To: IsabellaS21

From: CullenH20

Hello Isabella (or do you prefer Bella?),

This is Edward Cullen. Your brother gave me your email address so I could contact you. I have to apologize for leaving after we…well, after Monday. Swim team practice has been more intense than ever this year. Most people don't know that the pressure has reached a maximum degree now that most of us are seniors. Regardless, it took a massive amount of strength to watch you sleep peacefully in my arms, but to put you down without crawling into bed with you.

I'm not sure what else to say except: I'd like to see you again. Can we meet on our own terms this time? Deliberately?

Yours,

Edward

P.S. You taste like the sweet strawberries that used to grow in my backyard.

To: CullenH20

From: IsabellaS21

Hi Edward,

I like my nickname, but Isabella sounds surprisingly sweet from your lips. Normally it seems formal—almost pretentious.

So, if we meet, what would we do?

P.S. I want to know how you taste.

To: IsabellaS21

From: CullenH20

Isabella,

Don't tease me. I'm provoked easily, and you might not like the intensely sexual consequences. Ever been bent over a couch?

And on a different note, the first swim meet of the season is this week on Friday afternoon. Would you like to watch me compete then go out together afterward? If my team wins, we could all have a celebratory dinner and then you and I could watch a movie. Any movie you like.

P.S. Say yes to dinner.

P.P.S. Tell Jasper I might murder him if he tries to cheer me up with rap songs before bed again. I don't care what he says, he is not Eminem's twin.

To: CullenH20

From: IsabellaS21

Edward Cullen, what have you got against my brother?

To: IsabellaS21

From: CullenH20

Since when do you call me "Cullen"? And are you evading my dinner proposal?

To: CullenH20

From: IsabellaS21

I don't date men who keep secrets from me.

To: IsabellaS21

From: CullenH20

Fair enough. Then here's your answer: I like Jasper. More so now that I've spent time with him. There's not much to dislike besides his laziness with schoolwork and the public groping sessions with Alice that he subjects me to.

But I can't help how my hatred towards him sometimes flares.

Come to the game, and I'll explain my natural animosity towards your brother. In fact, meet me twenty minutes beforehand, and I can show you.

BPOV

Edward Cullen was driving me crazy.

I didn't know what to do. I desperately wanted to go on a date with him. But how could I do so on the same day as the game? The world was not ready for me to attempt something so risky.

And he'd expect to talk both me and Jasper wouldn't he? If he was going to prove something?

I refused to write back for a while as I struggled with the decision. I considered asking him to meet me another time, but that would seem like a rejection. It's not like I could meet him earlier than the end of this week.

The world continued spinning on its axis as I continued ignoring Edward's confused emails, which piled up neatly in my inbox.

EPOV
5 years ago
Olga's Orphanage
New York City, New York

In a four-walled, crumbling building, two hundred children attempt to live alone. Surrounded by others, the only thing they have in common is their solitude.

I am now one of them.

I step through the forbidding doors with a gasping Alice huddled at my side, and I realize how proper this derelict place is for us. It too is falling in on itself.

I hug my twin closer, wishing my arms could be enough for her, yet knowing I could never be all she needs.

Last week's fire took so much, and yet nothing. Father is gone. His iron grey eyes will never look at me again. His hands will never wrap around my neck again. His threats against Alice will never pierce my heart again.

These realizations should make me happy, but they only remind me that Mother is gone as well. Due to her own will though. The guilt compounds in my gut. I hated her. I cursed her passivity. Blamed her cowardice.

I hated how she watched him beat me. I hated her empty eyes.

And now I hate that she's gone. I hate that she killed them both, so her children would be safe but alone.

I only feel hatred. For everything but my sister.

Alice glances up at me, her eyes glistening but her face dry. I know this imploring look, so I do as she wishes.

I pick up her small body, cradling her in my arms and trying to remember how to feel something good.

She shivers but snuggles ever closer, her tiny hands wrap around my neck and grip me like a lifeline. She whimpers then quiets. Oh, little Alice. Her existence reminds me why I need to lift my head and follow the social worker inside.

