Okay, guys! Here it is. The first non-Bella-of-the-Ball chapter of piano lessons!

Bella's POV, written by withthevampsofcourse.

And remember… new and different authors. Not going to be exactly the same…

Twilight is not ours.

Bella

What happened?

It was my refrain as I hopped into the cab. Clutching my cute little bag and the shreds of my dignity, I sat in the back seat, painfully aware that I looked utterly and completely like a girl who had just spent the night at someone's house and was now doing the cab ride of shame home. I noticed with horror as the driver adjusted his rear-view mirror that I had smeared mascara in the lower corners of each eye, and I tried to discreetly swipe them away. It didn't work.

Clenching my teeth, I ignored the leering driver and vowed that he would get a dollar tip. Judgmental jerk. He dropped me off at my place and I practically threw cash at him as I prepared to make a non-bumbling sprint up the stairs, taking my heels off so I wouldn't kill myself.

I had never been more desperate to not be seen in my life. I just don't do things like that.

I don't have one-night stands. Especially ones that I wished I could remember.

Thankfully, I didn't fumble with my keys as I leaned up against the door, throwing myself into it so that I could get inside that much faster. I need to talk to Alice. And Rose.

Reaching into my clutch, I gasped as I realized that my phone wasn't there. Did I leave it at the bar?

Oh, God. What if I left it at his place? How could I possibly go back there? Hi, remember me? We had anonymous sex since you don't know what my name really is. Sorry about breaking your expensive mug and possibly hurling all over you. And if I did/said anything untoward, forgive me; Sex on the Beach and I never have been on the best of terms.

I leaned back up against the door, irritated as hot tears prickled up my sinuses and into my eyes. Dammit. I am never drinking that much again.

And how many times have I said that after a night with my girls?

I'm getting too old for this crap. Thank God it's Saturday and I don't have class or anything.

Ugh. But I do have a birthday. And a dinner. A dinner that I'm pretty sure is a set-up.

The last thing that I needed today was to endure polite conversation with my nearest and dearest while half of the table was still hung over from last night's debauchery. Esme had invited everyone in our little circle- her husband, Carlisle- Alice, Rose, Emmett, and Jasper, and of course, her other nephew.

The one who I had just knocked boots with. The one who was so gorgeous that it didn't seem fair to the rest of maledom. The one who fixed me coffee and a bagel. The one who washed my damned chonies and hung them out to dry.

The one who was a skanky, dirty piano player in a dirty piano bar.

How is it that Edward Cullen, womanizing piano bar hottie extraordinaire, is related to both Masen Cullen and Esme Cullen? How did that asshole who took advantage of poor, unsuspecting, overdressed and undersexed English teachers grow up with the same genetic code and moral guidance as his sweet Aunt and adorable brother?

Shaking my head to clear the tears and resentment, I decided to brush off my embarrassment and think about retrieving my phone later; I needed a nap first. And a shower.

I was awakened by the insistent buzzing of my doorbell several hours later. I groaned. Alice. Rosalie.

Bleary-eyed and staggering, I made my way to the door. Before I could open it, I heard the two of them arguing on the other side. Unchaining and unlocking the various deadbolts, I swung the door wide and let in my two traitorous best friends. They entered my apartment, both with identical expressions of expectancy and apprehension.

"Well?" Alice said, hands on hips; practically stamping her foot. "What happened? You haven't been answering your phone, so we needed to come and make sure that you weren't involuntarily tied down somewhere."

"Or voluntarily. So, yeah, Bella. Spill," Rosalie said, making her way into my kitchen and diving under my glass-domed cake stand for a cookie. She leaned up against the counter, planting her elbows on it while munching away. I swear, I think half of the reason these girls have stuck with me over the years is because I always have fresh-baked goodies in my house, ready for immediate consumption.

The two of them were grinning at me, waiting for the juicy details of my wild, crazed, sex-filled night o' fun. I'm pretty sure that they have been waiting for this for some time; I wasn't a girl who was known for her one night stands, and whenever they happened, details were required. Too bad I couldn't remember anything.

I slumped down into a chair, putting my face in my hands.

"Aw. Was it bad? He seemed like he would be…. experienced," Rose snickered, spraying cookie crumbs all over my counter. Swiping at them absently, she waggled her eyebrows at me, sweeping her hand in a "continue" gesture. Time to rip off the band-aid.

