A/N: Ah, why not a double dose tonight, eh? Thanks to everyone who has already reviewed, alerted, and favorited. This will now go back in the past for a while before we return to the present day/first chapter.

OK, I'm back with another story. It's a bit different from my previous stuff, but what can I say? My life has been eventful and inspiration strikes from unexpected memories. I'm not an orthopedic surgeon but I entertained that career for many years, and actually did two years of the training. I also did go to both Rice and Baylor. I had a class with Lance Berkman, not Jeff Niemann. I'm way too old to have known him! And if you read this before the voting for the All-Star break ends, then vote for Anthony Rendon (Washington Nationals, who I can't stand—Go Braves!) another stellar Rice grad. Please enjoy.

I forgot to say last chapter that I don't own this. That goes for all future chapters, too.

Chapter 2

December 20, 2007

The Texas sun was shining brightly when I exited the Sylvan Learning Center mid afternoon. The beauty of the crisp winter day matched my mood perfectly. It had warmed up since I'd arrived early morning, so I shed the sweatshirt I'd worn in the air-conditioned testing center. Clad in a t-shirt, scrub pants, and flip-flops, I thanked my lucky stars I had decided on medical school in Houston rather than Boston.

I fumbled in my purse for sunglasses as I crossed the parking lot of the suburban strip mall and climbed back in my several years old BMW sedan, a hand-me-down from my mother. Before starting the ignition, I took a deep breath. I was finally done with the most evil (in my opinion) of all licensing exams, the United States Medical Licensing Examination, Step 1. One of the other perks of Baylor College of Medicine, besides the weather, was that students had great flexibility in scheduling their clinical clerkships starting in January of the second year rather than the usual Fall of the third year. I had been able to dedicate the entire month of December to final preparations for the crucial test.

And now I was done. It was a huge weight off my shoulders. My cell phone rang as I merged onto I-45 N to head back into the city. I checked the display and saw it was my best friend and former college roommate at Rice University. I put the phone to my ear and accepted the call.

"Hey, Bella, how'd the test go?" Alice inquired. "Are you so excited to have it behind you?"

"I think it went well," I told her and crossed the fingers resting on the steering wheel even though she couldn't see me. "I guess we'll see in a few weeks when the scores come. Aren't you at work?" Alice had served two years as a teacher with Teach for America in an underprivileged area of the Mississippi delta near where she grew up, but moved back to Houston recently to work as a permanent employee at one of the organization's training institutes.

"No, I just left. The office was practically empty anyway. Everyone is gone for Christmas already," she explained. "We've got to celebrate tonight! I hope you're not too tired."

"What do you have in mind?" I asked as I maneuvered onto the Inner Loop. I was headed to the Galleria to treat myself to a new outfit before going home. I definitely deserved it. "I had a great night's sleep last night. You know you can't truly learn anything by cramming the night before a test like that. I went to bed early." It was a dig at her. She spent countless all-nighters in college, while I had always planned ahead.

"Whatever," she snapped, pretending to be annoyed. "Cindy's having a party," she announced casually.

"What? Alice, I'm not going to a Rice party. That's lame," I complained. Alice's younger sister Cindy was a junior at Rice, following in her older sister's footsteps. Cindy lived O.C., or off-campus, and I'd been to her house many times with Alice. It was a dump.

"C'mon Bella, live a little. It will be fun," she whined. "Cindy's boyfriend is a first year MBA student at UH, and I'm sure he'll bring a bunch of his friends. Plus, the house Cindy and her roommates rent is on Dryden and backs up to another O.C. house on Swift. They've teamed up and torn down the fence between their backyards and are planning a joint Christmas bash. Finals are done at Rice; it's going to be epic!" I groaned at the wheedling tone Alice had adopted. I usually lost arguments when she resorted to that.

"Alice, even with grad students there, we'll still be the oldest ones. We'll stick out like sore thumbs," I tried to reason with her as I pulled into the parking lot by Neiman Marcus.

