Faking It Chapter 2: Elegantly Wasted, a twilight fanfic

I was so focused on getting this thing properly uploaded last night that I didn't enter any introduction or author's note or anything, so I thought I'd do it now.

This is my first fanfic ever. Actually it's the first thing I've written of any kind in years and years. Thanks to anyone who read and reviewed yesterday. It's incredibly validating for me that anyone took the time to stop and read what I wrote. You may have noticed that I uploaded chapter one last night and chapter two this morning, which is pretty quick. That's because I have almost the entire thing written. Since I'm not a regular writer I didn't trust myself to start posting unless I knew I could finish. So I can promise speedy updates and a resolution.

Again, thanks for reading and on to chapter two. It's a little long, but there was no natural place to break it up, plus I wanted Edward to have his moment in this chapter.

And the disclaimer I promised: I don't own Twilight or any of it's characters.

Enjoy and review!

BPOV

"Who the hell did that stylist think she was shopping for when she bought this crap?" Rosalie swore as she flung garments out of my closet and to the side. "This is all terrible."

"Good, it's not just me. I couldn't make sense of any of those clothes." I lay back on the bed and watched Rosalie work. She was already dressed, in a red silk jersey wrap dress that clung to every voluptuous curve she had. Her golden hair curled and swayed gently around her shoulders, reaching the middle of her back. She really was a goddess. There was no one else like her. It was ten at night, but Rose insisted we were right on time, and no one who was anyone would be there any sooner than we were.

Finally she surfaced with a black silk halter dress, "At least it's black. You can do a lot with black. We'll make it all about the shoes and jewelry." I hadn't even had that dress on yet. I shimmied into it and Rose tied the long ties behind my neck. The neckline was modest in front, coming all the way up to the bottom of my throat. But it fell away completely in back, leaving my back bared to just above my ass. I felt ridiculously exposed, but Rose insisted it was perfect.

"Rose, I can't wear a bra with this," I complained. It's not like my girls were particularly large, but the dress was silky and thin. If I got chilled at all, my... situation... would be painfully obvious under the thin fabric.

"Band aids," Rose said decisively. And sure enough, with two strategically placed sheer band aids, everything stayed smooth up front.

She dug a pair of pewter colored strappy high heels out of my closet that I'd also never had on.

"Rose, you know I don't do heels. I'll kill myself."

"You don't do heels on stage, which is different. But for something like this, all you have to do is stand there. You can manage. You're a star now. You have to figure out the heels thing. And if you're really worried, I'll assign Jasper to mind you and prop you up all night."

She found some long, sparkly dark silver dangly earrings which sort of matched the shoes, so I put those on too. Rose curled my long brown hair into fat curls and left them to cascade down my back. It was past mid back now; I hadn't had a cut in ages. I thought about shortening it, but Aro thought the length made me look sweeter, which was of course, good for my image. Rose applied some smoky grey eye shadow for me and a slick of shimmery pale pink lip gloss.

Rose made me twirl in front of her, which I managed to do in my stupid shoes with only a tiny wobble. I was proud of myself. She declared herself satisfied and we called for the car that was scheduled to pick us up. He'd been waiting at the end of the block of course; we were never to be kept waiting long, so in minutes we were off to Geisha. Aro said it was some super cool sushi place and bar in Hollywood. Jasper and Emmett were supposed to meet us there, but when I saw the scrum of cars and all the people in their hot clothes loitering at the velvet rope in front, I wondered how we'd ever find them in this mess.

I got out first, and then Rose slid from the car.

Rose linked her arm through mine and gave me a reassuring squeeze just as a wall of flashes blew up in our faces. The weirdest part was how they all called your name and talked to you like they knew you. In the past, if someone in Seattle had called "Hey, Bella! Over here! How are you?" then it was always someone I actually knew. Now it was just some guy with a camera trying to get a decent picture. You had to just smile and pose and block it all out. Rose was a freaking natural at this. She kept her right arm linked with mine and put her left hand on her hip. She had this way of placing her feet, with one foot a little ahead of the other and her toes pointed out, that made her legs look absolutely amazing. She seemed to strike that pose automatically whenever she saw a camera. She shook her hair down her back and smiled.

We stood there for a while, in the blinding barrage of flashing lights until Rose decided we'd given them enough. She shot a text to Emmett to see where they were. Inside at the back bar came the reply. We made our way to the front of the velvet rope line. For us it was raised with a smile and we were ushered right in. See ya, line suckers.