"Guys-" I started, but I just didn't know how to begin.

Alice came up behind me, rubbing my shoulder. "Bella, how bad could it have been? At least you ended an epic dry spell," she said, and I could hear the grin in her voice.

Still not answering, I sat up a little straighter; I hated this. I hated that I had done what I did. I hated that I was going to have to eventually face the music (ha ha) and see Edward Cullen at my own damned birthday dinner tonight. The point of the one night stand is that you don't have to see the person, ever again, if you didn't want to. Wasn't it?

"Come on, Bella. We want to know. Tell us. James. Hottie Pianist. Dirty talk. All of it. Spill, please. At length. In great detail," Rose said, grabbing for another cookie. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for this conversation.

"Not James."

They blinked at the exact same time. Once.

"Excuse me?" Alice ventured.

"I didn't go home with James."

"Well, that's okay," Alice said, a slight note of disappoint coloring her tone. I knew they meant well, but hell. Just because I don't go around hooking up all over the place…

"Yeah, Bella. I mean, I'm sure he was a player, and why would you want to-"

"I went home with Edward. Eddie."

I saw Rose's jaw drop, and I'm sure Alice had a matching expression behind me.

"The hotter one? Wait. Really?" Rose was all excitement.

"Yep."

"Wooow. Bella! I'm impressed. He was definitely the dirtier of the two. Seriously? This is great!" Alice was jumping behind me, holding on to the chair and shaking me around. I almost laughed at her bubbly exuberance. If we were guys, she'd definitely be high-fiving me right about now.

"So. What was he like? Those long fingers. And that hair. Mm mm mm," Rose said, smacking her lips in satisfaction. Sigh. I wished I knew.

Sighing, I just dove in and told them. "Guys- I don't remember a thing."

They didn't believe that. Didn't want to believe that.

"Bella, how can you not? He looks like he definitely knows how to show a girl a good time."

"Look, I'm very hungover right now. I woke up in this strange apartment. I was naked. No clue how I got there. He wasn't even home," I said, total irritation and frustration in my voice. I explained everything- the bagel, my shoes. The note signed "E". My missing phone.

"But that's great! You have an excuse to go back there! Make some memories you can actually tell us about," Rose said, coming over and joining us at the table.

I shook my head. "No. You guys- his name is Edward Cullen."

"And?"

"And he just moved here. To be near his Aunt."

Alice put her hand up to her mouth, but Rose wasn't seeing it.

"So he's a family man. That's good."

I was going to retort, but Alice beat me to it.

"Esme's nephew."

"Bingo."

Rosalie's expression now mimicked Alice's.

"He's related to Esme? Whoa," she said, a now serious expression on her face. I sighed.

"I know. And guys- he's going to be there tonight. But who knows- maybe I'll get lucky and get hit by a train on my way over."

"Shut your mouth; no death wish until I'm far away. I'm going to be in the car with you," Rose said testily. "There's only one thing to do- ensure you've never looked better."

"Rose," I groused. I would've turned to Alice for help, but I knew that was futile. She's much worse about dressing me. In a split second, I mentally prepped myself for yet another session of Chanel.

Or in this case, Dolce. Honestly, I don't know where Alice comes up with this shit. It's like she had a never-ending supply of almost-Bella sized clothes hiding about her person, ready to go in such emergencies as these. I went along with her wide-leg trousers and super low-backed halter, but I insisted on my trusty eight-eyes. My purple velvet Docs always gave me strength, and I had a feeling I'd need it for the evening Esme had planned.

Hours later, we were all gussied up and out the door. Rose insisted on driving my car so that I could "get more courage from Senor Cuervo," but I am swearing off alcohol. For-Ev-Er.

Tripping on the overlong hems of the dressy slacks in my clumpy boots, I got out of the car, self-consciously fixing my hair. Mentally prepping for the face-to-face with the asshole. I started to get a little pissed with every step I took. How dare he take advantage of an obviously incapacitated-beyond-rational-thought girl? How dare he leave without facing her? How dare he grope women in public like that? How dare he be invited to my dinner? How dare he be so hot?

I realized that I was sounding petulant, like I was going to stamp my foot. I defended myself by pointing out that it was my birthday, and I'd be annoyed if I wanted. I'd just have to watch it; Esme went through a lot of trouble to make my favorite meal and invite my nearest, my dearest, and… her nephew.