Papers are signed and exchanged, promises made, and fake concern offered. I nod politely and pretend to be fooled. The social worker leaves, and the lady before me tries to take Alice.

I growl, and she steps away.

We're taken to our room, or a communal room as it should be called. Fifty cots line opposite walls, and now these people are really trying to take Alice.

"She can't sleep here with the boys," one lady says softly.

The other woman has a thirties mustache and smells like rank sweat. She plays the bad cop in this scenario. She forcefully tugs Alice out of my arms, and soon my sister wails at the top of her lungs as if she's reverted to infancy.

I'm sure she feels like an infant. I do too. Our emotions are raw now. They're new and scary.

She cries as they take her away, and I let them because the boys in here look dirty and bad-tempered. They might try something with her.

But under the covers ten minutes later, I decide I was wrong and creep into the dusky hallway. The doors are all the same here and it takes an hour to find the girls' room despite how small the building may have initially seemed.

Soon, she's in my arms again and we're headed to my bed. Once there, Alice wraps herself around me like a pretzel, I hide her beneath a sheet, and we sleep.

The next few weeks are okay because they pass.

But they soon turn into a nightmare: Alice will not let me hold her anymore. She calls herself a burden and keeps to the corners of any room that she's in.

"I won't bother you. I swear," she says to me, over and over as if I've chastised her.

I'm at a loss. "Ally, please. You're not a bother. Please let me stay."

"No," she says with more force than she's shown since our arrival. She vehemently shakes her head. "I want to be alone. Go away."

"Ally."

"No."

"I love you, Ally."

She cries, and I move away in fear of causing more pain.

The grey in everything startles me sometimes. I've been depressed before. And I've wanted to die before. But that wish had always been a foolish one that I knew was more a passing thought than a desire. Now the macabre thought follows like a ghost, taunting me. I fight the urge.

I am strong, I say to myself. Life is hard and death is easy. I will always need to live.

But my reason has always been Alice.

I sit in an opposite corner and watch Alice every day. There is nothing else to do.

Until one day, a girl arrives who changes everything. She changes Alice and she changes me. She hugs Alice and dunks her into the pond and brings her presents.

"I'm Bella," she says to Alice, rubbing her cute pink nose and dragging around a tattered bunny rabbit. "Wanna be friends?"

Alice is speechless. But Bella takes that as a yes. When she leaves the first day, I never expect her to return, but she does.

Alice smiles now, and she talks to me again as her confidence rises with every visit Bella makes.

After a year, I begin to realize Bella means more to me than I thought anyone other than Alice could. And in a completely different way.

People say love is about knowing someone's deepest and darkest secrets. Or it's about knowing what kind of ice cream your sweetheart likes and why her favorite color is blue or purple or green.

I know none of this about Bella Swan. Nothing deep and nothing simple.

I am fourteen years old. A grownup child.

And all I know is that when she giggles, my heart races. When she's around, my sister is happy. And when she opens her mouth to speak, the whole world stills in anticipation.

Isabella is the light at the end of the dark tunnel that is my life. She dispels the demons. That's all I know.

But that's all it takes to love her.

EPOV
Present day

Darkness always troubled me. Not when I was awake, but when I was not.

So when it threatened to suck me into its inky depths, I slipped out of bed and headed to the gym to sweat out the troubling emotions.

Campus was shrouded in blackness all around. I laughed at how "un"-scary it was now that I was conscious.

I grabbed a basketball and headed to the indoor court, where I heard the squeak of sneakers against the floor. Turning a corner out of the locker room and onto the court, I spotted Emmet. He dribbled around in circles, sweat pouring off his body as he jumped an impressive number of feet into the air and practically thrust his ball into the baskets.

Emmet was mad. And he was wearing his leopard print sweats. The ones with a tail.

This was very bad indeed.

"Hey, man," I said in greeting.

He nodded but didn't stop moving. I threw my ball aside and joined him.

Emmet tossed me his ball and we began playing one-on-one.

"Why the fuck are you up already, Emmet?" I asked, trying to grab his tail.

He scoffed as he effectively blocked me before stealing the ball. "Because the world's a madhouse, and Shakespeare was right. We're all just idiot players."

