Although revised, Stephenie Meyers own all characters noted here.

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Unexpected

Chapter 3
Bella's POV

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You have got to be shitting me, I thought as my eye automatically glances in the direction of the front door. I was surprised I knew where the contraption was given that I hardly used it. The way into and out of my physical fortress of solitude, be it only to go to work at the bar and regain entry into my personal hell. I was pretty sure I used that method of entering and exiting the house as the window wasn't an option with me being five stories above the ground.

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Screw that, I was not opening that door. It just was not the day. I didn't feel like entertaining guest. I didn't want to buy any damn Avon. I didn't feel like loaning out sugar (as if they would pay it back anyway). And as much as I love sweet old Mrs. Taylor, I did not feel like walking her two hundred pound German Shepherd, oddly named "Poodle." The damn dog had to be three times her size!

No, I was not opening that door. You better have a key to get into this dungeon. If you do decided to brave the terrain you better be prepared. It wasn't a pretty site. The battle between my heart and the rest of my being was harsh and unyielding. There were already casualties on the front line: such as my desire to do anything that involved me being removed from the couch (including opening the damn door).

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I wonder if I will automatically go to hell for cussing out a Jehovah witness. Is it a crime to slam the door on a police officers face? No one will be safe from my wrath if I am forced to venture from my position.

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"Damn it!" I screamed as I made my way to the disturbance. I stumbled on my feet as my body wasn't prepared for the rush of blood downwards. It gave evident to the fact that I had been horizontal for far too long. Slowly, I made my way to the soon-to-be-dead person banging on their death ticket.

I yanked the door open to find Rosalie grinning in my face. Apparently my grimace did not deter her form questioning my mood or just leaving. I wasn't in the mood for Rosalie's snide comments or just-get-over-it attitude. The passion I felt for Alice Brandon was not something you could just get over. I had never felt something as strong as what I felt for the seductive pixie I had met just over a week ago. I hadn't taken a breath right since she left me broken and alone in that hotel room. I didn't know how or why it happened, this strong emotion, but it had. It was quite bittersweet.
"Why the hell didn't you use your key?" I asked as Rosalie walked through the door, pushing me out of the way.

"I dunno know. Why in the hell aren't you dressed?" She put her hands to her hips sizing me up and down. I guess she didn't care for my tattered black, faded to gray, sweat pants and my Nike shirt that showed its wear and tear over the last decade or so of use.

It was at that time that I noticed Rosalie wearing a long purple number that was sure to catch a couple eyes. To my surprise, unlike most of her night life attire, it covered all her parts except for the mid thigh split that let the left leg out with each step she took. The neckline fell low enough to leave things to your imagination but prayed for entry. It was then I realized what day it was.

"Rose I am not going out tonight." I closed and locked the door to head back to my horizontal position across my couch.

"What the hell, Swan? We go out every Friday night!" I rolled my eyes at her as I faced her head on. She had to see the half life in my eyes. She truly expected me to go out after what happened last time. "So it's true then. You're still hung up over this chick . . . Ashley!"

Fury poured through me as my hands automatically balled into tight fists. "Her name is ALICE!" I wasn't gong to attack Rose over a wrong name, was I?

"Whatever her name is," Rosalie said as she began walking in the direction of my living room. "Get over it and get dressed. We . . . have . . ."

Rosalie never finished her thought. Her eyes popped as her mouth left a gaping hole in her face. I walked around her already knowing what made her freeze in her tracks. I was either officially cured of my OCD or I had lost my mind completely. I was betting on the latter. Rosalie began to step over the dirty clothes and food take-out boxes that riddled my floor. She gasped as she noticed the giant purple stain that was in front of my big screen television. To be honest with you I didn't remember how that particular accident happened, it was all a blur in the haze of the last week. Only thing I could recall totally was that I had thought of the word "Alice" at least 2,567 times. I brushed the clothes on the floor to resume my position pre-door.

"Isabella Marie Swan! What the hell is all this?" Rosalie looked afraid to sit down or even move from the one square foot spot where she stood. A woman, who treated men and women like a revolving door, much as I treated women before I was so harshly schooled, would not understand the inability to distinguish one room from another. Hence the transformation of my living room into a bedroom, closet, kitchen, and dinning room.