It was dark, crowded and really loud inside. I prepared to be miserable and wondered how long I reasonably had to stick it out. We fought our way through the crowds, which wasn't so bad when Rosalie took the lead. The oceans parted for her. She looked dismissively from one side to the other, not making eye contact and acknowledging no one. She was loving this role, I realized. It was like she was born for it. For me the fame stuff was kind of crazy, and sometimes it was a pain in the ass, but seeing Rose here now, I couldn't imagine her having spent her whole life in obscurity with us back in Forks or even in semi-obscurity in Seattle. This was where she was always meant to be.

Finally we spotted Jasper and Emmett at the bar, leaning casually against it, surrounded by a scrum of scantily clad girls chatting them up. There was much giggling and hair tossing and eyelash batting. I couldn't believe the way these girls dressed here. If somebody dressed like that back in Forks, everybody would assume they were pretending to be a hooker for Halloween. But here it's just what girls wore to go clubbing. And they were all so beautiful, even the trampy ones. They must spike the water in LA or something. I motioned to the groupies and rolled my eyes dramatically at Rose and she laughed. Emmett, being several inches taller than anyone else around him, spotted us weaving their way and pushed aside several of the near-naked girls like so much driftwood and made a path for us.

"It's our ladies!" he boomed. The faces of the harem fell as they registered our arrival. Step off, bitches. We're just as famous as these two knuckleheads.

Jasper and Em made a little space between them for us so we wouldn't get jostled and Jasper raised a finger to summon the bartender for us. He was there in a flash. I thought back on all the nights we spent playing bars in Seattle, spending the whole damned set break trying to get the attention of the damned bartender, Rose laying her tits on the bar in desperation when all else failed. It looks like we'll never have to wait for drinks again, I thought ruefully.

The harem was eventually infiltrated by a few young hipster guys, angling to get close to me and Rose. For the time being, the decision had been made to keep Rose and Emmett's relationship under wraps. A sex goddess who's practically married just isn't as sexy, after all. So Emmett kept his hands off Rose at the bar. I thought he'd have a problem watching guys make their moves on her, but amazingly, with Rose wrapped into her aloof new sex goddess role, she repelled them all without a word. She kept her chin up, her eyes focused in the middle distance, she responded to questions with brief one word answers and never smiled. She came across as so exotic and untouchable that no guy even tried. Just as Aro predicted, they came at me in droves instead. I was the soft, smiling, real girl.

Jasper and Emmett seemed to be having endless fun watching me field one pathetic suitor after another. I should have just rebuffed them like Rose, but I guess I'm too polite. I felt I had to respond to all their boring inane conversations, no matter how little interest I had. It was exhausting. And I was fed up. I finally slipped away from the other three and stalked off to find the ladies room. I kept my eyes down to discourage anyone from approaching me.

I finally found the ladies room, tucked at the end of a short pitch black hallway (why do they always hide them?) and after a quick visit, I felt like I could manage a little more of this. Then maybe I could beg to go home. As I left the ladies room, I spotted a smaller bar back in this corner. I needed another drink. It was packed, but I hoped my newly minted celebrity would clear a space for me.

It wasn't working. I was facing a wall of tall male backs hemming in the bar and couldn't squeeze in anywhere.

I was scanning the bar in each direction to see if there was a break when a voice, incredibly close to my ear, murmured, "Can I get you something?"

I swallowed a surprised yelp and tried not to think of the shiver I felt at his warm breath on my neck.

"Oh, I was trying to get to the bar," I laughed breathlessly.

"Here, let me," he said, shouldering aside a guy twice his size, and he wasn't small. The guy started to give him shit for it, and then he caught sight of his face and backed down, making room for us. I sidled in next to him and realized that he must be "somebody" to garner that kind of reaction.

He looked over to me and smiled in curiosity. "What?"

"Do I know you?" I blurted. "You look so familiar..."

"I don't think so. I'm James."

"Hi James, Nice to meet you. I'm…."

"You're Bella Swan, from Eclipse," he grinned at me.

"Ah, yes. I am," I replied, blushing slightly, like I did whenever I was recognized. Then the way he cocked his head and squinted his eyes a little as he looked at me made the pieces shake into place. "Oh! You're that guy! From that movie!"

