AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Thanks so much to everyone who's followed and favorited this story, and to anyone who's new here today! I appreciate the reviews and support so much! Let's get on with things then, shall we?

– SHOW ME YOUR TATS –

CHAPTER 2

The instant I arrive home, I toss my bag aside and pull out my phone to call in a favor.

"S'up, bro?" Edward answers on the second ring.

Now, Eddie and I go all the way back to a time I can barely remember, and normally I'd be game for some chitchat and shit. This is important, though, so I waste zero time on formalities. "Hey man, I have a question."

"Okay, shoot."

"Where do freaky people like you hang out?"

"What?" Edward asks, sounding confused. Ah, fuck. I don't mean my comment to be an insult, and we're tight enough that I think he knows it. The guy's got a look, is all, and in my current state of mind I can't think of any better way to describe him.

"You know, people like you—with your crazy music and all the tattoos and that bar thing you have in your cock."

There's a pause on the other end of the line before Edward speaks again. "How do you know about that?"

I actually roll my eyes at this motherfucker. We're thirty seconds in and he's already wasting my time, but if he's going to play dumb as fuck, too, he might not be any help to me anyway. "You're not exactly discreet at the urinal, man. How could I not know about it?"

"The fuck?!" he says loudly. "You're not supposed to look, Em! It's in the code!"

"Well then don't go whipping your shit out a foot back, asshole! It's like you want all of us to— Fuck, okay shut up about this. I need your help, for real."

Edward sighs and I can just picture him pinching the bridge of his nose like he does. "You're a real fucking piece of work," he mutters, and then says, "Fine. What do you need?"

"I saw this chick and I can't stop thinking about her—" I begin, only Edward snorts.

"Tell me you did not call me for dating advice," he says with a chuckle that makes me want to punch his face in. I mean yeah, whatever, it's fair given my history and reputation, but if he would shut up and just listen, maybe I could get him to see that this is seriously fucking different.

"No, man . . ." I'm actually trying to sound sincere and shit, and it kind of makes my throat ache. "I mean like I saw her. Something deep in her eyes just called to me, and I need to find her again so I can figure out what the fuck it is."

"Damn," Edward replies. "It's like that, huh?"

"Like what?"

"Like your dick let its guard down and now your heart is getting a chance." He's laughing on the other end of the line and I can feel my blood pressure rising with every stupid guffaw his dumb ass makes.

"Look, shithead. Can you help me or not?" I seethe. "I just need some ideas, some places to start looking for her."

"Are you seriously going to fucking stalk this girl?" Edward asks, sounding all judgmental and disapproving. Which again, fine, this is pretty shady behavior, but I don't even give a shit.

"If that's what it takes. You should have seen her, Ed. I mean sure, she was a hot-as-fuck blonde and her tits, oh my god, but she had this fire in her that I can't fucking shake. I need to find her and just . . . I dunno, talk to her."

Edward blows out a gust of air over the phone. "She must be some damn fine thing indeed if she's got you thinking with your other head for once."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever, asshole. Will you help me find her or not? She's all full of tattoos like you are so I thought you might be the best one to ask, but if you're just going to bust my balls all day long then maybe this was a big fucking mistake."

Edward sighs and I can hear him scratching at his beard before he answers. "It's not that I don't want to, man, but if that's all you've got to go on, I honestly think you'd have an easier time finding a needle in a haystack. It's the twenty-first century. Us 'freaky people' don't have an M.O. or necessarily like the same shit. She could be anything from a kindergarten teacher to a piercer or even a lawyer for all we know. She might hang out at coffee shops or record stores or sit in the park knitting. Or she could be a total stereotype, too, but even then, this is Seattle. Needle, haystack."

"Fuck," I groan in frustration. "So where the hell do I start looking then?"

"I dunno, at the source, maybe? When and where did you first see her?"

"This afternoon at my site on Union. She was walking past, heading toward Third, and then she got on the forty going south."

"Huh," Edward says. "That's not a lot to go on."

"I knowww," I whine like the pathetic piece of shit this has turned me into. "That bus goes across the whole damn city, and who even knows where she went when she got off. She could have walked ten blocks or grabbed a cab or gotten picked up by some other freak . . ." The thought makes my blood boil and I have to take a few deep breaths to calm the fuck down.

"Well"—Edward pauses and scratches at his beard some more—"the library's down that way, some restaurants and cafes, at least three tattoo shops that I can think of . . . Maybe just go for a walk, and see where your feet take you?"

I sigh heavily, because really, what the fuck else is there to do? "Yeah, I guess."

"Sorry, bro. I wish I had more to offer, but . . ." He leaves his sentence hanging, but I know what he means. Needle, haystack.

"No worries, buddy," I tell him. "I just gotta do what I gotta do."

"Yup. Listen, no promises, but I'll keep this in mind. Don't count on it or anything, but who knows, something might come up."

Even though he was giving me a hard time earlier, the truth is Edward's a real solid guy. I know that he means what he says, and I appreciate it. "Yeah, thanks man. Look, I gotta go, k? I'll talk to you later."

"Later," Edward says and the line goes dead.

I breathe deep and let the air out slowly, scrubbing a hand over my face to help clear my head. Am I really going to do this? Hunt down some chick like a fucking animal chasing its prey? I'd been feeling so confident just a moment ago, so sure that I just had to find this woman, only now that I've spoken my plans out loud, it sounds completely fucked up, even for me.

Her face drifts through my mind, though, with her blazing eyes and go-straight-to-hell attitude, and that's all I need to remind me that I will never be quite right until I do. There's something about her, more than I've ever seen in a woman before—I just need to know who she is underneath it all.

Nodding in determination as everything falls into place in my head, I finally step out of my boots and make my way to my bedroom. I strip and head for the shower, turning the water on full blast and letting the hot spray soothe some of the tension in my neck. It's not the only ache I have to deal with, though, so with a handful of body wash I grab my solid cock and let the memories of today's ten-second flash guide me toward relief.

Clean, comfy, and somewhat satisfied, I go about the rest of my evening in a daze, cooking and eating, sipping a beer and watching TV, but I can't really concentrate on anything. All I can think about is the mission I'm about to embark on tomorrow, a quest to see if this was love at first sight, and if it really does go more than skin deep.

Eventually I give up and turn in for the night, following her face into my dreams.

ANOTHER QUICK AUTHOR'S NOTE:

If you love Emmett and Rosalie as much as I do, my girl PearlyFox is also posting an Em/R story right now titled "Metamorphic." I've had the pleasure of pre-reading and betaing for it, so I can tell you that it is oh-so good and you don't want to miss out! If you aren't already following that one, run on over there and do it now!

Thanks for reading!

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XO