Chapter Two: Disposition

mention this to me
mention something, mention anything

... and watch the weather change. (mjk)

BPOV: The inside of the Cullen Mansion was everything the outside suggested it would be. Plush velvet curtains draped over the ceiling high windows, Persian carpets centered on the floor of each room, a kitchen that fulfilled every cooking fantasy I'd ever had. Yep, these digs were definitely better than I'd seen. Ever.

Dr. Cullen was in the middle of a tour of his extravagant home. It was odd to me; none of the other kids were present, and there wasn't really a sign of them anywhere. Strange. Maybe they'd all left. I was sure I would have had notice of that happening somehow though …

As we turned the corner into what had to be the living room, Dr. Cullen directed my attention to a wide flat screen TV that simply overpowered the room.

"Of course, Bella, you're welcome to all of the accommodations that are provided. We want you to make yourself right at home here," he said with a toothy grin.

Dr. Cullen's picture really didn't do him much justice. He was more than striking: he was beautiful.

My heart vibrated quickly as I remembered other beautiful men I'd had in my life before. Beauty that wasn't necessarily obvious; beauty that was more than skin deep …

"Thanks, but I don't really watch TV," I said to Dr. Cullen, who merely smiled at my response.

"That's no problem, Bella," he chuckled. "Actually, not many of us here do. Except Emmett; he's usually got ESPN on without fail."

"Yes," Sally interrupted, clearly impatient to be on her way. Wanted to finish her romance and put Dr. Cullen in the place of the male lead, I'm sure. It was true: if women were capable of hard-on's, Sally would definitely be showing a little too much excitement below the belt right about now.

"Where are the rest of your children, Dr. Cullen? If my memory serves me, I believe there were four others …?"

"That is correct," Dr. Cullen said. "In fact, I'm not entirely sure where the rest of them are. Emmett's probably off at the batting cages, as he usually is, and Alice is most likely with her boyfriend. I thought Rosalie and Edward would be here today, but I suppose not. Now, Bella, let me show you your bedroom."

And with that, Dr. Cullen whisked Sally and I up an enormous staircase that went against the wall of the home, and then circled massively into the center. As we walked, I caught a glance of the pictures that lined that walls. Many were of Dr. Cullen with a woman who looked young and somewhat maternal; if a picture could be a giveaway to a characteristic like that.

Most of the others were portraits of a boy; a young boy with shocking green eyes and disheveled hair. He never looked at the camera. There was a faraway look to those eyes that glanced down-ward and to the side. It reminded me of something, but I couldn't quiet grasp it at the moment.

"Alright, Bella," Dr. Cullen announced. "To the left we have .."

But Dr. Cullen couldn't finish, because as he was talking, he was interrupted. By a scream. No, a cry. No, BOTH. Someone in this house was having an orgasm.

Sally shifted nervously. "Is that what I think it is, Dr. Cullen?" she asked, looking as if she'd like to do the same with him at that very second.

And I couldn't help myself. I burst out into heaving laughter; a laughter so deep I couldn't remember the last time I found anything so funny. I mean, seriously- to catch that awkward and, well, horny look on Sally's face was absolutely priceless.

"EDWARD!" the orgasm cried. Ahhh, I thought. One of Dr. Cullen's mysterious disciples.

"My apologies," Dr. Cullen stammered. And with a graceful sweep, we were all heading down the staircase again. "If you don't mind, Bella, I'll show you your bedroom in a few moments."

"Nope," I said, rolling my eyes. "Don't mind one bit."

***

A few hours later I was safe in the room that Dr. Cullen had proclaimed as my own. I truly wasn't expecting all of this. I had only had my own room once, and that was many, many years ago. This one was small, with walls painted a soft shade of green and huge windows that seemed to be a trademark of the house. It had taken me only a few minutes to unpack, much to Dr. Cullen's surprise. As he had offered to go to Sally's car to get the rest of my stuff, I had pointed to the black canvas bag that was slung over my right shoulder, and said, "This is it."