He threw his head back and laughed. "Yes, I'm that guy from that movie. I wonder if that's how I'm listed in i.m.d.b?".

"Sorry I didn't recognize you. Your hair is different…"

"It was long in the movie, not real. This is me," he said, pointing to his short blonde hair, artfully tousled on top.

"Oh…of course. I'm such an idiot. I'm still not used to living in LA. If I see someone that looks familiar, I just assume I know them, or I've met them before. It never occurs to me that this is LA and there are actors here and if someone looks familiar it's probably just because I've seem them on TV…. and I should stop rambling now."

"You're not rambling. You're delightful," he said softly, dropping his voice and leaning closer in to me.

It made me feel ever so slightly uncomfortable, and I was just about to take a step back away from him when another voice interrupted us, this one so low, velvety and rich that I felt my knees get weak at the sound of it.

"So this is what held you up, James."

I turned to look up at the most beautiful face I'd ever seen. And I'd seen it before.

EPOV

Fucking record launch parties. All these stupid LA publicity parties sucked ass, but the record launches were the worst. The perfect storm of vapid actors and self-absorbed pop stars. Either one exclusively was bad enough. Mixed together they made you want to slit your fucking wrists. And Taylor Swift? What the fuck was I doing here? That's right. Not my idea. James wanted to meet here. No doubt he had some fresh hot young piece of ass he was pursuing and she was here somewhere.

I scanned the crowd one more time looking for him, with no luck. It was difficult to look too carefully while at the same time trying to avoid eye contact with everyone else in the room. But I was seriously not in the mood. It felt like every other person in this place was looking for an opening, trying to get close to me, to find a way to start talking to me. And I was alone, clutching a drink. This was bad. When you were as famous as I was, people thought it was strange if you were alone. Famous people always travel in packs, apparently. Pretty soon people were going to think I needed company, and I most definitely did not. I don't care how much you loved my last picture, I do not want to stand around in this dark loud hipster's paradise and listen to you tell me all about your brilliant new project with the role that you're sure I would be perfect for.

Maybe I should just bail. Go for a walk, or a drive. Or go the fuck home and watch TV. Wouldn't that be novel? Hanging out with James was most undoubtedly a bad idea. It always led to trouble. The drunk, high, random-sex-with-strangers kind of trouble. And the one thing I did not need more of at this particular moment in my life was that brand of trouble.

I dragged a hand through my completely unkempt hair and took another deep pull on my beer. How the fuck did I end up here? Not just here at Taylor fucking Swift's record launch party, but here, at this point in my life? It had started great, and seemed to be going so well. And somehow it all just got away from me.

I did some acting in college, and fell in love with it. I had enough positive feedback from my professors that I felt I really wanted to give it a try. Just a year, to see if I could make a go of it. And then if nothing happened, I'd go on to medical school just like Dad hoped I would.

So I moved to New York, crashed on the couch in a friend's apartment and started auditioning. And what do you know, it happened for me. Well, not instantaneously. There were a couple of small roles in small shows at small theatres downtown. I paid for my Spartan existence by waiting tables.

Then came the big one. I landed Hamlet at this tiny avant garde roach-infested theatre on the far west side. And I freaking nailed it. Then the Gods smiled on us and the Times reviewed it. And they raved. About me.

The theatre sold out all 100 seats for every performance of the run in a matter of days. They extended the run. That sold out too. They moved the show to a bigger space and that run sold out. It was the must see show of the season. Because of me. I was touted as the next great talent of my generation. The next Brando. Whatever. What I remember most was the pure exhilaration I felt every night when I finally staggered off the stage after the curtain call. I had spent the last three hours transported, transformed, outside of myself, lost in the language and in the emotion. It was the best high I'd ever felt. And I got to do it every single night. And they paid me to do it. I felt like I'd won the fucking lottery.

Agents came calling, offers came in. I did two other short run shows; both roles brought me more raves. Then came the call from Hollywood. At the time I thought the money would free me up to do more of the roles I really felt passionately about. Because as awesome as Hamlet was and as nice as it was to get a paycheck, it was a pathetically small paycheck, and New York was expensive. Genius roles at tiny theatres were not going to support me. I figured if I did it right, I could do good movies, roles that counted. And it's still acting, I reasoned, just in a different venue.