"Speak for yourself, but I think I'm eternally youthful," she replied haughtily. "You work so hard, and now it's time to reward yourself. Don't you miss the good ol' days now and then?"

"Well, of course, we had some great times back in college, but aren't we trying to be grown ups now? Do you want to be known as the Rice version of Wooderson?" I asked, referring to the iconic character Matthew McConaughey played in the movie Dazed and Confused. Alice scoffed.

"Oh my God, get over yourself and forget about your 401K and 10 year plan for one night. I'm going to Cindy's party, and if you want to sit home in your apartment by yourself, then it's fine with me," she gave the ultimatum. I sighed, knowing I was beat. I resigned myself to an evening of Everclear punch and listening to Cindy's roommates brag about dropping X, which I was sure none of them had ever actually done.

"Fine," I muttered and hung up. I put the car back in reverse and headed back down Westheimer Avenue. There was no need for a new outfit now.

DH-DH-DH-DH-DH-DH-DH

I spent more time than usual agonizing over what to wear. I wanted to look cute but didn't want to look like I was trying too hard. I didn't necessarily want to look twenty-five years old, but I didn't want to look like I was trying for twenty years old either.

I settled on a cotton dress with short sleeves and a v-neck. It fitted to the hips then flared a little, showing some leg. The deep blue was flattering to my pale skin and dark hair, but the shrunken ivory cardigan pulled the look together. Perfect.

The party was supposed to start around 8, but I knew that plenty of people would show up early. Alice was lobbying for arriving around 7 so we could help Cindy set up. I agreed only because arriving early probably meant I could make an excuse to leave early before the main shenanigans began. Cindy's house was only about a mile from my apartment complex. It was already dark, but the area was residential and safe so I decided to walk.

The air was starting to chill but I knew I'd be comfortable in the enclosed spaces of the house dressed this way. I made a pit stop at KFC on the trip, enjoying a twister wrap as my dinner. I definitely needed a full stomach to soak up the cheap, awful liquor that would be added later.

I continued walking along Greenbriar Drive and passed the intersection with Swift Boulevard. I could see one house halfway down the block had people milling around in the front yard. Several cars were parked on the street nearby, and the lawn wasn't up to the standards of the neighbors. This must be the location of the co-sponsors of the party. I wondered who lived there, if they were longtime friends of Cindy and her group or acquaintances of opportunity.

I made the next block and turned onto Dryden. As I'd suspected, the house was already hosting a number of guests. All windows were lit up, and groups of young people were chatting on the front lawn. I was curious about the neighbors and the odds that they would call the cops later. It would be very bad for me if the law arrived, and I was the oldest one in a location with lots of underage drinking. Once again, I resolved to leave early.

I was surprised to see Alice sitting on the stoop with a cigarette hanging out her mouth, and her legs dangling over the edge of the concrete into an un-landscaped plot of dirt. She was seated next to a guy with close-cropped blond curls wearing a red University of Houston t-shirt and khaki shorts. I watched as she took a drag on the cigarette and passed it to the stranger. A dark-haired Hispanic guy on the shorter side, who was in serious need of a haircut, was standing in the dirt beneath Alice and her friend's feet. He was wearing jeans and a UH t-shirt and held the telltale brown bottle with a gold label in his hand.

"Twinsies," I announced sarcastically as I walked up the front path. Alice jumped slightly and turned to face me, her grin spreading as she recognized me as the intruder. "Those things will kill you," I continued nodding toward the cancer stick in the blonde stranger's hand.

"Bella, hey!" Alice greeted enthusiastically. She had obviously been pre-partying. "This is Al Suarez, Cindy's boyfriend," she motioned toward the guy standing in front of her. He lifted his bottle of Shiner Bock in my direction as a greeting. Ah, the MBA student she had mentioned. "This is Jasper Whitlock, Al's friend. He's a business student a UH, too. Guys, this is my friend, Bella Swan," she completed the introductions. Her gaze lingered on Jasper longer than necessary. I sensed I'd be deprived of her company rather early this evening.