I would have to be a grown-up about this.

We stepped onto the porch and I stopped short when I saw who was already there, obviously having just rung the doorbell. Looking great from behind in dark-rinsed jeans and a long-sleeved black button-down.

Edward.

Great.

Rose and Alice had stopped chattering the instant I stopped. They looked up and noticed what it was I was staring at, and their faces turned stony. He must've heard us because he turned around and stiffened as soon as our eyes met. His expression hardened and his eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly; he had his lips pressed into a thin, straight horizontal, and his head moved slightly to the left as he greeted us. Or sort of greeted us.

"Ladies."

All three of us nodded, stiffly.

"I would consider it the greatest of favors if you would pretend you've never met me before."

And with that, he turned back to the doo,r which had just opened, revealing Carlisle in a black apron and burgundy oven mitts.

"Edward! Girls! Esme," he called over his shoulder. "They're all here!" He swung the door wide, allowing us in and giving us girls a big hug each. Carlisle was truly one of my favorite people this planet had to offer; a perfect match for Esme. Not only was he a hottie hot doctor, but he was kind. I wanted the two of them to start breeding and populating the world with their genetic perfection.

Esme came bustling out of the kitchen and squealed when she saw us standing there; she got to me first, of course, wrapping her slender arms around me and whispering "happy birthday" into my ear. It was always a comfort to me to have Esme nearby; I regarded her as more of a mother figure than even Renee, and I really would do anything for her. Up to and including enduring this dinner she was throwing in my honor. She gave hugs to Rose and Alice, then turned and practically launched herself at Edward.

"How are you, dear?" She was patting him down, inspecting every inch of him. Sighing, she linked arms with him and brought him over to us girls.

"Ladies, I would like to introduce you to my other nephew, Edward Cullen. Edward, this is Rosalie." Rose stuck her hand out and smirked; please, God. Let Rose behave for once in her life.

"Edward," she said, shaking his hand firmly. He grinned at her and flicked an approving eye over her body, like every male has done to her since she was twelve. She raised an eyebrow at him, returning the favor. Oh, stop flirting. Emmett won't like that too much. It occurred to me, though, that he was doing it for show. It wasn't like he hadn't seen her before.

"And this is Alice Brandon." Alice was nicer, as always. She disarmed him by hugging him around the waist; her head barely made it to his chest level. He must be as tall as Jasper. He looked surprised for a moment, but then he laughed in delight. It was a lovely sound, the smooth notes of his vibrato bouncing around the cathedral ceiling. I was not at all shocked that Alice could get such a reaction out of an almost-stranger; she had that effect on most people.

Esme then turned to me with a smug expression. "And this is my Bella. Isabella Swan. English teacher extraordinaire. The birthday girl." He stiffened at the introduction and hesitantly put his hand out there; I grasped it and was momentarily taken aback by the static spark that shocked me when our fingers met. It must be dry outside.

"Bella?" Edward's voice was full of… something. Disbelief? Did he not realize it was my birthday or something? I was under the impression that Esme had been talking me up to her esteemed nephew for some time now. Maybe she had neglected to mention the reason she was throwing me a dinner in the first place. Maybe it was possible he never found out I wasn't Angela…

"Well, why don't we all get some drinks? Carlisle? I need to check on the roast." She headed off to the kitchen, stopping to put her hand on Edward's shoulder; he leaned down and listened to her, planting a kiss on the top of her head before she returned to the kitchen.

I realized that I had just vowed to never drink again, but Carlise was handing me a glass filled with brown liquid and I tossed it down my throat, bringing my neck down only to be greeted by the blazing and dark green eyes of one Edward Cullen. He wasn't exactly scowling at me, but his look was borderline hostile. Wow. I must really suck in bed. Or maybe he's irritated that I broke his stupid mug. Maybe I called him "James" on accident?

Esme called out from the kitchen, using the pretense of needing help with dinner to bring Edward over for a conversation. I'm sure she was pulling him away to talk me up, though. I could smell a set-up from a mile away, I'd been on so many of them. Fat chance, Esme, I thought sarcastically. That ship has already sailed. The SS Bella and Edward 4Ever has made its maiden voyage and is lost at sea.

