BPOV

I don't think my mind really comprehended who was kissing me, just that this guy was an amazing kisser.

The kiss lengthened and I was desperate for more, but then the man pulled out of the kiss and I felt disappointed.

"Sorry about that," he chuckled. "Those loathsome photographers just won't leave me alone," He paused, "Thanks for helping me." He flashed me a crooked smile that made my pulse quicken.

There was a pause as he waited for me to say something, but that kiss had left me speechless. I opened and closed my mouth, trying to think what to say to him. I decided it probably would be safer to just not say anything at all.

"What's your name?" He must not have thought I was that crazy if he wanted to know my name.

I considered lying, due to my career, but there was something about him that made me open my mouth and sputter,

"Isabella Swan. I like Bella better,"

"I like Bella, too," I blushed. "You can call me Edward." We started down the sidewalk, occasionally noting something about one of the many characters on the street and talking about his life.

"It must be hard being so famous," I said, almost sympathetically. "Do you ever get to spend time with your family?'

"Sometimes it can be difficult and I despise those moments. My family has always meant the most to me. They're the people who believed in me the whole time." He smiled, "I don't understand what paparazzi find so interesting about celebrities. We're completely normal people," I held back a snort.

I'd been writing about celebrities for three years. There was nothing normal about the money and connections they had.

Suddenly, he let the most horrible question came out of his beautiful lips,

"So, Bella, you already know what I do for a career. How do you make your living?"

I considered flat out lying. If he knew that I was, 'Marie,' just another paparazzi who didn't get him, he would probably never talk to me again. However, I was a horrible liar. In the end I just decided to smudge the truth a little, tell a white lie.

"I'm a writer." I said. Then, the next worst question came out of those luscious lips that had been kissing me twenty minutes earlier.

"What do you write about?" He questioned, looking just a tad reserved.

"Nothing terribly important, or at least not that important to me. I wanted to write about things that really matter, but that's impossible to do in Los Angeles." I sighed.

He looked at me with those entrancing green eyes quizzically. "If you can't do what you want, then why are you here? It sounds like you should be somewhere on the east coast?"

I thought about it for a second, but just a second and replied, "I got a scholarship here. My mom died right before senior year, so we couldn't really afford anything. I guess I just got comfortable here. It helps being closer to home, too." My voice cracked.

I must have been near to tears, because he reached over and pulled me into the warmest embrace ever.

That's when I heard it.

Click.

For the second time that day, I muttered, "Oh, shit."

EPOV

I was getting really tired of running from the paparazzi. They had no purpose in life except to ruin a day when I could be perfectly normal. It also just so happened one was chasing me at this exact moment.

I stopped short when I saw a gorgeous girl standing in front of an old antique store admiring a necklace. I thought how breathtaking it would be on her the base of her pale neck.

I was interrupted from my thoughts by a man holding a camera shouting my name. The angel from the window turned around and I immediately knew what I would have to do.

She must have realized what I was about to do, because I swear I heard her muttered, "Oh, shit."

I grabbed her delicate arms and kissed her luscious red lips, all the while successfully escaping the paparazzi.

The kiss was amazing. I desperately wanted more, but realized how much of a gentlemen I was not being. It's not right to kiss a random stranger, especially one that I wanted to get to know better. I reluctantly pulled out of the kiss.

"Sorry about that," I chuckled. "Those loathsome photographers just won't leave me alone," I paused, "Thanks for helping me." If only she knew how much I was thankfully. I didn't loathe that photographer as much as I should have; he brought me to this angel, which reminded me of another thing.

"What's your name?" She seemed to be in awe, which didn't surprise me all that much. I was Edward Masen, America's new heartthrob.

"Isabella Swan. I like Bella better," Her voice seemed so timid, but I was taken in by her voice. Everything about this girl had me interested.

"I like Bella, too," I internally groaned. Had I really said that? It sounded just like something out of one of my movies. This woman surely would think I was idiotic.

Then she blushed. It was the most magnificent thing ever. Her round cheeks had a tint of red that was so adorable. Not many woman I know ever blush. It soon faded and I felt disappointed. I wanted to be the one that made her blush from now on.

"You can call me Edward." I said, hoping she would speak soon.

We started walking down the busy sidewalk, laughing at the many curious looking strangers, and talking about everything. She had asked me about my family and in return and I asked about her career.

When I had initially asked what she did to make a living, she seemed very reserved about what she did. It seemed to me as if she was keeping a secret. I wondered what that secret could be. Maybe she wrote about sex, or kittens, or maybe she was a gossip columnist?

However, when she told me why she was in Los Angeles, I immediately forgot my theory of her being a gossip columnist. Her big, brown eyes got misty and she looked so close to crying. I don't know what overcame me, but I pulled her into a hug, trying to comfort her the best I could. When I touched her, I felt an electric current flow between us. I wondered if she had felt it too when I heard the worst noise ever.

Click.

Then, for the second time that day I heard Bella say,

"Oh, shit,"