So less than a year after I moved to New York, I was off to LA and I fell through the looking glass. I did one or two small films, getting my feet wet, getting known. The buzz that started in New York followed me to LA. Everybody wanted me. I was drunk on it.

Then came the movie that changed my life, Darkness Falls, a massive summer action blockbuster. Sure, playing an international hit man taking out terrorists and battling Russian mobsters was a long fucking way from Hamlet, but seriously, you say no to the truckload of money they back up to your house. And if I'm being completely honest, that shit was fun. I was 22, hot as hell (yes, I am aware of it), and living in a real life 12 year old boy's fantasy, complete with big guns, fast cars, hot chicks and massive explosions. For a while it seemed like life couldn't get any better.

There was the inevitable Darkness Falls sequel, and I learned terms like movie franchise. There were other big roles in other big movies. I said yes to them all. I was having a fucking blast. This whole town lay down and opened her legs for me and I dove right in. I was out every night, drinking, partying. I didn't even have to try with women. I looked and she was mine. It was stupid how easy it was. It was stupid how easy everything was.

But after so many late night raves and five a.m. calls, something's got to give. I started showing up late to the set, and sometimes not at all. People put up with a whole lot of shit from me for a really long time, which only made me push it farther, because I knew I could. Word got around town that I was a "problem actor". I got labeled as difficult. Which only pissed me off and made me party harder. Fuck you all. Then I wrapped my car around a guardrail and ended up hospitalized for three weeks with a compound fracture of my femur, putting the film I was working on at the time on a temporary hiatus which turned permanent. They shut down production on the whole damned movie because the investors got wigged out by my accident and backed out. And now I'm a big fat risk. Me, who was the hope of the new generation of actors. Nobody wants to touch me. Directors still talk longingly of my amazing talent, my natural rawness as an actor, and how they'd love to use me in this project or that project. But producers see my name and freak out. I'm expensive. They see me and they see late calls and cost overruns and they have to take out special insurance riders in case I fuck up so bad I tank the whole movie.

Then part three of the Darkness Falls trilogy is cast and some unknown 20 year old asshole gets my part. What. The. Fuck? That's when I realized I was lost.

And that's where I am now. I know I have blown it. I know I need to fix it. But I don't know how. And what the fuck am I doing? I'm standing in this stupid fucking club waiting to meet James, the motherfucker who has single handedly been responsible for more of my fucked up nights than I can count.

I knew I shouldn't have answered the phone when I saw his call come in. I should have let it go to voicemail. But I'd just been lying on the couch at home, drinking, pondering how fucked up it all got, and how helpless I felt to do a damned thing about it. And if nothing else, James is one damned good distraction. I hoped he had a lead on something for after this. Because I sure as hell didn't want to hang around fucking Geisha all night.

I took one last long drag on my beer and scanned the crowd again.

Holy. Shit.

She walked out of a deep dark hallway in her deep dark dress like she materialized straight out of the night. Long mahogany hair swirled around her pale bare shoulders. Her thin black silk dress skimmed every curve as it skated down the front of her body.

And her face…

Her eyes looked dark, but it was impossible to tell in this hellhole. They were slightly smoky and wide. Delicate little pale features, high cheekbones and the most exquisite full lips, shimmering faintly under the bar lights.

She turned half way to look back over her shoulder and I caught sight of the back of her dress. I drew in my breath sharply. Fuck. There was no back of her dress. Just the ties around her neck, tangling with her long sweep of hair, swinging over that endless expanse of ivory skin. Her back was exposed all the way down, you could almost see the swell of her ass beginning.

I realized my fist was clenching my beer bottle so hard it was starting to hurt.

Want. That.

It wasn't even a fully formed thought, I just knew I wanted to go claim her and drag her out of here. It never occurred to me that I couldn't have her. Because I could have anyone. It's not bragging when it's true.

I ditched my empty on a nearby table and turned to go get her when I saw him. Fucking James. Talking to my girl.

He was elbowing into the bar, she was stepping into the little space next to him he'd made for her, turning her face up to him. Her whole face lit up with surprise and whatever she said to him made him throw his head back and laugh.

Fuck this. Damned if fucking James was going to steal her out from under my nose. I saw her first. At least I think I did. Fuck it. Who the hell is James anyway? He did two seasons in some CW teen drama before he finally landed his first film last winter. I'm Edward fucking Cullen and I trump James Carter.