Shaking my head to rid myself of the unbidden images of waking up naked in a stranger's bed, I sat down and let the others wish me a happy birthday. Alice and Rosalie had gone to join their men, and we sat there with our drinks, waiting for a dinner that I know at least I was dreading. What would he be like? I'd heard nothing but good (okay, great) things about this nephew of hers for ages; looking back, I can see that it was all a set up for this very day. Esme had plans.

I could hear the tinkling of Esme's laughter followed by the rumble of Edward's low chuckles. Well, at least he's nice to his Aunt. Maybe it's just skanky women in bars that he's rude to. He came striding out of the kitchen and back to us in the living room, and I was caught up by how great he looked. That hair. And those eyes. I almost couldn't stand how well his clothes draped on his body. Most guys would kill to be able to wear dark-colored jeans with such sex appeal. He had rolled up his sleeves to his forearms, and I couldn't help but admire how graceful his hands were; big and strong and still masculine, but his long and slender fingers looked like they were made to play the piano. I had to shake my head to rid me of the reverie, and despite my lukewarm feelings about him as a person, I found myself fervently wishing for what I'm sure wouldn't be the last time that I could remember what had happened last night.

The evening progressed as we waited for dinner, and I sat there with a smile and a glass, nodding and laughing at what I assumed were the appropriate times by taking cues from the others. But what I was doing the entire time was wracking my brain for all Edward-related knowledge that I possessed; I know that his and Masen's father had died in a pretty tragic accident about a year ago, but I didn't know the details; only that Esme was very saddened by the circumstances, even if she never delved into the whys of her brother's untimely death. I remembered now with chagrin that Edward was a music major and had been attending some exclusive music conservatory on several scholarships; I knew that Masen worshipped his older brother and had nothing but the best of things to say about him. I smiled thinking about Masen; he was such a good guy- every inch his Aunt's nephew. He had always been one of the popular kids, and I don't think it was because he was such a good-looking boy. Good-looking sure does run in the family.

I noticed that Edward would glance at me from time to time, lifting his glass of club soda to his pouty lips while frowning over the ice in my direction. His brow was furrowed slightly in concentration; the few times he caught me staring, the furrow would clear and he'd give me this half-smile smirk thing that simultaneously annoyed me and thrilled me. Dammit. I really wished I could remember what the sex had been like, and it was quite obvious that he did. One of the smiles seemed all-knowing, and it simply irked me that not only did he obviously remember what had happened, but that he was probably imagining it. Right then and there. In his Aunt's living room. In front of me. My eyes narrowed. No. I am not taking this sitting down.

I went over to him and perched right on the arm of the overstuffed chair he was sprawled out in. His overly long and lean legs were splayed in front of him, all haphazard and inviting. I decided to ignore the major sex factor he was prominently and proudly displaying to the entire room and instead leaned over, murmuring, "It's rude to stare, you know."

"I was just thinking the same thing about you. Did you know that right before you check someone out, you have this habit of self-consciously shaking the ice cubes in your glass and downing your whiskey?"

"Umm. No?" I wasn't sure how to respond to that. His tone wasn't exactly welcoming.

"You do. Don't worry; I don't think anyone else notices. It's obvious they all adore you in this room." Again, the implication that he was less than pleased with my presence was all too clear. I should've just gotten up and tucked tail and hid, but I couldn't. Who the hell does this guy think he is? I just met him last night. I went home with him, blitzed out of my mind. He saved me from making a mistake with one guy and I instead made a mistake with him. He didn't have to be such a condescending ass about it. Was he like this with all of his one-night stands?

"Are you always like this with women you bring to your apartment who are too drunk to function?"

"Do you often find yourself too drunk to function when going home with random guys?"

"Do you make it a habit of getting OCD about the women whose clothes you hand wash?"

He looked like he was going to crack a smile, but his eyebrows drew closer together.

"Are you aware that James is an incorrigible ass and not worthy of the attention he gets?"

"Have you always been this jealous of your co-worker?"

I became aware that Alice was on the other side of the room, silently mouthing at me to "knock it off"; I flicked my head at her, all too aware that I was being a bit immature, but honestly. This guy was bringing out the fight in me; while I figured he was just being a stereotypical "morning-after" jerk, I was still insanely attracted to him. Why? Why was I into this beautiful and talented jackass? Maybe it was because most guys were a little intimidated by my verbal sparring skills, but this one didn't seem to give a rip that I was putting up a fight. Which is hot.

