I'm back! No I didn't forget this story. Those three weeks lasted a bit longer than I expected. Sorry. But I'm here now and ready to give you kick butt fanfic! and an invisible milkshake for being paitent.

So read on my readers. Read on.

That lice gunk was only supposed to be in my hair thirty minutes... but thanks to the little interruption by mister FBI agent the stuff was in my hair for at least seventy minutes. Those suckers are long gone... and so is my scalp. My head has definitely seen better days.

Instead of going to school the next morning, which I'm not even allowed to go near the place until six o'clock the next night, I pretend to get ready to go to school and start driving nowhere. Then the idea comes to me. I'm still not done with the delousing. Bella has all my stuff that we are supposed to share, even though there is no way that anything can be alive in my head right now. It's a good excuse to see Bella again. So, I drive around until it's about nine o'clock and then head over to the Swan resident, though I park two blocks away. I really don't think that Agent Swan would be happy to find out that a Cullen is visiting his daughter. His voice still rings in my head. He sounds like a nice guy... a nice creepy guy that spies on my family. When I walk up to there drive way, I see the Secure-o-Matic van there.

Bella is alone, except for the guys installing the security alarms. "Dad thinks that a burglar tried to escape from the patio yesterday." Bella explained to me with a smirk.

"Yeah, there are a lot of wacko's out there." I said with a straight face. "Good thing the FBI is on the job." I held on a bag to her. "This is your dad's shirt."

Then she proceed to bring me down to there basement. I noticed the sly looks on the installing guys as we walked down there. But this was strictly business, I had to finish the delousing. We rub egg-shampoo in each others heads and rinse it off in the sink and all other such stuff. Yet, they still snicker like we were going to do something naughty.

It was all going smooth until Bella brought up yesterday. "You know, my folks know that I'm not a little girl anymore. You didn't have to be all James Bond andmiraculously save yourself."

I wanted to laugh. She thought I was James Bond. Ironic. "Hey, federal agents are armed." I tried to make a joke out of it.

She laughed. It was beautiful. I wanted her to do it again... but that's really creepy.

"I know he carries a gun. But I've never seen it. I think he tries really hard to keep his work separate from his home life. I guess he rubs elbows with some really bad guys."

Like my nearest and dearest.

I rush to try and change the subject. "Is that a karaoke machine?" I said baffled looked at the stereo's and audio equipment, trying to picture Agent Yawn singing 'Girl's Just Want to Have Fun.'

"No it's recording equipment." She looked down at her shoes but had a proud smile on her face. Mine in returned softened. I new feeling entered me. I remember her singing at the concert. "Play something." I whisper, encouragingly.

She shook her head.

"Why not." I look at her eyes, and when she turned her head away I put my hands up and held her chin, forcing her to look at me. I smiled.

She sighed and we made a compromise. She would play one of her tapes she's made. Which were a lot of tapes, if all the racks on the shelf are only her. And I wouldn't laugh, or smile, or smirk, or frown. So I turned into a zombie while she hit play. My unresponsive face didn't last long. How was I supposed to do that when the voice of a low angel eased out of the speakers.

I applaud when the song is over, but Bella hits stop and refuses to play another song.

"Come on!" I smile. "You're awesome. I want to hear another one."

She hits on the head with one of the cassettes. And it actually hurt. My head is still sore from the seventy minutes exterminator in my hair yesterday. But I don't complain because there is something new between us. A different atmosphere in air. It's exciting and irresistible, and at the same time terrifying.

I grab her around her shoulders and snatch the plastic box away from her hands. "You're going to pay for that." I growl and with my other hand scoop up her legs and swing her into their couch.

She playfully screamed as she got up quickly and ran to the other side of the couch. We both knew we weren't fighting, and whatever is going on has nothing to do with the cassette tape.

I stalk around to her and quickly grab her up and plant kisses on her neck, pretending to eat her.

She sighed and raised my head up to hers.

By the time we start kissing it's like our make-out session at the concert was a half-speed workout with no tackling. We sing to the couch, breathing as if we've just run a mile.

It's almost like I'm two people. One of them is Marco Polo, determined to advance, explore, experience. The other is a real pain in the butt who can't stop thinking, ' This is Agent Ywan's daughter: this is Agent Yawn's house: this is Agent Yawn's couch.

I don't know who her two people are, but one of them makes a small sound in the back of her throat.

This is Agent Yawn's floor, the pain in the butt reminds me as we topple off the couch.

Shut up! snaps Marco Polo. By this time, he's really running the show.

Even I'm wondering how far all this might go when the guys from Secure-o-matic decide to test the new burglar alarm.

To say we hit the ceiling is to understate the matter. When we come back to earth, she's on one side of the basement, and I'm on the other. If I look as shocked as shedoes, we are one stunned pair. It's completely illogical, but both of us are thinking the same thing, that we generated enough steam to set off the smoke detector.

Then the buzzer stops and a voice from upstairs calls, "Just a test. Sorry."

This is accompanied by strangled laughter. I'm enraged, but I've got to hand it to those guy. They knew what we were up to when we headed down-stairs before we did. I wouldn't hire them to alarm my house, but if I ever need a mind reader, I won't go to the lady with the tarot cards.

Bella just says, "Wow," and I nod. But neither of us knows what comes next.

Bella calls up the stairs, "You guys are almost done, right/"

"A few more hours to go, miss." More laughing.

I'm ready to hang out all day waiting for them to leave, but Kendra has a story to write for the Jefferson Journal- an expose on which teachers five out the most A's.

"They'll never let you print it," I predict.

She sighs. "Probably not. but I have to try. Teachers ramble on and on about freedom of the press, but God help you if you actually try to use it. Which reminds me-you never answered my question about why you quit the soccer team."

Yikes. "Uh-you had it right the first time. Cach Bronski- the guy's a fascist." a silent apology to the coach, who's probably a really nice guy.

"Wow. That must have really took guts." Then she tried to convince me to let her do a follow up piece.

"uh, no, it's really nothing. I'm using the extra time to concentrate on other things." At the moment the only thing I can concentrate on is Bella.

Leaving is awkward, and the presence of the secure-o-crazy guys doesn't help. I take down her number but froze when she asks for mine. Our lines are all bugged- by her own father, n less. How great would that be: Agent Yawn, hearing his sweet little daughter on the Cullen tapes.

"We're getting a new number," I lie. "Prank calls." I explain quickly.

There's kiss good-bye involved. It would have been longer, but the Secure-o-matic sets off the alarm again. This time I know it's on purpose.

Please review!

- Rosalie