I cringed at the sound of my full name. I never liked "Isabella" until I heard it on her lips. Now the one person I would permit to use the word was lost to me. I never wanted to hear the sound of it again.

"Really Rose, don't start. I'm just not in the mood." I doubt I could really get her to understand how I was feeling. Hell I didn't quite understand it myself.

How could I still feel Alice's legs wrapped around my hips? I could still smell her sweetness as if she were still pressed against my lips. Her cool skin had become my addiction in one night of passion and pleasure. A night that awoke to what is now a week of pain. Even the sound of someone requesting a Sparkling Nuevo sent me flashes of her dark seductive eyes, long lashes, and arousing touch. I was utterly useless, incapacitated by the withdrawal of the most alluring thing I had ever had the pleasure of touching, tasting, and devouring.

I couldn't explain it to Rose because I couldn't explain it to myself. Everything about this untouchable ache was uncharted territory for me. Was this love? My mind would not let me consider it. When I did acknowledge the feeling as the possibly of something as strong as that cursed four letter word, my body would feel weightless and free of the throbbing pain in my chest, albeit for just a moment. But, I couldn't call it love. Discomfort I could deal with, giving myself wholly to the concept of unwavering desire for one person, I could not. Why did I ever feel like this was what I wanted or needed; to settle down? No one needs to feel like this, hopelessly broken because of one person.

Then it hit me: Is this how I made my conquests feel? All those women I succeed for my own pleasure, left to feel empty once I left their side. I know all of them couldn't feel this way but I could think of a few who shed tears because of me. I wanted to call them all. Apologize; let them kick my ass, or something! They had to know I didn't realize it felt this way.

Maybe I deserved this gut wrenching pain. I always heard karma was a bitch but that wasn't quite accurate enough. Karma is more like two bitches. Divine retribution. A new circle of hell.

"This chick must have had kryptonite in her pussy to bring you down." Rosalie's voice brought me out of my deep thought. I had forgotten she was here.

"It's my own damn fault," I said sitting up on my couch-dinner table-closet.

"What are you talking about?" Rosalie finally braved a seat next to me. She eased her way down, allowing as little weight on the spot as possible. Maybe she though the dirt would jump on her if she relaxed.

"I asked for this bullshit," rubbing my hands through my knotted hair. "I said I needed to settle down. One girl. Now look at me. I get one girl and she does me just like I did every girl I was with!"

"How the hell do you know she was the one?" Rosalie tone was clearly of one losing interest in this conversation. "Fuck Swan, you fucked her for one night and you are already trying to marry her."

"I don't know," nearly knocking the coffee table over as I stormed away from Rosalie's side. "I can't explain how it all felt so . . . right?" It sounded like more of a question; as if Rosalie knew the answer. "Rosalie, are you telling me you are content with your relationships?" My voice sounded exhausted, I could only imagine what I looked like. I'd been avoiding mirrors, too.

"Please, are you kidding me?" Rosalie crossed her legs, a look of shear pleasure rolling across her face. "I love my relationships. Note the 's' on the end." Rosalie stood to her feet and sashayed to my side. "I have a date tonight with Esme, you know that gorgeous brown head you saw me talking to before you ran off with the love of your life, and tomorrow it is Emmett's turn." Rosalie was quite pleased with herself.

"Who the hell is . . . You know what never mind," I throw my hands up at the succubus who stood before me.

"Why don't you put yourself out of your misery? You know her whole name, find her."

"Because . . . I . . . I mean she . . ." I couldn't form a coherent enough sentence to explain how I felt about the obvious solution to the problem. Anytime I considered just finding and facing my desire, my mind burned with the image of the scribbled last name. "I just know she doesn't want to be found." The weight of the fact made me bow my head in defeat. I unconsciously rubbed the note that burned my pocket.

"Bullshit! You're just scared chicken shit." It amazed me how Rosalie was able to pick up anybody with her vulgar mouth. Then again, I guess with a body like hers, you don't have to do much talking. "Look, you just need a new piece of sweet ass to take your mind off her. I'll fuck you if you want." Rosalie spoke as if she was offering me a ride to work and not a booty call.