I had been the owner of many possessions once. But, as I've learned from traveling from place to place, possessions are fleeting. You are prone to lose things along the way, and you can't feel too sorry about all of that. There were only a few items that were truly important to me … only a few things I would never let myself lose.

It was 5 pm and already dark. There was a resonating chill throughout my room that sent me into a brief spasm of shivers. I wondered where the others were, and decided the time had come for me to explore on my own. After shrugging on a sweatshirt, I went through my bedroom door to snoop through the rest of the house.

EPOV: I really didn't know Carlisle still had all that in him. The last time I'd seen him that angry … well, honestly, I don't know if I'd ever seen him so pissed. But really … what was he to expect? He knew the situation Rose and I had. He had never minded, until now. What was it about this new girl? And why was everyone so keen on interrupting everything I was doing just to talk some shit to me about her?

The house was always quiet at dusk. It was my favorite time of day. Carlisle always worked night shifts at the hospital, Emmett usually had practice for one of his many sports teams, Alice was always at Jasper's, and Rosalie was either doing her stint at the makeup counter or off doing some shopping.

Twilight. The house nearly vibrated with silence, and I was grateful.

Suddenly I remembered the other addition, the new girl. She must be here somewhere. For a brief second I was overcome with annoyance, as I imagined this new figure interrupting into my daily routines with something else.

It was quite irrational, as none of it was truly her fault, and she was, of course, unaware of the emphasis I placed on routine. But something deep within blamed her with severity; as if I knew without a doubt that this girl was going to change everything that I already had going for me.

Illogical, I know. But I couldn't help it. It was as if there was a monster within me, already plotting ways to scare her off and get rid of her. Definitely not the person Carlisle had raised.

I was sitting in the kitchen, perched on a bar stool with my elbows braced on the counter of the island. Headphones on, always on, and I was writing in my notebook as I always did at this time.

I sat with the windows before me, as if for once there would be a sunset worth seeing. But here, it was always the same; a slow transition into night that always left me wanting more; no colors, no sunlight, no reflections. Just dim light into no light. It was tiring.

For a moment I wondered why I held my routines so close, when they never left me truly satisfied. And with that frustrating thought, I decided it was time for a cigarette.

With my notebook in hand, I walked through the kitchen door that led to the side of the house, and went out. I looked up, and to my surprise I realized that someone was already out here, sitting on the same exact bench in the same exact spot I'm always at. Everyone knows that spot is mine. So what the fuck?

It was a girl, and her back was facing me, and with a grimace I realized that this had to be New Girl. Her hair was long, brown, and wavy, and she wore it flowing against her back. Her attire was plain; black everything, and with an almost laugh I looked down and registered the similarities in our dress. For a second, I debated; wondering whether or not to introduce myself to New Girl or go find another spot to smoke. Fuck that. This was my home, and most definitely my spot. New Girl would discover that soon enough, no doubt about it.

I walked over to her, noticing that her head was bobbing slightly, and for a brief second I wondered if there was something mentally wrong with her. Right afterwards, I realized she was, in fact, listening to music, with the shittiest looking headphones I'd ever seen sitting over her ears.

She's hadn't noticed me yet, as her eyes were softly closed, so I gave myself a moment to look her over. There was nothing particularly remarkable about her; she was small, nearly petite, with pale skin that would reflect in the almost moonlight. In her hand she held a Walkman, and all of a sudden, I couldn't help myself. I burst out into a fit of laughter.

The girl's eyes opened suddenly, and a look of surprise and then understanding seem to pass over them. They were a brown, a warm brown; a brown that made me almost forget the biting cold that was penetrating through the air. Weird. What the fuck was wrong with me? Must've been the song …

She pulled her headphones down and seemed to be giving me the once over I'd just given her. "What's so funny?" she asked almost haughtily, as if she were daring me to respond.

"Nothing," I chuckled. "It's just that … well, it's your Walkman."

With confusion, she looked down at the aged CD player that was sitting in her hands. "So?" she wondered.

"I just haven't seen one of those since the new Millennium began. That's all."

There was a flash of anger that seemed to pulse from her in that very second. I wondered if I should regret my words.