"Hey, Bella," Jasper replied politely. "I hear you went to Rice, too." I nodded in response too sober to be very social. Al noticed.

"Bella, what are you drinking?" he asked, as good proxy host should. He didn't actually live here, but I'd wait all night if wanted Cindy to get me a beer.

"Thanks, I'll have a Shiner, too," I responded, and he skirted around the stoop to disappear back inside. I moved to stand in the position in the defunct flowerbed he'd vacated.

"Yeah, I graduated from Rice with Alice. You guys went all out with UH T-shirts tonight, huh?" I responded in an attempt to be social. The cigarette continued to pass between him and Alice. I watched with interest.

"Well, I was forced into it, you know. I couldn't let the Swift guys off the hook," he choked out with an exhale of white smoke. I crinkled my brow in confusion. Alice piped up as she accepted the cigarette back into her hand.

"The Swift house is rented by a bunch of guys from the baseball team," she explained. "Jasper played baseball in college. Cindy got to be friends with the Swift house guys through Al and then Jasper," she explained and took another heavy drag. Jasper chuckled.

"I hope you won't hold it against me," he joked. The butt was cashed, and he dropped it on the ground at my feet. He raised an eyebrow at me, and I crushed it with the toe of my sandal. "Thanks," he said.

Rice baseball was an institution. Even though our school was known more for its academics, we'd been a force to be reckoned with for years on the baseball front. We won the national championship in 2003 between my sophomore and junior years, and it had been a huge event.

My junior year I'd had a class with Jeff Niemann, one of the starting pitchers on the team. It had been an art history class known for the fact it required only one ten-page paper for the entire semester, albeit a very toughly graded paper. Jeff had been friendly, and we'd chatted a number of times, mostly regarding the eccentricity of the professor. The class was minimal work, but very hard to make an A. I'd needed it for my major, but Jeff obviously only needed it to pass and stay eligible. He entered the draft (and was taken in the first round) but never graduated, hence my impression of Rice baseball players.

I didn't think they could possibly measure up to the academic standards of the rest of the student body. Sure, they were probably a little smarter than the guys who went to state schools, but Rice couldn't be that successful in baseball without lowering the standards a little bit, right? Hey, I was just as proud of the team's success as the next alum, but it didn't stop me from rolling my eyes when I learned I was at a baseball party. Unfortunately, Alice read the expression on my face.

"Don't worry, these guys are cool," she assured me. "There will be no couch-throwing tonight." She was referring to another Rice first round draft pick who had notoriously thrown a couch off of the top of Sid Richardson college back in the 1990's. I snorted and decided Al was taking far to long with my beer.

"I'm gonna head in and look for a little alcohol," I told my companions. "I think I definitely deserve it tonight." I half expected Alice to offer to come with me, but she didn't. I'd need to grill her later. She was obviously interested in this Jasper guy.

It was full on dark by the time I climbed up the concrete stairs and entered the house, passing behind Jasper and Alice, who had heads together and were in deep conversation the instant I moved on. The front room was like I remembered it. It was furnished with old, mismatched sofas and a giant screen TV with video game equipment and a tangle of wires beneath it. There were already more people than I expected loitering around enjoying the deafening music and free drinks. A cooler filled with a suspiciously blue liquid was shoved into the corner with a stack of red Solo cups next to it. The cup designated as the "scooper" floated alone in the mess.

Hardwood stairs with a peeling wooden bannister made their way up the edge of the room. I knew the bedrooms were upstairs, and I had no desire to explore up there. The hardwood floors and complex painted moldings were beautiful but scratched, a testament to the "good bones" of the homes in this neighborhood. Cindy's neighbors were wealthy professionals with immaculate lawns and facades. Cindy's landlord was probably the child of the previous owners looking to make a buck on the rental market or too lazy to sell. These houses dotted the streets surrounding Rice, and for the most part, no one complained. A lot of the neighborhood either taught or graduated from Rice, so they tolerated the neighborhood pariah.

