"Love you? I adore you."

Alice feels her heart tug at the words. She smiles up at the speaker and sees a familiar tall, honey-blond holding her. Jasper lifts her up off the ground suddenly, and she quickly steadies herself by wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Oh! Jazz—" she exclaims, surprised by his playful mood.

Their noses brush.

The golden glow of sunset washing over them fades to a dull grey, and her vision shifts and blurs.

She's in a dim, simply-decorated room. The blinds on the single window are drawn shut. There's an empty bottle of something that smells sharp and alcoholic on the desk.

She looks around, disoriented. This isn't someplace she's seen before.

In the small room, she spots a black backpack, a laptop, and a sliding closet left partly open with some dark-colored, long-sleeved shirts inside. There's an empty translucent orange bottle tipped over on the floor.

Somewhere nearby she can hear someone coughing. Choking. She doesn't turn to look.

BANG!

Alice flinches, awaking violently at the sharp crack of a gunshot ringing out in her dream.

Her room is still dark. She checks her phone on the nightstand and sees that it's only 4:30.

She pulls her comforter closer and tries to calm her rapidly beating heart.

Though she's no stranger to nightmares and bad visions, she had a hard time shaking this one. She should check on Jasper.

"Morning, Jazz!" she types, ending the message with a sunshine emoji and a smiley.

Unable to get back to sleep, she throws a silk dressing robe on over her pajamas and goes downstairs to make a cup of tea.

It's raining outside, and it seems like the weather report of all-day showers and gloom will be accurate.

She grabs a mug from the cupboard and her phone buzzes.

That was a quicker response than she anticipated. He's awake early. Or late.

"Good morning," it reads.

The electric water kettle bubbles as she types back a message. "When is your last final? Do you want to go to Whistler with us over break?"

The kettle shuts off with a snap and she pours the boiling water into her cup. She plucks out a sachet of Earl Grey from the tea canister and drops it in the water before taking a seat at the kitchen island.

If she was going to be up this early on a Sunday, she might as well catch a yoga class. She pulls up a schedule for the studio a few blocks away to see if they have an early bird vinyasa she can drop into.

Alice hears a door open and footsteps coming down the stairs. Edward's messy reddish hair makes an appearance, accompanied by his usual, bland, I-just-woke-up face.

"I was hoping you made coffee," he says disappointedly when he sees her tea.

"Nope! Better luck next time."

He rolls his eyes and grabs the French press out of the cupboard. "Is there a reason why you're awake now? Or have you decided that being a socially acceptable, six-o'-clock morning person just isn't enough?"

"I'm going to a yoga class in a half-hour," she says, showing him the studio schedule on her phone screen. It buzzes.

"Your dealer's texting you."

Alice ignores his rude jab and reads the message from Jasper that says his finals are over on Tuesday and that he'll join the ski trip.

"Hey, should I start tonight's podcast with 'Friday I'm In Love' by The Cure or 'Drops of Jupiter' by Train?" asks Edward. "I need to prerecord it because I have a date with Bella tonight, and I can't decide."

"Ooh, fun. Hm...I'm more of a 'Vie en Rose' kind of girl myself."

"Yeah, I'm not playing that," he rejects as he pours freshly brewed coffee into a cup. "I'll ask Emmett."

She laughs. "He's going to suggest 'Careless Whisper."

"Ugh, no thanks."

...

"Careful! Don't hit the doorframe! On your left, Emmett!" Rosalie shouts. "No! Jasper!"

Emmett sidesteps, letting them clear the doorframe by a hair, as he helps get Rosalie's piano up to her new, seventh-floor apartment.

Peter looks like he wants to die. Jasper looks like he already has died and was resuscitated with copious amounts of black coffee. Emmett, however, is doing just fine.

"I don't think it's going to fit in the elevator," Rosalie says, accessing the piano and their only realistic way up to the top of the building.

"It's going to have to fit," Jasper replies tiredly. "We're not carrying it up the stairs."