"But he called the world a stage."

"What the hell else do you think a madhouse is? It's full of a bunch of people who've lost touch with reality and are trying to be what they're not." Emmet dunked the ball and landed back on the ground with so much force he could have started an earthquake.

I raised a brow. Since when did Emmet get even remotely philosophical?

"Then who are you trying to be, Em?"

He paused and shook his head like a dog. "No, not me, idiot."

"Who?" This conversation was quickly growing confusing.

"Fuck if I know." And just like that, wisecracking Emmet was back. "Well, what about you, Sage Captain? Why are you up and about during the wee hours of the morn?"

He didn't give me an answer but charged at me like a bull.

Quickly, I faked left and aimed the ball. It sailed through the air with precision, and the soft swoosh of the net as I scored made me smile. But I turned to see Emmet scowling at the floor.

"You'll figure it out, Em," I said. "What has you so worked up? Is Rosalie holding back on the oral?"

Instead of slapping me, he headed for the benches.

"Emmet?" I asked as I sat beside him. "Talk to me. You know you can trust me."

He looked at me, almost appraisingly. "I know. But can everybody else?"

"Em? What the hell are you getting at?"

He groaned, pressing a palm against his forehead. "I don't know, man. Forget it."

When he got up and left, I knew better than to follow.

After showering and heading back to my room, I stared at my Blackberry for five minutes, willing it to flash red—to tell me that Isabella finally replied with an affirmative. But the Blackberry remained uncooperative, and I fell back onto my mattress in frustration.

Jasper rolled over in his bed, making soft whimpering sounds that grew disturbing in the mornings. I listened for a second then turned away in disgust. What kind of man whimpered like that? He sounded like a love-starved puppy. Only girls should make that noise in bed.

Like Isabella. She would sound good whimpering.

Stunning, dirty, sweet, and delicious Isabella.

Bella.

Mine.

She would be. I'd decided. No more staying away for Edward Cullen. I could be all she needed, and if I had holes, well, it would have to be her choice whether to accept them or fill them in. Either one or the other.

I clearly could not stay away from Bella Swan, and fate kept throwing her at me.

Who was I to argue with fate?

I didn't know how very well I would soon learn that lesson.

She was ignoring me. And I couldn't stand it anymore.

"Jasper!" I called behind me. We just finished running during practice, and I needed some answers.

He sidled up to me and grinned, his eyes flashing. For a moment, I felt the oddest urge to just hug him. Thank goodness I was huffing from my run.

"Your sister hasn't replied to my emails," I accused, as if he were the cause. That made me feel better.

"Um, she—"

The sounds of the cheerleaders had me looking to the side. Crap, here comes Tanya.

"Hi, Tanya," Jasper said, his voice practically dripping with sickly honey.

Smirking, Tanya flipped her hair in his face and turned to me. The look in her eyes wiped any traces of amusement off my face.

She lifted a spindly, manicured hand and touched my cheek. Tanya expertly added a touch of concern to her voice when she said, "How have you been, baby? You look stressed."

I flinched, hating her touch. It had always been tolerable and sometimes quite pleasurable, but today it made me sick.

Jasper decided now was the time to speak.

"I bought a new iPod," he informed me.

Huh?

"Oh and Emmett says he swiped a couple tadpoles from Micky's room, and I want to turn them into frogs. With time and care, you know? It just takes a little love and devotion. LOVE AND DEVOTION, I say."

He started nodding his head as Tanya wrapped herself around me. She tried sneaking a hand into my sweats.

Jasper screamed.

BPOV

When the hell did I turn into Mike?

EPOV

I tore Tanya off me. "Jasper, are you okay?" I asked, concerned more for his psychological well-being than anything else.

He stopped that hideous noise and said, "Bella is coming to the game on Friday."

I noticed Tanya slithering closer and pushed her away without looking.

"Why's she coming?" I asked, affecting a casual tone.

"She said you have something to show her."

That last bit seemed directed to the viper behind me, who hissed in response.

BPOV

Emmett had been glaring at me. He glared at me when I was only sitting by the pool, and he glared at me when I laughed at Damien's jokes. In fact, he glared at me while I simply breathed.