Or maybe I was just going insane with the notion that this was the first guy I'd seen naked in a long time, and I couldn't bring forth the mental image.

He was looking at me strangely; he probably just asked me something, and I probably looked like I was ignoring him, which I wanted to do, but I simply couldn't. He was too compelling for my own good.

"Sorry, I was… having flashbacks. What did you say?"

"Flashbacks?" he snickered. Uh oh. What did that mean? What's with the tone?

"Yeah, you know. Post-traumatic stress and all that."

"So you weren't drunk beyond capacity last night."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that. I shouldn't drink so much."

"You really shouldn't," he said, softly, looking away. He had finally looked beyond me and noticed that everyone in the room was regarding the two of us warily. I suppose we weren't being as quiet as we thought we were; Alice and Rosalie had matching, all-knowing smirks; Jasper, Emmett, and Carlisle all looked amused, and Esme was just smiling indulgently, probably because we were leaning toward each other. Obviously, she hadn't heard our snarky conversation, otherwise she wouldn't look like the cat who had caught the proverbial canary. It was obvious that Esme had set us up, now. I almost wished I had some sort of fallback date to avoid this very situation, but I'll admit. I was having fun. Like I said, most guys gave up on verbal sparring with me; intimidated by the sweet, sarcastic, adorable little English teacher, they were often relegated to "friends" status before any romantic notions could take hold. Such was my life.

But this guy.

With his eyes and his long legs and his amazing apartment and those fingers- those fingers that caressed the piano, making the simple, beautiful act of bringing forth music into this tawdry, lewd thing that made me want to take my shirt off. Ugh.

I cannot think about him anymore. He's a jerk. No guy of worth feels drunk strangers up in a public venue and then takes them home to get naked. I don't care how many bagels he cream cheeses for me; he is a womanizer.

Even if he does leave out aspirins for the drunk stranger's hangover.

Carlisle went into the kitchen, and I started to get a little nervous. Feeling everyone's eyes on the two of us wasn't helping with my nerves, and I felt like dinner was going to be a serious test of Bella's ability to remain quiet and polite in an awkward situation.

There were a few minutes of uncomfortable silence; Carlisle was gone, and the others two were studiously avoiding looking over at me and Edward. They probably thought we were getting better acquainted or something, and I could tell by the gleam in Emmett's eye as we met gazes that Rose had just filled him in on what had happened. Great. Now I'm going to have to endure innuendo from him all evening.

"Don't worry. I won't say anything. It's not my place to ruin a birthday dinner," Edward whispered into my ear. He had tilted his head up a little, and his untidy hair was brushing against mine, tickling my inner ear. My body wanted to shiver at the almost-contact, but I chose to pout instead. Rude. Seriously, who does he think he is?

"Dinner time!" Esme's sweet voice came chiming out into the living room, and we all got up and gathered around the table in the dining room. It was cheerily decorated; Esme hadn't gone all out, but there were decorations and balloons adorning the sideboard and the walls; I blushed at the effort she had gone through, feeling guilty that I didn't want to be there. Not because I hated the attention (which I did), but because I was absolutely dreading sitting at the same table as a guy I had slept with less than twenty-four hours before; he was on the other side of the table with Emmett and Jasper on either side of me with Alice and Rosalie flanking Edward. Esme and Carlisle were at each end of the table.

Edward was looking at me with a sardonic smile on his face; I raised my eyebrow at him and just decided to take a deep breath and smile right back. Both of his eyebrows raised now, and he opened his mouth to say something when Carlisle cleared his throat, raising his glass.

"I propose a toast- to good friends, good times, and to the Bella, the birthday girl!" We had all raised our glasses and I was blushing because well, that's what I do- when I noticed Edward staring pointedly at me. What did I do now?

"The birthday girl," everyone repeated, and as Jasper and Emmett clinked glasses with me, I saw Edward briefly tilt his glass of wine in my direction, but he didn't take a drink and merely set it on the table. He was delayed in his toast and murmured in his voice that sent my heart rate through the roof, "the birthday girl".