I slipped up behind them and stood closer to her than I probably should.

"So this is what held you up, James."

He turned, startled. So did she, her brown eyes widening with surprise when they met mine.

"Edward! There you are! Sorry, buddy. I ran into the delightful Bella here and lost track of time."

I turned to her and flashed my patented most dazzling smile. I've been assured it's dazzling.

"Bella, is it?"

She blinked and said nothing for a moment. She absently reached up and touched her lips with her fingers. Dazzled. See? Told you. Then she seemed to find her voice.

"Bella Swan."

"Nice to meet you, Bella. I'm Ed…."

"You're Edward Cullen. I know who you are."

Of course you do. Everyone does.

"Your reputation has gotten ahead of you, buddy," James smirked, slapping his hand onto my shoulder, a little too jovial.

I shot him a murderous look. He needed to be gone. Now.

"I don't know anything about your reputation," Bella said, "I've just seen your movies. Everybody knows who Edward Cullen is."

Damn. There was absolutely no guile in this girl. Completely uncalculating. She must have just hit town.

"Bella and I were just getting things rolling, Eddie, and I hate to put a damper on the party. You wouldn't mind if I blow off our plans for tonight, would you?" James edged closer in behind her as he fixed his beady eyes on me.

What the fuck? He did not think he was scamming her right out from underneath me, did he?

"I'm supposed to abandon the girl to party with a loser like you when she could be with me?" I smirked, only sort of kidding. I took a step closer to her as well, leaning my head towards her and turning up the smile as I spoke.

Bella's eyes flashed from me to James and back again as we worked through our little standoff.

"Thanks, both of you, but I'm not really interested in partying with anyone tonight. In fact, I should go find my friends. I'm sure they're looking for me." Bella drew herself up and most decidedly took a step back from both of us.

Was she blowing me off? Well, James too, which was awesome. But me? She's going to go hang with her stupid girlfriends instead of scoring with a movie star? Who does that?

"Bells? Hey, there you are, babe. I thought I lost you."

James and I both pivoted to examine the interloper. Tall, good looking, blond. And he clearly knew Bella really well.

Well, fuck.

Taken.

Not that that's stopped me in the past. It all depends on what Bella does now. I turned and looked at her expectantly.

Her delicate little chin shot up and she took a firm step right in between me and James towards Tall, Blond and Lanky.

"Hey Jazz. I just got waylaid at the bar."

Excuse me? Waylaid? So I'm just some distraction? Fuck this shit. And his name is Jazz? What the fuck kind of name is Jazz?

Bella slipped her hand into the crook of Blondie's arm and he leaned down to plant a quick peck on her cheek. She looked back over her shoulder at me and James standing there like a couple of morons.

"Jazz, this is James and Edward," she said, like we were just any two losers at a bar. She laid her little hand on Blondie's chest lightly, familiarly. "This is Jasper."

Okay, so his name's not Jazz, but Jasper's not much better, in my opinion.

Jasper nodded at both of us, his eyes intense. This fucker so had our number.

James and I gave him terse nods in return.

"It was nice to meet you both," she said sweetly, before she turned away and left with Jasper.

Did that really just happen? She blew us both off?

I chanced a glance at James and his face was a mask of disbelief, anger, and jealousy. I'm sure I looked the same.

I was suddenly in absolutely no mood whatsoever to spend one more fucking minute with James tonight.

"So, that was a bust. Too bad. She was tasty," James smirked in the direction Bella had left. "But Vicki's here somewhere and you know she's always good for some fun. What do you say we round her up and head back to my place?"

I cast him a quick glance and felt disgusted. I wanted nothing to do with Vicki or James tonight. Although I certainly had plenty to do with them in the past.

"Actually, I was coming over to tell you that I'm pretty beat. I'm going to head out and go home and crash."

James narrowed his eyes at me for a minute, trying to read me. Then he must have decided it wasn't worth it to give me shit because he just shrugged and grinned.

"Whatever. I'll keep her for myself then."

I turned and pushed my way through the crowd, ignoring all the searching, hopeful looks from the people I passed. I didn't want to talk to another single person tonight. I was just going to get the fuck out of here and pretend tonight never happened.

BPOV

My heart literally skipped a beat when I turned around and looked up into that face. I knew it already, of course. I go to movies, I read magazines. And everybody knows who Edward Cullen is.

And that's what I told him, interrupting him as he started to introduce himself.