"Umm, no thank you. Been there, remember?" I vaguely recalled a night two years ago that was stuck somewhere between a lot of clear alcohol and my bedroom sheets.

"Yeah, but it will be better this time. We'll remember what happened." Rosalie spoke so nonchalantly.

I could do nothing more than roll my eyes.

"I hate to see my best friend this way." I tensed as Rosalie wrapped her arms around me, leaning into my frame. I was certain she was going to try and change my mind on her request. "Just know one thing. You smell horrible! Get your shit together, girl!"

Who needs enemies when you have a friend like Rosalie? So comforting and understanding, she is. NOT!

Rosalie was a bit abrasive but I knew she had a point. I had made up in my mind that I was not going to go look for my pixie, so there was no reason for me to be wallowing in my filth (literally). I didn't want to be with anyone or find a "sweet piece of ass" as Rosalie stated, but maybe some night air and a few drinks would bring me out of my coma.

Rosalie emerged from my bedroom wearing my robe and yellow cleaning gloves. I could tell she had taken off her dress as my robe was shorter and no purple showed through the bottom. I was pretty sure she was naked underneath. This was Rosalie after all. I hadn't even realized she had walked out of the room before now.

"What the hell are you doing?" I snickered at her attire.

I," Rosalie pointed a yellow finger at her chest, "am going to straighten up this waste land you call a living room. You need to go shower and get dress. Don't argue with me heffa, just go!"

I rolled my eyes at Rosalie, shaking my head as I watched her pick up the three day old Chinese food container as if it had poisonous teeth. Rosalie could be a bit much but all in all she really could be a great friend.

I stepped in to the scalding hot shower and let the steam lift away my sadness and the heat message away my sorrows. If I couldn't have that night again, with a woman I was possibly in love with, then I would at least take the lesson I learned: Be careful who you invite up because they could be the one who leave you down.

Static was packed as usual. You would think I would be sick of this place given that I manned the bar five times a week and created all of their hot drink specials. Yet Rosalie loved this place, and this was where she was going to be meeting her female flavor of the month, Esme.

I stayed close to the bar once Esme arrived, not wanting to be a third wheel. I figured if it got any more packed in here I would just jump behind the bar and get a few hours of overtime in. I was at home with a bottle of Hypnotic in my hands. Tanya and Carmen seemed to have it under control though, so I just laid back; trying to forget the week I had just barely made it through.

I felt her eyes on me before I saw her. When my eyes did finally meet her, I could see she was giving everyone occupying the bar a show; her cherry from her martini being the star. She had platinum blond hair shaping her oval face. Her hazel and green eyes were piercing and eerie. Even from the distance between us, I could see them clearly. She was tall and skinny; too skinny for my liking, but tonight I really wasn't looking and meaningful. Tonight I was trying to forget. My mind was able to measure that she was fine as hell. My body registered that she was likely easy, too. She was already eye fucking me, might as well make it physical. Rosalie said I need a piece of ass to truly make me forget what it was that I really wanted. This chick was as good as any to test out this theory. As if I had called her, she began to walk towards me.

"Well, hello," she said entirely too close to my face. She was already drunk and it wasn't even midnight yet. That, added with issues with personal space, was signaling me to walk away.

"What's your name, sexy?"

"Bella," I said after taking a drink from my Smirnoff Black bottle. I wanted to keep my distance, immediately remembering my lesson learned. "And you are?"

"Alice."

I didn't mean to spit the drink in her face. That successfully ended that conversation as she stalked away towards the bathroom to clean up. With the sound of that one word, that glorious name, everything about that week resurfaced. This fake Alice looked nothing like the love of my life. My Alice was much more beautiful, radiant, and genuine, unlike the blond Barbie wanna-be quickly making a dash away from me. Good riddance. My night was done before it even began.

I didn't want to interrupt Rose on her date so I sent her a text message instead:
"Sorry. I just can't do it. I'm out."

I turned off my cell phone before I could get her reply, which I was sure was going to be her attempt to stop me from leaving.

There was a bright side: My house was clean thanks to Rose and my favorite Sushi bar was still open.

So started round two of my heart versus everything else.

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