Emmett presses the button to summon the elevator. "It'll fit, but we won't all fit with it."

"Fine. Jazz, come on," Rosalie says, getting into the lift. "We'll see you guys up there."

"I swear to god, her screaming is going to give me post-traumatic stress," Peter says under his breath. Jasper stifles a laugh as the doors slide shut.

"How'd you get roped into helping her?" Peter asks, pressing the button to call the elevator back down for them.

Emmett shrugs. "I volunteered. She saved my life and it's the least I could do. I'm trying to woo her. She's, like, super hot."

"You poor, poor soul," Peter says, shaking his head with a light-hearted smile. "I'm helping because Char's tired of all the hot water getting used up."

Emmett remembers the short blond girl from the Halloween party jumping around and singing along to the music. She's wild.

"How long have you and Char been dating?" Emmett asks.

"We just had our third anniversary."

The elevator opens and the two roll the instrument into the cramped space with the help of a drastically undersized dolly cart. Emmett can just barely squeeze by and press the button for the top floor.

Jasper is waiting on the other side of the door as soon as it opens.

Getting the piano into the elevator was a lot easier than getting it out. It takes several minutes of tugging, shoving, and cussing before the trio gets the piano to its final destination in Rosalie's living room.

"Okay, piano's in!" Jasper calls out, prompting Rosalie to pause unpacking a box in the kitchen to see the results of their toil.

"It's on the wrong side. I want it over there," she says, pointing to the opposite end of the space. "I don't want the neighbors complaining about noise, so it should be against my bedroom wall."

Peter laughs. "Easy for you to say when you're not the one moving it."

Rosalie holds up her hands demonstratively. "I just got my nails done and I'm not ruining them."

"Hey, do these windows open?" Peter motions to the large glass panes framing a view of the waterfront. He mimes jumping out.

Emmett snorts and Jasper sighs defeatedly.

"Just move it. Please," Rosalie says with an eye roll.

After a couple of hours going back and forth between the moving truck and the apartment—as well as a short pizza break, courtesy of Rosalie—they finish carrying in the entirety of her moving boxes as well as a full set of bedroom and living room furniture.

Peter looks down at his phone, "It's almost six, we should go return the truck and meet Charlotte."

"Yeah. Do you wanna come with, Emmett?" asks Jasper. "We're going to Cap Hill."

"Um..." Emmett looks around at the stacks of cardboard and misplaced furniture. "Yeah, unless Rose needs help moving stuff around some more."

"I'll be fine, go ahead and go," Rosalie says, waving him off. "Thanks for the help, guys. I can handle the rest from here."

"But you just got your nails done. You might need me," he teases.

She smiles, one of her arched brows raising up at his quick reply. "Fine, if you want to move more furniture around, be my guest."

...

"Was dinner alright?" Edward asks as he drives Bella back to her apartment.

She nods. "Yeah, it was really good. I've never had lobster before. It's very...buttery."

"I'm glad. It's one of my favorite restaurants," he smiles. "I thought you might like it."

He spent the past two hours eating seafood by candlelight, talking, and holding hands across the table with his beautiful date. Now their lovely evening on the waterfront is coming to a close. It's past eight, and he has to drive Bella home soon.

He plays "Clair de Lune" over the sound system as they travel towards Eastlake.

"Oh! Is this Debussy?" Bella recognizes the tune.

"Yes, you know him?"

"I listen to classical sometimes when I study."

"I love this song. I listen to it all the time," he says enthusiastically.

She has excellent taste in music. He would expect nothing less from her. She's somehow everything he loves wrapped up into one human being.

All too soon, they arrive at her apartment. He wishes that the drive was longer.

"You can come up, if you want," Bella says when the car rolls to a stop.

He can come up if he wants. He can come up and see Bella's apartment.

"Oh, I wouldn't want to impose," he says politely.

"Come up. There's free street parking right now. I want to show you where I live."

"If you insist..."