"Sorry, buddy," she said angrily. "Not everyone grew up in a mansion. Not everyone gets Ipod's and flat screens thrown at them like it's nothing."

Now it was my turn to get angry. Who the fuck did this little girl think she was? Accusing me … thinking she knew about my life? "You," I pointed at her, my finger nearly an inch away from her face, "don't know shit about me. Got it?"

"Likewise," she said, obviously not at all intimidated by my little speech. What was it going to take for this bitch to realize her place?

Without breaking the staring contest we were suddenly having, the girl reached into the pocket of her sweat shirt and pulled out pack of smokes and a book of matches. I suddenly frowned, surprised that this girl would be a smoker. Well, maybe I didn't know anything about her, but I guess I was just surprised that anyone besides myself was a smoker. I thought I was the only person in America who still lit up.

She seemed to read my thoughts, as all of a sudden her expression changed. "Want one?" she asked, holding the pack out to me.

"Naw," I said, pulling out my Camels. "I'm taken care of." I pulled out a smoke and flicked my Bic to light it. The girl smiled at that, and I caught a flash of white teeth that were previously hidden behind her pink lips.

"What's your name?" I asked, all of a sudden realizing I couldn't address her as New Girl forever.

"Bella," she said. "Bella Swan. Yours?"

"Edward Cullen," I said.

BPOV: Well of COURSE this was Edward. The infamous Edward Cullen. Infamous if not in the outside world, but absolutely throughout the halls of the Cullen mansion. It was my turn to smirk at the green eyed boy, the boy whose face was also represented in all of the pictures that littered the walls of the staircase.

"What's with the smirk?" he demanded, growing obviously annoyed by my mood swings. It was a problem, I know, to go from insanely pissed one second and then thoroughly amused the next. I was working on it. Not too adamantly, but I was aware of it.

"It's just," I said, mocking the same words he chose earlier with me, "Edward. Your name. That's all."

He looked bitterly confused, and I found myself actually having a good time teasing this Edward.

I was wrong with my previous prediction about there being no attractive boys in this house: Edward was definitely good looking. That was an understatement, I scolded myself, as I tried to look him over subjectively without letting attraction seep through.

It was those eyes, though; those remarkable green eyes that drew me in. Not to mention his matted bronze hair, which was tangled and quite possibly extremely dirty but on the same token looked extremely touchable. He had a thin but muscular frame, and was wearing all black, just like myself.

He smoked his cigarettes lazily; breathing in the smoke with nonchalance and blowing it out slowly through his nose first, and then a hint through his mouth. It was almost seductive. I was almost not looking at him subjectively.

I was almost thinking he was kind of beautiful.

Therefore, sarcasm, my trusted and true support system, was the only way to respond.

"I'm not sure I understand …" he murmured, when, all of a sudden, shocked understanding washed over his features. His forehead crinkled with embarrassment, and his eyes cast downward for a moment. Then, as if realizing he had nothing to be ashamed of, his head flew back up, and he looked me directly in the eyes.

"Ah, so you overheard my little transgression with Rosalie, I assume," he said. I was a little moved by his sharp change in diction; it was as if he wanted to impress me with his fluid use of language. Two can play that game, I thought.

"Certainly," I said with a glowing smile. "In fact, I believe your little 'transgression,' as you call it, will be starring in many of my social worker's secret fantasies. Bravo, Mr. Cullen, bravo."

He seemed to peer at me with interest, and then shrugged as if he couldn't be bothered any longer. "Well, sorry if that shit offends you," he said, seemingly back to his regular self. "It's just the way it rolls around here."

I stood up, decidedly done with this conversation, and done with Edward Cullen, at least for the time being. "Sorry to disappoint you, Edward," I said, a hint of a sneer at the edge of my voice, "but it takes a lot more than a faked orgasm to offend me."

And with that, I stalked off, leaving Edward to pick up his jaw off the ground. I took one last drag off my cigarette and threw it into the hedges. Let that arrogant bastard chew on that for awhile.