I had always thought he was perhaps the most beautiful person on the planet. But he's a movie star, he's supposed to be. I was completely unprepared for my physical reaction to his flesh and blood presence.

His emerald green eyes…how had I failed to notice the color when I saw him on screen? And that hair, the glorious copper colored sex hair. To be fair, Edward Cullen's hair was sort of famous in it's own right, but no one's superlatives could capture what it was really like. How my fingers ached to dive into it and grip it hard. How it flopped seductively over one eye and he peered through it at me. And his lips…oh, God I'd never seen lips like his. Soft, full…I could practically feel them against my own. I think I even subconsciously touched my own mouth as I gazed at him, much to my horrified embarrassment.

He was living, breathing perfection. And perfection was staring at me like I was something to eat. I'm not exactly worldly, but neither am I some untried virgin. I recognized the look in his eyes. James had it too. They both had the Chick Charm dialed up to high. What I couldn't figure out was why. Why on earth would Edward Cullen of all people, be standing there coming on to me? It made no sense in any universe I could conceive of.

Then he had to go and start talking.

It was clear he felt like he had some sort of primacy over James. Like he felt that just because he was Edward Cullen that James should immediately surrender the field and slink away. It's not that I had any sort of interest in James sticking around, but he was there first, getting me a drink and talking to me. And Edward Cullen should be allowed to just shoo him away like a fly? I don't think so.

But then James didn't back down and suddenly they were glaring at each other like Old West gunslingers at high noon. I felt like a bone being fought over by two angry dogs. It should have been flattering. Probably to a lot of the girls there, it would have been. But I didn't like it. It just had nothing to do with me. Just Edward and James working out their love/ hate frenemy bullshit and I was the shiny new toy they decided to tussle over.

Fuck that shit. My feet hurt. I was ready to go home. And just like that, Jasper was there and I made my escape, leaving them both standing there glaring, at each other and Jasper.

"What the fuck was that, Bells?" Jasper laughed as he slung his arm around my neck and led me back over to Emmett and Rose. "I look over and you're being attacked by dueling movie stars!"

"I wouldn't exactly call James a star. He's only a little famous," I protested.

"But Edward Cullen! Hitting on our little Bella! You've hit the big time, sweets!" he laughed again and rubbed his knuckles across the top of my head, holding me in a neck vise.

"Fuck off, Jazz! Don't mess up my hair!"

"Sorry. I had to give you a little shit. I wasn't going to come over, I mean, I thought girls would be all into that shit. But Rose was watching and she said she could tell you were getting pissed and she sent me over there. Was that okay?"

I rolled my eyes. "It was more than okay, although you laid it on a little thick kissing my cheek like that. Yes, I will admit it was a little flattering at first, but then the next thing I know they're beating their chests and playing fucking tug of war over me. And it didn't even really feel like it had much to do with me. Just their weird dynamic. And besides, I am not interested in being some piece of ass random hook up for some famous actor. And that's all it would have been. With either of them."

"Good girl," Jasper said, squeezing my shoulders.

Random hook up. Random hook up. I kept repeating it in my head to keep myself from dwelling on those amazing green eyes, that wild, copper colored hair that my fingers itched to touch, his cheekbones, his lips…unghh….

Stupid Bella. Edward is a movie star for a reason. You really think you're the only one to ever want to run your fingers through his sex hair? Stand in line. And stand in line you would…with every other woman here, along with all the ones out on the sidewalk…and the rest of the women in LA, plus a bunch of the men, too. So he did seem attracted to you. It would have only led to one thing. And who wants to be some guy's anonymous fuck? Or worse, just a pawn in his stupid game with James. You're better than that.

Damn right. I'm better than that.

And, hello?? I'm a little famous, too! So what if he seemed to have no idea who I was. Maybe he doesn't like reality television. Whatever. I needed to stop thinking about Edward Cullen, as of now.

"Sooooo, little cousin," Emmett boomed, "Roping in Edward Cullen, huh?"

"Shut it, Em!"

"What?" he protested, baffled, "We were all talking about it!"

Rosalie smacked the back of his head.

"Are you cool?" Rose asked me with an intense stare.

"Oh, yeah. I'm fine," I said with what I hoped was a nonchalant smile, determined to really mean it. And I was determined not to think about Edward Cullen.

Any more.

As of now.

I swear.