The windows were open, but I wasn't sure if it was because there was no air conditioning or because people were smoking inside with abandon. I quickly decided I needed to stay outside. I entered the kitchen and found Al standing in front of an open refrigerator. Cindy was standing behind the door, peering into the interior.

"Hey, Cindy, thanks for inviting me," I greeted politely. Cindy had been a freshman during my first year at Baylor, while Alice was back teaching in Mississippi. I had done my best to keep an eye on her as Alice would have done, but she had given me little appreciation since I had refused to buy her alcohol. Not that I hadn't consumed my fill as an underage freshman, I just couldn't be the one who did the corrupting of my best friend's younger sister.

"Oh, hey, Bella, thanks for coming," she said when she saw me standing behind them. "I'm surprised you took a break from studying to come over. I didn't think it would be your scene." Cindy was a little full of herself and might still be a little resentful of the no-alcohol-buying policy. Al shrugged a little, obviously embarrassed by Cindy's less than subtle dig.

"Sorry, I took so long, Bella," he interrupted. "It looks like we're out of bottled Shiner. There's a keg in the back yard that's just been tapped," he gestured out the back door of the kitchen into the newly expanded yard.

"Sure, that sounds great, Al, thanks," I told him smiling. My smile tightened a little as I turned to Cindy despite my best efforts. "I just finished a big test today, and I'm done until January. Alice promised me a good time, so here I am." Cindy grimaced and took a long sip of the Tequiza she was holding.

"Knock yourself out," she answered gesturing toward the backyard with the lip of her bottle. I moved on without responding. I didn't see anyone else inside that I recognized or even looked old enough to be drinking. I could hear Al's voice as I opened the white wooden door to the backyard; it sounded slightly scolding, but I didn't really care one way or the other what he was saying to Cindy.

The back stoop was concrete like the front and without a railing. I carefully made my way down the crumbling three stairs into the grass, if it could be called that. Obviously, no one was looking after the space, and the grass was burned and absent in patches all over. The two combined yards were impressive in size, and I could see where the dividing fences still stood behind the houses to either side. It was pretty dark, but tiki torches had been shoved into the ground at random intervals, and some party lights were strung overhead from the two live oaks in the back. I had to walk carefully, even in December, to avoid the fire ant hills.

Several guys were crowded around the keg but stepped back a bit as I approached. They were all dressed in jeans and t-shirts with baseball caps shoved tight down over their ears. Obviously, the baseball players, I decided. A dark-skinned Hispanic boy stepped forward, being the bravest of the bunch, I guess.

"Can I get you a beer?" he offered politely. I nodded as he concentrated on pumping. He'd obviously done it before and quickly offered me a nearly foam-free cup of Shiner. I smiled and thanked him, feeling uncomfortable with four sets of eyes on me. I figured they were waiting on me to introduce myself, throw myself at them and their potential major league careers.

I never developed the gift of gab with strangers, so I chickened out on what was probably socially acceptable and walked away toward a set of rusting iron outdoor furniture which had been set up near the back steps of the Swift house. I knew it was probably the baseball guys' territory, but I didn't see anyplace else suitable for staying out of the way out here, and I had no desire to search for Alice and Jasper out front again.

I sat down and took a sip of my beer, hoping to sit unmolested for a while and enjoy the warm weather this evening. I should have known that would be a fat chance. One of the boys from the keg appeared next to me and sat down in one of the other iron wrought chairs.

"Hey," he said simply and took a sip of his own beer. I nodded my head noncommittally, still hoping he'd leave. He didn't.