Edward parks the Aston Martin along the curb and gets out of the car. He drove the sportier vehicle specifically to mark the special occasion. It's their one-month anniversary since they've officially begun dating.

Bella's wearing a pretty dark blue top with a flowy, ivory skirt that swishes as she walks up to the front of the building.

"You don't have a doorman?" he asks, seeing that there's just an empty hallway with mailboxes lining one side.

"No, it's not that fancy," she replies.

That's a bit concerning. It doesn't seem like a good idea for three girls to live alone in the city with such lax security measures in place. "Is it safe?"

"I haven't had any trouble with it yet, so I assume so."

He follows her up the steps, not convinced, and silently notes the lack of an elevator. She has to walk up three flights of stairs every day. It's healthy, he supposes.

Bella gets to an apartment with an unassuming grey door and unlocks it with a key attached to her university lanyard.

Her roommates are sitting on the couch watching TV and eating popcorn. They wave when the couple comes in.

"Welcome home, Bella," says Angela.

"Hi, Edward," greets Jessica.

He nods and gives a wave back. "Hello."

The apartment isn't particularly well-decorated or large, but it has personality. There's a mishmash of different furniture styles, clutter, and decorations that each girl has picked out seemingly at random.

Bella sets her keys down on the kitchen counter and grabs his hand. Her fingers are chilly from being outside.

"My room's over here," she says, pulling him toward a door in the hall just off the living room.

There's a sizable stack of novels crowding the top of her nightstand and around her desk. A cactus sits propped on the window ledge. She has some pictures pinned up on her walls of friends and family. Edward's in a few of them.

The space smells distinctly of Bella. Clean, light, and somewhat sweet like an early spring flower.

"This is where I sleep," she says. "Not as cool as your room, but it works."

"No, it's charming," he assures her, unable to contain his smile. This is where she stays when she isn't with him. He feels like he understands her better somehow. "And you have a view of the trees. That's not bad at all."

Bella yawns. He notices her eyes have dark circles under them. She must be exhausted.

"Getting tired?" he asks.

"A little. I got up early this morning."

"So did I. It's pretty late, I should get going soon so you can sleep."

She grabs his hands and pulls him towards her, leaning up for a kiss. He obliges.

"Will you stay?" she asks.

"Stay?" he echoes.

"The night. I don't want you to go yet."

He looks at the queen-sized bed in the corner and at Bella once more.

Does he trust himself to stay the night with her?

The temptation to do more than just kiss will only be stronger if they're lying side-by-side in a bed together. Especially after what happened the other night.

His heart hurts at the thought of leaving her, though.

"I didn't bring anything else to wear. I don't think a button-down and jeans is very good sleepwear," he half-heartedly laments.

She shrugs. "Then take them off."

That would be a very bad idea.

The phrase instantly brings to mind the question of what Bella would look like without clothing. He feels like the room just rose in temperature ten degrees.

"I might have an old pair of sweats that will fit you," she says finally. "One sec, let me look."

She roots around in her closet for a minute before procuring a pair of what looks like baggy grey sweats. Do those really fit her? It doesn't seem so.

"I wear them to sleep sometimes. I'll be back, I'm going to go brush my teeth," she says, leaving the room.

He can't leave now. He has to stay the night. He has no excuses.

Edward gets changed and sets his things folded on the desk chair. Sitting down on the bed, he can hear the faint sound of cars passing on the street outside. The sound insulation on her single-pane window isn't great.

His palms won't stop sweating as he wonders what she'll be wearing to bed.

Bella returns in an oversized tee-shirt and shorts. Her hair is tied up in a messy bun.

Casual and sweet. He can handle casual and sweet.

She shuts the door and looks at him approvingly. "Can I turn off the light?"

"Go ahead."

They're in darkness.

He feels her climb onto the bed and get under the blankets. She flips up the covers and motions for him to get in, too.

He sidles up next to her. She feels chilly against his overheated skin.

"This is nice," she says, cuddling into his chest.

