I do not own Twilight.

Thank you all so much for the reviews. I am honestly stunned that so many people are liking this out of place, out of order story and that so many people are finding it interesting enough to review! God, it makes my day, getting those notifications.

Freshmen Year, College

Second semester of freshman year is infinitely harder than the first.

Sure, the first is coupled with moving into a dormitory, being away from home for the first real time, and finding out how to live on your own, but the second semester…it's rough. Classes pick up; you start thinking of college as less of a get-away away from home and more as a gateway to the beginning of your adult life.

I had always wanted to go into English literature as a major, but here I am, in the beginning of second semester, weighing the pros and cons of a Psychology degree. Sure, I can always double major, but I am beginning to think…is literature enough? Will it give me a sturdy enough career? Something to rely on?

My mother doesn't seem to think so.

She had refused to put any money into my college for anything less than a science degree, so the thought of her only daughter, her only child, picking up an English major was unheard of.

She had tried to bribe me away from it; she had promised to pay half of my tuition if I chose Biology, or Chemistry, or even Physics, but I was hard-set on English. I loved English literature; I was good at literature. I was horrible in science courses, even worse in math. There was no way I would be able to keep up grades, or be happy, in such a field, but my mother insisted.

Which was why Charlie had reluctantly—reluctantly, because he had wanted to put money into my college no matter what major I chose—cosigned on a loan for me.

My mother wouldn't even do that, and she was irritated for weeks at Charlie for "giving in."

Charlie didn't see it that way. He lived by the "do what you like, like what you do," motto and was hellbent on allowing me to do just that, though he kept his actual support a secret from my mother. She is a hard woman to please. We all know that.

Especially Edward.

He is my rock when it comes to my mother, more so than Charlie. Where Charlie is apt to keep the peace, to agree with both parties and attempt civility, Edward has always, wholeheartedly, been on my side. Even when he thinks I am wrong.

I roll my hand deeper into the sleeve of Edward's baseball hoodie that I am wearing, the one that has CULLEN stamped across the back in bold, block letters and press the cuff to my nose, inhaling his unique, water and lavender scent. Maybe it's natural, maybe it's his detergent, but it's always been him, and I love it. When I wear it, I feel like he is here, and not hundreds of miles away in Montana.

I have half a mind to call him, but I know what he will say: do what you think you should do; do whatever will make you happy.

I had listened to him last year, and applied for the English major at U-Dub and I, likewise, had talked him into the full-ride scholarship he had received at MSU for baseball. He had been hellbent on staying with me, but it was foolish. Why give up a full-ride to a school he had liked? Insane.

"You know, Montana has a School of Journalism," he had said one morning, one eyebrow arched as though it would persuade me to cough up the thousands of dollars to attend an out-of-state school.

I had merely rolled my eyes and then kissed him to soften the blow when his face fell.

It was different for Edward and I. My mother could afford to send me away. She just wouldn't unless it was under her terms. Edward could barely afford an in-state school besides the local community college; it's not like his father could sign on a loan for him. This full-ride scholarship meant the world to him and his possible future and I wasn't about to take that from him by begging him to stay in Washington with me and, despite his obvious disdain for our separation, I knew he would never beg me to go to Montana with him.

He talked me into U-Dub. He talked me into this English major, the major I had actually wanted, despite my mother's wishes.

But now, as I sit on my bed, staring at the Psychology & You! pamphlet my mother had given to me after visiting for the weekend, I'm beginning to wonder who I should have listened to.