"I don't think we've met. I'm Edward," he introduced himself. I was forced to look more closely at him and re-registered what I'd already seen. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt with loose jeans. They were artfully worn, especially at the hems, probably expensive. I was surprised to note that he was barefoot. This disarmed me, and I accidentally looked him in the eye. His eyes were a bright, emerald color and actually quite mesmerizing. I shook my head to try and clear it. Obviously, the Shiner was getting to me. I hadn't had a beer in some time.

"Where are your shoes?" I blurted. He smiled broadly, pleased to have gotten me to speak.

"I don't like shoes. Never wear them if I can help it," he pronounced with a smirk. I noticed his hair was brown but shone with reddish highlights even in the dim tiki torchlight. It was too long and curled over his ears underneath the blue hat emblazoned with the stylized "R" of Rice. The brim was pulled low to his eyebrows but did nothing to hide those astounding eyes.

"Well, I guess you have to be pretty careful out here then," I observed, taking a sip of my beer, trying to hide my discomfort. His brown crinkled. I couldn't actually see that happen since the brim of his hat was so low, but it dipped even further so I just surmised.

"Ant hills," I clarified, gesturing towards the minefield laid out between the two houses. He snorted and spit beer onto the grass and proceeded to laugh with abandon. It hadn't been that funny.

"Wow, I never thought our conversation would be about fire ants," he said once he had control of himself. I shrugged.

"What did you think we'd talk about? How much I love baseball and admire your work?" I asked sarcastically. He lifted his eyebrows, and I could see his face better.

"Do you love baseball and admire my work?" he asked in retort. I exhaled in annoyance. I really just wanted to enjoy a beer or two and walk home. Finally, I shook my head at him.

"I admit that I'm a huge Astros fan, but I don't know who you are so I can't admire your work. I assume you're a baseball player since I was told this house was rented by guys from the team," I gestured toward the Swift house to illustrate my point. Edward let out a disbelieving huff.

"You don't know who I am?" he asked incredulously. It was my turn to huff, also incredulously.

"No, I don't. I'm too old to concern myself with college bullshit. I'm a medical student, and I deal with life and death on a daily basis. I only agreed to come to this party as a favor, and I'm not really interested in company. Move on, there are plenty of other undergrads who will be breathless to hear why you feel the need to go barefoot," I ranted. He didn't get up like I expected but slouched further on the chair and smirked at me again.

"You must be Cindy's sister's friend," he observed. This casual statement made me furious.

"What makes you say that?" I spat.

"Well, because Cindy said her sister was cool, but her best friend was a medical student and completely uptight. She didn't mention how beautiful you were, though," he finished with a different sort of smile. I shot up immediately from the iron chair, knocking it over.

"Oh my God, are you serious?" I asked rhetorically and started to storm away. He called after me immediately.

"Sorry, sorry, please come back. I'll behave, I swear. You didn't even get halfway through your beer," he pleaded. He actually sounded a little sorry, and he was quite right about the beer. I did want to finish it. Edward leaned forward and set my chair back upright while I retrieved the beer from the ground. I took a long drink before settling back into the seat. I planned to empty the cup in record time, but my chugging days were over.

"I'm really sorry," he repeated with kind of a grumble to his voice. "It is just novel to meet someone who has no agenda with me." I was a little taken aback by his change in tone. My curiosity got the best of me, wondering whom I had stumbled upon this evening. I took another drink of Shiner.

"So, please enlighten me. Who are you then?" I asked, aware I was possibly playing into his hands with the question. "You seemed happy enough to ply me with beer when you thought I was a wide-eyed groupie." I added that statement to let him know he wasn't off the hook. He had the decency to look a little sheepish.

"I'm Edward Masen," he replied. "I'm the lead starting pitcher for the Rice baseball team, but I guess you'd already guessed some of that." He took a long drink from his beer and leaned against the back of the chair and stretched his long legs out in front of him. "I'm more interested in your name now, though." He added with a raised eyebrow.