Edward wraps his arms around her and tries to ignore how all the blood in his body is seemingly rushing to his lower half at the simple contact.

...

Emmett slides the cream-colored couch over to its proper place in the center of the room, directly in front of the spot where the flatscreen TV will be mounted onto the wall above. He nudges the glass coffee table over slightly, so it's evenly spaced between the two.

Rosalie tosses a throw pillow from one of the boxes over to him. "Here, catch!"

He grabs the pillow easily as it flies toward his chest and sets it down on the sofa.

They spent the past hour chipping away at the leftover case of Heineken from lunch and getting Rosalie's living room squared away.

She found her BlueTooth speaker, so they have a playlist of top hits on shuffle going to keep them entertained. With company like her, though, he can't say he'd ever get bored.

"Where's your bed going?" he asks, motioning to the headboard, frame, and mattress leaning against the wall in the hallway as he grabs his drink and takes a swig.

"Centered on the back wall, maybe." Rosalie walks over into the other room to verify her decision, taking a sip of her beer too as she looks at the space contemplatively. "Yeah, and then the vanity can go in the corner by the windows."

"Cool," Emmett says agreeably.

She helps him carry the larger pieces into the room and digs around in some boxes to find a set of folded-up sheets. She throws them on the bed while he brings in two wooden nightstands.

"I got this side," he offers, grabbing the other end of the fitted sheet and helping her make up the bed. "You have a great view."

He motions to the window and she nods.

"That's why I chose this apartment. I like being able to see the water."

"How was your old place? Not Jazz's, the one back in New York."

"I had a loft in downtown Rochester. It was within walking distance of my work. Not the best view, but also not the worst. My parents lived fifteen minutes away."

"Doesn't sound bad at all."

"This apartment's nicer," she says, grabbing a white comforter out of the box and tossing the opposite end to him. They smooth out the bedding and she tosses a couple of pillows to the head of the bed. She grabs her drink off its spot on the nightstand and walks over to look out at the blackened sky. "It gets dark so early here."

"That's Seattle for you. It'll make up for it in the summer, though, when sunset isn't until after nine."

"I guess so." Out of habit, she fusses with her hair in the reflection of the window before closing the blinds. "God, I look gross."

"You? Gross? Never. I think the term you're looking for is drop-dead gorgeous." She's a complete and total bombshell.

"My hair air-dried and I'm wearing leggings and an old tee shirt. Quit your bullshit."

He laughs. "It's true! You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. I wasn't exaggerating when I said I thought I'd died and gone to heaven."

Her mouth twitches into a smile. "You're quite persistent with the flattery."

"I'm just being honest and shooting my shot here."

She shakes her head and finishes off her drink. "You're full of it."

"If by 'full of it' you mean smitten, then sure."

It seems he's winning her over little by little because she's walked over to stand in front of him with an amused gaze.

He flashes his pearly whites at her, flirting like his life depends on it. He really wants her to like him.

She rests a hand against his chest and leans in. Emmett happily stoops down to meet her lips.

Rosalie is as soft, sweet, and tender as the rose she's named after.

"You're a great kisser," he compliments.

She nods and kisses him again with a sound of contentment. "You're not bad either."

Their kissing grows heated, less careful, more urgent as their tongues tangle.

Emmett picks her up off the ground and sets her down on the bed they just made. Her legs wrap around his waist as he settles in between her thighs.

There's no doubt in his mind that he's getting lucky tonight.

His hands slide her shirt up, caressing her curves as they continue their exploration of each other lying down. Rosalie's sounds becoming progressively breathier. Needier.

"Say it again," she murmurs as he kisses her neck.

His hands roam over her soft skin. He loves how her body feels. "What? You're a great kisser?"

"No, the other thing," she says and her nails skim over his scalp. It feels amazing. She's amazing.

"I'm smitten? Or that you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen?" he asks smoothly, helping her out of her top before kissing down her chest.

"Mhm, both."

"You're an absolute angel, Rosalie. You're perfect."