My eyes jerked up when he spoke, completely and involuntarily. We exchanged questioning glances across the table. His turned from questions to burning…. something. And for one brief, intense moment, I forgot that I had a bad night and was celebrating my birthday by reliving my walk of shame with a beautiful specimen of a man. I forgot that I don't do one night stands. I forgot my social security number, my favorite food, and many other important things because I fell into his intensity.

And just like that our infinitesimal gaze was broken by the peal of Alice's laughter; she was delighted witht some lame joke Emmett had made, and like that, I was back. I shook my head ever-so-slightly, trying to clear the almost-moment I had just had with Edward. There was everything and nothing in that little moment- a million questions, some accusations. But mostly lust. At least on my part.

I guess I'm not getting over this any time soon. And there was no way I was going to endure ten free piano lessons from this guy. I don't care how many puppy dog eyes Masen tosses at me or how guilty I feel every time I look at Esme- I can't possibly sit on a bench in this guy's apartment and have him lean over me, showing me where to put my fingers…

It was like this as the entire evening passed; I didn't feel the need to make conversation and thankfully, my friends didn't force me to participate. "You okay?" Jasper elbowed me after the dishes were cleared and we were waiting for cake.

"Yeah. I'm just… hungover." I tossed back the rest of the pinot noir I had been drinking, the only alcoholic beverage that I ever drank with regularity. I really ought to swear off the booze completely, but well. The evening practically required it.

Jasper glanced at Edward before saying, "You're sure." It wasn't a question, more like an accusation. Well, I suppose he was all filled in on Bella's misadventures as well. Thanks, ladies. Was nothing sacred? I guess not where boyfriends were concerned.

I gave him a withering look and groaned when I overheard Esme whisper to Edward, asking him to go play the birthday song on her piano from the living room. Great.

Everyone got up, bringing their refilled wine glasses with them. I decided to forgo and instead grabbed my glass of water, and I noticed with a small sense of misplaced victory that Edward did the same. Maybe I didn't have the only major hangover here tonight, I thought. We filtered into the living room, but I hung back. As I saw Edward seat himself at the piano like he was born for it, I started having small flashbacks of the previous night. The crawling. Sharing the microphone. Dirty Beatles lyrics. And Edward. Edward with his unbelievable, anime-style hair. His velvety voice. That look of hunger and loathing in his eyes.

Carlisle ushered me over to the piano and made me sit next to Edward on the bench. I was trying not to touch him as we sat there waiting, but it's not as though there was a lot of room there for two people. Without looking at me, he started the beginning chords of the torture while Carlisle and Esme came in, Carlisle balancing a huge cake with about a thousand candles lit up around the edges. Everyone sang to me, and I could kill all of them because with the possible exception of Edward (although who knows, if he was aware of this fact he'd probably do it to annoy me), they all knew that I hated being the center of attention.

I could feel his warm body as he leaned into the keys. The birthday song is relatively simple, but he somehow made it seem like an epic composition. He really did play with abandon, and I could appreciate him for the musician he was as opposed to the condescending ass I had met at the bar. I could see the muscles in his neck straining as he played effortlessly; he made it look so easy, and for one brief moment, I could see myself actually getting lessons from this guy.

Every time he had to press keys in the lower register, his arm would brush against me, and I could tell that I was flushed from it, although to be honest, I'm not sure if it was because of embarrassment or because I was just so damned attracted to the guy. He looked so intense playing the old familiar tune, like he was putting his all into it. I got lost in the play of his fingers as they danced up and down the keyboard, the light tinkling reverberating throughout my body as I felt the vibrations through the floor and through the bench I was sharing with him. Our legs were touching, but I could feel the tense interplay of muscles in his thighs, as though he were desperately trying to keep from pressing into me too much. I let my eyes wander from his dancing, lithe fingers down to his tense thigh muscles, and I spent the next few moments as he finished up the song trying desperately to remember if he wore boxers or briefs. Or- gah- neither. Shaking my head to rid myself of the possibilities, I looked up to discover six smiling faces beaming down at me; most of my best friends were in this room right now. It was lovely, it really was. Even Edward couldn't bring me down just now. I chose to ignore that despite my distaste for the guy's multiple personalities, I was rather attracted to the figure he cut. Especially when that figure was playing for me.

He finished with a flourish of keys and long fingers and finally turned to me, leaning his face into my neck.

