9

One of my major flaws is my inability to be on time for anything, no matter how hard I try.

My twin brother likes to joke that I'm going to be late to my funeral one day, and he's probably right. Not that I would ever admit that Jasper was right about anything.

My cab stops in front of Rose and Emmett's house, and I can hear country music blaring from the garage where your mud-covered truck is sitting.

I couldn't sleep last night so I baked a bunch of cookies for today. My brain wouldn't shut up, and I obsessed over every little thing, and it's all your fault.

My closet is a mess because I couldn't find the perfect outfit.

I sincerely hope you like peanut butter cookies and short blue jean skirts.

It's been a while since I've had someone to impress. Since I've felt like trying.

I know I'm jumping the gun, but I can't help it.

I walk right through the front door without knocking, and Rosalie comes out of the kitchen covered in what looks like flour.

She glares at the plate in my hands. "Fuck, Bella! Why didn't you tell me you were bringing dessert?"

"Because I didn't know until like one this morning." I hand her the plate. "Whatcha tryin' to make?"

"A dump cobbler and the cake mix exploded when I stabbed it with a knife."

I laugh and help her clean up the mess. She must notice that I glance out the back door a couple dozen times.

"Why don't you take the boys some sweet tea? There's a pitcher in the fridge."

I can't sound too eager. That will just give her ammunition.

"I guess I can do that."

Your smile makes me stop short, and my stomach fills with butterflies.

What are you doing to me, Edward Masen?