I considered his answer. I had told the truth when I mentioned my devotion to the Astros. This year had not been good to my team, and I had mourned the loss of Jeff Bagwell like every good fan at the end of the 2006 season. I'd been so busy the last few years that I couldn't spare much interest in sports other than my beloved Astros. So, I hadn't really kept up with Rice baseball. I knew we remained good, but I didn't know any of the players' names since I no longer went to the school. Sad, really, since I walked past the stadium at least once a week.

"I'm Bella," I finally said, deciding to throw him a bone. He was probably harmless. I'd never talk to him again after tonight.

"Bella," he said slowly, drawing the L sound out. "That's a beautiful name for a beautiful girl," he declared. I grimaced at him.

"Does that usually work?" I asked him. He laughed again, that uninhibited sound. I decided he had a nice laugh. And I nice smile, too, I noticed.

"I don't usually have to resort to compliments, Bella." He seemed to like saying my name for some reason. I snorted.

"At least you don't have to worry about modesty," I commented and took another drink of beer. I would reach the bottom soon. He smiled even wider, showing me rows of perfectly white and straight teeth.

"I take it Edward Masen doesn't ring a bell," he prodded. I shook my head, feeling absurdly proud it was a true statement. He really needed a dose of reality. He took another swig of his beer and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, looking at me from under the brim of that ridiculous hat.

"Well, did you know Rice almost made it to the finals of the College World Series last year?" he asked. I shook my head again.

"Well, we did, and I was one of the starting pitchers, the only one returning for next season. I'm a junior, so I'll probably be drafted at the end of the season. A lot of people are looking to get a piece of me," he told me without a trace of awareness about how arrogant that sounded.

"Edward," I tried out his name, and it made the smile reappear, but what I said next wiped it right off, "we won the College World Series when I was sophomore. I had a class with Jeff Neimann, so I'm not really all that impressed. From what I hear, he'll be in the Majors next year." I leaned back and took the last sip of my beer. I sat the cup on the ground next to me in preparation for leaving.

"Wait, you're not going, are you?" he exclaimed, grabbing my wrist. I pulled it away with a pointed look at his hand on my arm. His smile turned sheepish, and he muttered another apology and dropped his hand back to his side. He let out a sigh and pulled the hat off his head. The strands sprung in every direction once freed from the hat. It was an impressive, thick head of hair with a hint of waviness, and he ran his hands through it in frustration.

"Look, I'm being such an asshole. You can't leave now; you have to give me a chance to redeem myself. I'll get us another beer, and we can talk, have a real conversation. You're a medical student, right? So that means you're smart. I bet you have lots of interesting things to say." He shoved the hat back on his head during this plea, and the gesture along with the words made him look so young and insecure. I suddenly felt bad for him, and all the pressure that was undoubtedly being placed upon him. Why not? I thought. I reminded myself that I'd never see him again, and it felt like an innocuous way to pass some time.

"Okay, Edward, I'm game for another beer, but you better get to work redeeming yourself quickly," I begrudgingly told him. His eyes lit up in a gratifying way, and he hurried over to the keg with our cups. There were a few people who seemed to be ahead of him in line, but they dissolved away when he approached the tap. Must be nice, I thought. He returned very quickly and handed my cup back to me.

"So, tell me about medical school," he requested as he returned to his seat. He had caught the attention of a few girls, undoubtedly underage, during his trip to the keg. They stood around with the group of guys stationed there, but their gazes kept drifting to where we sat, definitely interested in what Edward was doing. I figured I wouldn't have his attention for long and could make a quick escape as soon as he was distracted.

"Not much to tell," I replied taking a sip of the now full cup. "I'm a third year student, and I just finished the first part of the big standardized licensing exam today."

"And how did you end up at this party as a favor then? Didn't your boyfriend want to take you out to celebrate?" He tried to frown but I could tell he thought his segue was clever. I glared at him.

"I don't have a boyfriend; I'm too busy for that," I told him sternly, "and, it was a favor to Alice, Cindy's sister. She really wanted to be here and conned me in to coming, too. I'm starting to understand her motivation," I muttered darkly. He nodded in comprehension.