"Happy birthday, Bella." The warm blast of air against my ear felt amazing and I had to grab the edge of the bench to keep from falling off. I turned to look at him and noticed a smirk playing on the corner of his mouth, and he, too, looked like he was trying not to fall.

I have a headache.

After opening my gifts, I was shrugging into my coat with a giddy sense of being released from prison. Or at least involuntary community service. Everyone had left except for Edward; he looked like he was waiting for something, but whether it was simply a chance to speak to his aunt alone or to confront me, I'll never know.

He joined Esme and me in the kitchen where she was cleaning the dishes and I was perched up on the counter, sipping a mug of fresh coffee. Edward came up to his Aunt and hugged her from behind; he then playfully pushed her out of the way and rolled up his sleeves, dipping his arms into the soapy water.

"Thank you, dear," Esme said, joining me at the counter and pouring herself a cup of coffee. She leaned her head on my shoulder and the two of us watched her nephew as he skillfully and dutifully washed the entire sink of dishes by hand.

"So, Edward. What have you been doing with yourself lately? You said you were out late last night. Partying with new friends?" she teased.

"Um," he said, blushing lightly down his neck. "I was at a bar?"

"Edward," she said, her voice full of loving condescension. "How many times must I tell you that you're never going to meet a nice girl if you hang out in bars every night?"

"Well, Aunt Esme. You tell me. Where am I supposed to meet these nice girls everyone keeps talking about? I think you're right. You definitely don't meet them in bars." He was teasing me, I could tell. But still.

"It's equally hard to meet a decent guy in a bar. I mean, they're only there for one thing, right?" I tried to keep the acid out of my voice which wasn't too tough since I was choosing to focus on the play of muscles in Edward's soapy arms as he expertly washed and rinsed. Washed and rinsed. Gees. Does he do windows, too? He had tucked a dishtowel into the waistband of his jeans and he should have looked ridiculous because it had chrysanthemums all over it but dammit if he didn't look downright lickable. Sleeves rolled up, elbow-deep in sudsy water. Haphazard hair flopping around and turning me on.

"So, Edward. Did I tell you that Bella is your new student?" I could've killed Esme for that. Now I could see the impossibility of this situation. How do I tell her that I can't possibly do this? How could I break her heart like that?

"Really. Do you have any experience on a piano, Bella?" he smirked. Ooh, the nasty little fucker.

"Yeah, I do. And I must say, I was damned good, too."

"I'll just bet you were."

"People couldn't take their eyes off of me. But you know, I guess I was just born to perform."

"Of that, I have no doubt. It almost sounds like you don't need lessons."

"Oh, I bet you could show me a thing or two. You seem like someone who's had a lot of experience with performing to an audience."

"Oh, I don't know about that one. I play in front of them, if that's what you mean."

"Does it make you happy, putting on that kind of act, then?"

"Happy? Hardly. I mean, there's occasionally women who toss themselves in my direction, but I think everyone knows that chicks dig musicians. It's not me, it's the piano."

"Ah, so now the truth comes out."

"Truth? I never denied it. Sure. I play the piano to get women."

"So does that mean-"

"Children, children." Esme was shaking her head; I think we both sort of forgot she was even there during our sniping back-and-forth. I had leaned forward and he had turned around, leaning against the sink with his wet arms crossed across his chest; he had a glob of suds on his elbow and he managed to look somehow ridiculous and ridiculously appealing all at the same time.

"Look, it's obvious that the two of you don't get along, but I'd really, sincerely appreciate it if you would both go along with the piano lessons. God knows Masen's excited by the prospect, and do you really want to break that kid's heart?" Esme was glowering at the two of us, a dark look on her face as she practically threatened us into submission. We both mumbled, "No, Esme," and her look instantly lightened as she yanked the dishtowel out of Edward's waistband and snapped him in the rear with it.

"Now, scoot, you two. You're making a mess of my kitchen. Arrange your lessons and get on out of here. I love you both." She blew air kisses at us and turned back to her sink.

Neither of us said another word, but he did help me into my coat and held the door open for me as we left; I got into my car and watched as he followed me for a few blocks until turning to go in the direction of his apartment.

I was reminded that I still had to get my cell phone back. Great. It looks like I won't be able to easily rid myself of an embarrassing one night stand for quite some time. Piano lessons, indeed.

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