EPOV: Well, shit. I was honestly quiet speechless. I'd had no idea that this new girl, this Bella, would have such a penchant for sarcasm. It was quite refreshing, really. Although I've had my fair share of sparring with women throughout the years, no one has been able to hold their own like that. And no one, certainly no one, has left me speechless.

I found myself impressed.

Not that I go out of my way, but people, especially women, are intimidated upon first meeting me. I guess it's my whole 'I don't give a fuck what you think' attitude that drives them away.

But this girl, this Bella, was not intimidated. She didn't seem scared of me in the least.

Shit. Was I losing my edge?

I considered all of this as I finished smoking my cigarette. There was definitely something intriguing about her, something other than an impressive knack for banter.

She wasn't beautiful, I suppose; not the way beautiful is usually described as. Not like Rosalie. But attractive … in her own way. In a warm way. What was with it with that word again? Especially odd to think it, especially as I was sitting in the freezing dark, wishing I'd been thoughtful enough to throw on my jean jacket over my hoodie.

I took one final drag and stubbed it in my ashtray, and walked back into the house. Although I was still a little unsure what to make of our conversation, I found that I was no longer seething with irritation that my routine had been intruded upon. In fact, I thought, with a bit of surprise, the intrusion felt quite welcome.

But, if I were to be completely honest with myself, I did find that I was somewhat embarrassed that Bella had heard what went down with Rosalie. But I couldn't put a finger on as to why.

Just in that instance, Alice breezed through the front door, her lithe and grace form hardly taking any physical space, but, as usual, it was hard not to watch her. She smiled broadly at me as she made her way to the kitchen where I was sitting again. Then sudden realization hit her, and she looked around a bit frantically.

"The new girl!" she shrieked a bit melodramatically, hitting a palm lightly to her forehead. "I almost completely forgot. Have you seen her yet? Where is she?"

"Slow down, Alice," I laughed. "I have met her, yes. She's … interesting. And I have no idea where she's at now."

Alice looked at me worriedly. "What did you do to her, Edward? I swear to God … can you at least try for once to make things livable around here?"

"Me?" I said, pointing to my chest with innocence. "I did nothing. And I don't think you have to worry too much about that one. She seems like she can hold her own."

Alice poured this over. "I think I remember Carlisle and Rose mentioning that she was supposed to be a bit intense." She shrugged and the smile was back. "Did she set up shop in the empty upstairs bedroom?"

"I'm not sure, but it's probably a likely guess."

OF COURSE Alice was excited. She'd never had very many female friends, and the prospect of potentially having one was enough to make her jump up and down.

I decided that if for nothing else, for my sister, I could do my best to be cordial.

"Well, I'm going to find her. See if maybe I can make her a grilled cheese or something. See ya."

And off she went, bounding up the stairs with the grace of a dancer. I smiled at the idea of Alice having someone in her life other than Jasper and myself; someone she could do girly shit with. Rose was definitely not someone Alice ever bonded with; Alice never understood my little arrangement with Rose, and in turn Rose was jealous of the friendship Alice and I shared. All in all, it didn't make for a real connection.

I thought about Bella for a moment more, and then briefly considered what it was that she was listening to. Probably some poppy girly shit. Music was an area I was sure we would have nothing in common in.

I flipped my music back on, immersing myself into the pulsations of rhythm that transpired, and let it guide me into a cascade of darkness.

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ok darlings … so there goes chap 2! I almost split this up into two diff chaps, but I figured it worked all together just fine.

for those of you who have reviewed … THANK YOU soo much. it really makes me happy. and I know the Rose and Edward thing was a little hard to read (trust me … even harder to write) but it will all tie together quite nicely.

another little tidbit: obviously, my bella is a bit hard, but I guess I like the idea of her being a tough as nails feminist, at least as far as this story is concerned. (and maybe that's my women's studies major peeking through)

Thanks again to everyone who's taken the time to read and review this story … it makes me sqeee with loads of OME's!

Oh… and I'm wondering if anyone is catching on with the intro quotes and title names? I swear, it's relevant …