All of these great characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. I'm just borrowing them for a while.

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Ok, I've been doing some moving of chapters... this was originally chapter three. I moved it to chapter 4. Some seemed to think it made sense to hear from Bella first about meeting Edward then hear about it from Edward. I agreed, so they swaped.

Ch. 4—I've Just Seen a Face

Had it been another day
I might have looked the other way
And I'd have never been aware.
But as it is I'll dream of her
Tonight
Falling, yes I am falling,
And she keeps calling
Me back again.
The Beatles—I've Just Seen a Face

Edward's POV

I was tired. I didn't get much sleep Friday night; Emmett and I played at a bar downtown. I had planned on sleeping in this morning before the football game. That, however, didn't happen thanks to Emmett. He came barreling into my bedroom this morning with his typical Saturday cry of "It's game day! It's game day!" I wasn't too receptive. I threw my pillow at him, which he caught and then hit me with several times.

"Up, Edward! It's game day. You know what that means—gotta get to the stadium. Cheer on the team! Get up!" He hit me one final time before he left me alone. I groaned inwardly and swung my feet to meet the floor. I was really looking forward to a couple of extra sleep hours.

I walked into the living room where Emmett and his girlfriend, Rosalie, were packing a cooler for the tailgate.

"Edward, man! The girls were all over you last night. I hope you got some of their numbers. That one chick, man, she was hot!" Emmett was always getting excited about the girls that come and watch us play.

"Ugh, Emmett, it's a good thing I know you love me." Rosalie wasn't too happy with Emmett checking out the ladies. She made it clear to him every time we play.

"Rose, you know you're the most beautiful woman alive." Emmett nuzzled Rosalie's neck. Rosalie could be a model and knows it. Their relationship was somewhat odd, but fitting, to me. Emmett was just like an oversized stuffed bear; he comes across as big, burly and intimidating. In reality, he was cuddly and soft. Rosalie needed constant assurance that Emmett only had eyes for her. I've asked him why she is this way and he thinks its because of a past boyfriend that wasn't very faithful.

Emmett turned back to me. "Really, Edward, that one girl, Tonya, she's not that bad. Rose knows her from some of her classes. She comes to all our shows. I know she's given you her number."

"Yeah, Emmett, she has, but I'm not looking for that right now. We have this conversation the morning after we play. Every time. Maybe you'll listen this time? You know I just want to play some good music and get through school." I meant every word of this. Every time Emmett and I played a gig downtown, I somehow managed to come home with at least seven different phone numbers in my pocket. Emmett says that girls can't resist a guy who plays the guitar.

I met Emmett our freshman year in a music education class. Emmett was taking it as an elective; it was a required course for me as a music performance major. After a few classes of watching him bang his fingers along to whatever piece we were listening to, I finally asked him if he played any instruments.

"Drums, man! Helps get out the pent up energy. Makes a lot of really nice racket." He grinned and kept beating his fingers on his notebook.

It wasn't long after that explanation that Emmett and I started playing together at his apartment. I would play my guitar mostly, but sometimes I would play the keyboards. I always sang. Emmett sounded like a crying cat when he tried. We eventually added a bassist and started playing at local restaurants, frat parties and bars. We were requested enough to keep us busy most weekends.

Eventually we made it to the stadium. It was packed, as always. We ate the subs that Rosalie packed at the apartment and headed into the game. We weren't playing one of our bigger competitors, but the game turned out to be surprisingly close. They scored, we answered back, they made a good run down the field, fumbled, we got the ball and were working toward a touchdown when I saw her.

I had turned to watch a replay on the big screen behind the stand we were sitting in. She was standing beside a short, slim girl with a pixie haircut. They were laughing and teasing one another about what, I don't know. The girl was shorter than her friend with brown, curly hair. I could tell, even from where I was sitting several rows in front of her, that her eyes were the deepest shade of brown I had ever seen. She was beautiful. But, unlike Rosalie, she didn't know it. You could tell by the way she pulled at the red polo she wore, almost like she would have been more comfortable in something else. She turned, maybe to say something to someone on the other side of her, and fell sideways like she was going to fall off of the bleacher she was standing on. Two arms shot out to catch her and she grabbed onto them protectively. She looked up gratefully, but still laughing, at the guy who saved her. He was tall and dark with long black hair. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, as if to hold her onto the bench and to his side, and fell into the conversation she was having with her pixie haired friend before she tripped.

I had to know who she was. I just kept looking at her. There was something about her that I couldn't let go. She noticed me looking at her then; our eyes met and she blushed a deep red before looking away. I couldn't stop looking at her. There was just something about her I wanted to know. A few seconds later, I caught her glancing back towards me. Our eyes met again. I made a move toward her just as the crowd erupted.

Emmett's hand grabbed my shoulder, dragging me back towards the field. We had just scored a touchdown off of the fumble recovery. Emmett released me and I turned back around to look for the girl again, but she was gone.