"Jasper Whitlock is completely into her," he stated as a fact. I raised my eyebrows, definitely interested. "He went to Bellaire High School and was a few years ahead of me on the baseball team there. He ended up at UH. His brother Peter was my year. He plays for UT now. The enemy," Edward chuckled, referring to the growing rivalry between Rice and Texas.

"Wow, that's incestuous," I declared. "So, Cindy started dating Al, who went to Rice undergrad but UH for grad school. Then, Al met Jasper, whose brother went to high school with you, and suddenly you guys realized that Cindy and her roommates lived behind you?" He chuckled at my analysis.

"That about sums it up. Houston is a small world, if you've lived here as long as I have," he admitted. I scoffed.

"I've obviously lived here just as long," I told him.

"Really? Are you from Houston, too?" he asked. I nodded.

"Born and mostly raised. I went to Episcopal," I answered, hedging on details he didn't need to know. He smiled widely, showing his perfect teeth again.

"Ooh, ritzy," he proclaimed. I shook my head in mock disgust.

"Whatever, don't they buy cars for their baseball players at Bellaire?" I asked. Bellaire High School was a public school but it had a reputation as a topnotch baseball program. Edward laughed at my sarcasm.

"Touche," he teased back while taking another sip of his beer. "So, what's your specialty going to be?" he asked unexpectedly.

"Oh, um, I think orthopedic surgery," I told him, surprised that he was sticking to his word about a "real conversation."

"If I keep pitching, I might need your services some day," he said seriously. I looked at him sharply.

"Have you been injured?" I asked. He shook his head.

"Nope, healthy as a horse, but you never know in high level sports, right? Any day could be your last day. If I end up in the National League I might hurt myself batting, you know." He sipped his beer pensively, staring deep into his cup, and I felt sorry for him again. He definitely was under a lot of pressure. I wanted to change the subject.

"So, you think you'll enter the draft this year?" Edward nodded and looked up at me. His eyes were very, very green.

"Yeah, that's the plan, as long as we do well in the post-season. I just turned 21 a few months ago, and I'm a junior so I meet the criteria," he replied, that insolent grin returning.

"Won't you be sorry to miss out on a degree?" I asked, horrified to have his age confirmed for me. He shook his head.

"I can always go back and get it later. I'll refer you to my previous statement about the uncertainty of the future in high-level sports. I more concerned about whether I end up somewhere with a designated hitter," he retorted. I looked at him more closely. He may try to hide it, but there was a sharp intelligence in his face. I was glad I'd had a chance to get to know him a little bit, even if he was incorrigible.

"Cheating, the designated hitter," I declared. He smiled widely. "Well, Edward, it was nice to talk to you, but I think I've done my due diligence. I'm going sneak out before Alice realizes I'm gone," I was surprised by the level of disappointment I saw in his face, but he didn't try to stop me, just stood up with me.

"I'll walk you to your car," he declared. I shook my head.

"No, that's not necessary, but thank you. I'm walking," I told him and started to walk toward Cindy's back door.

"Wait!" he grabbed my wrist again, but I didn't mind it as much this time. "Where do you live? It's dark now."

"The Greenbriar," I told him, and he looked appalled.

"No way, I'm walking with you," he insisted.

"You can't leave your own party," I argued, unsettled by the idea of the two of us alone in the dark. I didn't want him to get the wrong idea. He was way too young for me. "Plus, I've lived there for over two years, and I've walked this way plenty of times. It's fine."

"No, Bella, there is nothing you can say to persuade me to let you walk home alone in the dark. Let's go," he motioned toward the back door of his own house. I glanced around the backyard and saw no one I recognized. The keg girls were glaring at me. I saw no alternative.

"Okay, I guess," I acquiesced uneasily. The smile that split his face was almost blinding.

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As always thanks for reading. Please review if you see fit.

EG