I would ignore him. That was the plan.

So sitting on a bench in the locker room, I listened to the banter around me with interest. As Jasper, I had an opportunity to do what all women in the world would die for: infiltrate the male mind.

"Does it even matter what she looks like, man?" Kevin was asking Damien. "I mean, if she sucks dick like a goddess, she could have the ugliest face in all creation and I'd still keep her around."

Damien slapped Kevin with a Daffy-Duck towel.

Jack spoke up. "Hey, are we talking about sex or girlfriends? Because we all know they're different."

The room erupted in laughter, but I didn't appreciate the joke.

Emmett chose that moment to poke me.

"What?" I asked.

"Don't you think that was funny?" he asked, raising his brows like he'd asked the most serious question known to man.

"Uh, no, not really. Girls are not packages of meat."

Emmett's mouth dropped open. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he asked quietly, almost to himself.

"I don't know what you mean," I replied.

Miffed, I turned to see Edward, bare-chested and sopping wet as he was forced to join the conversation.

"So, Edward," Jack said, dragging out the name. "Ever found a girl worth keeping?"

I perked up at this point, ready to hear Edward talk about me, maybe call me a girl from his past that he really liked and only just found.

But he was silent for a moment, tugging off his swim cap. "No, man," he finally said. "You know what I think. Girls are only worth one thing. A good time."

I couldn't believe he'd say that in front of Jasper.

But then he left. Just like that.

It was late and dark and no one was around to intrude on my thoughts.

I swung my feet at the pool edge, considering Edward's words.

Did he just want to get between my legs? He did call me a slut after all. But his eyes. Could eyes lie?

I sighed, curling up into a ball and rocking back and forth slowly. Did men just say stupid things about girls all the time? Did they always mean it?

I felt a shiver run through my body as I remembered his touch. The memory felt odd. Almost sickening.

I wanted to know Edward so desperately. I knew I could fall in love with him. The pain in my gut was less about losing him and more about losing the potential of him. I knew we had a long way to go, but maybe now we would never even begin getting there.

Lost in the murky world of conjecture, I recoiled when I felt a warm hand on my shoulder. Emmett.

He lifted me and put me in his lap. Stunned, I stared at him, wondering what to do.

He simply smiled and wrapped his arms around me, rocking me slowly. "Oh, little fish, he always says that. I know he doesn't mean it," he whispered.

"Emmett? How do you—"

"You're a little fool and a horrible actress. Do you know that straight men don't usually drool when looking at other men?" He chuckled and kissed my forehead. "Clearly you need some help in this water, piranha."

Two days later:

The home game against Campbell was about to begin. We had only an hour, but that was enough to meet Edward as Bella. It had to be.

I found him waiting for me by the stands, where people had already congregated in masses. It was so crowded I couldn't spot an empty seat.

But Edward didn't want to sit; he walked up to me and immediately had me in a death grip, his arms hugging my body against him so warmly that I knew Emmett was right: Edward did feel more for me.

"You're here," he said against my hair. His sweet breath fanned my cheek when he pulled back to gaze in my eyes.

With hungry eyes, I took in the sight of this man. In a black shirt and grey slacks, he was mouthwatering.

"Yes," I said briskly, in no mood for anything other than what I came for. "Are you going to keep your word?"

"Will you go out with me after the game?"

I raised a brow.

"Sorry," he said sighing. "I know I promised." He turned my body to face the crowd but kept my back to his front as he did so. His hair brushed my cheek as he pulled me closer.

Edward pointed to the last row in the stands. "See that?" he asked softly, almost sorrowfully.

I followed his finger to find tiny Alice, bouncing gleefully on her toes as she held her "JASPER SWAN IS NUMBER ONE" sign into the air.

Edward kissed my head. "She's never done that for me. She rarely even attends my games."

"How did you know she would be here?"

"If she came to tryouts for him, how could she not come for the first game?"

My breath caught in my throat. "You're jealous."

He pulled me closer. "He took her affection. Matched my academic status. And now my identity in the pool. Don't you see? He's taking my life."