ladder, he stalked from the garage, his back muscles flexing and contracting sinuously.

"Don't shut the door," he commanded over his shoulder.

How can she stand me? I was a complete dick to her.

You were a dick with a dick to her.

I'm well aware. You don't need to remind me.

I returned to my car and brought a few more things into my home. Inside, I picked up the "Asshole" hat, realizing it should be returned to the glove compartment of my car.

But as I stepped outside once again, I saw him returning. I paused with the hat in my hand as he neared my house, his muscled chest rising and falling from his exertions. He glared as he entered the garage to replace the ladder. And then he turned to leave without another word. No thank you, apology, introduction, or pleasantry. Not one word of common decency.

I thought if I kept my mouth shut I'd avoid saying anything else asinine. Shit... My mother would slap me silly if she knew what a complete bastard I'd been to a girl I didn't even know. She and Dad raised me better than that.

I was stunned. But then I was moved to action. I threw the hat at his retreating figure, hitting him soundly between the shoulder blades.

Edward smiled as he thought about those quick little footsteps he'd heard behind him, as she'd charged with her wind-up. He would give anything to see a video replay of that. And he would high-five her now for her actions.

As he turned and gaped at me in surprise, I let my anger take over.

"If the hat fits, wear it, Asshole!" And with that, I shut the garage door, leaving the ass to his hat.

That was a defining moment, though Edward had never acknowledged it. But the image remained clearly in his mind's eye.

She'd been absolutely stunning in her fury, when he'd looked back at her in surprise. Her breasts, rising and falling as she took deep, angry breaths...dark eyes blazing...cheeks flushed...and wild locks of untamed hair framing her lovely but incensed heart-shaped face. She'd snapped at him, putting him in his place with one brief sentence, and then she'd whirled about and stalked back into her home, closing the door on him and that whole exchange.

She was glorious.

And clever.

And confounding.

He'd stood on her driveway for a few long minutes, baffled by the shit storm he'd created for no good reason. He'd always prided himself on being intelligent and in control, and yet she'd made him come unglued like he'd never done before.

Later that afternoon, standing in my front yard as I took delivery of some furniture, I saw the garage door open across the street. The same young man appeared, looking calmer now and freshly showered in clean clothes. I didn't want to appear interested after this morning's fiasco, so I ignored him.

A small smile crept across Edward's lips. "Oh, come on, you know you want to spy on me, Bella."

Ignoring him became impossible moments later when his car's engine roared to life. I refused to turn my head, but when I heard the revving engine closer, in the street, I knew he was challenging me and waiting for me to turn and look. So I did.

Edward chuckled low in his throat. "Made you look, Bella."

The black convertible sports car was like him…sleek and seductive and ominous.

Ominous? Sleek and seductive don't sound too bad, but ominous? Surely you no longer think I'm ominous? I brought you home safely tonight, and delivered you soundly, though intoxicated, right to your doorstep.

He sat behind the wheel in his dark sunglasses, collected and cocky, and revving the engine once more.

Edward scratched his jaw.

Yeah, unfortunately "collected and cocky" have become second nature, though you do have a tendency to knock the collected and cocky right the hell out of me.

His mouth lifted fractionally into a crooked little grin, and as I watched, he pulled the "Asshole" hat defiantly onto his head.

I figured I'd own it. You were right, after all.

His smirk intensified as he saluted me with two long, graceful fingers.

"You deserved that salute after what I put you through. And your surprised, indignant expression was priceless, I must admit. And like the idiot I am, I was off to buy you a "Bitch" hat."

Edward groaned. He could hardly wait to read about that episode.

Somewhere in all that, there was a little bit of humor, but I'm not sure you saw it and I can't say I blame you.

As the car roared away I felt certain of three things. First, my neighbor seemed to be quite the beautiful asshole. Second, there was a part of him—and I didn't know how dominant that part might be—that seemed to enjoy being a beautiful asshole. And third, after glancing at his license plate, I knew the beautiful asshole's name was ETHAN C.

Or E. Cullen, Asshole-at-large.

A/N: So there you have it…an unlikely first encounter for Stella and Ethan. Thanks for reading! –bellybeans

What?

"Where's the rest?" Edward asked aloud.

He looked at the screen in confusion. He had reached the bottom of the page and there was nothing more. He scrolled back to the top, remembering this was chapter one. But where was the next chapter? How did the story continue in her eyes? That was the important thing to find out, after all. She had written about Saturday, but what about Sunday, Monday and the rest of the week?

Edward returned to the previous page, listing Bella's stories and their banners. Above each banner was the story title and a tally of reviews. Beneath the banners were the summaries. Edward looked more closely at what followed the summary for From Hate to Heat. Next to the word, "Chapters" appeared a 1, and next to the word "Complete" was the word "No." Beneath that, were a "published" date and an "updated" date, and they both read "August 31st."

That was three days ago…the day I returned from Chicago. She wrote a story about me after just five days?

No, she wrote a story about you after that initial morning. Obviously that was all the inspiration she could handle.

"So that was it? That's all there is until she posts a new chapter?" he asked his laptop, but it remained mute.

He scrolled down, looking at the banners and reading the summaries and stats for a few of her other stories, wondering if any of them were based on unsuspecting previous neighbors or friends. Maybe there was a Jake story in there, but who knew?

Edward decided he could come back and read them at another time. He yawned and glanced at the clock. It was 2:30 in the morning. Polishing off the rest of his bourbon, he sat with his feet propped up on the ottoman, one elbow leaning against a couch armrest, as he cradled his forehead in his hand, massaging his temples with his fingertips.

It was hard to decide exactly how he felt about all this. He wasn't angry like he had been at the outset. Then again, he wasn't too happy readers were out there reading about his rude and thoughtless antics. Not to mention his dick. He tried to focus on the fact that she had written this chapter a few days ago, and they had managed to take a few faltering steps towards friendship since then.

It was clear now, why she'd said the website was confidential. And in her defense, she had only related what had happened. He couldn't be offended with her for doing that. She'd interjected her feelings, but they had been justified given the circumstances, and he'd actually learned quite a bit about her background-assuming that had been as factual as what had followed. She hadn't used their real names, and even the license plate wasn't incriminating; lots of people had personalized plates.

Edward knew inspiration had to come from somewhere, and it was a fact writers did best, writing what they knew firsthand or had researched thoroughly. Of course Bella knew this situation and had dealt with his lunacy firsthand. And the truth of the matter was, the circumstances were so bizarre they would catch a reader's interest, so Bella was no dummy, choosing to write about it.

Out of curiosity, Edward scrolled back to the top of the banner and clicked on the link to read some of Bella's reviews. There were thirty-two total. After reading about a dozen of them, the consensus was clear: Ethan had been a colossal ass, Stella's hat trick was awesome, and the readers couldn't wait for more.

Fan-fucking-fiction-tastic. Too bad you can't edit real life and delete a few scenes.

Agreed.

The comments were largely positive about Bella's writing, though a few reviewers offered their thoughts as to how the plot might proceed or what the'd like to see happen between the characters. You would never get such detailed feedback if you'd published a completed novel, Edward thought, and of course storyline suggestions would be moot. But he guessed the immediate per-chapter feedback was part of the lure of writing fanfiction. Per-chapter reviews were a good way to take the readers' pulse on what had been written, positive comments would keep a writer fired-up to continue, and reader suggestions and ideas might even help steer the course of the story a bit.

Maybe that's why she's writing about her real life adventures, Cullen. Maybe she's hoping her reviewers can help steer the course of her actions.

Edward blinked, turning that last thought over in his mind. He lifted a hand to scratch thoughtfully at his slightly scruffy chin and jaw. And then he sat up, dropping his feet to the floor. He leaned forward, setting his empty glass on the ottoman's tray, and then ran his fingers through his wild hair, raking it back off his forehead.

Sitting up straight and centering his laptop squarely on his lap, Edward returned to chapter one of From Hate to Heat, scrolled to the bottom of the page, dragged the cursor to the "Review" button, and clicked.

A/N: Sorry for the repetition, but I wasn't sure how else to do the read-along. ;)